Nordhoff laughed.
'Well, it's back to the galley, I guess,' he replied.
The demeanor of the crew for the following days was remarkably joyous. The former slaves joined in on the daily chores, and eventually a few joined the crew, while others were put ashore at safe locations along the coast. Even Volo and Passepout joined in on some of daily nautical labors, and in fact, both of them soon became quite expert seamen. Passepout also became an excellent fisherman, which was fortunate, since ship's stores had not taken into account his appetite when laying in provisions for the journey southward.
They were a few days out, off Telpir, when a pirate ship loomed into view.
'Tis flying the colors of Cyric,' cried the half-elf, whose name was Starbuck, from the crow's nest. 'She's a pirate vessel, and she's heading our way!'
'Dragon's teeth,' Nordhoff swore, then turning to Volo and Passepout, he ordered, 'You two better go back to your cabin and bolt the door.'
Passepout was halfway across the deck when he heard Volo reply.
'If the ship is sunk, we're no better there than here,' he answered. 'We would be honored to fight at your side.'
'Yeah, sure,' said Passepout in his characteristic unenthusiastic manner, wondering which would be worse, drowning or being slain by pirates.
The pirate ship was commanded by the villainous Captain Ahib Fletcher, a lifelong member of the feared Brotherhood of the Red Tide, whose patron deity was Cyric. He ruled his crew with iron hook and whip, which had been magically forged to the ends of his arms to replaced his hands, lost due to earlier battle wounds. He was also missing a leg but managed to maneuver faster than any other seaman with the aid of an ivory and iron table leg that had also been forged into place on the leg's stump by one of the Brotherhood's clerics. Though rumored to be insane, he nonetheless kept control of his pirate crew. This despite many night's rages as he recalled the albino banshee who had stolen his son, and cursed 'the infernal white wail' to the fear and wonderment of all present.
Nordhoff drew the crew close together. They would be helplessly outnumbered by the one-legged fiend and his cadre of sea marauders, but the mate had a plan.
'According to the rules of the Brotherhood of the Red Tide, the captaincy of a vessel is determined by trial by combat, and anyone can challenge the captain to a battle to the death for command of the ship. When we get within hailing distance, I will express our intentions. Then a plank will be thrown between the two vessels, and I will fight him for control of both of our vessels.'
'What if you lose?' Passepout asked.
'Then it will be someone else's turn to defend the ship, and I wish them luck in advance.'
The challenge was issued and accepted, and the two ships drew alongside of each other.
The horrible figure of the bloodthirsty pirate captain took his place on the opposite deck.
'Whosoever challenges me, come forward now and face me!' he crowed.
At that precise moment, the pirate ship Raiding Queen lurched, and Passepout was thrown forward, landing at the opposite end of the plank from Ahib.
'I see the challenger is almost as big as myself,' Ahib crowed, 'but he looks soft.'
'I'm not the…' Passepout sputtered.
'Silence!' the pirate ordered. 'Your challenge has been accepted. Prepare to meet Cyric.'
Volo and Nordhoff were powerless to intervene. They knew that Ahib would not listen to reason and that if they joined in, the ship's entire crew would be slaughtered by Ahib's men.
'But I'm not…,' the thespian continued in panic, 'you want…'
'I said silence!' the bloodthirsty buccaneer crowed and, with a flick of his metal-studded whip, began his attack.
The lash flicked around Passepout in an effort to embrace him so that he could be pulled closer to the pirate on the plank. Luckily for the rotund thespian, it failed to gain a wrapping grip due to the length of the journey it had to make around his midsection. Ahib pull on the whip's butt, only succeeding in giving Passepout a nasty lash burn around his waist rather than dragging him onto the plank. Ahib, however, was thrown off balance by the absence of the expected pull of dragging his opponent's bulk closer to him, he was forced to fall back four steps before he could regain his balance.
'Jump onto the plank!' Nordhoff ordered. 'Now!'
Without thinking, Passepout followed the order yelled by the first mate.
Ahib, who was about to lunge toward his prey, was once again thrown off balance, this time by the vibrating shock waves that passed along the plank from the resultant force of the landing of Passepout's bulk at one end. Once again, the pirate was delayed in his attack, and momentarily dazed.
Passepout was petrified with fear.
'How long does this have to go on?' Volo asked, his eyes riveted on the source of Passepout's terror.
'Until one of them can fight no longer,' Nordhoff replied, trying to strategize a new move for the panicked thespian.
'But Passepout isn't fighting now!' Volo implored.
'No, but he's still alive, and that at least is something to work with,' the Harper replied, then shouted, 'Passepout, jump!'
Again the thespian jumped, sending the waves of confusion along the plank that separated him from his doom. And the pirate was thrown off balance.
'Now run out into the center of the plank!' the Harper ordered.
Passepout stood stone-still, and Ahib had almost regained his bearings.
'Do it!' Volo cried. 'He won't have enough room to swing the whip then.'
'Oh,' Passepout replied, rushing out to the center of the plank between the two ships. Now he can't use the whip on me, he thought with glee. Then he realized that Ahib still could use his hook to tear him limb from limb, and was immediately torn between retreat and allowing panic to paralyze him in place.
Panic won out.
'And now, me pretty seagoing butterball,' said Ahib with glee as he approached his helpless victim, 'I will finish you off with me hook.'
Passepout could smell Ahib's fetid body odor, the result of many months at sea without a bath, and his eyes began to tear.
'Ah, the baby is blubbering,' said the sadistic follower of Cyric, slowing down to play with his prey before slaughtering him. 'Now you just stand there while I use my nice hooky-wooky to slit your throaty-woaty, and spill your guttsy-wuttsys.'
The two men on the plank were now closer than an arm's reach, and within striking distance.
'Do something!' Volo implored of his panic-stricken companion, but Passepout could not hear him clearly with the crashing of the surf against the ships, and the crows and howls of the two crews.
Passepout knew he heard something, but didn't know what, so he assumed it was another order… so once again he jumped.
Crack!
The plank between the two ships could not take the combined weights of the two duelists, and the sudden extra force of gravity pushing down on it when Passepout landed. It obeyed the laws of gravity and responded.
The plank cracked, split, and broke, and the thespian and the pirate fell into the briny blue water between the two ships.
A millisecond of silence, followed by a splash, and a spout of displaced water came crashing down on the crews of the two ships.
Volo struggled to make out the two duelists fighting in the water.
Passepout was trying to tread water, and Ahib was slashing down with his hook, splash, then nothing.
Both men went under, with nary an air bubble.
Volo despaired at the loss of his friend.
Passepout bobbed to the surface, sputtering, and spit out seawater.
Volo cheered, 'Passepout! You're alive!'
