“Those gentlemen seem to like you,” said the
shopkeeper.
Was the shop keeper making a joke wondered
Brownbeard.
“No, I think they mean me harm,” said
Brownbeard.
“Possibly,” replied the shopkeeper. “If so, you’
d best stay here until it gets light out, even though
they’re probably miles from New Ferry by now.”
“Really?” asked a surprised Brownbeard.
“They didn’t seem that fast.”
“Oh, they aren’t that speedy here, but they can
go there in a flash,” replied the little man.
“Where’s there? And who are they?” asked
Brownbeard.
“Wherever they go is there,” answered the man.
“They’re gatekeepers at times. Messengers at
others. Tonight they looked like skeletons, didn’t
they?”
Brownbeard regarded the shopkeeper. What a
peculiar answer. “Yes, they did,” he finally said.
“Could they take the shape of a number? Say a 4?”
The little man scratched at his pointy chin.
“Hmmm,” he mused. “That’s a good question.
Never heard of it, but that doesn’t mean it can’t
be.”
Safe or not, this strange little man was wasting
his time, thought Brownbeard. At the very least
the shopkeeper seemed to be having some fun at
his expense. Maybe those darkly robed bone
walkers were miles away by now. And it wasn’t
too long until sunrise. Brownbeard decided it was
time to go.
“Well, thank-you for helping me,” said
Brownbeard. “I guess I’ll be going.”
“Are you hungry?” asked the man.
Brownbeard thought about that question for a
moment. He then replied with a smile, “Always.”
“Good, wait right there,” said the elfkin as he
disappeared into the back of the shop.
Brownbeard turned to watch the shop’s
entrance. The door remained closed.
“Here you are,” said the man handing
Brownbeard a plate with some square, bread-like,
yeasty smelling things. There was also a steaming
cup filled with a brown liquid that might be tea.
But it might not be. Brownbeard nibbled at the
square.
“Mmmmm, that’s pretty good,” said
Brownbeard. “It has honey in it, yes?”
“None.”
Brownbeard sipped at the hot brown liquid. It
was tasteless.
“Mmmmm, good,” said Brownbeard just to be
polite.
The little man nodded and smiled.
“Is your store new?” asked Brownbeard.
“New? Oh, no! This store has been around a
long, long time.”
“Really? That’s strange. I’ve lived in New
Ferry all of my life and I thought I knew every
business in town. How many years have you been
open?”
“Many, many years.”
“Here? In New Ferry?”
“Sometimes.”
Brownbeard smiled at the man. This little guy
was obviously a jokester.
“And what do you do?” asked the man.
“I’m a pirate looking for a crew.”
“Ah, pirating. That can be interesting work.”
“I don’t know yet as I still don’t have my crew.”
“Yes, that can make things difficult for a
pirate.”
Brownbeard sighed.
“Why do you suppose those two fellows were
after me?” asked Brownbeard. Maybe the little
guy did know something about the identity or
motives of the two dark creatures.
“Oh, I have no idea,” said the man. “If they
catch you, you’ll know.”
Brownbeard sighed again.
“That’s a nice paper maché eyebrow you have
there.”
“Oh, thanks,” said Brownbeard as he felt at the
long, serpentine piece of handicraft that was his
right eyebrow.
“So, what would you like to buy? I’m going to
be closing soon, so you’ll have to decide quickly.”
Brownbeard did not see anything amidst all the
clutter that he wanted. When he had been looking
around before, he could not really see what he
was seeing. The two men in black were really
keeping his attention. He did not want to look for
anything right now. Still, this man had helped him
and Brownbeard felt it the right thing to do to buy
a little something. He searched the pockets of his
pants. Without pulling the coins out, Brownbeard’
s fingers identified two shillings and one half-
pence. Yipes! He was broke! There was nothing
he’d be able to afford.
“Perhaps something to aid you on your pirating
endeavors,” offered the man.
“Yes, okay,” said Brownbeard, afraid to let the
man know he would not be able to buy anything of
worth due to the dearth of dough in his drawers.
The man guided Brownbeard over to a statue of
a merlion. That is, a fish with a lion’s head and
front legs. Brownbeard blinked in surprise.
Granted he had not been paying much attention to
what he had been looking at as he walked through
the store before, but something seemed wrong. He
was sure that he had picked up this particular
statue previously, but it had been a felfish. That
is, a lion with a fish head and front fins. He looked
around for the statue he thought he had held. But it
was not to be found.
“I don’t know,” said a wary Brownbeard.
