Troll Overboard Read online

  Then the gnome—who seemed to be in charge—spoke up.

  “Arr. Arr. Ye made fast work o’ them, lads, but let’s think on this a spell. The ship, she’s mighty full as she is.”

  The old one just stared blankly back at us. I gathered that he wasn’t all there, if you know what I mean. Then the goat spoke up.

  “Aye. I see yer point. An’ this one looks like ’e’s got some sorta vegetatin’ scalp malady. Don’t need tha’ spreadin’ on board, do we. Tha’ round o’ bunkbugs last week was bad enough.”

  “It’s not a scalp malady!” I blurted it out. It seemed like our only chance to not end up crab food. “It’s from some stupid beans! Not contagious. I ate some dumb magic beans and they made me all . . . leafy.”

  The three pirates’ mouths dropped open in unison. They stared back for several moments before the gnome spoke in a hushed voice.

  “Magic beans? You talkin’ ’bout Berundi Rectangle beanstalk beans?”

  I nodded and looked over at Kevin, who started nodding violently.

  The gnome’s eye twitched twice before he turned and swatted the old pirate with his hat. “Shiver me timbers! Shiver me timbers, you twit. Do I need to write it out for you again?”

  The old guy looked shaken. “Aye, sorry. Shiver. Timbers.”

  The gnome turned back to face us. “Do yeh mean ta tell me you half-wits took summa Ursula’s precious beans? Is that wha’ you’re sayin’? Because of all the idiotic, landlubber-brained . . .”

  Roquefort chose that moment to step out of the shelter, a bit wobbly on his new trunk legs.

  He froze when he saw the pirates. They froze for a second as well, taking in the beanstalk legs. Finally, the gnome closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “Get him too.”

  The prince took off down the beach with the goat pirate right behind him.

  Roquefort, running for the first time on his new stems, was no match for the shorter, quicker goat. There was a diving tackle that sent up a cloud of sand and a flurry of unprintable curses before the prince was dragged back to us, cuffed and shouting.

  “HEADS WILL ROLL! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM??”

  He went on for some time about how he was the prince and how these scoundrels would rot in the darkest dungeon pits of Notswin. After a bit, the pirates walked off and spoke amongst themselves.

  I tried to pick up what they were saying, but it was hard to make out over Kevin’s whimpering and the prince’s grumbling. The goat and the gnome were clearly arguing—they were waving their arms around excitedly—while the old, dim one dug around in his nose with his pinky finger.

  Finally, they came back over. The gnome put his fists on his hips.

  “Well, this is a fine mess. Frankly . . . it’s above my pay grade.”

  That took a second to settle in, but Kevin got there first and let out a sickening wail. “NOOOOOO!! Redbeard the Unapproachable??”

  The gnome went on. “One and the same, pig. Redbeard ain’t but a couple days from here, anyways. So go get some clothes on yerselves.”

  After we grabbed our clothes, they tossed us roughly into the back of the small beat-up rowboat they had used to come ashore. By the time Kevin, Roquefort, and I had untangled ourselves, the ship was towering over us, blocking out the sun. I saw more pirates leaning on the rail of the ship, watching as the goat guided us up to a rope ladder hanging down the hull.

  Then he started laughing in that HAR-HAR-HAR way pirates do in cartoons and bad Chester jokes.

  I was the last one shoved up the ladder. I stepped onto the deck next to Kevin and Roquefort, where we were surrounded by a group of the dirtiest, sketchiest-looking bunch of pirates this side of Treasure Island. There were elves, orcs, a couple of rough-looking trolls, two or three goblins, and a huge bear pirate who was eyeing my hair in a way I didn’t care for.

  The gnome stepped into the circle of pirates and raised a hand. The whole disgusting crew fell silent, so I figured he must be the captain.

  “We got three more doomed to go face-ta-face with th’ piercing glare o’ Redbeard h’self. Three more who will fall to whatever horr’ble fate ol’ Red sees fit. Let’s all give thanks we’re not in their pitiful shoes.”

  There was a moment of silence for us. The group looked at the ground, and a few took the filthy bandanas from their heads.

  I heard a couple of coughs and one stifled burp, but it got pretty quiet. Then the gnome shouted again.

  “Now, someone escort these three mis’rable souls to the bilge, ’n’ let’s pull anchor fer Dragon Noggin Island.”

  I was roughly grabbed by the scruff of the neck and hoisted into the air. I craned my neck around just in time to catch the bear plucking a couple leaves from my head and popping them in his mouth. It hurt bad enough to bring tears to my eyes. He gave me a glare.

  We were taken down two or three levels into the bowels of the ship. Water sloshed underfoot in the dark crate-filled hallway, leading to a small moldy door. The elf carrying Kevin used one hand to flip through a huge ring full of skeleton keys and unlock it, kicking it inward. Then the three of us were tossed in and the door slammed shut behind us.

  My eyes took a second to adjust to the gloom of the candlelit room. I slowly made out the shape of two figures sitting at a low table. One was large and hulking. The other was dressed in a ridiculous drugstore pirate costume.

