The Lengthening Shadow
Chapter 4: The Ragsail

On the victorious ship, Alrack had called a celebration in honor of their victory over Uldrich’s vessel. The vermin had spent the evening laughing and feasting. Ruller the fox quartermaster had broached a barrel of seaweed ale upon Alrack’s request and called a toast to his bloodthirsty captain. “ ’Ere’s ta the good ship Ragsail and our beloved cap’n: Alrack Blooooooodfeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen!”. The corsair shipmaster acknowledged Ruller’s contribution with a nod of his head as the crewbeasts broke into cheers. “ Bloodfen! Bloodfen! Blooooooodfeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen! Yaharrrrrrr!”. The feasting and merriment went long into the night, graced by the presence of the rehabilitated Venge, who had come up from his bunk to join the celebratory feast. He quaffed a flagon of the ale brought out by Ruller and found it satisfactory. “ I say, sir fox, this ale has a delectable flavor to it. I find it to my liking. Do you have anything else with this certain savory flavor, sirrah?”. Ruller, relieved that the unpredictable ferret was pleased with his decision, bowed curtly to Venge. “ I thanks yer for yer perfessional opinion, Venge. It is nice wine, if’n I do say so meself”. In the stern of the Ragsail, in Alrack’s cabin, he and several other crewbeasts were sharing vittles and reminiscing about past battles and power surges among the crews of past seasons. The current yarn-spinner was a one-eyed corsair fox called Flitgorm, sharing about how he lost his eye. “ Aye, me ’arties, ‘twas a grand ould pike that took me eye. I wiz on the bank of a great river, huntin’ fer fish for me dinner, when this whoppin’ great pike jumped out o’ the water and started attackin’ me. I fought it off as best I could, but it’s teeth ‘ad took me right glim afore I could do anythin’. But still, I slew it wid me trusty ould broadsword ’ere. That, mates, is why I wears this ’ere eyepatch.” There was a resonant round of applause for the fox, coupled with comments. When Flitgorm’s tale was over, Alrack took the floor, starting his wildly popular story about his rise to power.

Long ago, about twenty-five seasons back, the galley was sailing on the open, warm western ocean. The captain was a sly, lanky ferret named Scarjib, who ran the ship like a dictator. He enforced his strict discipline with the punishment of death, and beatings from his first mate, Alrack, and his second mate, Waveclaw. They had just come back from a successful raid on a blackbird settlement off the coast of southern Greenbloom, where Scarjib had squeezed the location of any close, wealthy areas that were ideal for looting. The ferret had not had good luck concerning the weather, for it was stormy; with strong, gale-like winds, and had driven the Ragsail way off course.

This day, on the choppy seas, Scarjib had been pondering the question of Alrack.

The black weasel was an excellent fighter, a master of strategy, and showed exemplary leadership skills. The one problem was that Alrack was too rebellious, too hot-headed. Scarjib knew he wanted command of the Ragsail, and was not prepared to give it to him without a fight. The lanky vermin commander did not plan to confront Alrack right then and there; he wanted time to plan his next move. He settled on sending two spies to shadow the mate, but reconsidered. Alrack would probably find out sooner or later, slay the spies, and face Scarjib about it. The ferret’s other, better, and ultimately fatal idea was to challenge the weasel to a duel for the leadership. Scarjib decided to put that plan into action as soon as he snapped out of his thoughts.

Alrack was thinking about the same thing as his captain. His train of thought, however, had a difference. He was planning to fight Scarjib, but his idea of the victor was pole opposite. He planned to win command of the Ragsail. He did not have long to wait, however, because at that exact moment, Scarjib called the crew for a meeting amidships. Here we go, thought Alrack, Time for me to kill Scarjib and win total command of the Ragsail.

