Page 78 of Blow Me Down
You would have thought sailing back to the dock was a minor thing, but as soon as I had the sails unfurled in preparation for heading for the dock, a small rowboat was launched from Pangloss’s ship. The pirate Maggot quickly rowed over to our ship, yelling up a question about what we were doing.
“I need to get food,” I yelled down at him.
“Ye what?”
“Food, I need food!”
“Ye’re in a blockade, and ye’re not fully stocked?” he asked, surprise written all over his face.
“No one told me we’d be out here for days! I’ll be back in a little bit, just as soon as I round up enough foodstuffs to keep us from starving for a few days,” I told him.
He stared openmouthed at me for a moment until I gave the order to set sail, whereupon he rowed as fast as possible back to Pangloss’s ship.
I gave it a little wave as we turned.
On the island, I used the bulk of Holder’s money to buy up salt beef and pork, a couple of barrels of ale, one of rum, one of water, dried peas, a form of hardtack that the tradesmen swore would repel weevils and other icky bugs, oatmeal, huge wheels of cheese, and as a special treat, two crates of apples, and one of lemons.
A brief chat with my crew established that Impulsive would be the best person to cook (the others showed a disinterest in proper food preparation that had me envisioning E. coli running amok), so once everything was stowed away, we sailed back out into the harbor and dropped anchor to resume the blockade wait.
And wait we did. I lasted twenty-four hours; then I couldn’t stand it anymore, and sent Prudence off in a row-boat to the nearest blockade ship with a note for Corbin to inquire how he was doing.
He sent back a terse reply saying he was bored out of his head, his wound was much better, and didn’t I want to come and play cowgirl with him?
I was tempted; I was very tempted. But daily visits from Pangloss as he made his rounds of all the harbor ships drove home the importance of presenting a unified front to the blockaders.
“Not that Corbin is about to attack with us here,” I said aloud the third day of the blockade, glaring at Bran the raven as I paced by him. The bird had apparently decided it was part seagull, and flapped its stubby wings while mimicking a seagull’s cry every time a gull soared overhead. “Shut… up!”
“Eh?” Prudence asked, looking up from the game of chess he and his twin were playing with crudely carved chess pieces. Tar stood at the bow of the ship, his hands behind his back, staring out at the blockade line.
“Not you; the bird! Bas, can’t you tape his little beak together, or something?
Two days of him doing his gull impression is starting to wear on my nerves.”
Bas looked up from where he was dangling a piece of salted pork over the edge of the ship, hoping, he had confided in me the day before, to catch a man-eating shark. “I couldn’t do that! ‘Twould be cruel, that would!”
“Not nearly so cruel as having me make him walk the plank,” I growled to myself, pacing the length of the ship.
“Kree, kree, kree,” called the gulls as they circled the ships hoping for food.
“Caw, caw, caw,” answered Bran, hopping around the deck.
Pad, pad, padwent my bare feet as I paced the length of the ship for the three hundred and twelfth time. “Aaaaaaaaaah!” I yelled, unable to stand it any longer.
Everyone looked at me.
“Caw, caw, caw.”
“Ahhh?” Pru asked me, ignoring Bran as the bird hopped past him, chasing a low-flying gull.
“Yes, aaaah!”
“Caw, caw, caw!”
“Are ye talkin‘ to yerself again?” Impulsive asked, giving me an odd look.
“Maybe. Possibly. Probably. What if I am?” I stopped in front of him, my hands on my hips.
“Caw, caw!”
