The patrols spread through Amnesia. Following
the diminutive, dank, dark corridors, they most
often found doors opening into vast, empty rooms.
Brownbeard’s patrol had been moving quickly and
quietly as possible through their assigned area for
quite awhile finding nothing.
“Look up there,” Pedro whispered to
Brownbeard.
“What? What am I looking at?”
“The light. That tiny dim light,” answered
Pedro.
“Ahhh. I can barely make it out,” said
Brownbeard.
“I think that’s one of the rock polishing
rooms,” said Felix.
“Yeah, I think so too,” said Pedro. “There will
probably be a couple of guards just behind the
door. There will be a few more scattered around
the room just walking about.”
“Children?” asked Hazel.
“You mean the guards? Yes, of course,” said
Pedro. “Other than Pewtrewsha and Morlox, there
are no adults in this place I’ve ever see.”
“Whoa! Hey! You’ve seen Pewtrewsha and
Morlox?” Felix asked Pedro.
“Um, no. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen
them. But I’ve heard them over the intercom
system.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard them too. I’ve never seen
them though,” said Felix.
“How many slaves—I mean children—will be
rock polishing?” asked Wilbert.
“I don’t know,” said Pedro.
“It varies,” said Felix. “Twenty, thirty, fifty—
maybe more.”
“Do you have your cookies ready, Miss
Hazel?” asked Squire Bob, one of Blackbeard’s
men who had joined their patrol.
“Of course,” answered Hazel.
“Okay, everyone make sure you have plenty of
cookies. If you’ve a pistol or sword, have it ready
as well,” commanded Brownbeard.
All did as told.
“Stay in the shadows as long as possible,”
whispered Brownbeard. “And be careful.”
“Careful? Not courageous?” asked Kumquat.
“You be careful especially cat!” said Wilbert.
Kumquat giggled. Wilbert thumped her on the
back of the head.
“Cut it out!” seethed Hazel. “I can’t believe
you two!”
Working their way along the small, slimy
passage, the party drew nearer the faint light
growing larger, yet its dimness diminished not a
drop. All had to resist the temptation to slap at the
bugs, spiders, and roaches which would skitter
and scatter over them. Brushing a shoulder against
the slippery corridor wall provided an opportunity
for creepy-crawlies to come bring greetings in a
close, personal way.
Kumquat did not mind the critters as much as
she did getting wet. Drip. Drip. Drip. Large, cold
droplets of water smacked everyone upon the
head. The droplets would run down the head and
face, down the neck, and into the undergarments,
perfuming all with its sulfur scent. Wilbert did not
care for the critters at all, being a rather fastidious
troll, but thoroughly enjoyed Kumquat’s misery.
As for Hazel, she comforted herself with the
thought that if they survived this mission, she
would treat herself to a nice, long, hot bubble bath
and shampoo.
Brownbeard’s boot tip now just grazed the
edge of light coming from under the doorway.
With a motion of his arm, Hazel, Kumquat, Pedro,
Squire Bob, and another of Blackbeard’s pirates,
Yann Goatlesberg, quickly scampered to the other
side of the door. Remaining behind Brownbeard
crouched Felix, Wilbert, Schmoor, and Pickles.
Brownbeard waited to hear an alarm or cry for
help from the other side of the door. There was no
sound. Felix and Pedro had assured him that the
only surveillance camera they had ever seen
onboard was the one guarding the hole they had
come through. They still wondered that someone
had blackened the camera lens with paint. What
was up with that? Both Pedro and Felix voiced
concern that Pewtrewsha was toying with them.
“Remember the alarm,” Felix said in a barely
audible whisper to Brownbeard.
Brownbeard nodded his head. Somewhere in
all of the workrooms within Amnesia were red
buttons that when pressed, would send an ear-
splitting alarm throughout the slave ship. Soldiers
would come running to the place the alarm had
been set. Pewtrewsha would awake.
Brownbeard raised his hand. Then he brought
it down. The liberators rushed in. Brownbeard,
Squire Bob, and Yann Goatlesberg—or ‘Goat’ for
short—were the first inside. Two soldiers were on
the other side of the door, a young boy and a
young girl. Their mouths dropped in speechless
shock at the sight of three pirates rushing up to
them with swords drawn. Both soldiers dropped
the clubs they had used to threaten and beat the
smaller children.