Amidships, Scarjib had called the meeting for exactly the same reason that Alrack had expected. He was hoping to instigate something with Alrack, have the weasel escalate the problem, then he would pretend to take offense and challenge Alrack to a duel. The ferret had considered and reconsidered his plan and found it flawless. The only eventual flaw was that the weasel was the better swordsbeast, which Scarjib did not know just then. The crew came rushing to answer his summons, piling into the narrow deckspace. He saw many familiar faces: Ringtooth, Garril, Zinj, Spwindle, Piketooth. All of them would witness today what happened to anybeast who made an enemy of Scarjib the Vile. At the head of the vermin crew, Alrack strode nonchalantly up to face the ferret captain. “ Yerreh, we answered yer summons, can yew tell us what this is about? What’s the meaning of this ‘ere meetin’? Don’t keep me waitin’, I kin get angry at times.” Scarjib faced the rebellious first mate boldly. “ Oh yeah? Well, mates, seems ter me that this insolent whelp needs some anger management, whadda you say, friends?” The crew cackled with unconcealed mirth at the joke. Ringtooth the ferret remarked to Scarjib “ Woohehehehehehe! Anger management, good ’un, Scar. Yahahahahahahahahahahah!”

Alrack was steaming with rage at the insult. “ Well, Scarjib, you’ve made me angry. Now do ye want to be chopped up inter liddle bits, or does yer want me te stick you like a gnat onna pin?”

Scarjib’s face hardened. “ Oh, I don’t berlieve ye’ll be doin’ the choppin’, Alrack. That’ll be me. I, Scarjib the Vile, master of the Ragsail, do hereby challenge you, Alrack Bloodfen, first mate of the Ragsail, to a formal and mutually accepted DUEL!”

The crewbeasts shuddered at the word. This would not just be a duel, it would be a fight for the captaincy of the ship. Alrack merely nodded his black head; this was what he had been waiting for, a chance to kill the ferret and take command.

Scarjib bowed stiffly and drew his deadly iron broadsword, Alrack doing the same with his steel sabre. They circled the deck, sizing each other up. Scarjib knew what he was doing, but nevertheless felt a twinge of fear. He knew that Alrack was his equal in swordsmanship, maybe even his better. It was unsettling, the thought that he might lose the duel and his life. He made the first move, swinging his blade at his adversary’s narrow chest. Alrack dodged by casually stepping back two paces, then he thrust forward with his sword. It missed Scarjib by a few inches, and he backed off, sweating at the near miss. He swung downwards, but Alrack deftly deflected the blow with determined precision. The ferret stepped back, knowing he had met his match. He tried to postpone the inevitable by trying a flurry of swift, curving slashes at his opponent’s legs, trying to at least cripple the black weasel. Alrack blocked every strike with smooth efficiency, adding in some counterswipes of his own. Scarjib, as a last resort, tried a trick known only to him. He turned and ran from Alrack up to the steersdeck, where he pulled up a plank and drew two long, fully-loaded flintlock pistols. He turned on his adversary and cocked one of the small guns. It was a bold and clever effort on the ferret’s part, but it was to no avail. Alrack was upon his captain with sword raised and spoke the last words Scarjib was to hear in his life. “ Anger management, eh Scarjib? Maybe ye won’t be as angry in Dark Forest. Yahahahahahahahahahahah!” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The crew averted their eyes from the carcass of their former captain as Alrack wiped the dripping blade on Scarjib’s body. “Anyone else want ter challenge me? ’Ow about yew, Bilgeback, yer worthless lump of a fox. Do yew want ter be Captain? Speak up now.” Bilgeback stood quivering, footpaws frozen to the deck with fear. “ N-n-n-n-no cap’n. Y-y-y-y-yer the c-c-cap’n n-n-n-now.” Alrack turned away from the quivering fox and waved his sword at the rat Waveclaw. “Yer the first mate to me now, Waveclaw.” He turned to another crewbeast. “ Yew there, Lagurna. Ye can serve as second mate ter me. Sound good?” Lagurna the ferret nodded emphatically. “ Yis, cap’n. Fine by me. I’ll make a good mate. Ye won’t regret this, Cap’n.” Alrack threw him a curt salute and stalked off to his cabin. Before he left, he turned to a burly ferret called Chopclaw. “ You there, Choppaw, or whatever your name is, clean up Scarjib’s remains and dump ‘em in the sea. Got it?” The ferret accepted his grisly task without any argument. “ Och, Ah’ll get rid o’ whitever’s left o’ him. Ah understand, Cap’n.” The weasel translated the ferret’s thick Highland brogue. “Good, I’m glad yer’ll do it.” Without another word, the black corsair stalked off to his cabin. Chopclaw muttered something to the ferret standing next to him; Greentooth, Chopclaw’s one-armed mate. “Ah hope that our new Cap’n ain’t as bad as the last one whit we had. Och, he were a fair bully, the noo, d’ye ken, Green?” Greentooth nodded at Chopclaw’s statement. “ Aye, mate, ‘e was a dictatin’ bully an’ no mistake. I ‘opes that Alrack’ll be better than Scarjib, though prob’ly not. They’re all the same, these Cap’ns; villains all, mistreatin’ their own crew members. But let’s not complain, ’cause Alrack might ’ear us.” Chopclaw took the hint and fell silent, lest the pair be caught talking mutinously and punished at their evil captain’s whim.

