Six Set Sail

The rain was still patterin' down on us when dawn came.

It was cold and dreary and didn't look to be lettin' up anytime soon. The weather must'a been playing on the moods of the Krew, too, as I was greeted with several low grumbles and glares from some mates who were usually pretty cheerful in the mornin'. No matter though, it'd soon blow over; moods and weather alike.

The real kicker came when we were informed that day that our rations were ta be cut in half as punishment for our failure to capture the chimps. I took this as remarkably lenient reprisal from K. Rool, given the kinda punishment he usually instills when angered. Neither were any o' us bothered, for with the sea and its' bounty so close at hand, there'd be no fear of starvin'. I'm sure Kaptain knew this, but what with his hands full, carryin' out the 'master plan' an' all, he likely didn't have time to inflict a truly awful chastenin'. Then of course there were the fact that our rations also included the rum...that weren't about to be gotten from the sea, and for most o' us, a shortage of rum was punishment enough.

At any rate we carried on with our watch, miserable lugs that we were, and the day dragged by powerful slow. In spite of our ill luck, there remained still a sort'a undercurrent of forebodin', naturally because we knew the two Kong kids were attemptin' to make their way toward our Kaptain's abode and rescue their friend. It drove a lot of us mad, having to stay at our post while things were comin' to a boil on the island. We felt useless, restless, and truth be told, if it weren't for the discovery we'd made that afternoon, things might'a turned sour for the higher ups. Mutiny had been known to occur among us Kremling pirates, but it was a rarity. As long as our leaders were stronger than us, they didn't need to fear no mutiny.

Even so, it had been a rough coupl'a days, and like I said, we were restless. Back to what I was gettin' at, it was the discovery someone made at the end o' the day that put a dampener on our tempers...for a time.

It were a young Klomp that sounded the alarm.

The rain had cleared up, the clouds scattered and graced us with a bit o' sunshine, and the air blew in mighty fresh an' sweet. The young lad whose voice we heard cry out in shock must'a been idly exploring the ropes on his off time, else he wouldn'ta found what he did.

See, there was a powerful large, mighty aggressive necky who lived atop one of the masts ever since K. Rool abandoned the galleon. His name was Krow.
Couple of us have chatted with 'im before, but he mostly kept to 'imself and didn't like being disturbed. I recall Klaggart striking a deal with the bloke some time ago. He got the oversized parrot to keep his eye out for any monkeys in the vicinity, an' in exchange we'd share a portion of our rations with 'im and his brood once they'd hatched. I s'pose it would'a been a fair enough exchange...only we learned that the eggs sittin' atop the nest weren't his. Klaggart told us that the bird had stolen 'em from some other nest, but for what purpose we couldn't fathom.

At any rate, Krow was somethin' of an asset to us, although he never technically swore his loyalty. He lived as all good pirates do; that is t'say, he helped us as long as he himself could benefit from it. It was all fair enough. I myself 'ave never exchanged a word with him, and truthfully I never gave that big feather duster much thought.

Until things changed one day, when that young Kritter came rushin' onto the main deck and reported to us that Krow was dead.

Those of us that could went to investigate. I was among 'em, and we found out at any rate that the lad was only half right - Krow was alive, but only just. He was lyin' on his back, feet stickin' straight up in the air, and his eyes shut and bruised as if he'd had the wind knocked outta him. We stood there for a spell, puzzlin' over what could'a happened to him. I think we all knew, but none o' us had the courage to voice our thoughts. It was Monty - who actually approached Krow and took a good, long look at 'im - who voiced our thoughts aloud.

"It were the Kongs that did this," he seethed, in a dangerously low voice. He tightened his hand into a fist, and his arm shook with anger. We took that as our cue to back off.

It were times like these that we were especially thankful to have fellows like Klaggart aboard. He was respectful toward his superior, but he didn't fear 'im, whereas the rest of us did.

"Orders, sir?" Klaggart said in a grave voice, not takin' his eyes off Krow.

The bird was twitchin' and breathin' pitifully, but we did nothing to help him. Some folks might call that cruel, but that fact is, it wasn't our place - besides, we had little to nothing in the way of medical supplies on the galleon. 'Each man for 'imself' was an accepted rule when you live the tough life. Krow knew this as well as anyone.

By some miracle, Monty was able to stay his wrath (and his color), and turned to Klaggart with a malicious sorta twinkle in his eye I hadn't yet seen before. I knew in that moment that the gig was up; the times of sittin' around waiting higher orders from far off were over.

"We will go after 'em," he finally said.

"Sir?" Klaggart stared at his superior.

"You heard me, lad," he barked, and promptly began shovin' his way through the crowd, which parted fast as they could.