Squire Bob and Goat ran right up to the boy
and girl. Each guard wanted to scream, but could
only stand there with their mouths hanging open.
As the blood rushed from their faces to their feet,
the two pirates gently placed one large peanut
butter and chocolate chip cookie upon each of
their tongues.
“Eat up mate!” ordered Squire Bob.
The two stood there with the cookies dangling
from their tongues.
“That’s an order!” growled Goat.
The two soldiers began to mindlessly chew.
Meanwhile, most of the slaves continued at their
duty with dull diligence. A few looked up and
noticed the hubbub at the door. At this sight they
stopped what they were doing. Arms dropping,
mouths hanging open, the children stood, staring in
stunned silence at the spectacle.
The liberators spread out and began feeding
cookies to the slaves. Some needed encouraging,
but most took the cookies and began to slowly
chew. As they did, they began to smile. It had
been all so long since their tongues tasted. Tears
began to flow down their cheeks. It was too much.
The flavor might—it just might blow their tongues
to smithereens in a blast of supersonically sweet
sensory overload! The children were afraid to eat,
but they were more afraid to not eat. The few
remaining soldiers scattered through the room
were subdued easily. They dropped their sticks.
With curiosity and apprehension, the soldiers took
the offered cookies, and began to munch.
Out of the corner of his eye, as he was
watching with joy a young girl and a little kitten
eating cookies, Brownbeard saw a quick
movement. He looked up and gasped in horror.
There was a soldier running for a large red button
on the wall furthest from where he stood.
“Hey! No! Don’t!” yelled Brownbeard.
All eyes turned to look at the catastrophe
about to transpire. The soldier was a quick, lanky
hound dog moving fast as lightening. Squire Bob
and Goat drew a dagger apiece. Hazel gasped.
The poor dog would either alert the entire ship to
their presence or be killed. The pirates threw their
daggers. Streaking over the heads of the children
quietly chewing their cookies, the blades hummed
softly like well-tuned engines. As the pup’s paw
reached for the red button, Squire Bob’s dagger
tore through the soldier’s sleeve. At the same
time, Goat’s dagger hit its mark at the bottom of
the soldier’s baggy trousers. The dog struggled to
reach the button with his other paw and leg, but it
was just out of reach. Felix and Pickles raced
over to the soldier and gave the angry dog a
cookie.
“Hey! Oh, no!” cried Brownbeard.
“What?” cried Hazel in alarm.
“The cookies!”
“Don’t worry! How many times do I have to
tell you? There are plenty,” said Hazel.
“No! Not that! It’s the chocolate chips! Dogs
and cats can’t eat chocolate! They’ll get sick!
Even worse!” said Brownbeard in distress.
“Oh, that,” said Hazel
“Yes, that!” exclaimed Brownbeard.
“Brownie! I still have some skills. Have
Kumquat or Pickles become sick? This is magic
chocolate. It’s dog and cat friendly. And, it’s
totally fat free, yet with plenty of complex
carbohydrates, vitamins, and essential amino
acids,” said Hazel.
“Oh. Hmmmm. Well, okay then,” said
Brownbeard.
“Hey! I heard that!” said Squire Bob. “I have
got to get the recipe from you.”
“No problem,” smiled Hazel.
The now fed and freed soldiers and slaves
were ready to go. Without incident, the children,
pups, and kittens were led through the ship and to
the hole. There, they waited for their turn upon
rafts which would ferry them to shore, where a hot
bath and a hot supper were ready. Brownbeard’s
and Blackbeard’s patrols arrived back at the hole
at the same time, leading groups of newly
liberated boys and girls.
“How it be a goin’ cuz?” asked Blackbeard.
“Okay, but look at that sun,” said Brownbeard,
pointing at the weak, white orb just touching the
grey mountain peak on the other side of the lake.
“Aye, each patrol has a chance to maybe free
one more group of children before the sorceress
awakes,” said Blackbeard. “Ah! Here be Izzy with
a gang of scamps!”
