Bem Madsoor In Command
Bigger Black leaned against the rail of the forecastle of the Lost Hope, Sabre Tusk d’Newolf’s flagship, thinking. The lapping of waves and the sound of a shipmate playing an accordian were the only sounds. A sea chart lay unrolled before him.
“Hey, Big Man, what are you looking at?” It was his messmate, Haf-Tusk.
“Haf, keep it down!” Bigger was deeply annoyed.
“So Sabre Tusk is gone?” Haf-Tusk asked.
“Yeah, he’s gone to shore to see what’s up with the group he spotted there. But don’t you get any ideas—I’m not crossing Sabre Tusk on your account.”
“Hey, Big Man, just calm down. I’m not crossing His Tuskiness. Let’s just say there’s possibilities.”
“What possibilities?” Bigger said coldly. “You know I don’t want trouble.”
“So Bem almost got the job done—” Bigger did not let Haf finish.
“Bem! What about her? Can’t we just forget about her? We’re lucky the rest of us didn’t end up in the ocean like she did.”
“Whoa, there, Big Man—you’re right. There’s no point thinking about what might have been if the mutiny had succeeded. But, interesting isn’t it—you have nothing to do with sailing this ship, but here you are studying that sea chart like you’re going somewhere.”
“O.K.,” Bigger answered. “You were almost a hero. But you ended up in irons and just short of His Tuskiness throwing you to the sharks. And, oh, yeah, I almost forgot—you and Bem nearly got the rest of us killed, just for good measure. So, forgive me if I don’t too get excited when you have some new idea. But, no way the crew’s happy, so—sure—I’m thinking. That doesn’t make me crazy enough to follow another hare-brained scheme of yours—but, you got guts and I trust you—what possibilities you got in mind?”
There was a long silence. “We go for it, Big Man. Now. The crew has had it with His Tuskiness—I’m sure they’d go with us if we put the question to them. Sabre Tusk and his goons are on shore. We raise sail and get the blazes out of here.”
“I hope you can sail this thing better than I can,” Haf-Tusk said. “Sabre Tusk always takes the navigator with him when he goes ashore—he doesn’t want no one thinkin’ of leavin’ while he’s gone.”
“Haf!” Bigger Black suddenly exclaimed, “See that skiff off yonder—looks to be headin’ toward us. What do you make of it?”
Haf-Tusk took out a small spyglass he kept in his pocket and peered at the skiff. “Take a look!” Haf said, handing the glass to Bigger.
“Bem Madsoor!” Bigger exploded. “She’s alive!”
“And likely comin’ to avenge herself,” Haf added.
“Regardless of why she’s comin’,” Bigger replied, “it’s a powerful, powerful omen!”
“Too dangerous to wait for her,” Haf said excitedly. “If His Tuskiness sees a skiff coming to Lost Hope, he’ll be back here in a flash. Call the crew to us—we act now!”
“What you talkin’ quiet and sneaky about up there?” The unexpected question startled Bigger and Haf and they whirled around, instantly on the defensive.
“Just saw you two talking secret-like up here in the fo’castle,” Fat-Mouth said. “What’s up?”
“Fat,” Bigger Black responded, looking relieved, “you startled us—but, that’s OK. We were actually just talking about you.”
“You were?” Fat replied.
“Sure,” Bigger said. “See that skiff out there? The beast in it is Bem Madsoor! She’s comin’ here to take over the ship—finish the work she started earlier. Now I know you were with her last time—just like Haf and I were. Sure as we’re all here together, her comin’ back from bein’ a dead beast is a sign that the time’s run out for Sabre Tusk and his goons. We don’t know if Bem’s comin’ with angels or demons at her back, but a dead beast showin’ up is an omen. We say it means take the ship!”
“I’m in,” Fat-Mouth responded. “What do you want me to do?”
“You’ve the biggest talker on the ship,” Bigger said with a smile. “We want you to go quick as speedin’ cutlass slash to every beast on the ship and tell ’em Bem Madsoor wants them on the main deck double quick.”
“That will get their attention,” Fat-Mouth chuckled.
“And tell ’em to keep the noise down,” Haf added. “We can’t give His Tuskiness any hint about what’s up.”
“Aye!” Fat-Mouth said.
Moving quickly around the ship, Fat-Mouth quickly spread the message. Within minutes, the Lost Hope crew filled the main deck, casting astonished looks toward the skiff approaching the ship.
Standing on the steps leading up to the forecastle, Bigger and Haf looked out across their shipmates. Exchanging a determined look, Bigger stepped forward.
“Mates,” he began, “Bem Madsoor is returning to the Lost Hope. Whether she’s a dead beast come back to life or not we don’t know. But she’s comin’ and she’ll be steppin’ onto this very deck in a few minutes.” Bigger paused, allowing the impact of his words to sink in.
“I say by brain and heart, we owe three cheers to Bem Madsoor! I say we call her Capt’n Madsoor as she comes aboard and pledge our lives and future to her!” He looked around at his mates, seeing the face of each sea-beast take on a look that said, ‘AYE!’ without saying anything.
Then one sea-beast in the back called out, “THREE CHEERS FOR BEM MADSOOR!”
“THREE CHEERS FOR BEM MADSOOR!” another responded.
“THREE CHEERS FOR BEM MADSOOR!” yet another called.
“Well then, you silly sea-beasts, give the blasted cheers for her!” Bigger yelled.
“HUZZAH-HUZZAH-HUZZAAAUH!” the crew called out in a tumultuous yell.
Within a few minutes, the skiff came alongside, and Bem Madsoor sprang on board. Known to every sea-beast aboard the Lost Hope, either by serving together, or by legend, Bem was warmly welcomed. “HUZZAH-HUZZAH! HUZZAH-HUZZAH-HUZZAH!”
Everything was confusion for a few minutes, as the crew surged around Bem. Some, no doubt, wanted to touch her to assure themselves she was a real, living, flesh-and-blood sea-beast. Most, however, merely wanted to congratulate her on her safe return and pledge their loyalty to their new captain.
After taking in the situation and expressing her joy at seeing her shipmates again, Bem calmly gave orders. “Hottin’ the briny cup!” she said, calling on the cook to heat up pots of Seafoam Mutter for the crew to enjoy. “The rest of you—up sails, we’re leaving immediately.”
Turning to one of the youngest sea-beasts, Printy, she asked, “want to take a turn at the wheel and sail us out of here?”
“Yes, Captain!”
“Good! Bring ’er ’round, then keep ’er toward that point of land on the horizon.”
“Where’re we going, Captain?”
“First, we’re leavin’ Sabre Tusk to ’is own troubles. He’s made ’nough troubles for other beasts—let ’im take it in ’is own chops for awhile. Next, we’re goin’ to see about helpin’ some friends in trouble.”
“Who’s in trouble, Captain?”
“Well, as I’m seein’ it,” Bem replied with a smile, “the mates on this ship are rascals as most beasts see’s ya. So, there’s no goin’ to Port Newolf for a rest. First thing’s we gotta get you far away to new lands that’s not knowin’ ya—then, once we’s away from here, we’ll make some plans. For now, firsts firsts, we spend some time forgettin’ about Sabre Tusk. Set a course that takes us out o’ sight of Port Newolf—then, before dark we’ll cut back in down the coast a piece. I want to check over the ship for a long voyage—then we’ll set off for far horizons.”
“Aye, Capt’n!”