The Walrus and the Warwolf coaaod-4

by Hugh Cook

  'And I,' said Ish Ulpin, 'yield that pleasure to my shipmate, Andranovory,'

  That personage grinned at Drake, showing broken rot-brown teeth.

  'Atsimo Andranovory,' he said, introducing himself. 'I believe we've met.''Oh, I don't think we have,' said Drake.

  'You don't remember me?' said Andranovory. 'Well, you'll remember me hereafter. Give me a suck!'

  And the raptor exposed his weapon to the cool sea breeze. His knob was crusted with festering sores.'Suck!' said Andranovory.

  T'llnot playwoman,' said Drake, in a voice shaking with tension.

  Mulps sympathized with the boy who did not want to play woman – not, at least, with so many men watching.

  'Lazy little bugger!' said Andranovory, giving him an idle slap. 'But we can cure that. String him up by the ankles till he learns when he's well off.'

  While Mulps did not approve of such tortures, he could scarcely intervene. If his crew ever learned the true nature of his sensitive, infinitely tender soul, they would surely lose faith in him as a captain. Mulps was aware that he was not much of a sailor, or much of a fighter, either – it was his thrift and financial acumen, more than anything, which had brought him control of the ship.

  So Mulps could only stand back and watch helplessly as Ish Uplin and Bucks Cat, obedient to Andranovory's commands, tied Drake's hands behind his back then tied a rope to his ankles. The rope was slung over a yard-arm.

  Drake lay on the hard deck, staring up at the blue sky. All around were unfriendly faces. He wished he had not given Andranovory those duff directions on the dockside of Cam, more than half a year ago. But, at the time, it had seemed such an innocent little trick.'Mike!' yelled Ish Ulpin. 'Come help us haul a rope!'

  And something far too large to be human came trundling along the deck. It was twice the height of any man. It was as wide in the shoulders as a man's outstretched arms. It had no ears: only holes in the side of its head where ears should be.It was Whale Mike.

  'Oh, you,' said Whale Mike, looking down at Drake in surprise.

  'Yes, me,' said Drake, staring up at the yellow-faced monster.'What you down there for?' said Whale Mike.

  'Because that toad-raping Atsimo Andranovory wants a suck,' said Drake. 'And I'll tell you this – he's not getting one from me!'

  'Then you ask Walrus help you,' said Whale Mike. 'He our captain. He good joker.'

  'Our young friend here isn't exactly Slagger Mulps' favourite person,' said Ish Ulpin. 'He more or less said our beautiful green-haired captain wasn't human.''Oh, that not very nice,' said Whale Mike.

  And pulled on the rope which ran up from Drake's feet and over the yard-arm. Drake was lifted clear of the deck. His hair flopped down. Blood rushed to his head.'Heave ho!' said Bucks Cat.

  And gave Drake a push which sent him swinging across the deck and out over the sea. He spun. He had a dizzy, giddy view of surging blue sea and dazzling sun. Then he was swinging back to where he had started from. Ish Ulpin was there to meet him. With a fist.

  'That enough!' said Whale Mike, 'You stop. This my friend!'

  'Oh, man,' said Bucks Cat, slapping Drake on the back. 'You're in luck! Whale Mike's your friend!' And he hooted with laughter.

  It was such a good joke that even Ish Ulpin laughed. But Andranovory simply looked at Drake and said:'If you get off this rope alive, I'll be waiting for you.'

  Drake, hanging upside down, dizzy, sore, sick, found it impossible to come up with a smart reply.

  Whale Mike hauled Drake higher until their heads were level. Drake was well over twice his own height from the deck. A long way to fall. A lethal fall, if he landed on his head. Mike took a turn of rope around his fist, as if he meant to hold Drake there for some time.

  'Great view,' said Drake, starting to sway with the motion of the swells that rocked the ship.

  But all he could see at that moment was Whale Mike's swollen sallow yellow face and tiny imbecilic eyes. Mike hooked a couple of fingers into Drake's collar to stop him swaying.'We no meet long time,' said Mike. 'Too right,' said Drake.

  'You do good swim,' said Mike. 'You smart joker. Tough, eh? If not tough, then drown. You make good pirate maybe.'

  'Yeah, sure,' said Drake. 'Cut me down then I'll prove just how good.'

  'Not that easy, my friend. First you make An'vory happy. You suck, that not hurt you any. Then maybe some joker rough you up, but I make sure it not go too far. I say good word for you to Walrus. He not bad joker. He okay.'