“Blackbeard! Brownbeard! Ye should see that
rock quarry! It’s the most incredible thing!”
“No time fer that, Izzy. Time be a-wastin’.”
“Sure ‘nuff,” Izzy agreed.
As they stood and watched the strange sun
disappear behind the mountains, more and more
patrols arrived with child soldiers and child
slaves. There was soon quite a large crowd
waiting by the hole.
“The wind here,” mused Blackbeard, “be a
strange thing. Me thinks it never blows towards
the slave ship, but always to the shore.”
“Yes, we can get the children to the lake shore
in short order, but it’s a struggle to get the rafts
back. At the rate we are going, it’s going to take
all night to complete this mission. Maybe longer,”
said Brownbeard.
“Aaarrr!” agreed Blackbeard.
“After this next run, let’s consolidate patrols,”
suggested Brownbeard. “I don’t think a party can
be too large if it runs into Pewtrewsha or Morlox.”
“Yes, good idea,” said Izzy.
“Wait a second,” said Kumquat. “What about
Vulderburp and Grobrom? Don’t forget they
awake at dusk as well.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s possible they don’t
keep regular office hours,” conjectured
Brownbeard. “We saw one of them the other day
when it was not night. Today, they’re nowhere to
be seen, even with all of the noise the ferries are
making. Felix, didn’t you say paddling would
wake-up the sea monsters? But lo! Nothing! I don’
t get it. Are they going to eat us or not?”
“Maybe the ferries are making too much
noise,” suggested Felix. “Maybe Vulderburp and
Grobrom are scared by all of the commotion.”
“That’s optimistic,” said Hazel. “I like the way
you think, Felix. Still, I think we should err on the
side of caution. Once the first star appears in the
sky, we should stop the ferries.”
“Blast it! Even if the scalawags do awake, let
‘em come! They just be overgrown sea anemones!
We’ve battled worse on the Seven Seas!” railed
Blackbeard.
“Blackbeard! These be rafts, not sloops or
schooners!” cautioned Izzy. “And we ain’t had a
good, close look at the varmints. Not to mention
were haulin’ children, not bouillon! We shant be
messin’ with these sea beasties.”
“Sea beasts? Sea slugs!” Blackbeard growled.
“Blackbeard,” said Hazel, with a gentle touch
upon the pirate’s arm, “No doubt you and your
men are skilled at fighting all manner of sea
creature, and no doubt there would be no problem
getting all of the children across the lake at night
due to the skill of your men.”
Blackbeard grumbled softly as he listened to
Hazel’s sing-song voice arguing for caution over
courage.
“Still,” continued Hazel, “Can you imagine
how horrible you would feel if the unimaginable
happened and a raft was capsized by the sea
monsters? Why, a child might drown or be eaten.”
Blackbeard grimaced.
“No, Blackbeard! Miss Hazel be right. When
the sun is finally set, the ferrying should stop,” re-
iterated Izzy.
Blackbeard looked positively pained with the
premise of precaution.
“B.B.,” soothed Hazel, “I know you have the
children’s best interest at heart. Otherwise, you
and your men would not be here. And I know you
did not come all the way to this wretched place to
lose even one boy or girl, puppy or kitten.”
Blackbeard growled again and then said, “We
can’t get everyone across the lake before the first
star be shinin’ upon us. That fact be indisputable.
Do ye suggest it be better to keep some of the
children here on the slave ship through the night?
Here in the sorceress’ stronghold?”
That question stumped everyone.
“Izzy! Hazel! For Davie Jones’ sake!” cried
Blackbeard. “We be pirates, not infantry! Ye
know how I really feel ‘bout sea serpents? I can’t
stands ‘em! But best for us to be a-fightin’ on
water, even if it be in a bathtub, then to be fightin’
on dry land. If we’re to best protect the children,
then let us fight on our stronghold, not that of the
sorceress!”
“Look, there’s the evening star now!” pointed
Kumquat.
“Son-of-a-sea-squirt!” cursed Blackbeard.
