Hannah, Garin, and the Terribly-Named Treasure: Part Two

     The Usul padded quietly around the ship, searching for a way to enter it undetected. She heard a guffaw from above, and looked up to see two figures standing near the rigging. The taller shadow, which Hannah thought might belong to a Kyrii, seemed to have just told a joke, as the shorter—a Bruce?—was doubled over with mirth. Near the mast, she saw three more shapes—a Techo, maybe a Tonu, and a Peophin?—playing some sort of game with their daggers. A loud diversion was obviously the solution to all these problems, so Hannah backed up and started searching the piled crates for helpful materials. She found such materials astonishingly quickly (she took this to be a sign that the universe had decided to work with her on this adventure—an assumption she would regret soon enough) and, wearing an evil smirk to rival Vira’s, pulled a box of matches out of her bag.

     ***

     Jacques the Swift, Garin’s first mate and BFF, was having quite an enjoyable night. With Garin in town and their supplies fully restocked, the crew had nothing to do but eat, tell jokes, and laze around, which was perfectly fine by them. So when the cheerfully-sparking firework landed on the deck and set fire to an extra sail, ruining any chance of a peaceful last evening at port, he was just a teensy bit put out.

     “TERGAN, GET A BUCKET!” shrieked the Kyrii, dashing over to the crackling fuse and stomping on it frantically. “HURRY!”

     As the summoned Bruce threw water on top of the firework and the sail, more shouts came from the mast, and a panicked Tonu shoved his half-eaten plate of mashed potatoes on top of a second firework to smother the flame. “WHAT IS GOING ON!?” he bellowed aggrievedly, prodding the now-sodden firework.

     “I found a note!” cried a Magma Scorchio, who picked up a third firework, pulled off the paper tied to it, and casually extinguished the fuse by pinching it, to the envious glare of the Tonu. “It says, ‘There’s plenty more where that came from’.”

     Jacques gave a furious snarl. “Some dung-headed coward is down there trying to set fire to us! Get the ladder, boys, and let’s go teach him a lesson he’ll never forget!”

     The rest of the pirates echoed him with angry shouts, and were soon swarming down to the docks, led by the Tonu whose dinner had been so rudely interrupted. Hannah watched their progress from behind a barrel of coal, highly amused; when she was sure they were all scattered away from the ship, she darted to the unguarded ladder and climbed it. The Usul knew it wouldn’t be long before the pirates would return; accordingly, she raced below deck to find a good place to hide. She decided on the storeroom, and, installing herself in a small but not uncomfortable alcove behind a pyramid of casks, she settled down for the night. Hannah’s adventure had officially begun.

     ***

     In contrast to pre-firework Jacques, Garin was not having a good night. Not a single other sailor seemed to know anything useful about the properties or dangers of the treasure he was seeking (indeed, most had thought he was joking when he told them what it was called), a table of tourists had so monopolized the Golden Dubloon’s restrooms that he’d had to settle for washing his hands with leftover grog, and the Aisha waitress had been inexplicably frosty towards him for nearly the entire evening.

     And, truth be told, he kept feeling twinges of guilt for what he’d said to Hannah. Maybe a little of it had been uncalled for, and she must have been upset, because he hadn’t seen her after she’d stomped away. But how could she say he had no knife-fighting technique? Garin fingered his beloved Maractite weapon. Impossible. She must have been way more upset than he’d thought to spout such a ridiculous lie.

     As he approached the dock, Garin pushed the uncomfortable memory of their encounter out of his mind—he had bigger things to worry about right now, such as the fact that his entire crew was running around the docks, waving their weapons and screaming unprintable obscenities at thin air.

     “SILENCE!” Garin roared, and a nearby Lutari squealed and jumped about a foot in the air before putting a paw over his mouth and slinking away to sheathe his cutlass. The rest of the pirates stopped in their tracks, except for the extra-belligerent Tonu, who finished demolishing a pile of tomato-filled boxes before he deigned to turn around. “Can someone please, for the love of asparagus, TELL ME WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE LOT OF YOU?”

     Jacques stepped forward, looking sheepish. “Some moron tossed three lit fireworks at us with a note saying he had more, so we all came down to, er, look for him.”

     “I... see,” said Garin, feeling a slight pang of despair over the collective brainpower (or lack thereof) of his crew. “I’m truly astonished that you didn’t find him, what with the subtle and foolproof detective methods you were employing.”

     “Well, we started off okay, but SOME OF US got a bit carried away,” said Jacques, side-eyeing the Tonu (whose name, incidentally, was Pilpkin, but who preferred to go by the charming moniker of Earbeard, for reasons best known to himself). Earbeard looked suitably chastened, but made a rude face at Jacques as soon as his back was turned.

     “Well, never mind,” Garin said, setting off for the ship. “Whoever he is, he’s probably long gone, and we need to be going too.”

     Jacques hurried to catch up with him, and asked softly, “Did you find out anything about the curse?”

     “Not a whisper,” said Garin, equally quietly. “I think it’s either been grossly exaggerated and just causes a rash or something, or it never existed in the first place. It’s hard to tell, though, because it seems like nobody’s even heard about the Booty of Briny Baldric. I think they all thought I was joking.”