"But the Kaptain ordered -"

"The Kaptain has put me in charge o' this vessel in his absence," Monty spat, turning to face Klaggart who'd been following hard after him. He nearly slammed into the huge Kruncha. "And I say we will outfit a party to pursue these vile, wretched Kongs and put an end to 'em once and for all."

No one was brave enough to argue, and Monty immediately sought to put together a small group of us to give chase and head to Crocodile Isle. The word spread fast, and he temporarily gathered every hand on deck for the announcement. Murmurs spread throughout the crowd when he gave the news, and I think most of us were hopin' we'd be selected to jump ship and give chase. It wasn't easy patrolling the premises twenty-four seven, especially when most of the time nothin' really happened. Our Kremling blood thirsted for more; for bloodshed, revenge, and the sweet taste of victory.

We all longed for a taste of life on the island, for many o' reason. Most of us had been there, but then there was some of us that hadn't - I being one of 'em.

See, there was a legend existed among us Kremlings that the origin of our race was said to come from a place known as 'The Lost World.' And as if that weren't interesting enough, this Lost World was supposedly situated somewhere on Crocodile Isle. I'm not sure if anyone's ever seen it, or even if the legend was true, but there you have it. That was ample reason to make any Kremling wanna pay a visit there. Of course there were other reasons, like the Krazy Kremland, with its wild rides, sky-high Ferris wheels, and kotton kandy. Then there was the Cauldron, for those who preferred a hotter, more intense climate than most places had to offer (I thought the place seemed a bit on the dangerous side myself, but then my opinion wasn't worth a stick.) Best of all, 'least to my own thinkin', were the island's quays and bayous. I can't hardly describe 'em myself, having never been to Krem Quay, but I imagined them as thick, stagnant waters filled to the brim with fish and reeds and duckweed. I'm positive it was the kinda place thick with cypress trees and hangin' moss; a place where a croc could sit at the end o' the day and watch the sun disappear behind the murk. If such a thing exists, that'd be the place for me.

Back to the present, Monty chose six of us to travel to Crocodile Isle. I wasn't too surprised when he chose me as one'a the six, but you can be sure I was grateful and chompin' at the bit for a chance not just to catch the Kongs, but to see the island. Needless to say, Klaggart was chosen as part of the outfit once again. Beside us two were four others: Korey, Kaz, Percival, and Johann. They were a colorful bunch.

Korey was a huge fellow, a soldier who was especially fond of his weapon, even for a Kannon. Rumor has it that the brute even sleeps with it. He was a good deal taller than me, heavier, but truth be told, the bloke had a good character...had a penchant for large, loud, bright weapons, true, but he was a good lad when you peeled 'im away to the core. His two biggest faults couldn't'a contrasted more if they tried: the guy loved playin' with his cannon, but he had something of a bleein' heart. Now how does that figure, I ask? You can't be a softie and possess prowess with a gun! My best guess was that his martial prowess made up for his soft nature - one he sometimes had trouble hidin'. That must'a been it, 'cause if he wasn't any good with a weapon he'd have been thrown off the ship long ago.

Then there was Kaz, a man what boasted two set'a hooks in exchange for his hands. He was always tromping around in a fine coat, wavin' his hooks to and fro, and if I hadn't known any better, I'd almost say he was happier with them than he'd been with his hands. Guy always had a lotta pep; I'd never seen 'im downcast or sluggish. I can see why Monty had chosen him as part of our group - his energy and brazen can-do attitude would spice up the voyage, no doubt about it. If worse came to worse. Kaz'd be the last one standin', shaking a hook in the enemy's face with defiance in his eye. I hardly knew the guy, but I felt a kinship with him a'ready.

Percival, good old Percy, was harder to justify, but I guess when ya came down to it, his being on this venture could prove mighty handy. He was only a small Klinger, but he was somethin' of a veteran when it came to mannin' a vessel. He'd been doin' it his whole life, knew the inside and out of a ship - especially its rigging and topsails. I swear, that croc could raise a mast in his sleep. I think Monty figured that a small, nimble fellow like Percy might be needed...say, if us other blokes were too heavy or cumbersome, should any needlework need be done. Percy were a good fellow, though - feisty, vivacious, and clever.

As for Johann, well, he was a Kritter like me. A tall, muscular fellow with green scales that donned a big set o' scars. Johann had seen some action in his time, a bit more than others, but he was fortunate enough to have kept all his limbs intact. He was a serious fellow, dour, sullen...kept to himself, mostly, but never one to shy away from a task. In some ways he was the most obvious choice for our group, since he was ranked among our best fighters, and possessed a will made of iron. He feared nothin', 'least not that anyone knew of. Can't say more about his character, as I'd never spoken with him personally - only heard what others had to say about him.

