This is the fifth of ten parts of Fred’s Yuletide Escape. Chapters average 1000 words. If you missed the start, you can find it here.
King Fred of Marsh has decided to take off for a little adventure before his Yuletide duties start. After visiting his neighbours at Castle Wash, he planned to spend the night at the Inn of the Seventh Happiness. However, after a pleasant conversation with Willoughby the Narrator, he was kidnapped and bundled into a coach, which set off into the night.
Chapter 5: Pirates ahoy!
Dusk had fallen, and a whole day had passed since the coach had arrived at a clearing in a wood, and his companions had encouraged Fred to step out. They’d been polite enough, no more manhandling like they’d done to abduct him in the first place. He assumed they realised they didn’t need to. Looking around the group, which he had ample opportunity to do that day, despite the damp, fog and gloom in the clearing, he realised he was among former pirates, some of whom he recognised from the Mare Swine. Just like the driver of the coach, who had left again shortly after Fred had been deposited there. He’d been given breakfast, pushed into a small cave, given a blanket and told to keep quiet.
He’d tried finding out more when one of them brought him some food and a drink, around the middle of the day. The pirate had just looked at him, shaken his head, and left.
Then he’d attempted a walk to stretch his legs, as much to see what would happen as anything else. One of them ran over and tried to push him back in the cave. “I need to walk around,” he said. “Walk with me, if you like.” To his surprise, the pirate had. They’d walked once around the clearing, and back to the cave.
They weren’t a talkative bunch. Fred occasionally heard low murmurings as if they were conversing, but they kept their heads down and close together and Fred had no chance of overhearing something. He couldn’t identify the ones who had steered him out of the Inn. It looked as if they’d left to find somebody else and everyone was waiting for him, or them, to arrive.
The gloom got worse and some hard rain spattered through the leafless trees. Fred shrank back a few more feet into the cave to keep dry. He poked his nose back out, though, when he heard some commotion down below.
“Right”, “well done, then”, “look lively”, “get that fire stoked”, and other commands that sounded familiar from his days spent on the ship (apart from the fire getting stoked) rang out as four or five newcomers arrived. One of them was the person who had been on his right at the inn. He started towards Fred’s cave, followed by a pirate in a large hat.
“King Fred,” said the hat person, slurring the e so that it was at least three times longer than usual.
“Yes, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” asked Fred, deciding to be extra formal just in case it helped keep things under control.
“Just call me the Cap’n, although I think we’ve met before. Don’t ye remember?”
“A number of you look familiar, but I apologise, I have forgotten your names.”
“Well, I’ll forgive you this time. Do you know a cove called Frankie, by any chance?”
“Er, well, we have a Frankie at Marsh. Big black chap, very hairy. Why?”
“That’s our Frankie. He says you’re okay. Despite you jumping ship when you were with us.”
“I didn’t jump ship, I was shipwrecked!”
“That’s as may be. You didn’t join us on the shore when we were struggling for our lives.”
“You weren’t on my shore! There was nobody anywhere near me. Mind you, I never did find out how Ludo got ashore with his party, all dry and comfortable. He must have left you too.”
“Well, maybe you have a point there. Anyways, it was a long time ago. Plenty of water gone past the rudder since then. We’ve been landlubbers and outcasts ever since.”
“But lots of you managed to find homes, castles and jobs. Some of you ended up at Marsh and Buckmore, for instance.”
“Ah, well, there you have it, don’t you? Some of us got lucky. Pippin, Arty, Jazz, even Rum. Then there’s a few that banded together to survive in the wild, living from hand to mouth, living a quiet life. Then there’s them that got picked on and vilified by people that took them in, wanting slave labour. And there’s them that had to fight for their lives, run for sport of kings, got hunted for pleasure. Then again, there’s them that got bitten and turned into something else entirely.”
“I’ve never met any of them, so I can’t say.”
“Can ye not?” The Cap’n looked at him slyly. “Well, maybe some are good at hiding it.”
“What do you want from me, anyway? Why bring me here?”
“Well, that was an opportunity that was too good to miss. We wanted to parley with someone. We’ve been talking about it for a while. Rum saw you, told Shiloh and Fuzzbutt, and they agreed you were the one. Good work on their part,” he turned and nodded to his companion, who looked pleased with himself. “What do we want?” he continued. “We want amnesty. We want a home.”
(c) J M Pett 2013
Continued on Saturday