Continuing to follow the proprietor,
Brownbeard looked at crystals and gems and
books and statuary and ornaments and paintings
and furniture and lots of other stuff. Most things in
the store were beyond Brownbeard’s ability to
even guess at their purpose. Some things looked
very old, like a scrap of parchment with writing
that may have been Greek, or an oar from a ship
with carvings in the blade appearing to be of
Phoenician origin. Some things looked very new,
like a basket of strange looking, even stranger
smelling fruits that seemed fresh enough to have
been harvested yesterday. And it was late winter!
But besides a few spare parts for ships, there was
nothing that looked particularly useful to a pirate.
At least nothing that Brownbeard would be able to
buy with his meager monies. Perhaps he should
just come clean and tell the little proprietor that he
was broke. Like he had any other choice!
Brownbeard thoughtlessly passed his hand over
a hexagonal box covered with glittery fabric and
what looked to his eye to be designs of the Orient.
He had read travel books in which there were
drawings of the Far East. Books that told of
palaces with riches beyond belief, and of
mountains that were taller than the sky itself, and
of monsters that alone could bring down one-
hundred strong men without wasting any of their
horrible breath from effort. He was sure that the
long, snaky creature coiling around the box with
the hairy head and lolling tongue was a dragon.
The box was as tall as the span from the tips of
Brownbeard’s outstretched fingers to his elbow,
and the top third could be removed from the rest.
Brownbeard peered inside and saw several
turquoise colored rocks in the bottom.
“That would be a good choice indeed,” said the
little man.
“Really? What is it?” asked Brownbeard.
“It’s a magic box.”
“Oh? It is?”
“Of course.”
“I have never seen a magic box before. Will it
help me to find a crew?”
“I’m not sure. Actually, there are an infinite
number and variety of magic boxes in the
Universe. But I only have this one in stock at the
moment. It is a traveling box, I think. Or it might
be a box of protection. To tell you the truth, I can’
t remember. But I can assure you of its
authenticity and quality. All of my wares come
with a lifetime warranty covering any and all
defects.”
“Well, how would I determine what kind of box
it is?” asked Brownbeard.
“Ah, good question. If it’s a traveling box, you
shake it with the lid shut. Then you open the lid
and peer therein. You read the letters or words
you see in the rocks. It’s best to make a poem or a
song of what you read. The better your poetry or
song, usually the better your destination.”
“How do I read letters and words in some
rocks?” asked an incredulous Brownbeard.
“Practice, practice, practice,” answered the man.
“Of course,” said Brownbeard. “And if I
pronounce the words I see poorly, or make up a
bad poem or song, will I end up someplace bad?”
“Entirely possible,” agreed the man.
“Can I control where I go?” asked Brownbeard.
“With a little luck, and a lot of skill—or the
other way around—yes.”
“Huh, interesting. And if it’s a protection box?
How do I use it then?”
“Easy. You can open the box, pick out a rock,
and throw it at whomever or whatever is after you.
Or you can whack your adversary over the noggin
with the box. Or, I like to place the box in the way
of whomever is after me and let them trip over it.
Be creative.”
Brownbeard snorted in amusement and
disbelief. What a funny guy was this shopkeep!
“How much is the box?” Brownbeard asked.
“Oh, it is priceless,” sighed the man proudly.
“I don’t have that much,” said Brownbeard.
“Then I’ll take two shillings and one half-pence
for it.”
Brownbeard felt a chill go up his neck. How
did this little fellow know what’s in his pockets? If
the box is priceless, why is he willing to part with
it for the sum of a day old, moldy chunk of
biscuit? Perhaps he was being scammed. No! Do
you think?
“All right,” said Brownbeard reaching into his
pocket to pull out the three coins. Maybe it was a
magic box. Likely it was not. But one never
knows a possibility as an actuality until one tries.
Do they?
Brownbeard gave the man the coins. The man
wrapped the box in some plain white paper.
Handing it to Brownbeard the shopkeeper said,
“Good wise to you Brownbeard, and then luck
will proceed.”
“Thanks,” said Brownbeard, not at all sure what
the man’s words meant.
He walked out of Ye Olde Gift Shoppe as a
weak, pale blue gathered in the east. Holding his
box, Brownbeard had not a single bit of money on
his person.
“I wonder how he knew my name?”
Brownbeard asked himself. He turned around to
look at the shop from where he had just exited.
All he saw was a boarded up window with a sign
that read, “For Lease. Write Ferrous Wheel, Agent
/ Snookie, Pitts, and Fropenheimer Realty.”
Another chill went up Brownbeard’s backside
as he asked himself, “Since when were Snookie,
Pitts, and Fropenheimer into real estate?”
shopkeeper.