  • 16 •

  BILGE RATS

  Chester was beside himself, and I don’t think he’d care if I told you he got a little misty. Kev and I did too.

  “I thought you guys were goners for sure! I didn’t . . . I wasn’t . . . I’ve been just . . .” He flopped down on a big burlap sack marked RICE. “Where have you guys been? And what happened to your hair?”

  I gave him a super-quick rundown of what had happened since we’d seen him. When I got to the part about S’wella, Kevin gasped, jumped up, and ran to the door.

  The prince, sulking in the corner, piped up.

  “She probably has sonar in her flippers or something.”

  Chester looked a little confused, so I explained. “Kev and S’wella, y’know . . . they went for a walk . . .” I gave him one of those “It’s Kevin, just roll with it” looks. “Kevin is kind of . . . he has some strong feelings . . .”

  Roquefort snorted.

  I ignored him. “What about you and Trunk? How’d you end up here?”

  Chester explained that despite his best efforts, he hadn’t been able to get the engines working again. Then, during the storm, the hull of the ship clipped a coral reef and started sinking.

  “It went down suuuper fast. We were treading water for ages when we spotted this ship. It was just pure luck that they saw us.” He looked around the tiny room.

  Kevin ran up and grabbed Chester by the front of his pirate shirt. “They’re taking us to Redbeard! Did you know that? REDBEARD THE UNAPPROACHABLE!!”

  Chester’s eyes lit up. “I KNOW! Can you believe it? Redbeard is the coolest of all the pirates!” Then he caught himself. “I mean . . . he’s also horrible, bloodthirsty, and terrifying. Maybe evil. But still . . .”

  Kevin turned away, chewing his hoof. “I heard he eats people and uses their skulls and bones as drum kits!” He looked us each in the eye. “I don’t want my skull to be a bongo!!”

  Chester put his arm around his shivering shoulders. “Look, K. There’s no reason to lose hope yet.”

  A voice—I’m pretty sure it was the goat pirate—came through the door, slightly muffled. “Actually, I’d say ya got pretty good reason for losin’ hope . . . I mean, if there was a time to lose hope, now would be that time. What with the people-eating and the bone drums and all.”

  Chester sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  “Sorry.” The voice came again. “Wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but . . . Y’know. Givin’ my two cents.”


  Kevin staggered over and sat down on a crate of Smutton. Then he flopped back and stared at the ceiling while we all let our situation sink in.

  Chester sat back down on the rice sacks. “They left a pack of cards in here for some reason. It helps the time pass. But keep your eye on the Jolly Green Giant over there. He cheats.”

  Trunk stiffened in his seat. “I do not! I don’t cheat.”

  The ogre turned away, sulking, and we all fell into silence for a while. The only sound for the next hour was Kevin groaning that he was getting seasick again.

  My mind kept going back to Gramps, and whether he was okay. He was no spring chicken, but he was a tough old guy. I’d heard a story once that he took on three Swamp Goblins that jumped him in an alley back around the time I was born.

  So . . . he had that that going for him . . . but I couldn’t stop thinking about him all the same.

  An hour later, we heard keys rattling at the door. When it swung open, the gnome captain was there, surrounded by several of his men.

  Chester looked up at him and chuckled. “Not in public.”

  Five minutes later, we were all on deck with mops, buckets, and hard-bristled brushes. The pirates were really enjoying watching us scrub away.

  Prince Roquefort looked like he might cry as he crawled around picking at dried bits of algae and chewing tobacco.

  Then he started going on about how that position was “crimping his stalks.”

  As miserable as we were, this got Chester and me giggling to the point where we could hardly hold our mops. Then suddenly the captain was in front of us again. “You lot seem like a coupla real go-getters, ya do. How’d you like to move up in the biz’ness?”

  Chester composed himself. “Seriously? That sounds great.”

  Five minutes after that, Chester and I were fifty feet up the mainmast, scraping dried bird poop off of the crow’s nest.

  The one benefit to working in the crow’s nest was that Chester and I could speak freely without anyone listening in. And when we got down on the floor of the little platform, no one below could tell if we were working at all. So naturally, we chilled out for a while.

  “WHAT?!?” I almost hurt my neck twisting to gape at him.

  Chester suddenly looked serious. “I’m not kidding, Z. If I joined, maybe I could get ’em to let you all go . . .”

  I stared at him for a minute. “I think you breathed in too much bird poop dust. That’s insane.”

  Chester looked away in a “Chester in Deep Thought” way. It’s not a look I see from him very often. “Is it? I’m clearly no court jester. All my jokes do is annoy people. I mean, before you got here I was telling some knock-knock jokes to lighten the mood in our little cell . . .”

  “It still hurts.”

  That hung in the air as I pictured the scuffle.

  “Maybe jokes just aren’t your thing.” I pushed his shoulder with mine.

  Chester looked annoyed. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

  “No. Well, yes, but let’s think about this . . .” I leaned forward. “Jokes . . . I mean, joke jokes . . . Maybe that’s your dad’s thing. He’s good with the funny walks and the knock-knocks and all that.”

  I went on. “No, listen. What if—and this is if we survive all this—you changed your whole approach?”

