Pirating Material

Chapter 3

By Starath

Kit stared out the window of the Sea Duck, resting his chin in his palm. Baloo sipped at a bottle of Orange Fizzy soda and glanced at his navigator. Satisfied with their current flight course, he decided to kick his paws up and lean back for a moment.

"Penny for your thoughts, Little Britches?"

Kit counted the white caps on the ocean waves below. "I just wish I threw that apple harder."

"Yeah, I know." Baloo sighed. "Karnage played those guests like a fiddle."

"Do you think she's okay? He usually makes a ransom announcement by now."

"Aw, she's probably fine, but who can tell what ol' Karny's up to? We'll find out soon enough."

"Yeah…." Kit nodded slowly. Something caught his eye. He straightened up in his seat and pressed his nose to the glass. An aircraft carrier slid by underneath them. He rolled down the window to get a better look. He spotted familiar flags.

"Oh my gosh!"

"What is it?" Baloo leaned over to see.

"Baloo, get us out of here right now!"

He choked on his orange soda and dropped his feet to the floor. "What's the matter?"

"Don't ask, just go! We don't want him to see us!"

"Okay, okay! Any particular direction?"

"Away from here. Fast. Maybe we can get by unnoticed, but don't stop!"

"You wanna get out and push, Kit? Calm down!"

Baloo turned right in an arc and led the Sea Duck into a bank of thick clouds. Kit rolled the window back up and shivered. His face had no color in it. Baloo handed him his soda bottle. The youngster drained it in two gulps.

"Now, you mind telling me what that was all about?" asked Baloo.

"In a minute." said Kit. "He's heading northwest. We need to warn Louie."

Don Karnage chewed on the end of his pencil, thinking. He turned a page of the logbook beside him, referencing some numbers. He added them to a neat row on the notes in front of him. He frowned as he did some mental calculations and wrote the result at the bottom in tight, looping script. He compared the answer to his logbook.

"Very good! Fuel consumption is still optimundo."

He turned to the map on the wall of his office. Grabbing his compass and ruler, he plotted the course of the Iron Vulture and compared it to the route drawn in faded black ink. He drew an X and tapped the ruler against his chin.

"We will need to stop soon. Now, for the rations inventory." He searched for a bundle of papers that was supposed to be on his end table.

"Hallo, rations inventory, where aaaare yoooou?" He bent to check the drawer, and hit his head under the tabletop when he stood up. "Ouchies! Look at what I am doing, you nasty table!"

Rubbing the back of his head, Don remembered that he hadn't seen the inventory yet. Normally this truancy was punishable by hanging from pinkies, but he knew the galley staff was hard at work for the party tonight. He straightened the papers and put the logbooks away. He yawned and stretched, his claws nearly brushing the ceiling.

"I could do for a break from this monotone-amie anyway. Ah, the price of Captaincy."

He surveyed the office for a moment, pleased at what he saw. It was sparsely furnished with his favorite rugs and furniture. Aside from the map on the far wall, only an oil painting decorated the space. He stepped up to the portrait and sighed. How long had it been… fifteen years? Maybe more? The proud figure of a pirate wolf stared back at him, perched on a treasure chest no one had seen for decades.

"As always, I hope I am serving your memory well." Don said solemnly. "Another year come and gone. Te extraño, papá."

He bowed and left, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the past. The portrait of Rodolfo Karnage said nothing in return.

Interesting smells wafting from the galley lifted Don's spirits. What goodies would there be to eat tonight? His stomach grumbled. He hadn't eaten anything since this morning. He nudged the double doors open with his elbow.

"Hallo Slopjaw! Your Captain has arrived to do a quality check and ask for the rations inventory!"

The burly cook pulled a sizzling pan out of the oven and set it on the counter. He draped his oven glove over his shoulder and pulled a toothpick out of the pocket in his apron. He poked the lumpy dessert and glanced behind him.

"Be with you in a minute, Captain Karnage."

"What did you make?" Don peered around Slopjaw's elbow and sniffed appreciatively. "I have not seen this before. Is that cinnamon I smell?"

"Aye, that's in the glazing. It's called monkey bread. Miss Briar showed me how to make it this morning. She thought the crew might like it."