But his argument was cogent. Izzy and Hazel
did not want to ferry the children across the lake
at night. But keeping them aboard Amnesia was
clearly not an option. Between a rock and a hard
place—with a choice between the frying pan or
the fire—Blackbeard’s point-of-view was
persuasive.
“Okey-dokey,” said Brownbeard. “Then let’s
get back to work. The more children we can get to
this part of the ship, the better. All patrols should
do one more run apiece before pairing with
another patrol.”
“Aye,” agreed Blackbeard.
“Okey-dokey?” asked Kumquat.
“How many more children do you suppose
there are on board the ship?” asked Wilbert.
Brownbeard looked at Felix, Pedro, and
Pickles.
“Any idea fellas?” he asked.
The three looked at one another.
“Maybe we’ve freed a quarter of the children
so far,” offered Pickles.
Felix and Pedro agreed that was a good guess.
“We’re really not sure how many slaves or
soldiers are on the ship,” said Felix.
“Hmmm. That makes things more difficult,”
said Wilbert.
“Keen observation, troll,” said Kumquat.
“Are you guys ever on the same side?” asked
Pickles.
“You just noticed that, Pickles?” asked Felix.
Kumquat and Wilbert fell silent. The exchange
between Pickles and Felix had momentarily
shamed both cat and troll. Hazel was silent as
well—with shock. That Kumquat and Wilbert
were capable of feeling shame for their eternal
bickering was a revelation to her. Everyone else
had a good chuckle.
“Let’s get a-movin’,” said Izzy.
“All right, everyone!” shouted Brownbeard.
“Next run to free slaves and soldiers! Be brave!
Beware! We meet back here and then merge
patrols. Oh, and remember. Watch those alarm
buttons!”
the diminutive, dank, dark corridors, they most
often found doors opening into vast, empty rooms.
Brownbeard’s patrol had been moving quickly and
quietly as possible through their assigned area for
quite awhile finding nothing.
“Look up there,” Pedro whispered to
Brownbeard.
“What? What am I looking at?”
“The light. That tiny dim light,” answered
Pedro.
“Ahhh. I can barely make it out,” said
Brownbeard.
“I think that’s one of the rock polishing
rooms,” said Felix.
“Yeah, I think so too,” said Pedro. “There will
probably be a couple of guards just behind the
door. There will be a few more scattered around
the room just walking about.”
“Children?” asked Hazel.
“You mean the guards? Yes, of course,” said
Pedro. “Other than Pewtrewsha and Morlox, there
are no adults in this place I’ve ever see.”
“Whoa! Hey! You’ve seen Pewtrewsha and
Morlox?” Felix asked Pedro.
“Um, no. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen
them. But I’ve heard them over the intercom
system.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard them too. I’ve never seen
them though,” said Felix.
“How many slaves—I mean children—will be
rock polishing?” asked Wilbert.
“I don’t know,” said Pedro.
“It varies,” said Felix. “Twenty, thirty, fifty—
maybe more.”
“Do you have your cookies ready, Miss
Hazel?” asked Squire Bob, one of Blackbeard’s
men who had joined their patrol.
“Of course,” answered Hazel.
“Okay, everyone make sure you have plenty of
cookies. If you’ve a pistol or sword, have it ready
as well,” commanded Brownbeard.
All did as told.
“Stay in the shadows as long as possible,”
whispered Brownbeard. “And be careful.”
“Careful? Not courageous?” asked Kumquat.
“You be careful especially cat!” said Wilbert.
Kumquat giggled. Wilbert thumped her on the
back of the head.
“Cut it out!” seethed Hazel. “I can’t believe
you two!”
Working their way along the small, slimy
passage, the party drew nearer the faint light
growing larger, yet its dimness diminished not a
drop. All had to resist the temptation to slap at the
bugs, spiders, and roaches which would skitter
and scatter over them. Brushing a shoulder against
the slippery corridor wall provided an opportunity
for creepy-crawlies to come bring greetings in a
close, personal way.
Kumquat did not mind the critters as much as
she did getting wet. Drip. Drip. Drip. Large, cold
droplets of water smacked everyone upon the
head. The droplets would run down the head and
face, down the neck, and into the undergarments,
perfuming all with its sulfur scent. Wilbert did not
care for the critters at all, being a rather fastidious
troll, but thoroughly enjoyed Kumquat’s misery.
