Chapter 4
Copyright J.B. Norman
“I trust I’ve managed to allay yer parents’ concerns regardin’ the piratical trade?”Captain Goblinbeard asks, still including his pipe among his piratical ensemble.
“You mean my mother’s,” Billie notes. “But yes. Thanks for talking to them, Captain.”
He tips his hat.
Billie has been feeling better since getting Captain Goblinbeard to talk to her parents. Thanks to his efforts – in particular providing them with another bottle of port and a notarised sworn statement bearing the seal of the Brotherhood of the Coasts promising to look after Billie’s physical and mental health and ensuring she gets three square meals a day – Billie’s parents have been largely reassured that she’s getting the best of the Brotherhood’s Mentorship Program.
And Captain Goblinbeard didn’t have to resort to using dinner condiments to explain his point.
Billie is once again standing on the pier beside Captain Goblinbeard as the crew prepares to sail.
“Now, Miss Hawkins,” Captain Goblinbeard says around his pipe, “it be the third Tharrs-day o’ the month. And ye know what that means, I hope?”
“It’s Salvage Thursday, Captain,” Billie says.
“I don’t be givin’ partial credit, Miss Hawkins,” Captain Goblinbeard says.
“Which means that all former ownership of any flotsam, jetsam, or shipwrecks between the Harbour and the territorial limits of Porthaven’s integral waters are forfeited,” Billie continues. “Thereby allowing anyone to freely claim it as salvage, providing they are able to maintain actual physical possession of it until returning to port. And anyone else can formally challenge them for it until they do return to port.”
“Aye, Miss Hawkins. Just so.”
Established by the providentially named thirty-seventh Prince of Porthaven Theophraste Salvage, Salvage Thursday was originally instituted to placate the disgruntled pirates of Porthaven. Having assisted Porthaven in breaking an embargo imposed by its rival city of Goldharbour, and not being paid in a timely manner by the ill-fated thirty-sixth Prince of Porthaven, the pirates came close to armed rebellion and taking what they felt they were owed by force.
Hastily elected following both the metaphorical and literal pillorying and subsequent exile of his immediate predecessor, the new Prince promised that on the third Thursday of every month, the pirates would henceforth and forevermore be entitled to lay claim to any salvageable ships or goods within the immediate territory waters of Porthaven with full sanction and no interference from Porthaven’s authorities or customs fees upon their return.
This was seen as eminently agreeable to the pirates, with whose support Theophraste Salvage was able to be re-elected as Prince for the remainder of his career until his retirement to a lobster farm at the age of eighty-seven.
In the ensuing years, Salvage Thursday has become one of the most beloved traditions among Porthaven’s pirates. Although the Musketeer Guards do not get involved in Salvage Thursday – as long as the piratical activity does not come ashore – the agreed-upon rules for the day encourage the pirates to fight among themselves over claims to the salvage.
The Brotherhood of the Coasts laid out rules establishing that any pirate may challenge any other pirate for their claimed salvage until their ship is anchored back in the Harbour. Salvage Thursday is thus seen as the main proving ground for any aspiring pirates.
“Unfortunately,” Captain Goblinbeard continues, “we’ve run into a spot o’ bother. For ye see, Miss Hawkins, Black Jack Takeda will not be joinin’ us.”
“But he’s the quartermaster,” Billie notes. “He’s in charge of provisions. How can we sail without provisions? It’s only a day, I guess, but what if we get hungry?”
“Aye, but I’ll not fault him for it,” Captain Goblinbeard continues. “For right as we speak, his wife be havin’ a baby. And that’s a better reason for such truancy than most.”
He smiles up at her.
“Well, I do believe it’s yer time to shine, Miss Hawkins,” Captain Goblinbeard declares. “Ye’ve heretofore proven yerself a conscientious lass, Miss Hawkins. Can I entrust ye with resolvin’ this matter in time for us to be castin’ off?”
“I won’t let you down, Captain.” Billie hurries off towards the line of fish-seller stalls on the wharf.
Kat Darkstone is starting to realise that she really, really needs to start demanding better contracts for her freelance adventuring jobs.
Or maybe she just needs to stop doing so many jobs for Porthaven’s grizzled old sea captains. Somehow, her last job from the Guild Authority, on behalf of the grizzled-est old sea captain, ended with her being paid in forty-seven pounds of smoked salmon.
She doesn’t even like salmon!
Yet her she is, hauling a wagon stacked with reams upon reams of smoked fish and stinking like she got caught downwind of a fishing boat fire. She cannot possibly sell off this fish soon enough. Though, as it’s turning out so far, she cannot possibly sell it off at all. She’s not the only person in Porthaven who doesn’t want forty-seven pounds of smoked salmon.
She sidles up with her wagon to yet another fish-seller’s stall.
“So, hey,” Kat says to the man at the stall. “You wanna buy forty-seven pounds of smoked salmon?”
“What am I going to do with forty-seven pounds of smoked salmon?” the man at the stall asks Kat.
“What am I going to do with forty-seven pounds of smoked salmon?” Kat counters. “You’re the fish guy!”
“I’ll take it off your hands for fifteen marks,” the man at the stall counters.
“Great,” Kat says. “Have it at.”
“No. I mean if you pay me fifteen marks, I’ll take it off your hands,” the man at the stall says.