"How generous of her. How is she doing, by the way?"

"Well enough. Here, have a sample." Slopjaw carefully pried a sticky ball out of the pan and handed it over. "It'll be hot." While his Captain chewed away, he prepared to put another pan of monkey bread in the oven. "She's eager to help without being asked. It's refreshing to have that sort of gal around. And her questions! She is so curious about everything."

Don swallowed and licked his fingers clean. "As I expected she would. The others have said the same thing. And this is espléndido! You must add this to the regular menu!"

"Glad you like it, though there's not much to it. The cinnamon is the scarcest ingredient."

"If it is cinnamon you need, then cinnamon you shall get, my friend! Happy pirates are healthy plunderers!"

"You won't hear me argue with you on that." Slopjaw slid the next pan onto the oven rack and adjusted the temperature, making note of the time. He turned his attention to the bubbling pots on the stove. "Although between you and me, Captain, the gurl's intelligent, not smart."

Don sighed. "As most civilians are, especially the nice ladies. It's not their fault, really, since they do not know a man's world. That is one reason why I decided to educate her."

"She'll get a shock when she sees real piracy. Her innocence might get her in trouble, too."

"I have that in mind, you need not concern yourself with it. You sound quite fond of the lady, Slopjaw."

The big cook shook his head. "Some things a gal's not supposed to see. She don't belong here, Captain. I just don't want her gettin' hurt."

"That is why I let you watch over her the most." Don patted his shoulder. "Where is she, anyway? Oh, and have you the rations inventory for this week?"

"The boys invited her down to watch the cockroach races. Myles was supposed to… Ah, 'e probably got sidetracked with all the fuss going on in the mess hall." Slopjaw trudged to the double doors. "MYLES! Get yer tail in here!"

Don casually wiggled another piece of monkey bread out of the pan, yelping when he burned his thumb. He popped the morsel into his mouth and savored it. Yes, he certainly could get used having to this delicacy once and awhile. His ears pricked up at the sound of rattling dishes. The galley doors flew open and he narrowly avoided being run over by a clattering trolley. Myles skidded to a halt and pushed his bandana out of his eyes.

"You bellowed, Boss?"

"Quit yer bein' cheeky an' get Captain Karnage the weekly inventory. An' be more careful when you drive that thing, you almost hit him. What am I supposed to tell everyone if the Captain looks like a bearskin rug someday, eh?"

"I did?" Myles asked, horrified. "I apologize, Cap'n! I didn't see you!"

"Clearly." Don muttered, his tail swishing with impatience. "The inventory, if you please."

"Right! Right away!" Myles scrambled off and disappeared into the pantry. He returned carrying a stack of papers tied together with string. He presented the bundle to Don. "It's all here, down to the last grain of salt, like always!"

Despite his irritation, Don smiled at the young mutt. If only a few more of his crewmembers were as eager to please as Myles. He hoped that Myles wouldn't grow out of it. "Very good, thank you. I leave you both to do what you do best, and I will continue with what I do best. Carry off with your duties, you two!"

On his way back to his office, Don met Magdalen coming from the other direction. Her tail had puffed out to twice its normal size. She grumbled and stomped on the deck so hard the metal planks creaked. He hailed her with a polite nod.

"Good afternoon. Is there something the matter?"

She shuddered violently. "Is there anywhere I can take a bath right now?"

"I am afraid not, since that is a luxury even for me. What has gotten your nose in a pretzel knot?"

"Cockroaches!" she shouted, flailing. "Icky crawly skittering bugs of doom! Eeeeeeewww!"

Don cocked an eyebrow. "You did not enjoy the races?"

"I did, until one of them ran up my leg! Ew ew ew! And it wouldn't come out! It got in my shirt! Unclean disease-ridden pests! ICK! And all they did was laugh at me, the idiots! If I ever see one of those things again, I'll squash it, prize-winning bug or not!"

"Entertainment is entertainment to my men, unfortunately. Perhaps doing some dishes will help clean you of buggy germs?"

She stopped and dropped her arms. "Good idea. Thank you, Captain."

"It is nothing, really. But if you would excuse me, I must leave you." Again he nodded to her, and moved on to his office. When he had shut the door, he allowed himself a long, hearty laugh.