As for Hazel, she comforted herself with the
thought that if they survived this mission, she
would treat herself to a nice, long, hot bubble bath
and shampoo.
Brownbeard’s boot tip now just grazed the
edge of light coming from under the doorway.
With a motion of his arm, Hazel, Kumquat, Pedro,
Squire Bob, and another of Blackbeard’s pirates,
Yann Goatlesberg, quickly scampered to the other
side of the door. Remaining behind Brownbeard
crouched Felix, Wilbert, Schmoor, and Pickles.
Brownbeard waited to hear an alarm or cry for
help from the other side of the door. There was no
sound. Felix and Pedro had assured him that the
only surveillance camera they had ever seen
onboard was the one guarding the hole they had
come through. They still wondered that someone
had blackened the camera lens with paint. What
was up with that? Both Pedro and Felix voiced
concern that Pewtrewsha was toying with them.
“Remember the alarm,” Felix said in a barely
audible whisper to Brownbeard.
Brownbeard nodded his head. Somewhere in
all of the workrooms within Amnesia were red
buttons that when pressed, would send an ear-
splitting alarm throughout the slave ship. Soldiers
would come running to the place the alarm had
been set. Pewtrewsha would awake.
Brownbeard raised his hand. Then he brought
it down. The liberators rushed in. Brownbeard,
Squire Bob, and Yann Goatlesberg—or ‘Goat’ for
short—were the first inside. Two soldiers were on
the other side of the door, a young boy and a
young girl. Their mouths dropped in speechless
shock at the sight of three pirates rushing up to
them with swords drawn. Both soldiers dropped
the clubs they had used to threaten and beat the
smaller children.
Squire Bob and Goat ran right up to the boy
and girl. Each guard wanted to scream, but could
only stand there with their mouths hanging open.
As the blood rushed from their faces to their feet,
the two pirates gently placed one large peanut
butter and chocolate chip cookie upon each of
their tongues.
“Eat up mate!” ordered Squire Bob.
The two stood there with the cookies dangling
from their tongues.
“That’s an order!” growled Goat.
The two soldiers began to mindlessly chew.
Meanwhile, most of the slaves continued at their
duty with dull diligence. A few looked up and
noticed the hubbub at the door. At this sight they
stopped what they were doing. Arms dropping,
mouths hanging open, the children stood, staring in
stunned silence at the spectacle.
The liberators spread out and began feeding
cookies to the slaves. Some needed encouraging,
but most took the cookies and began to slowly
chew. As they did, they began to smile. It had
been all so long since their tongues tasted. Tears
began to flow down their cheeks. It was too much.
The flavor might—it just might blow their tongues
to smithereens in a blast of supersonically sweet
sensory overload! The children were afraid to eat,
but they were more afraid to not eat. The few
remaining soldiers scattered through the room
were subdued easily. They dropped their sticks.
With curiosity and apprehension, the soldiers took
the offered cookies, and began to munch.
Out of the corner of his eye, as he was
watching with joy a young girl and a little kitten
eating cookies, Brownbeard saw a quick
movement. He looked up and gasped in horror.
There was a soldier running for a large red button
on the wall furthest from where he stood.
“Hey! No! Don’t!” yelled Brownbeard.
All eyes turned to look at the catastrophe
about to transpire. The soldier was a quick, lanky
hound dog moving fast as lightening. Squire Bob
and Goat drew a dagger apiece. Hazel gasped.
The poor dog would either alert the entire ship to
their presence or be killed. The pirates threw their
daggers. Streaking over the heads of the children
quietly chewing their cookies, the blades hummed
softly like well-tuned engines. As the pup’s paw
reached for the red button, Squire Bob’s dagger
tore through the soldier’s sleeve. At the same
time, Goat’s dagger hit its mark at the bottom of
the soldier’s baggy trousers. The dog struggled to
reach the button with his other paw and leg, but it
was just out of reach. Felix and Pickles raced
over to the soldier and gave the angry dog a
cookie.
