Tor watched Engle lean over the ship, his belly on the side, and cup his hands around his mouth. He started yelling, then singing, butchering some of the pirate songs Forecastle had a habit of singing in the morning.
“There once was a fiddle
That smelled like a…riddle?
And played music sweet as a gem…
Enchanted it was,
to make songs that we love
Until something…something happened…”
Captain Forecastle winced at Engle’s pitchy voice and took another swig of drink.
“Wait, I actually know this one!” the sightseer said.
“There once was a captain
Who’d been everywhere I’d been
From Tortuga to Perla to Estrelle…
Though one day he made port
Ran into the wrong sort
And fell victim to a blood queen’s spell
From that day and on
His luck was all gone
And his ship was swept into a tempest
In the hurricane he resides
Each year taking more lives
For the crew of his stormy ghost ship!”
Vesper rolled her green eyes. “If you want to catch a salmon through movement, your voice won’t do much, lovely as it is. It doesn’t travel well—from the surface down into the sea, it barely makes a vibration.”
Engle stopped his singing and turned to her. “What would you suggest, then?”
She sighed. “We’re going to need some planks.”
* * *
“Ready?” They were all stationed at different points throughout the ship, two planks in each of their hands. Engle looked behind him, making sure they were in position, then said, “Now!”
In one solid rhythm they beat their planks against the ship’s sides like it was a giant drum. Vesper had explained that the vibrations made would attract fish much better than singing. Tor was surprised Captain Forecastle agreed to help, and he smirked as he watched the pirate half-heartedly thump his instruments against the wood. They continued beating, Tor’s arms quickly getting sore, before he saw Vesper was right.
Dozens of curious sea creatures approached the boat, surfacing from the great below. A few sharks, with heads he’d never seen before. Some long, exactly like a saw. Some squished, their eyes on opposite sides. Some with two eyes on one side, like a flounder. Some with two giant, sharp front teeth like a vampire.
Tor had now slowed the ship to a crawl, almost completely still.
“How much longer of this, boy?” Captain Forecastle asked, barely hitting the side of the ship yet looking just a few breaths away from passing out.
“Just a little longer!” Engle said. He drummed more enthusiastically than anyone else, seeming to have an endless stream of energy. “I’ve never seen a giant salmon,” he said dreamily. “Wait, is that an optagorp?”
“What’s an optagorp?” Captain Forecastle asked at the other end of the ship, still thrumming, sounding out of breath.
Engle squinted intently, then brightened. “Vesper, get ready!” he yelled, grinning at the sea, fishing rod with the ribbon in his grip, seeing something no one else could. Vesper rushed to his side, dropping her planks to the deck.
She waited, hand outstretched. They all stilled, stopping their drumming until Engle yelled at them and they kept playing. Hands moving at a rapid pace, Tor stood on his toes and watched as something bigger than even the sharks surfaced, golden and sparkling, like the sun reflected onto the sea. Before it could swim away with the ribbon, Vesper shrunk it down, then floated it to the deck.
As soon as it touched the wood, it expanded, and Tor jumped back.
In its full size, the fish was bigger than Tor. It thrashed and splashed around wildly, and he thought it might simply jump back into the water.
The sundrop salmon’s golden scales were mesmerizingly bright. They were reflective, fracturing sunlight into miniature, blinding rainbows. For a moment, Tor was frozen, spellbound, the same way he had been dazzled by the Melodine’s song over a month before.
Only one scale was a different shade—the silver of swords.
His first reaction was to take it. But Tor froze. He had read the story and knew what had happened to the fish that had tried to steal the salmon’s scale.
His breath caught in his chest as he realized they probably should have made a plan. The salmon thrashed violently along the deck, whipping this way and that. They would likely have to simply let it go, the scale wasn’t worth one of them dying trying to get it…
“Stop,” Melda commanded, her loud voice shocking the fish still.
Part of Tor wanted to tell Melda that her leadership emblem didn’t work on animals…but the salmon had listened. Her marking couldn’t control the fish, however. It only had the ability to convince.
Melda inched closer, reaching a hand toward it, careful not to touch. “Your scale. Would you be willing to part with it?”
The salmon jolted.
Melda stumbled back. Tor thought it might attempt a jump off the ship or bite her, but there was a glimmer, and the silver scale slipped off, a golden one waiting just beneath it.
“Quick, we don’t want to kill it!” Engle said.
Vesper shrunk the salmon again, then deposited it back into the water in its full size. It promptly swam away, joining the rest of the fish, which had left after the drumming had ended.
“Everyone else must have tried to simply steal it,” Melda said quietly. She bent down and carefully took the scale between two fingers. It looked slightly translucent, and smooth, similar to the mother-of-pearl inside the compass.
“What does it do again?” Vesper asked. She eyed the golden ribbon, still in the water, as if finally realizing why Melda had insisted it be used as bait. The salmon they had caught was no ordinary fish, clearly. Tor thanked the universe