From his cabin, Alrack called for two crewbeasts to be brought in. Groddo the fox and Bladejaw the rat sauntered into the chamber, casting wary glances at their new captain. Groddo, being the more eloquent of the duo, spoke for both of them. “ Aye, we’re ‘ere, Cap’n. What do ye need us’ns for?” Alrack spoke in a measured, reasonable tone to the tough-looking, capable vermin. “ Oh, I don’t know, some o’ this an’ some o’ that. Can yew tew fight well and are ye completely loyal ter me? Answer truly now.” Bladejaw, never lost for words, gave their leader his answer. “ Aye, we’re good fighters, me’n’ Groddo, an’ we’d never betray yer. Why do ye ask?” Alrack paced the cabin floor, walking back and forth, his leather seaboots making pit-patting noises on the oaken timbers as he delivered his requirement to the pair. “ Would yew two like ter be my personal bodygaurds?” Groddo nearly jumped with elation at the possible promotion. “ Why yerss! We’d be fair grateful to yer if’n ye let us be yer gaurds, Sire.” The weasel nodded slowly in acknowledgement. “Then yes, yew pair are now promoted to my official gaurds. Git back to yer bunks now, and we’ll talk more in the mornin’.” The fox and rat scurried backwards out of the cabin, bowing all the way. “Thank yew, Sire!” “Ye ain’t gonna be regrettin’ this, Cap’n Alrack!” The weasel called after their retreating figured. “I ’opes I won’t, yew tew. Remember that I can always do what I did to Scarjib to any other beast on this ship.”

Out on the tideline of an unknown island, Scarjib’s carcass lay rolling in the minute waves off the shore. The tyrannical ferret had washed up on the beach after Chopclaw had heaved his slain body off the deck of the Ragsail into the ocean. The former captain’s glazed eyes stared unseeing at a trio of inquisitive seagulls that were investigating the strange object that had been washed up on their sandy, wet domain. As nobeast was watching them, they began taking exploratory pecks at the slain vermin.

As they were about to start dragging Scarjib off of the sand, a great brown- and umber-barred buzzard swooped down, scooped the ferret’s carcass off the beach in its huge claws, and flew off with its catch, leaving the seagulls cawing in disappointment at the fact that the enormous raptor had robbed them of their intended food source. The eldest of the shorebirds took off to its nest, giving up on the filched meal. The other two quickly followed suit, not wanting to pursue the murderous-looking bird of prey. The buzzard flew back to its nest, with the night breeze on its face, back from hunting for its hatchlings. The sight of the ferret’s body disappearing down the throats of four baby buzzards was the last anyone ever saw of the tyrannical ferret, the vile Scarjib.