“Hey! Oh, no!” cried Brownbeard.
“What?” cried Hazel in alarm.
“The cookies!”
“Don’t worry! How many times do I have to
tell you? There are plenty,” said Hazel.
“No! Not that! It’s the chocolate chips! Dogs
and cats can’t eat chocolate! They’ll get sick!
Even worse!” said Brownbeard in distress.
“Oh, that,” said Hazel
“Yes, that!” exclaimed Brownbeard.
“Brownie! I still have some skills. Have
Kumquat or Pickles become sick? This is magic
chocolate. It’s dog and cat friendly. And, it’s
totally fat free, yet with plenty of complex
carbohydrates, vitamins, and essential amino
acids,” said Hazel.
“Oh. Hmmmm. Well, okay then,” said
Brownbeard.
“Hey! I heard that!” said Squire Bob. “I have
got to get the recipe from you.”
“No problem,” smiled Hazel.
The now fed and freed soldiers and slaves
were ready to go. Without incident, the children,
pups, and kittens were led through the ship and to
the hole. There, they waited for their turn upon
rafts which would ferry them to shore, where a hot
bath and a hot supper were ready. Brownbeard’s
and Blackbeard’s patrols arrived back at the hole
at the same time, leading groups of newly
liberated boys and girls.
“How it be a goin’ cuz?” asked Blackbeard.
“Okay, but look at that sun,” said Brownbeard,
pointing at the weak, white orb just touching the
grey mountain peak on the other side of the lake.
“Aye, each patrol has a chance to maybe free
one more group of children before the sorceress
awakes,” said Blackbeard. “Ah! Here be Izzy with
a gang of scamps!”
“Blackbeard! Brownbeard! Ye should see that
rock quarry! It’s the most incredible thing!”
“No time fer that, Izzy. Time be a-wastin’.”
“Sure ‘nuff,” Izzy agreed.
As they stood and watched the strange sun
disappear behind the mountains, more and more
patrols arrived with child soldiers and child
slaves. There was soon quite a large crowd
waiting by the hole.
“The wind here,” mused Blackbeard, “be a
strange thing. Me thinks it never blows towards
the slave ship, but always to the shore.”
“Yes, we can get the children to the lake shore
in short order, but it’s a struggle to get the rafts
back. At the rate we are going, it’s going to take
all night to complete this mission. Maybe longer,”
said Brownbeard.
“Aaarrr!” agreed Blackbeard.
“After this next run, let’s consolidate patrols,”
suggested Brownbeard. “I don’t think a party can
be too large if it runs into Pewtrewsha or Morlox.”
“Yes, good idea,” said Izzy.
“Wait a second,” said Kumquat. “What about
Vulderburp and Grobrom? Don’t forget they
awake at dusk as well.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s possible they don’t
keep regular office hours,” conjectured
Brownbeard. “We saw one of them the other day
when it was not night. Today, they’re nowhere to
be seen, even with all of the noise the ferries are
making. Felix, didn’t you say paddling would
wake-up the sea monsters? But lo! Nothing! I don’
t get it. Are they going to eat us or not?”
“Maybe the ferries are making too much
noise,” suggested Felix. “Maybe Vulderburp and
Grobrom are scared by all of the commotion.”
“That’s optimistic,” said Hazel. “I like the way
you think, Felix. Still, I think we should err on the
side of caution. Once the first star appears in the
sky, we should stop the ferries.”
“Blast it! Even if the scalawags do awake, let
‘em come! They just be overgrown sea anemones!
We’ve battled worse on the Seven Seas!” railed
Blackbeard.
“Blackbeard! These be rafts, not sloops or
schooners!” cautioned Izzy. “And we ain’t had a
good, close look at the varmints. Not to mention
were haulin’ children, not bouillon! We shant be
messin’ with these sea beasties.”
“Sea beasts? Sea slugs!” Blackbeard growled.
“Blackbeard,” said Hazel, with a gentle touch
upon the pirate’s arm, “No doubt you and your
men are skilled at fighting all manner of sea
creature, and no doubt there would be no problem
getting all of the children across the lake at night
due to the skill of your men.”
