“It’s an artificial fabric, not a skin.” Jon-Tom was looking anxiously in the direction of the village. There was no sign of pursuit. “It came from a polyethelene plant.”
“Must be some damn fine big leaves.” The raccoon gestured downstream. “We go that ways toward ocean some then cut back in through hidden channel. Try to sneak up on them from other direction or they see us for sure.”
Mudge nodded. “You can bet your arse on that. The one runnin’ that crew’s the suspicious type.”
“What you say? You know this bunch of picaroons?”
“We’ve ’ad occasion to chat with ’em before.” Mudge paddled steadily down river. “Their Captain’s got a score to settle with us, so we’d just as soon snatch back me lady quiet-like and slip away same.”
“Oh ho. Gets to be interesting, this business.”
“Take Mudge’s word for it; you don’t want to make this bastard’s acquaintance.”
“Hokay. Had few dealings with them myself. Mostly fox, he go and do business with them. How you come to know them, eh?”
Jon-Tom and Mudge took turns relating to their guide the tale of their earlier encounter with Sasheem and the rest of Corroboc’s crew. By the time they had finished the story the sun had put in an appearance, peeping uncertainly over the tallest trees. Shafts of light sliced down through the vines and moss. They were paddling through a deep water inlet over a sandy bottom.
“Good place for big boat, but we coming up on them from behind. We find a good spot to leave this funny-skinned craft and go through trees, get your lady, then run like crazy back same way. If lucky, I doen think they see us.”
Jon-Tom frowned at the sky. “We’ll have to wait a whole day until it’s dark again.”
“No problem.” He settled down in the bottom of the boat. “This good place for sleeping.”
“So close to their camp?”
“Doen worry. They never come in swamp. Stick to open water and their boat. Why you think they buy food from us instead of looking for it themselves?”
“What if they take Weegee and sail off?”
“You worry too much, man. You say they just got beaten off your big ship. Now they got to rest up and lick their wounds.”
“’Ow about you, mate? Won’t they miss you back ’ome?”
“Nobody is missed until they been gone two weeks maybe. Ever’body go hunting and fishing back in swamp for long time, nobody miss them. Miss you maybe, but not me. I bet they figure you get tired and leave early. Maybe fox and others suspicious, maybe they want to talk more, but I think they all just relieved you gone. Now you not their problem anymore. They know you don’t know where to find pirates, so they forget you real soon.”
To Jon-Tom’s considerable surprise he found he had no trouble sleeping away most of the day. His body was more than willing to make up for all the sleep he hadn’t enjoyed out on the open ocean. When he woke again it was to see the sun setting behind the swamp and the nearby sea. He felt fully rested and ready to begin the tricky business of effecting Weegee’s rescue.
They secured the zodiac to a large hollow fastump and concealed it with palm fronds and moss. Then they started into the woods. Jon-Tom had the usual hard time ducking branches and stepping over protruding roots and was glad it wasn’t far to the pirate encampment. They heard it before they could see it.
Drunken laughter, shouts, blithe obscenities filled the air. Cautious gestured for them to slow down as they neared a place where much of the underbrush had been cleared away.
It was an ideal anchorage. Morgels and cypress gave way to a wide sandy beach. The action of the current had cut a small inlet into the shore and a crude dock had been built out into the water. The ketch was moored to this ramshackle jetty. On the beach a single large one-story structure had been erected. It had the look of an old warehouse. Perhaps at one time some hopeful entrepreneur had tried to start a plantation in this part of the world, only to eventually abandon it and several smaller outbuildings to the unyielding swamp from whence it had subsequently been reclaimed by the pirates.
A few of the brigands were much closer than the beach. All were in an advanced state of intoxication. They were lying or standing around an isolated wepper tree, playing paddle ball with something hanging from one branch. Jon-Tom had to physically restrain Mudge from rushing forward.
Weegee’s wrists and ankles were bound together by a single rope. Her head hung toward the ground. She had not been gagged. As far as her tormentors were concerned this only added spice to the game. As they swung her dizzily back and forth she tried to take a mouthful of flesh out of each of her persecutors, who would dance aside as her teeth neared them, laughing and taunting one another. Two of them were utilizing long paddles both to protect their fingers and enhance the sport. The solid bang of wood on fur and flesh echoed across the clearing.
“Rotten bloody bastards.”
Jon-Tom kept his hand on his friend’s trembling shoulder. “Easy, Mudge. We’ve rested all day. They haven’t. At the rate they’re collapsing they’ll all be asleep soon enough. Then we’ll get ’em. Don’t look.”
“I ’ave to look, mate. I ’ave some faces to memorize.”
Jon-Tom’s appraisal of the pirates’ condition proved correct. Half an hour later the last one erect took a wild swipe at the swinging body of Weegee before crumpling to the ground. The onlookers waited another ten minutes to be sure the corsair’s stupor was all-encompassing before Cautious gave the word.
“We go get her away fast, you bet.”
“Right.” Jon-Tom rose and broke through the remaining brush. “And remember, Mudge; no unnecessary killing.”
The raccoon frowned at the man, then looked to the otter. “He always talk like that?”
“Don’t pay ’im no mind. ’E can’t ’elp it. The poor sod’s the victim o’ a deformed set o’ ethics.”
Staying close together they emerged into the clearing. There was no sign of Sasheem or the rest of the crew. Probably sleeping on board the ketch or inside the main building, Jon-Tom reflected.
Weegee was unconscious, exhausted and dazed from hanging upside down for too many hours. Mudge greeted her with that delicate rapid-fire succession of kisses otters employ as he put a paw over her mouth to keep her from shouting out in surprise. She bit him gently.
“About time you got here.”
Mudge worked on the knots securing her wrists and ankles. “Wot made you so sure I was comin’?”
“Because I’m your only true love. You told me so, at least four dozen times on the ship.”
“Right, but I’ve an ignoble memory.”
“It’s good enough for me.” Mudge reached for his knife to cut the main rope and she hurried to protest. “Better not, unless you’re prepared to catch me. If I fall on my fundament it’s liable to shatter, considering the pounding it’s taken the past couple of days.”
“Creeps.” He used the point of the blade to work the knots free. Jon-Tom finished the job as the otter set her gently on her feet. Her muscles were so cramped she could hardly stand, let alone walk. As she fought for balance an old seadog came limping out of the main building. He was missing one leg and walked with a crutch. Jon-Tom recognized him as an original member of the pirate crew from their earlier sojourn on Corroboc’s ship; this was the one who had tried to warn the unfortunate captain of the danger Jon-Tom and his companions presented.