But there you had it, our six-man team picked out for our venture against the Kongs, who by now were probably already on the island.

We were to start out as soon as possible, but Monty and Klaggart talked things over and formulated a sort'a plan. This took some time, as there were other things to attend to in the meantime - gatherin' of weapons, supplies, rations, and what have you. When the fine tuning was complete, Monty and Klaggart gathered us together and went over the plans and procedures.

All in all, our assignment was simple: pursue the Kongs and catch 'em at all cost. But naturally, things weren't as simple as that. We had some rough terrain to travel over, and when it all came down to it, there wasn't any guarantee that we'd ever find the brats. There were bound to be plenty o' hidin' places on Crocodile Isle, and who knows...the runts might even have more help along the day, like they did with that blasted rhino and swordfish.

Even so, it must'a been written in stone that day that we were to leave the Gangplank that had been our abode for so long. I'll never forget headin' into that boat and bein' lowered into the water, for all I knew what might be the last time. I shook myself o' such thoughts, though - it'd do no good to start thinking too much.

I'd said a hearty goodbye to Kilian, and even to Francis. Both of 'em seemed to envy my being able to go on the voyage to Crocodile Isle, and I s'pose if I were in their boots, I'd feel the same. Not a handful of hours ago I was thinking of the excitement and thrill we'd be seein' on the island, and now here I was on my way to it, and already beginnin' to wonder if I was makin' a mistake.

Me? Well, it's not as if I volunteered to go on this excursion. Still, it were I who was chosen along with the other five, and that was the end o' that. Let come what may, I say - whether our efforts led us to victory or defeat, we'd give it our all, and let it never be said that we didn't try.

It was a longer journey to the isle than I anticipated, but in all fairness that might'a been attributed to the lack of anything interestin' to do or chat about.

Well now, I stand corrected on the latter - we lads exchanged some good conversation on the way there, and I got to know some of the key players a bit better.

Kaz, the Krook, turned out to be one of the chattier fellows in the bunch. I'd sidled over to him and was bold enough to ask him how he lost his hands. To the lad's credit, he wasn't insulted, nor did he waver in his tellin' of the story.

"Me lad," he began, leaning in close to look me square in the eyes, "I lost me hands in a terrible battle agin'st a rival krew! Was ages ago but ah remember it like it was yesterday. It were a calm afternoon, much like t'day, and outta nowhere there appears a black ship on th'horizon. Our kaptain grabbed the spyglass and sure as daylight, we saw it were genle'men o' fortune makin' headway fer us! Aye, it were a terrible disturbance that followed. Soon as we were in range the cannon's sang such a tune as ye'd never heard, lad. Our vessel shuddered an' shook like all 'ell breakin' loose, but our men were stalwart blokes and kept to th'guns, you can be sure of it!
Then 'twas a thing I'll never forget...I was alongside old Jack who was mannin' th'cannons. A missile come strikin' our ship not a yard from us, and I move my tail faster'n lightnin' to help aim our cannon at the enemy. It was then, lad," here, he held up his hooks mere inches from my face, his eyes alight with somethin' akin to sadistic glee, "it was then, the missile destine' ta claim my hands came shootin' through the wall, right as I moved the gun."

He suddenly slammed his hook on the bulwark. "Harr! I'd nearly forgotten about the battle in my ensuin' pain. They fixed me up proper good when th'commotion was over, and it were since then that I 'ad to make due with these wretched hooks instead o' fingers. But it were fate I tell ye! Weren't long 'afore I began to see that it were a blessin' in disguise, for what could my sorry hands ever do better'n these hooks?"

He leaned back against the bulwark and stared out to sea, a look of odd satisfaction on his face.

"Well now," I said with a short laugh, reaching for a bottle, "I'd call that quite a story, mate. I imagine it takes a great deal o' care, maintainin' those grapnels?"

"Aye, that it does, lad," Percy chimed in. He hopped over to us and laid a hand on my shoulder. "Ol' Kaz here has a powerful time of it, keeping those weapons in shape. Why, it wasn't three months ago he came splutterin' outta the water and fretted about his precious claws rustin' away!" He chortled, and to my slight surprise, Kaz chimed in.

"That's the way, lad!" He said, slapping a claw on Percy's lithe back. Percy grunted and shot his companion a glare.

"A man must keep 'is sense o' humor, that be true," Kaz continued. "And as any on this barge can tell ye, I've more humor than most. Truly, was my unique sense o' humor that really saved me when me hands were stolen away. Got me through some'a the toughest times."

I nodded, very much seein' the sense in that, and he lapsed off into another long chapter in his own personal history.
Such is the way we passed our time on our trek to the island.