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“I thought I was adrift at sea. I assumed I’d have to wait for the birds to eat my eyeballs before I was rescued. I’d spend the rest of my life frightening children with my empty eye sockets like a living legend. They’d call me…they’d call me…”
“Blind Gunter?”
“Gunter who has no eyes.” Well, he never was very imaginative.
“It doesn’t matter because you float in less than a fathom of water. Look! Most of the crew swam ashore. You can see them organizing a search party for you on the beach.”
“The beach? Where’s a beach?” His pupils are reacting to light, and he’s not bleeding, so I rule out injury as the cause of his pudding head.
I believe his denseness is all Gunter. He sits up to look at the beach, and his plank sinks below the surface.
It must have been an act of God to balance his arse on the exact surface area of wood to survive. “I must go.”
“Yes, you must,” I say, nodding, because I can’t forage as much if I’m worried about him drowning.
“How about you take this first batch of supplies to shore? I’ll take your plank while you lie your belly over one of my apple barrels.
That’s it. Kick your feet and allow the surf to take you onto shore.
This way, you’re big enough to be spotted on land.
The crew will help you on the last leg of your trip. ”
“What about you?”
“I’m on a mission,” I say with more bravado than I feel. “If you see Betts, tell her I’m on my way.”
As he fades away on the waves, I decide to ditch his plank.
Damn thing won’t hold my weight for all the tea in China.
I won’t need it where I’m going anyway. The second half of the boat is in much better shape than the forecastle half.
I swim into what’s left of the kitchen. The crew should have no trouble reclaiming the utensils, pots, and pans.
Even the scraggly rosemary plant I left behind is bolted to the wall as if Catty will walk into the kitchen at any minute to yell at everyone for spilling her tools on the dirty floor.
I run up the stairs to the main deck and continue onto the sterncastle deck. If she’s injured, I’ll never forgive myself for collecting meaningless stuff instead of coming here first.
The wheel is gone…so is Bettina.
The dots on the beach scatter and collect in little bunches.
It's harder to see who is who from here than on the surface. One of them better be Bettina. Gunter’s makeshift craft meets the foamy waves.
Little dots rush out to greet him. They will have tents for tonight out of those sails… if Magda lets them stay.
Magda! Do they realize that in less than an hour, they will be face-to-face with a vampiress? I hope Chub is with them… or Eze…if she remembers Eze. I doubt she would remember Greenhorn, as he was a younger child than Eze when he left.
Oh, my prickly Bettina won’t get along with Magda.
Like two queen bees forced to share the same hive, there will be a clash of stingers.
I must collect Bettina’s treasures and get to the beach before nightfall.
My heavy hoof stomps through one of the water-soaked sterncastle stair steps on my way to the main deck.
It’s too soon for rot, so it must have been a weak plank before the crash.
Just as I fall through the floor into the map room… the sun falls below the horizon.
The map table creaks from catching my weight; maybe Betts and I shouldn’t have made love on top of it so often.
The legs are about to give out. Ooh, I’m tempted by the collection of maps and books in this room.
I’d love to save every sheet of paper, but without a boat, I’d risk exposing them to water as I swam.
If they stay here and the ship holds its shape, I can return with the dinghy.
Maybe the gift of her old maps and journals will keep Magda from eating Bettina.
A satyr can hope.
Betts
“Is it Flint? Is it Flint? By the Gods, one of you nutmegs better answer me! I don’t have my boat, but I still have my sword!”
“It’s Gunter,” Gretta cries as she runs for the surf.
Their heartfelt reunion brings tears to my eyes.
She swims to his raft of supplies and kisses him soundly.
As me hearties drag the raft onto the shore, I can’t help but analyze what Gunter rescued.
There are fresh produce barrels of some fruit, sails to make tents, and enough wooden items to keep the craft afloat.
I’ve known Gunter for months and trained him myself.
There is no way he designed that craft. He doesn’t have the brainpower to collect the items or the mechanical skills to make it work.
Flint.
“Gunter! Gunter!” I yell as I charge into the crashing waves where the crew drags Gunter’s craft aground. “Gunter, did you see Flint? Was he on this craft? He made this, right?”
“Hey! This sail is full of limes! What’s tucked into the folds!” Eze yells in my ear.
“Buss my cheeks about the blasted stuff! Gunter, I must know. Is Flint alive?!”
“Captain, please, he just—”
“Gunter, I’ll hang you by your nutmegs and peel them like bananas if you don’t answer me!”
“Ohhhh, violence after my own heart. I love a ruthless woman,” says a voice behind me.
A chill whispers under my shortened hair.
The newly exposed fuzz on the back of my neck stands on end.
“I had thought this was dinner delivery, but I suspect we might be great friends. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Magda, Vampiress, Pirate Captain, and Island Queen. Welcome to my home.”