His one eye squint as Captain Dodgers watched the beast jerk back.
"She's gonna strike, she is!" Black-jack Flint growled warningly, a sweaty knuckle rubbing across his hairy brow as he leaned onto the railing of the deck with the rest of the crew, weapon at hand.
"Perhaps . . . but I don't think so," the captain stood steady beside his men and lifted his chiped cutlass over his shoulder. He readied for an other strike; the beast had damaged a bit of the ship yet no matter how hard they fought back, it was un-harmed by their attacks. No rope could hold it steady with out pulling the ship over and no weapon of steel could penetrate its immortal scales, but Captain Dodgers foresaw one last resort, a soft spot of flesh that might teach the serpent that the ship had teeth as well. It was a long shot that the captain might get a hit in between the monster's strikes and reach the unprotected skin of its mouth, and no doubt such a move would be instant death, but the captain was willing to take such a risk to let his ship pass safely threw the waters.
The sea serpent had pulled away from the ship with a great suddeness, yet did not strike back with the same speed as of yet . . . in fact, it did not strike back at all.
The waters began to lap up around it awkwardly as the giant body wagged back and forth before out right spinning in place. The corsair swished about in the currents and turned its course slightly as the monster caused the waters to churn and swirl, gradually pulling the ship towards its serpentine body
"It's pulling us in! She's drawing us under!" a sailor's shout suddenly broke out as the realization swept over the crew with a unanimous certainty.
"Wait! Look!" Dodgers held his free hand over his brow as he carefully watched the enraged sea serpent. Half way down its scaley neck, he saw a speck of red -- no, a stream of red! "Blood!"
His crew leaned anxiously upon the rail peering as well.
"Blimey!" Flint shouted rubbing the new bald spot in his beard, "It is! But what could'a dun it?"
Dodgers remained patient, watching carefully and not paying too much mind to his men as he studied the creature. The stream of blood was growing wider. What could have caused such an occurrence?
Then he blinked once as a bead of sweat followed the curve around the patch of his left eye and rolled down his nose. Did he see what he thought he saw? He ran a dirty sleeve across his forehead and looked again. There it was, a bulge of blood worming its way out from the source of the bloody stream; what could it be?
R and his peg-leg limped loudly up through the crowd, a desperate look in his dark eyes under the deep white brows as he opened his hairy jaw to speak once more, "Arr,"
But before the captain could figure out the puzzle or the sailor could get out a word, the serpent began to lean and its towering body gradually picked up speed as it fell towards the sea once more.
Immediately Dodgers shot his orders into actions. Sharply, he pointed his cutlas, keeping a calm firmness on his face, "Flint, man the wheel, steer us away from the undertow. Men, to the sails! Catch the winds, she's not going to take us with her!"
Flint dashed away the moment his name was called, but the rest of the men most likely wouldn't have stopped their gawking and gotten to work if they had not seen their captain carrying out his own orders.
Dodgers tore into the rigging as his crew rushed to help him turn the sails to find the current of winds while Flint held the wheel steady.
By then, the beast splashed down and great waves washed upon deck, but carried up in the sea spray was a miraculous sight. Dodgers looked up in time to see the stowaway flying threw the air flapping his arms and legs about before falling back into the water once more.
Eye wide with wonder, he rushed back to the railing and leaned forward peering into the waters below. There, sure enough was the child bobbing in the bubbly brine.
"The lad!" he cried, still staring in shock and wonder, "He's alive! Get me a rope!"
This caused about as much of an eruption of attention as did the sea serpent. Even Black-jack Flint had to come investigate for himself, leaving the wheel in the charge of the petrified cabin boy.
Dodgers busied himself with a rope while a mass of sailors flocked past him to hang their heads over the railing.
"Blimey!" Flint cawed out for the second time, "He fought his way out from th' inside o' th' beast's belly! What kinnah stow-away did we get onboard?"
"Not just any kind," Dodgers patiently stepped around the crowd and tossed the loop in the rope as close to around the boy as he could, "Don't worry, we'll pull you up!" he called out. Several moments passed by and the ship began to drift away from the boy causing the sailors to mumble amongst themselves.
"You think'ee'z dead?" Flint's impatient fingers found the new bald spot in his beard once more as he stood next to his captain watching the still child curiously.
Dodgers pulled the rope in and tried again with more slack, "Grab the rope, lad!"
This time there was more of a reaction. The sailors cheered as a small, weary hand began smacking at the water in the direction of the rope.
The captain smiled confidently and lifted his brow at Flint, "No."
Flint chuckled loud and heartily as Dodgers pulled the rope in. Then his hand found the new parting in his beard again, "Ah should'a known better'en that, eh? Ha! He musta bit th' monster's heart clean out'a 'er chest!"
