The Rogue Crew

Dirgo touched the hilt of one which was stowed through his belt. “Just this un, Cap’n. ’Tis a dirk.”

Razzid cast a glance at a ferret corsair. “Lend me that cutlass yore carryin’.”

Wordlessly he accepted the heavy cutlass. His eye continued roving. “Anybeast got a good spear? Splitears, yores’ll do, give it to Dirgo.”

The searat took Splitears’s spear and also the cutlass, which Razzid passed to him. Dirgo shook his head, a sob entering his voice. “Aaah no, Cap’n, please—not me!”

Razzid levelled the trident prongs at his throat. “Git over the side an’ free that wheel.”

Dirgo wailed pitifully, “But, Cap’n, there’s a giant pikefish in there. I seen it meself!”

Razzid nodded, speaking reasonably. “But ye might free the wheel an’ stay clear o’ the pikefish. So wot’ll it be, take a chance with a fish, or get my trident through yer neck for a certainty? Mowlag, Jiboree, ’elp our mate Dirgo to git ’is paws wet in the river.”

The pair grabbed the hapless searat and flung him over the side. He had time for only one scream, then went under. The crew crowded the rails, watching Dirgo, who could be clearly seen underwater. Making his way to the fouled wheel, he hacked at the subterranean tree root, which had somehow become entangled with the part where axle connects with hub.

Dirgo strove at the task, cutting two deep slashes into the fibrous root before having to surface for a breath.

Redtail winked at him. “Yore doin’ alright, matey, keep goin’. Ain’t no sign o’ the pikefish. Think it might o’ gone downriver.”

Dirgo felt heartened. “I’ll soon git ’er free, Cap’n!”

Razzid actually smiled. “Cask o’ grog for ye if’n ye do.”

The searat dived back to his chore with a will.

Nobeast saw the pike arrive; it hit Dirgo like a thunderbolt. The vicious serrated rows of the predator’s teeth locked fast in the back of the searat’s neck. It shook him like a sodden rag. Dirgo was totally helpless in the huge fish’s ferocious jaws. The crew watched the macabre scene from the rails, shouting out in horror as the water crimsoned with their messmate’s blood.

Razzid however, seemed fascinated with the gory spectacle. He called to Shekra, “D’ye think that pikefish is the only one around?”

The vixen turned her face from the awful sight. “It must be. A pike that size would rule this stretch o’ river, Cap’n.”

Nobeast was expecting what came next. The Wearat cast off his cloak and leapt into the river, brandishing his trident, laughing wildly.

“Hahaaarrhahaharrr!”

He lunged at the pike, sending the three-pronged fork plunging into its flank. The fish released its prey, writhing madly, then went limp.

Mowlag and Jiboree were standing by to help their captain aboard. He emerged dripping, a hideous grin on his face. “Haharr, I just caught meself a monster pikefish!”

Shekra congratulated him. “Oh, well done, Lord. ’Twas a brave thing to do—no otherbeast would have dared it!”

Razzid was still laughing as he shook water from himself. “Aye, but t’do somethin’ like that, ye need good bait. Ole Dirgo came in useful, didn’t ’e?”

There was a shocked silence when the vermin crew realised that Razzid had deliberately sent Dirgo to his death.

Donning his cloak, the Wearat continued callously, “Nobeast but me could’ve done that. Mowlag, send some o’ these layabouts down t’get my trident back, aye, an’ tell’em to deliver my pikefish t’the cook. I never tasted pikefish afore. ’Ave Badtooth bring it t’my cabin when it’s roasted. Oh, an’ get that wheel freed so we can get underway agin!”

He retired to his cabin, from where everybeast could hear him laughing and imitating Dirgo. “Ships wid wheels ain’t no use at all—hahahaaarrr! Wheels or not, Dirgo, no ship’s any use to ye now, mate! Hahahaaarrr! Looks like I won the keg o’ grog!”

None of the crew shared the joke. They hung about on deck, casting sullen glances at the captain’s cabin.

Wigsul, a corsair weasel, gnawed at a dirty pawnail. “Nobeast deserves t’die like pore Dirgo did.”

Jiboree drew him to one side, whispering a caution. “Careful that Mowlag or Shekra don’t ’ear ye say that, mate.”

A nearby searat’s lips scarcely moved as he interrupted. “Wigsul’s right, though, ain’t ’e? Sendin’ a crewmate t’be slayed like that, just so Razzid could eat roast fish fer dinner—it ain’t right, I tell ye!”

Growls of agreement came from several others who had heard the searat.

Jiboree nodded, then turned back to his tiller. “Stow it.’Ere comes Mowlag.”

The mate joined Jiboree at the tiller, remarking, “Ole Cooky’s galley’s scarce big enough to roast that fish. The wheel’s free now. C’mon, buckoes, back t’yer paddles—there’s still a bit o’ daylight left.”

Jiboree leaned close to Mowlag, lowering his voice. “Some o’ the crew reckon ’twas a wrong thing the cap’n did to Dirgo—”

Mowlag enquired sharply, “Who were they? Wot’s their names?”

Jiboree spat expertly over the rail into the river. “Couldn’t tell, really. Just a general sort o’ mutter.”