  'No deal,' said Drake. 'I won't suck any filthy pirate cock. I'd rather die.'

  'That not so smart,' said Whale Mike. 'Not much good being you when you dead. That not so? You take care An'vory, I take care you. You say nice things to Walrus, then he happy, you happy. You my friend.'

  'My friend!?' shouted Drake. Stress, pain, nausea and disorientation suddenly yielded to an enormous outburst of hate, rage and anger. 'My friend? How do you reckon? Man, you helped force me into the sea to drown! You tried to kill me!''That little thing between friends,' said Whale Mike.Drake was staggered by this bland assertion.

  'You're twigged, man!' he screamed. 'You've gone to rust! You can't make friends by drowning people!'

  'That not so smart,' said Whale Mike. 'You need friend real bad. So you have long swim. So what? You not drowned. You not dead, so why worry?''You sound as if I should be grateful!' said Drake.

  'You get good swim,' said Whale Mike. 'You get out of water, you feel real man. Real proud. You get good story, tell many times. Joker buy you beer, hear story. That not so? Not all bad, that swim. You get plenty beer.'

  That was true, up to a point. Drake had told the story of his deep-sea survival many times. He had got many beers out of it. But that was hardly the point.'You're mad, you crazy bugger!' said Drake.'No, you mad,' said Whale Mike, sounding hurt. 'You not right in head. I your friend. I try help. You not want help. Maybe you die, but that your problem, not mine.'

  And he unhooked his fingers from Drake's collar. Drake began to swing. And Mike hauled him up higher into the blue blue sky.'Investigate,' muttered Drake.

  And did his very best to see how and where the rope was tied off. Whale Mike was fastening it to a cleat on the deck. Drake's life now depended on the safety of a knot tied by a moron. Grief!He closed his eyes and tried to endure.After a while, he found endurance impossible.

  'All right!' he cried, with what voice was left to him. 'I'll do it! I'll do it! Anything and everything! An'vory, sure. Even the captain, yes! Every man in the ship! Just let me down from here!'But if anyone heard, nobody took any notice.

  And Drake soon left off crying, for his throat was far too dry to continue.

  All day he dangled, utterly helpless. He had no knife. Even if gymnastic flair and a touch of magic had allowed him to untie himself and get to the deck alive, he would have faced a shipload of pirates more than ready to hang him right up again – quite possibly by his testicles.The wind got up.The sea thickened.

  It was, of course, sheer torture to be suspended there, swaying in sickening arcs as the ship rutted through the rolling seas. The weather worsened toward evening; by dayfall, they were in a regular storm. But Drake, by then, was only half-conscious.

  When the ship struck, he heard the panic-stricken shouts of pirates only as another thread of violence in the nightmares of delirium. When the seas swirled up around him, he thought at first that his head was being shoved into a bucket of salt water.

  Then realized he was afloat on the turbulent seas of night. Afloat? He was drowning! Feet tied together.

  Hands tied behind back. A wave wrecked him under. He tried to jack-knife to the surface. Failed. Then the seas slacked away. He was afloat upon liquid ebony, staring at blindness. He gasped darkness, found part of it breathable.Something was pulling on his ankle-rope.

  Moments later, Drake was hauled right up out of the water and seized by something huge: by a monster possessed of inexorable strength. Throat moistened by sea-water, Drake screamed.'Why you scream?' said a
voice. 'You safe now.'Who could that be?Drake thought he could guess.

  'You cuddle close,' said the voice. 'You shy? Not good be shy. Sea cold. Share heat.'

  'Can't cuddle,' said Drake. 'Can't anything. Hands tied.''That no problem. Knife made for that.'

  And Whale Mike cut the water-swollen ropes which bound Drake's wrists. Drake's first thought was to seize the knife and kill his enemy. But he could not see the knife in the night. And, in any case, his hands were – for the moment -near enough to useless.'Can't hold on,' said Drake. 'Too tired.'

  'Easy, man,' said Whale Mike. 'You not fall. I hold. You good friend, I not let you fall.'

  And Whale Mike cradled Drake in his arms. The night was full of sounds of seething sea, of wave-wreck and surf-shatter . But they could not drown out Mike' s voice. He had started singing! He was crooning a song in some strange, strange foreign language which Drake did not understand. But, without understanding the words, Drake was fairly sure the song was a lullaby.