Kat points over her shoulder. “There’s eight actual, literal ships right over there, and you’re still the worst pirate in the entire Dock District!”
“You’re holding up the line,” the man at the stall notes.
“What line?” Kat asks, glancing around and seeing no one else.
“Just leave,” the man at the stall says.
Kat rolls her eyes and starts hauling away her wagon. She makes sure to give the fish stall a stiff kick as she goes.
“Don’t kick my stall,” the fishmonger sighs.
“Excuse me,” a young pirate woman says, taking a step towards Kat.
The pirate woman is tall, with the tips of her pointed ears just poking out through the long golden hair that falls past her shoulders and kept out of her face by the red bandana on her head.
“I couldn’t help but notice your wagon,” she says, pointing. “Would you happen to be selling that fish?”
Kat sighs heavily. “Honestly, I just want to get rid of it,” she tells the pirate woman. “You want it? You can have it.”
“Captain Goblinbeard would insist on paying you fairly,” the pirate woman notes.
“Captain…” Kat repeats as she blinks at her. “…Goblinbeard?”
“Yes,” the pirate woman says.
“That’s his name?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
A seagull cries overhead as a thought occurs to Kat.
“Does he actually have a beard?”
The pirate woman’s gaze bashfully shifts away from Kat. “No.”
“Right, uh, where were we?” Kat mutters. “Captain Goblinface —”
“Beard.”
“— Beard. Wants these forty-seven pounds of smoked salmon?”
The pirate woman nods. “Yes. And I’ll pay you a fair price for it.”
“Look, just pay me anything,” Kat offers.
Not long thereafter, Kat sits down at a table at one of the dockside taverns to count her money as the pirate woman leads the wagon of smoked salmon back to her ship.
“Have fun with Captain Goblinfa—beard!” Kat calls, waving until the pirate woman disappears into the dockside crowd.
“Captain Goblinbeard? You know him? Is he here? Where is he?”
“Gah!” Kat yelps, clutching her coin purse to her chest in surprise as an angry Goblin girl with dark hair and glasses climbs into the other chair at her table.
“Just point me to him so I can give him a piece of my mind,” the Goblin girl bids with a fire blazing her eyes.
“I, uh, I don’t actually know him,” Kat says. “I just sold one of his pirates some fish.”
“I hope it’s bad fish. I hope it gives him some kind of horrible stomach thing,” the Goblin girl mutters, slumping sullenly in her chair. “He deserves it. He’s only the worst person in all of Terrace.”
“She, uh… she went that way.” Kat points towards the pirate woman hauling away the wagon of smoked salmon.
“I’ll be right back.” She speeds off after the pirate woman. “Hey! Wait! I need you to give this note to your captain for me!”
The Goblin girl makes her way back to Kat’s table and falls into one of the chairs to catch her breath.
“Stupid stubby little legs,” she mutters. “Have to run twice as fast to get half as far.”
Her desperate pursuit of the pirate woman has left the Goblin’s face flushed and her dark hair matted across her forehead.
“Do you want me to get you some water or something?” Kat offers. “I’m Kat, by the way.”
“Lena,” the Goblin girl answers after catching her breath. “Water would be great.”
“So, uh, is this some kind of weird revenge thing?” Kat asks. “You and this Goblinface?”
Lena chuckles. “Goblinface. That’s a good one.”
“It seems like you have a real axe to grind with this guy.” Kat nods.
“I hate him,” Lena declares.
“Oh.”
“Also,” Lena adds in a murmur. “He’s my Dad.”
“Oh.”
Captain Goblinbeard stares at the wagon as Billie leads it back to the gangplank of the Falchion.
“Miss Hawkins, be that—”
“Forty-seven pounds of smoked salmon, yes,” Billie answers.
“That’ll make for fine victuals for the crew,” Captain Goblinbeard says with a nod. “And we’ve got a brand-new wagon in the bargain. Well done. And with that, I do believe we’re ready to depart.”
“Wait, Captain,” Billie says. “A young Goblin woman saying she’s your daughter gave me this note to pass on to you.”
Captain Goblinbeard frowns. “That’ll be Lena,” he mutters around his pipe. He glances back up at Billie. “The summary’ll be sufficin’ for now, Miss Hawkins.”
“She, um, hates you and she’s never talking to you again,” Billie says. “Well, she used some colourful language, but that’s the gist of it, Captain.”
“Yarr, she’s being at that rebellious teenage phase,” he explains. “Me daughter’ll be having none o’ me pirate’s life. I’ll be sittin’ her down and talkin’ to her anon. But I be thinkin’ it’s time to cast off, the salvage awaits.”
“Yes, Captain,” Billie says.
“All aboard!” Captain Goblinbeard calls to his crew. “And don’t be dawdlin’ now, lest me boot find yer backsides. And, aye, it may be but a Goblin-sized boot, but I kicks with the power o’ a man twice – nay, even thrice or force – me size.”
Captain Goblinbeard looks up at Billie and tips his hat.
“As ye were. Ye, of all people, need not fear me boot,” he assures her. “For I’ve found ye to be a woman o’ the utmost reliability and aptitude.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Billie says.
Captain Goblinbeard turns back towards the rest of his crew. “Unlike the rest o’ ye sluggards!” he calls. “Layabout Pete, I be lookin’ in yer direction.”
Chapter 3
Chapter 5
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