That night, the mess hall rumbled with constant conversation and laughter, filled to the capacity with expectant, still-hungry pirates. Usually the room held two long tables laden with all the food for the day, but tonight it had been rearranged to accommodate the Iron Vulture's crew and Captain. The tables wore blue and red tablecloths, accented by gold trim that none of the pirates paid attention to anyway. The food interested them much more.

"Make way, make way!" called Myles, wheeling his trolley in at top speed. "We bring dessert!"

The constant rumble became an all-out cheering roar. Magdalen entered cautiously and immediately ducked. A plate of mashed potatoes splattered into the wall over her head. She scanned the unruly crowd, trying to decide what she thought of this chaos. Was this a mess hall, or a high school cafeteria? She stood on her toes to see over everything. At the back of the room she spotted Don Karnage and the pirates closest to being called "officers." Weaving her way through the confusion, she approached the table and bobbed a little curtsy.

"Good evening Captain, and gentlemen."

Somehow Mad Dog, Dumptruck and Gibber had already gotten a hold of the spice cake Myles delivered two minutes before. They looked at each other in puzzlement until they realized who the "gentlemen" were that she referred to. Mad Dog wiped frosting off his whiskers.

"Hi Madge! Come to join us?"

"I'm afraid not, but with his Captain's permission, I come bearing his birthday treat."

Don clapped his hands in anticipation. "Haha! He made it again, didn't he? Come come, let me see!"

Magdalen slid the plate in front of him. Reverently, Don lifted the cover and chuckled with delight. A pale circle of Spanish flan glistened. Grabbing his fork, he cut into the flan and sampled it like a gift from heaven. "Marvelous!" he said with his mouth still full. "My complimentations to the cook and his assistants!"

"Thank you, Captain." she curtsied again. "I'll be sure to pass that on."

She excused herself from the officer's table to scavenge for leftovers. She noted that the fifth pan of monkey bread was almost already gone when she helped herself to the meager remains of supper. She made a sandwich from scraps of meat and cheese, trying not to bump in to anybody at the same time. She found an empty table and began to nibble on her meal.

"Uh, hi, is this seat taken?"

A short grey cat smiled at her. Magdalen shook her head. "Not that I know of."

"Good! Me an' the boys wanted to talk to you. Name's Sly."

"Nice to meet you."

This began a round of introductions that lasted until every seat at the table had been filled. Although nervous at first, Magdalen grew used to the attention and took the opportunity to remember every detail they told her. Sly was one of the Iron Vulture's gunmen. Slim and Jacques served as the navigator and helmsman. Hal, apparently, was in charge of the bomb bay doors. When asked, they eagerly brought over Ratchet, who was more than happy to explain the mechanical intricacies that powered the great air ship. She posed the same question to all of them: Why were they pirates? The answers varied, but they carried a common theme: Freedom at the price of danger. Some of them had no other place to go; some of them were loners with questionable morals. Magdalen's fingers started to itch with the urge to write. In return, the pirates wanted to know about her life— Where did she come from? How did she get her radio show? Was she single?

The last question caused a coughing fit when she choked on a piece of spice cake. Hal patted her on the back.

"You okay?"

"Yeah…. fine…" she took a swallow of her ginger ale. Her ears stood up straight. "What's that?"

The others listened for a moment.

"Oh, that." Sly said, wiggling a finger in his ear.

"We hear it every year," said Jacques. "Cap'n's favorite song."

"It'll go on for hours now." grumbled Slim.

"Aw, but it sounds nice. Like a Spanish version of the waltz."

"You go on thinkin' that, Miss. It's annoyin', is what it is." said Sly.

"Oh, come on guys, give him a break." Magdalen giggled. "Captain Karnage only gets his birthday once a year."

Ratchet snorted. "That's too often for— hold fast, here comes the Boss!"

Magdalen turned to see Don Karnage approaching with hands clasped behind his back. She hastily brushed crumbs off her shirt and noticed the flour stains on her skirt and leggings. She beat out the fine powder. What a time to look so unkempt!

"Good evening, Captain!" chorused the pirates together, innocent as schoolchildren.