Dodgers nodded trying to pull the boy in slowly as he was lifted from the water, carefully watching him clinging to the rope with all fours as the crew shouted out cheers of praise and comments of his accomplishment.
Leaning upon his peg-leg, the old pirate huddled silently by Dodgers and Black-jack and watched closely while waving his hand gently in the air now and then to give his captain a slight idea of direction or speed to the reeling in of the young sea serpent slayer. But after a moment, his silence was broken as the grizzled old man held up his hand, "Arrr."
Half way up to deck's level the child's grasp seemed to give way and he fell straight back into the water. The captain flinched feeling the sudden lack of weight on the other end of the rope, but Flint beat him to the punch.
"Yew don't get away so easy, boy!" Black-jack bellowed as the sailor leapt over the edge of the ship and plunged into the waters with the boy.
There was a unanimous gasp running amongst the crew, but Dodgers simply rubbed his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully watching his old friend submerge and disappear into a mass of bubbles beneath the waves. He simply waited, reeling the rope back in and judging the amount of slack he would need to hoist Flint and the boy back on board with as he exchanged knowing nods with his peg-legged friend R.
The bubbles by then had calmed into the normal waves slapping against the side of the ship until Flint's head reappeared a short ways from the ship. Then he lifted into view the stowaway, holding him by the scruff of his neck giving the child the appearance of a drowned bilge-rat, though Flint didn't quite look much better.
"Good thinking, Flint," Dodgers nodded approvingly as he handed the rope to R to pass to the group of sailors that remained, deciding that the spectators should lend a hand in the work as well.
"Eh?" Flint cocked an ear his way as the men hoisted him up by the rhythm of R's precise heave-ho hand motions, the lad scooped up into one of his massive arms as if he were just a kitten though the child's arm hung limply downwards, a small basket-hilted saber attached to his hand.
"You've rescued our celebrity and taken that bath I've been badgering you about the past six months."
The men began squawking their heads off in laughter nearly dropping the grumbling Flint and unconscious stowaway back into the sea again if it wasn't for the peg-legged pirate's scolding stare.
Carrying his ever knowledgeable captain's grin, Dodgers stooped at the edge of the deck and lifted the half-drowned lad with one arm being careful of the weapon, then offered his other to help his ship-mate back on board. Looking curiously down at the kid's peaceful face, he wondered what could be going on in his tiny head, how such a young lad could ever have figured such a clever way to survive such an experience of certain doom. Then again, he grinned to himself picturing the lad slicing at the beast's vulnerable insides, great minds do think alike.
"Now, what have we here?" turning his back to the railing now, Dodgers held the lad arm's length in front of himself taking a good hard study of the salty dripping mess. He hardly looked to be over a decade old, nor had he seen a decent meal in over half that time, the captain guessed by his boney joints and sunken in cheeks. The child coughed out a few throat fulls of brine but didn't look as if he'd be ready to awaken just yet.
"Hmh," Dodgers mused to himself as he cradled the child in one arm rather easily keeping the kid's armed hand away from himself and ran his hand threw the mop of silver hair atop the sleeping boy's head. There, sure enough, upon either side of his head were two triangular ears loosely folded against his scalp and covered in a light velvety fur of a matching shade of gray. "Ah'right, 'nuff excitement fer one day! Back teh work, allah yah!" Flint bellowed, ushering the sailors away as he walked up to Dodgers, water dripping from his soggy beard, "How's th' li'le felleh look?"
"Fuzzy." he answered simply as he snatched a cloth from a cabin boy who suddenly seemed to sprout up next to him offering it.
"Eh? Whussat sappostah mean?" with a blank stare of confusion, Flint stood towering above his captain. He was a big man, Black-jack Flint. Hot tempered and stubborn, Dodgers had thought him to be at first, but through-out the years he proved that there was more behind his stern anger then meets the eye.
Still cradling the sleeping child in one arm, the captain looked up in time to see Flint sorely poking at the patch of missing beard. He wanted to laugh or throw in a smart comment or two, but refrained, simply walking back towards his cabin while wrapping the dry cloth around the sopping wet child who had managed, even in his unconscious state, to dampen the captain's entire shirt.
"What it means is, we don't have an ordinary stowaway," he motioned for him to follow. But before he could duck into the captain's quarters, that blue-tail of hair and wad of loose cloths crossed into his line of view. He felt a hot streak form across his brow as he grit his teeth, eye narrowed, "As for you," he pointed with his free hand, speaking harshly.
The slender landlover flinched either at the words, the finger, or both and he began to fidget with a few scrolls of paper tucked under his arms, a large quill pen sliding out from behind his ear as he stammered.
"You might have been sent along to make sure we make a speedy coarse, but it looks as if this uninvited guest here's taken over where you failed. I'll handle you later."
And with that and a harsh one-eyed piratical glare, Dodgers and Flint descended the stairs to the captain's quarters.