Was the shop keeper making a joke wondered
Brownbeard.
“No, I think they mean me harm,” said
Brownbeard.
“Possibly,” replied the shopkeeper. “If so, you’
d best stay here until it gets light out, even though
they’re probably miles from New Ferry by now.”
“Really?” asked a surprised Brownbeard.
“They didn’t seem that fast.”
“Oh, they aren’t that speedy here, but they can
go there in a flash,” replied the little man.
“Where’s there? And who are they?” asked
Brownbeard.
“Wherever they go is there,” answered the man.
“They’re gatekeepers at times. Messengers at
others. Tonight they looked like skeletons, didn’t
they?”
Brownbeard regarded the shopkeeper. What a
peculiar answer. “Yes, they did,” he finally said.
“Could they take the shape of a number? Say a 4?”
The little man scratched at his pointy chin.
“Hmmm,” he mused. “That’s a good question.
Never heard of it, but that doesn’t mean it can’t
be.”
Safe or not, this strange little man was wasting
his time, thought Brownbeard. At the very least
the shopkeeper seemed to be having some fun at
his expense. Maybe those darkly robed bone
walkers were miles away by now. And it wasn’t
too long until sunrise. Brownbeard decided it was
time to go.
“Well, thank-you for helping me,” said
Brownbeard. “I guess I’ll be going.”
“Are you hungry?” asked the man.
Brownbeard thought about that question for a
moment. He then replied with a smile, “Always.”
“Good, wait right there,” said the elfkin as he
disappeared into the back of the shop.
Brownbeard turned to watch the shop’s
entrance. The door remained closed.
“Here you are,” said the man handing
Brownbeard a plate with some square, bread-like,
yeasty smelling things. There was also a steaming
cup filled with a brown liquid that might be tea.
But it might not be. Brownbeard nibbled at the
square.
“Mmmmm, that’s pretty good,” said
Brownbeard. “It has honey in it, yes?”
“None.”
Brownbeard sipped at the hot brown liquid. It
was tasteless.
“Mmmmm, good,” said Brownbeard just to be
polite.
The little man nodded and smiled.
“Is your store new?” asked Brownbeard.
“New? Oh, no! This store has been around a
long, long time.”
“Really? That’s strange. I’ve lived in New
Ferry all of my life and I thought I knew every
business in town. How many years have you been
open?”
“Many, many years.”
“Here? In New Ferry?”
“Sometimes.”
Brownbeard smiled at the man. This little guy
was obviously a jokester.
“And what do you do?” asked the man.
“I’m a pirate looking for a crew.”
“Ah, pirating. That can be interesting work.”
“I don’t know yet as I still don’t have my crew.”
“Yes, that can make things difficult for a
pirate.”
Brownbeard sighed.
“Why do you suppose those two fellows were
after me?” asked Brownbeard. Maybe the little
guy did know something about the identity or
motives of the two dark creatures.
“Oh, I have no idea,” said the man. “If they
catch you, you’ll know.”
Brownbeard sighed again.
“That’s a nice paper maché eyebrow you have
there.”
“Oh, thanks,” said Brownbeard as he felt at the
long, serpentine piece of handicraft that was his
right eyebrow.
“So, what would you like to buy? I’m going to
be closing soon, so you’ll have to decide quickly.”
Brownbeard did not see anything amidst all the
clutter that he wanted. When he had been looking
around before, he could not really see what he
was seeing. The two men in black were really
keeping his attention. He did not want to look for
anything right now. Still, this man had helped him
and Brownbeard felt it the right thing to do to buy
a little something. He searched the pockets of his
pants. Without pulling the coins out, Brownbeard’
s fingers identified two shillings and one half-
pence. Yipes! He was broke! There was nothing
he’d be able to afford.
“Perhaps something to aid you on your pirating
endeavors,” offered the man.
“Yes, okay,” said Brownbeard, afraid to let the
man know he would not be able to buy anything of
worth due to the dearth of dough in his drawers.
The man guided Brownbeard over to a statue of
a merlion. That is, a fish with a lion’s head and
front legs. Brownbeard blinked in surprise.
Granted he had not been paying much attention to
what he had been looking at as he walked through
the store before, but something seemed wrong. He
was sure that he had picked up this particular
statue previously, but it had been a felfish. That
is, a lion with a fish head and front fins. He looked
around for the statue he thought he had held. But it
was not to be found.
“I don’t know,” said a wary Brownbeard.