Don knew better. "Good evening, my men. I trust you are enjoying the company of our wonderful guest?"

"Oh yes!"

"Uh huh!"

"She's real cute!"

Magdalen almost slid out of her seat in embarrassment. She started when Don offered her his hand.

"Captain?"

"Would you honor me with a dance on my only day of days, Madam?"

The look on his face made her blush and press her paws into her lap. "Oh no no, I haven't danced since Senior Prom. I'd be too clumsy, and besides—"

"It would mean the world. I insist."

She hesitated. How could she say no? If she did, it would be a refusal right in front of his crew. But to say yes, it meant….

"Please?" he added.

"The honor would be mine, Captain." Magdalen took a deep breath and placed her hand in his own. "I am glad to join you."

As he led her away, Hal sighed and rested his chin on the table. "How come that only works for him?"

The tables had been moved aside to make room for a messy yet adequate dancing space. Magdalen felt the eyes of every pirate on her and focused very hard on not tripping over herself. Dancing with Captain Don Karnage! The very idea sent her adult mind into a panic, while the little girl still living inside her heart squealed joyfully. She had to admit that she found him handsome… even if he was a rogue… and he'd stolen her out of everyday life so she could experience the life of a pirate…. How romantic was that?

Well, okay. Sort of. Magdalen's ears pinned down for a moment. Common sense warred with her heartstrings. She squeaked aloud when Don stopped and positioned one hand at her hip. She paid attention to her feet. Anything so she didn't have to look him in the eyes. She had to work to keep up with him, and slipped more than once onto his boots.

"Sorry, sorry!"

"You are doing fine, except for one thing."

"Huh?"

"You are not smiling."

She laughed nervously. "I'm too scared."

"Of me?"

"Well… yeah. The last time we were this close you had me at sword point."

"A necessary action for the endings to meet the meanings. However, you needn't fear me now, although it is perfectly understandable."

"How humble of you to say so –eep!" She grabbed his shoulder when he suddenly dipped and twirled her.

"Loosen up! You are supposed to be having fun!" he teased.

"I can hardly keep up—"

"That is because you are trying too hard. Stay light on your heels and toes, like this."

"Why—eep! Please warn me before doing that—why did you ask me to dance anyway?"

"Truthfully, I have not had a dance on this day since I was a child. And none of my crew are of the gentle persuasion."

"Ah, so you took the chance while you had it."

"You could put it that way."

"Opportunist."

He grinned. "Pirate."

"Same thing. Um… When did you last dance on your birthday?"

"Questions, questions!" Don tsked, and spun them in a circle. "There is a time for wonderings and a time to just be, yes-no?"

"No—I mean, yes. I think." When did this song end? She hadn't stepped on him lately, at least. "I can't help being curious. You're just so…"

"Awe-inspiring? Strikingly handsome?"

"... You." she finished, and prodded one of his brass buttons.

He laughed. "If I tell you, will you let me admire you in silence for a moment?"

"Adm—?" she swallowed. "Uh, sure."

"My last birthday dance was with my mother when I was seven years old. Papa was visiting from the sea on that day. We hadn't seen him for two years, and this song was playing. It was one of those nights I shall remember for as long as I am living."

"Oh." A thought occurred to her. "Was your dad a pirate too?"

"He was, and he taught me everything he knew, and even things he didn't know."

"What about—"

"Ah ah! Where is my moment of silence?"

Magdalen clicked her jaw shut and concentrated on a ball of blue fuzz on his uniform. She stiffened when he leaned over her ear.

"Don't forget to smile."

The smile came, along with a deep blush. She chanced a look up and caught him smirking at her. Of course he was aware of what affect her had on her! She groaned and hid her face against his chest. He slowed their pace to a swaying sidestep. Maybe this wasn't so bad.

"Careful now, don't be falling in love with me."

A bolt of resentment coursed through her. She pulled back. "Excuse me?"

"It's completely natural to be drawn to someone such as myself. If you should happen to feel any affection toward me, please do not act on it, but it is not healthy to deny the strong feelings you are having. I am so marvelous, after all, that it cannot be—hey! Madam!" Don lost balance when she broke away from him with all the force of a lightning strike. She marched to the nearest table and picked up a slice of spice cake.