  Whale Mike was still singing a lifetime later when the shroud-pale dawn illuminated the masts and rigging of the wrecked ship, the ragged white surf breaking on nearby rocks, and a huddling of pirates barnacled on those spray-lashed rocks.'Look!' cried Ish Ulpin.

  And everyone looked, and saw Whale Mike sitting where yard-arm joined mast, with Drake Douay on his lap.

  'Hey, Mike!' yelled Bucks Cat from the rocks. 'How's your baby?'

  'He all right!' yelled Whale Mike. 'We sing happy song!'Drake had never felt so humiliated in his life.

  He tried to untie the ropes which still secured his feet. But all he managed to do was break two fingernails. He began to cry with fatigue and frustration. His tears ran hot down his cheeks.

  'You want free from rope?' said Mike. 'That no problem. I just leave rope in case wave take you in dark. Rope for safety. I cut.'

  And he pulled out his sheath knife – which was almost the size of a sword – and liberated Drake's feet.'What now?' said Drake.'This!' said Whale Mike.

  And threw Drake into the water.

  'Hey!' shouted Drake, floundering in the slathering sea.Mike laughed.

  'Swim!' he said, waving in the direction of the nearby reef. 'Swim!'

  Drake, having no option, swam towards the reef, where barking surf chased yelping waves and devoured them in crevices and rock-traps. Then Mike dived, and swam after him. When Drake gained the rocks, he jammed himself between two of the largest and coldest and hung on tight against the threat of the surf.'Bring your slut-hole here, darling,' said Andranovory.

  But, to Drake's surprise, the order was not followed up by a prompt attack. Even Andranovory was too far gone to be lusting in more than thought.

  Whale Mike wallowed through the seas like something out of a bad dream. He gained the rocks.'You all right?' called Mike to Drake.'Fine,' said Drake.'You want cuddle?' said Mike.'I've cuddled enough, thanks,' said Drake.'Never enough cuddle,' said Mike.

  And, shortly, Whale Mike, Slagger Mulps, Ish Ulpin and Bucks Cat were cuddling together in a big body heap. Drake saw most of the other pirates had also huddled into body-warmth teams. He realized it would be smart to join them, for it was cold; wind and spray were sweeping the exposed rocks. But he was too scared.

  He humbled down as best he could, trying to make himself invisible. A gull winged low above the slipshod surf. How long would it be before he was too weak to save his eyes from the seabirds? The slubbering sea throttled amongst the rocks, hungering for his hot blood and his long white bones; if the storm got up again, the sea would surely claim him before the birds did.

  Finding thought so unproductive of pleasure, Drake stopped the practice, and shortly fell into a fitful half-sleep punctuated by dreams and the voices of hallucination.

  Meanwhile, Slagger Mulps, luxuriating in the warmth of Whale Mike's armpit, stared out to sea. Shadows smudged the far-distant horizon; he knew those shadows to be the Greater Teeth. They were shipwrecked, without a doubt, on the Gaunt Reefs; there was at least an even chance that they would be rescued before too long by a raiding ship or a fishing boat.And almost an even chance that they would not.

  'We sing!' shouted Whale Mike, with invincible cheerfulness. 'Everyone sing!'

  This command woke everyone who had managed to drift away into the land of dreams – including Drake. He listened with astonishment as Whale Mike started a song.

  All the pirates knew it, and joined in, but Drake could not follow the lyrics, for they were so full of sea-talk, arcane slang, and dialect words native to the Greater Teeth. But the chorus was easy enough to understand: everyone howled like a dog, crowed like a cock, screamed like a cat then barked like a seal. Then clapped hands against thighs.

  Drake suddenly wanted to be part of it: part of the singing, the slapping, the body-huddles, the community. It all seemed, for a moment, positively jolly. But did not dare join in. His recent experiences had left him feeling as wrecked as the Walrus. He closed his eyes, and, eventually, slept.

  Towards noon, Drake woke from muttering nightmares to hear excited talk amongst the pirates. They had sighted a ship. As it came closer, they saw it had green sails. Closer still, and they saw its dragon figurehead.Mulps spat, and swore.'It's the Warwolf,' said Mulps.

  The masts and rigging of the Walrus advertised their presence, and it was soon clear to everyone except Drake that the Warwolf had sighted them. However, by the time the ship was bulking near the reefs, even he knew that rescue was at hand – not that the pirates seemed glad of it.