Blackbeard grumbled softly as he listened to
Hazel’s sing-song voice arguing for caution over
courage.
“Still,” continued Hazel, “Can you imagine
how horrible you would feel if the unimaginable
happened and a raft was capsized by the sea
monsters? Why, a child might drown or be eaten.”
Blackbeard grimaced.
“No, Blackbeard! Miss Hazel be right. When
the sun is finally set, the ferrying should stop,” re-
iterated Izzy.
Blackbeard looked positively pained with the
premise of precaution.
“B.B.,” soothed Hazel, “I know you have the
children’s best interest at heart. Otherwise, you
and your men would not be here. And I know you
did not come all the way to this wretched place to
lose even one boy or girl, puppy or kitten.”
Blackbeard growled again and then said, “We
can’t get everyone across the lake before the first
star be shinin’ upon us. That fact be indisputable.
Do ye suggest it be better to keep some of the
children here on the slave ship through the night?
Here in the sorceress’ stronghold?”
That question stumped everyone.
“Izzy! Hazel! For Davie Jones’ sake!” cried
Blackbeard. “We be pirates, not infantry! Ye
know how I really feel ‘bout sea serpents? I can’t
stands ‘em! But best for us to be a-fightin’ on
water, even if it be in a bathtub, then to be fightin’
on dry land. If we’re to best protect the children,
then let us fight on our stronghold, not that of the
sorceress!”
“Look, there’s the evening star now!” pointed
Kumquat.
“Son-of-a-sea-squirt!” cursed Blackbeard.
But his argument was cogent. Izzy and Hazel
did not want to ferry the children across the lake
at night. But keeping them aboard Amnesia was
clearly not an option. Between a rock and a hard
place—with a choice between the frying pan or
the fire—Blackbeard’s point-of-view was
persuasive.
“Okey-dokey,” said Brownbeard. “Then let’s
get back to work. The more children we can get to
this part of the ship, the better. All patrols should
do one more run apiece before pairing with
another patrol.”
“Aye,” agreed Blackbeard.
“Okey-dokey?” asked Kumquat.
“How many more children do you suppose
there are on board the ship?” asked Wilbert.
Brownbeard looked at Felix, Pedro, and
Pickles.
“Any idea fellas?” he asked.
The three looked at one another.
“Maybe we’ve freed a quarter of the children
so far,” offered Pickles.
Felix and Pedro agreed that was a good guess.
“We’re really not sure how many slaves or
soldiers are on the ship,” said Felix.
“Hmmm. That makes things more difficult,”
said Wilbert.
“Keen observation, troll,” said Kumquat.
“Are you guys ever on the same side?” asked
Pickles.
“You just noticed that, Pickles?” asked Felix.
Kumquat and Wilbert fell silent. The exchange
between Pickles and Felix had momentarily
shamed both cat and troll. Hazel was silent as
well—with shock. That Kumquat and Wilbert
were capable of feeling shame for their eternal
bickering was a revelation to her. Everyone else
had a good chuckle.
“Let’s get a-movin’,” said Izzy.
“All right, everyone!” shouted Brownbeard.
“Next run to free slaves and soldiers! Be brave!
Beware! We meet back here and then merge
patrols. Oh, and remember. Watch those alarm
buttons!”
The Adventures of Short Stubbly Brownbeard
Alan J. Levine
* * *
Chapter Forty-Four
Buy yer hard copy
at . . .
at . . .
Want to support
children's literature?
That's great! But
instead, why don't you
go to the followin'
links to buy yer own
miserable copy of
Brownbeard and
support Pirates
Anonymous? We've
been assisting pirates
with mental health and
hygiene issues since
1633. Brownbeard is
also available to
schools and libraries
through wholesalers
like Follett, Ingram,
and Baker & Taylor.
children's literature?
That's great! But
instead, why don't you
go to the followin'
links to buy yer own
miserable copy of
Brownbeard and
support Pirates
Anonymous? We've
been assisting pirates
with mental health and
hygiene issues since
1633. Brownbeard is
also available to
schools and libraries
through wholesalers
like Follett, Ingram,
and Baker & Taylor.