"We were not finished!" he protested, taken aback when she stormed up to him.

"Happy birthday, Captain!"

She smashed the cake into his face.

Don blinked. Frosting dripped from his nose. "Was it something I said?"

The watching pirates howled with laughter.

Magdalen nearly collided with Gibber as she turned around. He dodged around her and pulled on Don's coat sleeve. Don tilted an ear in his direction. She made out the word "urgent" from the frantic whispering. Instantly the Captain's expression turned grim. He used Gibber's hat to clean his face and hurried off. Curious, Magdalen followed him.

At the radio room, Don met his second mate, Will. Will pulled off his headset and adjusted some dials on the radio. He spoke into the microphone.

"Cap'n's here now, Logan. Make your report."

The speaker popped and crackled. "I sighted the Faraway Plains just before sundown."

Magdalen peeked around the door in time to see Don's face become pale. He snatched the microphone away from Will.

"You are certain of this?"

"Aye, I'm certain as the sky is blue. I know those flags from last time. He's looking for you again, Captain."

He slouched and gripped his head in both paws. "What was his heading?"

"Bearing north-northwest when I spotted him."

"And you did not think to follow, you idiot?"

"Beggin' your pardon, Captain Karnage, but you know as well as I that I can't leave the trading post."

"Right…. right." Don's shoulders tightened. "Thank you, Logan. I may not be visiting you as soon as I'd hoped. Karnage out."

"Understandable. Watch your back, and good luck. Logan out."

He arose from his chair without any of the grace or confidence he'd had five minutes before. His eyes held the look of one haunted by demons. He brushed by Magdalen when he left, scarcely recognizing that she stood there. She started to follow him but stopped when Will touched her shoulder.

"You best let him be, Miss."

"Why…?"

Will shook his head. "You'll find out soon enough."

Magdalen witnessed a strange transformation take place among the air pirates. Within an hour of the warning, the joyful atmosphere on the Iron Vulture vanished. Card decks and checkerboards traded places with guns and knives. She had never seen so many weapons in one place before. She tried to return to the galley, only to have Slopjaw bodily toss her out.

"You stay outta here, gurl, an' don't come back!"

Myles helped her up. She rubbed her bottom tenderly. "What did I do?"

"It's not what you did, Ma'am, it's just not safe in there for you." Even Myles' eternal optimism had shifted into a humorless mood. "Best you nip off to your cabin for the night."

She hesitantly followed his advice, her mind spinning with questions. The lantern creaked when she turned it on above her desk. An orb of light swung back and forth across the room. She stared at the blank notebook in front of her, her pencil poised just over the page. She glanced at a stack of paper sitting on her backpack. Her gaze drifted to the notebook and back. Finally, she huffed and set her pencil aside.

"It couldn't hurt, could it?"

It took her some time to find Don Karnage's office. Inside she could hear metal grating on stone and cursing in Spanish. She knocked on the door.

"Captain?"

"Unless you have a present for me, go away!"

She stepped away as if she'd been struck. "Actually, I sort of do."

A pause. "Come in, but do not waste my time!"

Now she reconsidered her brilliant idea. She swallowed and pulled the door open. She found Don sharpening his sword on a whetstone, his jaw set in a determined line.

"What is it that you want?" He snapped.

"Uh… I thought you might like to see the start of my script."

His brow furrowed.

"The one you wanted to approve?"

"Ah, yes, that. Put it over there." He pointed to his desk with his sword. Inspecting the blade closely, he grabbed a piece of paper and ran it over the edge. The paper ripped apart with a dreadful sound that made her shudder.

"Um, Captain, if you don't mind me asking, what's going on?"

Don growled low in his throat. "I am expecting company."

"Oh…" That didn't tell her much, but she decided not to press the issue. Something glittered by her foot. She picked up a pointed crystal on a string. "Is this—"

"You are dismissed." Don said without looking at her. "Shoo."

A curt retort sprang onto her tongue, but she held it back. "As you wish, Captain."

She pocketed the crystal and closed the door behind her.