There was tumultuous clapping and cheering as Alrack finished his story. Rustsaw, the rat Surgeon of the Ragsail, ventured a question. “ Cap’n, ’ow did yer finish off Scarjib? I wiz only a young galleyrat in those days. ’Owdjer kill ’im?” Alrack faced Rustsaw with calm indifference. “I just thrust down wid me sword and that wuz that. No fancy cuts there, eh, Blackpan?” The fox cook fell about chuckling at the joke his captain had directed at him. “Wahoohoohoohoooooo! Fancy cuts, that’s a good ’un, Alrack. Hahahahahahahah!” Alrack nodded. “Yes, it is pretty funny, eh, mates?” The other vermin in the cabin laughed along with him. One, an old, crouching adder, added in a sibilant hissing voice “Sssssssss! Very humoroussssss, Captain. Fancy cutssssss. Ssssssssssss!” Alrack thanked the snake for his approval. “ Thankee, Darkcoil. Sssss yerself, yew old poisonteeth.” Everybeast put up a rousing chant for their captain. “Bloodfen! Bloodfen! Blooooooodfeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen! Yaharrrrrrr!” Alrack bowed, then sat down and beckoned for the next storyteller. Havaraa got up and began a short tale of a strange place in a forest called Greenbloom.

“ Well, I once ’eard of a weird and mysterious place called Deadbeast Bluff. It has a cave in the middle ‘o it. Somethin’ lives in there; something so murderous and terrible I kin barely speak of it. Any’ow, when I visited Greenbloom once, I asked a good stoat chappy to come with me an’ explore Deadbeast Bluff. There we were, me an’ the stoat, scaling the bluff, when the stoat found a cave entrance. ‘Stoat’, says I, ‘Check around in there.’ ’E goes in, an all of a sudden I ’ears this ‘orrible clickin’ noise and the stoat is pulled in by a...a...a somethin’. I di’nt see whit it was, but I got out ‘o there like all the spirits o’ Dark Forest were on me tail. I was a-runnin’ down the bluff when the stoat’s carcass comes a-rollin’ past me. ’E was all bloated an ‘is face was all purple an’ black, with ‘is tongue a-hangin’ out. From the looks o’ it, I thinks it was poison. I got out o’ Greenbloom as fast as I could, took the next ship out onto the open oceans, never ta come back to that dreadful place. That accursed Bluff still ’aunts me nightmares, and on dark nights I still ‘ears those clickin’ noises, right be’ind me.”

He bowed, then sat down. Several crewbeasts had their teeth chattering, and Flitgorm had his head buried under the bunk sheets. The fox Goldtail, who was leader of the Sails- and Oarsbeasts, asked “What didjer think wuz in that cave? Adders?” The two adders in the cabin, Darkcoil and his partner Swampscale, glared at the hapless fox as soon as he said the ill-picked statement. “ Addersssss, Goldtail? We addersssss do not make clicking noisessss. We hisssssss, like thissssssss.” “Sssssssswampsssssscale’ssssss right, fox. We addersssss hisssssssss.” Goldtail backed off. “Sorry, you adders ’iss, got it, I’ll amember that next time, don’t yer worry.” The adders leered menacingly at the pirate. “You should hope for your sssssake that you remember that, or we will not be ssssssso lenient next time, corsssssssair.” Alrack stepped between the arguing crewbeasts. “ Alright, alright, yew three, break it up, break it up. Yew, Goldtail, adders hiss, they don’t click. Got it?” The fox nodded, frozen with terror by his leader’s cruel gaze. Then the weasel captain turned on Swampscale and Darkcoil. “ Yew two, wot right do yew ’ave ter pick on a poor fox fer ’is mistake? Be’ave yerselves in the future, alright?” The snakes agreed readily, for Alrack’s stare had the same effect on them as it had on Goldtail.

“Yesssssss, yesssssss, we will behave oursssssselvesssssss.” “Aye aye, captain, we will have better behavior than what we had jussssssssst now.” The captain smiled, an unusual sight on the Ragsail. “Good, I’m fair pleased. Now, all of you, git back ter your bunks. Storytime’s over.” In a few seconds, everybeast had vacated the cabin, fearful of disobeying a direct order from their captain; Alrack Bloodfen, master of the ship Ragsail, killer of Scarjib the Vile.

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