  Chester was giving me a blank stare.

  “What if you told stories instead of jokes? Things that happened to you? That stuff is great! Like when you had to wear Coach’s underpants.”

  I went on. “Whatever. Your stories are hilarious! It’s your jokey jokes that make me want to tape your mouth shut and shove you off a tall building.”

  Chester looked off, and it took me a second to realize he was tearing up a little. “That . . . that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to—”

  He was interrupted by a loud growl/shout from the bear pirate at the front of the ship.

  We jumped to our feet and searched the water. It took a moment to spot it. It was just a speck on the horizon at that point. Someone fired a cannon, making my heart jump into my throat, and the bear yelled again.

  I stared at that tiny island in the distance and my blood turned to frozen slush.

  • 17 •

  THE BIG CHEESE

  As the island grew closer, it was easy to see why it was called Dragon Noggin Island. It was shaped a lot like a huge lava dragon skull, complete with smoke from a fire coming up from what resembled the nostril area. I can’t imagine there’s a creepier-looking island on the planet.

  Chester and I were back on the deck with Kevin, who was beside himself with worry.

  We were all back in our shackles, and the moments dragged on as the island slowly grew larger. I looked over and saw a single bead of sweat roll down the side of Trunk’s face. Clearly he was worried too.

  Roquefort looked down at the scrawny pirate next to him. “How would you describe this Redbeard’s feelings about the Royal Family?”

  We came around the side of the island and spotted two long, rickety docks on wobbly-looking stilts. Another slightly smaller ship was docked at one, and I saw its name as we got closer. Ye Old Dinghy of Death.

  How charming.

  There was a large wooden sign over the end of the dock. It was NOT a welcome sign.

  The crew sprang into action as we pulled alongside the dock, some jumping out and catching huge coils of rope and tying the ship up. There was a lot of yelling and scurrying around as sails were lowered and secured—I’ve never heard the word Arr so much in my life.

  It was pretty annoying. I don’t think they even realized how much they said it. Like people who say “like” all the time.

  We were prodded off of the ship at sword-point by the captain. I finally heard someone call him by his name, Captain Gerome. I was registering the fact that he was Gerome the gnome when he started lecturing us again.

  “Yer time grows near. We’ll be taking ya ta Redbeard, and we’ll see what’s what. Invadin’ Redbeard’s waters. Stealin’ the sea witch’s beans. These ain’t small offenses ’n’ I’m mighty glad I ain’t you right now . . . Now git walkin’.”

  We were led up a small path surrounded by exotic plants, and I noticed that Kevin was surprisingly quiet. His eyes had a faraway look like he might be in shock. I came up beside him and nudged him. “You okay?”

  He looked up at me with worried eyes and sniffed.

  Now, if you have a weak stomach, you might want to turn away for a moment. We came around a corner to see a number of skulls perched on top of long sticks.

  I heard Kevin gasp—or it’s possible it was me. There were more signs warning us away, and one complete skeleton leaning against a rock.

  We came through a parting in the trees covered in sinister-looking vines to find a small gathering of huts built against the side of a cliff. There were holes and caves all up and down the cliff, some with rickety ladders leading to them.

  It was a filthy place. There were several clotheslines draped with striped shirts, bandanas, and cloth eye patches. Several scraggly pirates sat on their crooked front stoops, carving scrimshaw. They gave us suspicious looks before going back to their whittling.

  The largest hut, at the back of the clearing, seemed to be the best looked after, aside from a scattering of bones and skulls lying to the side of the front door. As we walked up, the door slammed open. Kevin yelped and ducked behind Trunk.

  It was dark inside the hut, so I couldn’t see anyone there at first. But I heard a voice. It came out in a low, creaky rumble that set my teeth on edge.

  I felt light-headed as the voice went on. “What sorta trash do you bring before me? Captain Gerome? Explain, lest I kill ye all.”

  Gerome stepped forward, looking nervous.

  “Trespassers, Redbeard. Found ’em in yer waters. An’ they stole some o’ the witch’s bean
s.”

  The silence from the hut seemed to last forever. Finally I heard a disgusted grunt, followed by heavy footsteps. My knees grew weak as I saw the shadows part. The tip of a beard the color of burning lava slowly emerged, followed by the legend. The one and only.

  Redbeard.

  I heard someone collapse to the dirt. I turned to check on Kevin, and was surprised to see it was Trunk. Out cold.

  Redbeard was a bit shorter than I’d imagined, but made up for it in sheer . . . presence. We were brought forward (Trunk was dragged) and made to kneel.

  Someone smacked the prince over the head and—what do you know?—he kneeled.

  Redbeard stared at us for what felt like an eternity, playing absently with that unruly beard—staring in particular at my leafy hair and Roquefort’s stalk legs.

  “Tell me why I shouldn’t just string yeh up now.”

  Nobody said anything for a moment, so I started. I told the story as quickly and sincerely as I could, as if at any moment a timer would go off and we’d be done for. Chester jumped in to tell his part and add some humor. The boat. The mutiny. The serpent. The storm. The island. The beans. We acted some of it out for effect.