The sun beat down on the Iron Vulture at noon the next day. The lazy whump-whump-whump of the airship's turbines generated the only breeze. Nothing but seabirds drifted in and out of sight. On the Command Bridge, Don Karnage surveyed the sea ahead with red eyes. He guided his airship with a gentle turn of the helm.

"Anything yet?"

Slim checked the periscope. "Not yet, Captain." He said, just like he had for the last three hours.

"Curses and more curses to that Seymour! He thinks he can play hide and seekers with me, the Dread Pirate Don Karnage! I will find you…"

Slim rolled his eyes and muttered to Jacques, who stood by the engine controls. "How can an aircraft carrier hide in the open ocean?"

Jacques shrugged. "The same way an airship can hide in broad daylight with no cloud cover."

Hacksaw giggled and brought up his binoculars. He didn't notice that he had them turned around backward. He gasped.

"Cap'n! Cap'n! I see something portside!"

"Is it the Faraway Plains?" He demanded.

Hacksaw squinted. "She flies the Southern Cross and the Jolly Roger!"

"Ha ha! I have found you, Seymour!" Don spun the ship's helm. He grinned evilly as the view out the windows shifted. "No doubt before you—WHAT? Full throttle, Scotty! NOW!"

Responding to his nickname, Jacques heaved on the lever that fired the engines. The Iron Vulture groaned as it went into a steep climb. The pirates grabbed on to anything nearby to keep their footing.

"They are almost on top of us!" barked Don, "Why did you not say something sooner?"

"It's still all the way over there!" Hacksaw pointed at the aircraft carrier that turned its cannons as he spoke.

"EEDIOT! Look with your own eyes!"

A dull boom cracked through the air. Don scrambled to reach the ship's radio. "Make readiness for impact!" He shouted.

Another boom sounded, followed by another. The first shell exploded just in front of the bridge window, rocking the airship with its shockwave. The second shot whistled by harmlessly. The third found its mark on the Iron Vulture's exposed belly. Don fell against the handles of the helm and momentarily lost his breath. He wheezed, gnashing his teeth.

"FIRE CANNONS!" He ordered.

"Which ones?"

"ALL of them!"

Slim shouted through the radio, "Fire all cannons!"

The Iron Vulture's fore cannons sprang to life and jolted the airship with the recoil. The smaller cannons on the top deck joined the foray, peppering the aircraft carrier below with weapons fire. The guns aboard the Faraway Plains returned fire in earnest. Don pulled the Iron Vulture out of range, but not before taking two more collisions. Sirens blared warning throughout the ship. Air pirates hurried everywhere to repair broken pipes and sparking panels.

"Slim, take the bridge. Keep us steady." Don ran out to the hanger with his bullhorn. His stomach twisted when he saw the gaping hole in the bottom-rear of the airship.

"To the planes, men! To your planes! Open the beak!"

He leapt over the railing to the nearest set of stairs. He made it to his plane, the Tri-Wing Terror, in time to watch the Iron Vulture's great mouth open wide. He stared in disbelief. Three fighter planes flew directly at them. He ducked as bullets zinged by overhead. Agonized cries of pain broke out behind him. He fumbled for his radio.

"Close the beak, CLOSE THE BEAK!"

The command came too late. The enemy fighter planes dived into the opening and roared across the length of the hanger. Any air pirate that did not find cover threw themselves to the deck. The planes pulled around and landed on the outer edge of the bomb-bay doors. Don left his plane and drew his sword.

"To me, men! Surround them, now!"

Armed with shotguns, knives, and anything deadly, the Iron Vulture's crew hastened to obey the orders of their Captain. Don approached the lead plane, ignoring the other two pilots who climbed out on either side.

"Get out here, Seymour!" shouted Don, shaking in rage. "You have no right to do this again! What is the meaning of this intrusion?"

The cockpit canopy slid back to reveal a sharp-eyed dingo with an orange scarf and flight jacket. He hopped out with an impact that made the deck rattle. He grinned insolently and leaned over Don to make use of his impressive height. He straightened his feathered cap over his ears and spoke with a lazy Australian drawl.

"Why, to give moiself the best entrance possible, o' course. And look, y' have your whole crew to welcome Captain Avast Seymour on deck. How noice of you!"

To be continued…