Continuing to follow the proprietor,
Brownbeard looked at crystals and gems and
books and statuary and ornaments and paintings
and furniture and lots of other stuff. Most things in
the store were beyond Brownbeard’s ability to
even guess at their purpose. Some things looked
very old, like a scrap of parchment with writing
that may have been Greek, or an oar from a ship
with carvings in the blade appearing to be of
Phoenician origin. Some things looked very new,
like a basket of strange looking, even stranger
smelling fruits that seemed fresh enough to have
been harvested yesterday. And it was late winter!
But besides a few spare parts for ships, there was
nothing that looked particularly useful to a pirate.
At least nothing that Brownbeard would be able to
buy with his meager monies. Perhaps he should
just come clean and tell the little proprietor that he
was broke. Like he had any other choice!
Brownbeard thoughtlessly passed his hand over
a hexagonal box covered with glittery fabric and
what looked to his eye to be designs of the Orient.
He had read travel books in which there were
drawings of the Far East. Books that told of
palaces with riches beyond belief, and of
mountains that were taller than the sky itself, and
of monsters that alone could bring down one-
hundred strong men without wasting any of their
horrible breath from effort. He was sure that the
long, snaky creature coiling around the box with
the hairy head and lolling tongue was a dragon.
The box was as tall as the span from the tips of
Brownbeard’s outstretched fingers to his elbow,
and the top third could be removed from the rest.
Brownbeard peered inside and saw several
turquoise colored rocks in the bottom.
“That would be a good choice indeed,” said the
little man.
“Really? What is it?” asked Brownbeard.
“It’s a magic box.”
“Oh? It is?”
“Of course.”
“I have never seen a magic box before. Will it
help me to find a crew?”
“I’m not sure. Actually, there are an infinite
number and variety of magic boxes in the
Universe. But I only have this one in stock at the
moment. It is a traveling box, I think. Or it might
be a box of protection. To tell you the truth, I can’
t remember. But I can assure you of its
authenticity and quality. All of my wares come
with a lifetime warranty covering any and all
defects.”
“Well, how would I determine what kind of box
it is?” asked Brownbeard.
“Ah, good question. If it’s a traveling box, you
shake it with the lid shut. Then you open the lid
and peer therein. You read the letters or words
you see in the rocks. It’s best to make a poem or a
song of what you read. The better your poetry or
song, usually the better your destination.”
“How do I read letters and words in some
rocks?” asked an incredulous Brownbeard.
“Practice, practice, practice,” answered the man.
“Of course,” said Brownbeard. “And if I
pronounce the words I see poorly, or make up a
bad poem or song, will I end up someplace bad?”
“Entirely possible,” agreed the man.
“Can I control where I go?” asked Brownbeard.
“With a little luck, and a lot of skill—or the
other way around—yes.”
“Huh, interesting. And if it’s a protection box?
How do I use it then?”
“Easy. You can open the box, pick out a rock,
and throw it at whomever or whatever is after you.
Or you can whack your adversary over the noggin
with the box. Or, I like to place the box in the way
of whomever is after me and let them trip over it.
Be creative.”
Brownbeard snorted in amusement and
disbelief. What a funny guy was this shopkeep!
“How much is the box?” Brownbeard asked.
“Oh, it is priceless,” sighed the man proudly.
“I don’t have that much,” said Brownbeard.
“Then I’ll take two shillings and one half-pence
for it.”
Brownbeard felt a chill go up his neck. How
did this little fellow know what’s in his pockets? If
the box is priceless, why is he willing to part with
it for the sum of a day old, moldy chunk of
biscuit? Perhaps he was being scammed. No! Do
you think?
“All right,” said Brownbeard reaching into his
pocket to pull out the three coins. Maybe it was a
magic box. Likely it was not. But one never
knows a possibility as an actuality until one tries.
Do they?
Brownbeard gave the man the coins. The man
wrapped the box in some plain white paper.
Handing it to Brownbeard the shopkeeper said,
“Good wise to you Brownbeard, and then luck
will proceed.”
“Thanks,” said Brownbeard, not at all sure what
the man’s words meant.
He walked out of Ye Olde Gift Shoppe as a
weak, pale blue gathered in the east. Holding his
box, Brownbeard had not a single bit of money on
his person.
“I wonder how he knew my name?”
Brownbeard asked himself. He turned around to
look at the shop from where he had just exited.
All he saw was a boarded up window with a sign
that read, “For Lease. Write Ferrous Wheel, Agent
/ Snookie, Pitts, and Fropenheimer Realty.”
Another chill went up Brownbeard’s backside
as he asked himself, “Since when were Snookie,
Pitts, and Fropenheimer into real estate?”
The Adventures of Short Stubbly Brownbeard
Alan J. Levine
* * *
Chapter Sixteen - A Dubious Purchase
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.
