Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next
last episode with Captain Fitton
GLOSSARY
As soon as he hit the water, Patrick realised that this might not be such as good idea. The Badger, which had looked small from on deck (and positively diminutive alongside the Viceroy) now loomed over him, looking unnaturally large and shrouded in smoke. The Spaniard, now only a few dozen yard away, looked if anything bigger. She was also wreathed in smoke, and as Patrick looked at her something blinked orange and stirred in the heart of the grey-white cloud, raced across the water and vanished over Patrick’s head.
He kicked powerfully, flapping his arms and heaving himself out of the water as he looked around. The cat stood on a crate perhaps 40 yards away, scrambling to stay dry as the box pitched and heaved. “I’ll be lucky not to get a face full of claws,” Patrick said as he swam over, stopping perhaps a yard from the animal, whose increasingly panicked movements were causing the box to rock with increasing violence. “Perhaps if I simply push the crate over to the ship, or the shore,” he said. “Who could I possibly be talking to?”
He reached out and touched the box, then grasped it more firmly, steadying it. The cat, no longer threatened with falling into the water and instant dissolution, sat at the far end of the crate and stared at him. It was solid black, its pupils were wide open, making its eyes black as well, and its tail thrashed from side to side. It would have nothing to do with an offered finger, merely shuffling further away from Patrick, who gave up after one attempt. “Well,” he said, looking around and finding the Badger at last, “I suppose I’ll have to get you aboard, though I confess I have no idea how to do so.”
Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next
last episode with Captain Fitton
GLOSSARY
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