     The Kyrii snorted. “I still can’t believe we’re searching for a treasure that sounds like the name of a seedy restaurant. What kind of self-respecting pirate would call himself Briny Baldric?”

     Garin glanced around him and muttered, “The same, ah, eccentric kind that calls himself Earbeard. I’m beginning to regret hiring all those new sailors—have you noticed that they don’t seem to have more than five brain cells between them?”

     “Well, yes, but I think it’s kind of endearing,” Jacques said, also glancing behind him. “You thought so too when we were interviewing them.”

     “Well, at the time, I did,” Garin said regretfully. “They were all so eager and enthusiastic about pillaging villages that I just couldn’t say no. But now I think maybe we should have at least had a literacy test or something.”

     Jacques shrugged. “Too late now; they’ll be pretty angry if we fire them at this point. So should we go for the Booty of Briny—I can’t say that name and not feel stupid. Should we go for the treasure?”

     “I think it’s full sail ahead,” Garin said matter-of-factly. “What do we have to lose, anyway?”

     “Our reputation if anyone finds out the dangerous treasure we seek used to belong to someone named Briny Baldric?”

     In spite of his less-than-joyful mood, the Usul cracked a small smile. “Why do I even tell you anything?” he asked resignedly.

     “Because I’m awesome. Duh. So other than the lack of helpful knowledge, how was your wild night out?”

     “Well, I got into at least six fights, maybe seven, can’t remember, and by the time the authorities came, my opponents were unconscious and stacked into neat little piles, as always.”

     Jacques grinned as he started up the ladder. “What, only six-maybe-seven fights? You must be getting old.”

     “Not likely! It’s just that everyone who’s thinking of fighting me seems to run away as soon as I walk in, and I don’t feel like chasing them, even though you know I completely could. Oh, and speaking of fighting, you’ll never guess who I met in the Golden Dubloon...”

     ***

     She’d done quite few brave (some would even say foolish) deeds in her time, but, Hannah reflected, none had been so easy and relaxing as stowing away in a pirate ship was turning out to be. She whiled away her time by reading Lennies in Love, a ridiculous novel Loretta had accidentally left in her bag, by the light of the candles she’d brought; by stealing tidbits from the storeroom (whatever, they wouldn’t miss them, and her supplies were meant for emergencies); by eavesdropping on the crew’s gossip (pirates had a surprising amount of drama); and by practicing her fighting in the dead of night. Except for a few dicey pirate-craving-a-midnight-snack incidents, this had been almost like a vacation. But Hannah knew that these types of situations rarely lasted longer than a week, and on the sixth day of the Black Pawkeet’s voyage, her dire prediction came true.

     The Usul was woken one morning by the dulcet tones of apoplectic screaming coming from above. As this was not especially unusual, she would have yawned, rolled over, and gone back to sleep if said screaming had not been followed by the clang of steel. Intrigued, Hannah sat up. Though the sailors often got into tiffs, they had never yet resorted to sword-fighting—she understood that this was forbidden by Garin, who, whatever his (many) faults, did not allow bloodshed within the crew.

     The clanging stopped, and another voice—she thought it might belong to Garin—shouted something about it being his ship. Hannah’s ears pricked up; this sounded suspiciously like a mutiny, and though she wasn’t afraid of fighting, it was rarely (if ever) wise to get caught in the middle of a nasty piratical uprising.

     A second, deeper bellow drowned out Garin’s yells; Hannah could hear him perfectly. “You idiot!” bawled the voice. “We’re not inexperienced pirates at all! That was just an act—do you get it now? I, Earbeard, am ready to take over this ship and find the treasure, and you’re completely surrounded! So hand over your pretty little knife and your cute little map and I’ll be merciful enough to maroon you, or we can fight it out, and when my crew wins, I’ll be happy to let you all walk the plank!”

     Hannah stood up, stretched, and pulled out her dagger. Though she harbored no affection for Garin, she had to admit that he was probably more qualified to hunt for treasure than someone who called himself “Earbeard,” so she figured she might as well help him out and place him firmly in her debt. However, as Hannah was about to slide out of the storeroom, she heard more shouting, and then the thumps that meant several pairs of feet were coming below deck. Hurriedly, the Usul jumped back into her alcove—she didn’t much fancy trying to fight and getting cornered into this tiny room—and a moment later, the door flew open, and Garin, Jacques, and three other pets were shoved in.

     “We’ll let you off at the next island, don’t worry!” shouted Earbeard gleefully, and the door slammed shut.

     Jacques sighed as he heard the lock click. “The fool, why would he shut us in here? I mean, he’s taken the rest of the crew down to the bilge—doesn’t he realize he’ll need supplies soon?”

     “Like I was loudly telling him a few minutes ago,” said Garin, dusting himself off, “I don’t think anyone who calls himself ‘Earbeard’ has much history of thinking things through or making good decis—AAAAAAAUUUGH!!”

     This scream was Hannah’s fault; unable to resist the (admittedly childish) temptation, she had jumped out from behind the casks and said, “Boo!”

     Jacques, who had jumped in fright (as had the three other crew members), stared at her. “Hey, wait a minute, you’re—”

     “YOU,” hissed Garin, furious. “What in the name of Neopia are you doing on my ship?”

To be continued...