  Keeping a prudent distance from the rocks, the Warwolf lowered three boats to investigate. Soon the castaways were sharing their reef with newcomers, a party of grim men tricked out with weapons and looking more than ready to use them. One was, to judge from his bearing, their leader.He carried himself like a king.

  He was tall, lean, as black as Bucks Cat and as bald as a hazel nut. He was dressed in brown leather, and wore round his hips a great big leather belt from which hung a waterproof sea-pouch and assorted ironmongery. He looked dangerous. But he had come, nevertheless, to rescue them – so, at the sight of him, Drake perked up.

  'Who's the bald old coot?' said Drake to anyone who might answer.

  Nobody condescended to reply, but the bald old coot was in fact Jon Arabin, the Warwolf himself, an ascetic man with a taste for experiment and challenge. Arabin came onto the rocks like a conqueror. His eyes were a pale, sunwashed blue. Drake was startled to see such blue amidst such black. Steady eyes, yes, and a steady voice, which said:

  'There's space afloat for any who'll swear loyal to me and mine. Even the Walrus. How about it, Mulps, me pretty fopling?'Mulps spat in reply.

  'I'll take no murder on my ship,' continued Arabin, unperturbed. 'So you must swear loyal. Mulps, play the man: free the crew from their word.'

  'Done,' said Mulps, nodding a little. 'Any rat in search of a sewer can run.'Nobody moved.

  'Loyal is one thing,' said Arabin. 'Stupid is another.' Drake got to his feet. He felt thin, transparent, almost weightless.'I'll swear loyal,' he said.

  'That's rape-meat from the last boarding!' said Andranovory. 'Take a swearing from him? He can't stand a deck, far less set sail.'

  Arabin turned his stern gaze on Drake, who felt, for a moment, like dust being weighed against iron.'What can you do, boy?'

  T know iron,' said Drake promptly, 'and I know steel. Yes, and rope. Climbing, splicing and knots. It's my father who learnt me ropes.'

  'Aye, boy, and buggery perhaps,' said Arabin. 'But can you cut?''Cut?'

  'Aye. Cut, gut, gralloch and gash. Go nose to nose with a cutlass and swim through smirking. How about it, boy? Come here!'

  Drake reluctantly ventured down to the foam-smothered patch of rock where Jon Arabin stood, careless of the sea lathering his boots. As surf sucked back, Arabin tossed a dirk so it fell between them. Drake stared at the bald man's hard bones, the rough-torn boots, the ugly chunks of callus on the knuckles, the pale blue eyes as cold as the sea and as ruthless.
r />   T can cut,' he said, and stooped, and grabbed, and jerked the dirk to the challenge.

  Jon Arabin kicked him in the stomach, and he went down hard. Heart scrambling, Drake scuffled to his feet. Sick nausea staggered him, and he knew he was dead meat: but he squared back, panting, knife held tight, and stood ready.Arabin gave a little nod.

  'Aye,' he said. 'You've got the makings. Get in the boat.'

  7

  Name: Orfus pirates.

  Description: league of sea-robbers based on islands of the Greater Teeth.

  Language: a dialect of Galish.

  Political organization: oligarchical rule through a limited franchise democracy.

  History: dates back several centuries to the Summer of Three Comets, when the delinquent Harla clan of Galish traders set up as pirates on the island of Drum, a base later abandoned after a severe dispute with the local sea dragons.

  Once back aboard the Warwolf, Jon Arabin ordered a raft to be cut loose and thrown overboard. He was obeyed.

  'That's their chance,' said Jon Arabin, as the bamboo raft splashed into the sea. 'They can swim for it, if they wish.'

  'Why give them a chance?' said one of his men. 'Are you in love with friend Walrus of sudden?'

  'Nay, man,' said Arabin. 'But Whale Mike's on that reef. He gave me a chance once, aye, when the Walrus was set to drown me. I owe him the same in return.''What's with the boy?' said a man.

  'New meat,' said Jon Arabin. 'Get him some soup. Then to bed.''We've no bunk spare.''Then he can sleep on the floor. He's tired enough

  aren't you boy? Aye. You'll nod away to never in an instant.'

  Drake was in no state to argue otherwise. Jon Arabin knew what he was talking about.

  The Warwolf stood off from the Greater Teeth that night, and put in to Gufling the next day. A slow and weary business it was, with much sounding, towing and warping before they eased the ship in to a sea-cleft which fitted them as tightly as a virgin. Gufling, Drake learned, was the smallest Tooth where a ship could berth; Jon Arabin had been exiled here by debt.