Part 2.5

            “At least I think that you’re May,” Roxton said, “They told me you were a yellow wocky with dark hair.  And you certainly don’t seem to talk all that much.”

            “Well, Mr. Colchester,” I said, “It’s a good thing you woke up, ‘cause it looks like we’ll be leaving soon,” and as if on cue, the boat started to move.

            “Certainly does,” he said, grinning hugely, as if joyful to be leaving land, “well, it looks like I should go help out the captain,” and ran off.

            I looked back at Krawk Island again.  I silently wondered if I was ever going to see it once more.  I watched, as I saw the bustling streets, the pirates and sailors, the red xweetok running to catch up with us-

            “Hey!” I shouted towards the captain, “We forgot Lillian!”

            “She was late,” he shouted back towards me, “We leave her behind!”

            I looked back at Ms. Fairweather.  She was standing there, panting on the edge of the dock.  But the captain looked like he was just going to keep moving forward, and didn’t care that he was missing a passenger.

            I knew what I had to do.

            I had each ends of my rope tied into bowline, a knot with a loop at the end, and linked one end to my wrist in about six seconds flat.  I tossed the other end up into the air, and watched as it looped around the boom.  Making sure that it was taut, I leaped off the boat and grabbed for Lillian’s hand.

            She let out a yelp as I grabbed her arm, and I yanked on the rope to pull us aboard.  But we didn’t make it.

            I shouted for help as we fell, knowing that while we were attached to the boat, we were going to fall into the water.  Then, out of nowhere, a hand grabbed onto my wrist and pulled us both up.

            And there was Roxton, panting a bit, having probably just saved both of our lives.

            “Kid,” he said, his hand on his knee, “Don’t ever do that again.”

            “Hypocrite!” I heard someone exclaim.  I looked around wildly to see where the voice had come from. “You do all of that kind of daring do all of the time!” and I concluded that it was coming from the crate I had seen earlier.  “Now get me out of here, I am seriously getting sick of the smell of hay.”

            I walked over to the crate, just as a blue wocky with blond hair tumbled out the side and said, “That’s better.  I knew I needed to get out of there as soon as the ship started moving.  I’m going to smell like straw for the next three days,” and she rapidly got up and stretched.  She sighed, “I told you that your plan wasn’t perfect.”

            “Clara!” Lillian said, “I didn’t know you were coming.”

            Clara shrugged, “I couldn’t tell too many people I was actually going to come,” she said, “besides, most people will presume as we start out that there’s only Roxton and you aboard, not the kids, or Jordie, or even Scrap.”

            “You do know that he changed his name to Arnold,” Lillian told her matter-of-factly.

            “Really?  Well, now that he’s much older, it’s probably more suiting.” Roxton said, “Though it’s a bit disconcerting to see someone you used to think of as a little kid now be just a few years younger then yourself,” he shook his head.  “Serves me right though.”

            “Wait, Mr. Colchester, weren’t you the one who got trapped in the time warp?” I asked, all curiosity.

            “That’s right,” he said.  

            “And the one who discovered Moltara?”

            “That too.”

            “And didn’t you also-”

            “I did a whole bunch of stuff May,” he said, looking a little bit annoyed at my repetitive questioning, but rather pleased at my interest, “And I’ve also gone to the Lost Isle before.”

            “And so did I,” piped up Lillian, “We used to be about the same age.  But that time warp messed everything up.”

            Clara nodded, “Since I was with Roxton, I’m now a year younger then a cousin that was half my age.  It’s a little bit scary, to tell you the truth.”

            Just then, Moht came up the stairs, holding a camera and a notebook with a pencil.  “Could I get your pictures Madams and Sir?” he asked, as if he was some kind aristocratic gentleman.

            “Huh?” I asked him.

            “Sorry,” he said, “I’m trying to learn how to be a reporter, and I’m supposed to ask all polite and stuff if I can take people’s pictures.”

            “Sure,” grinned Roxton, and struck a rather melodramatic pose.  Both Clara and Lillian snickered at him.  “What?” he asked, “I’m getting my picture taken for the paper.”

            “You can all just stand around there, talking about nothing whatsoever,” said Rourke from the wheel up on a higher deck, “but we have a boat to get moving.” And so, we scattered about the deck to tend to our various chores.

***

            As I came down to the galley for dinner, I found that only one person on this boat could really cook.  And that was Jordie. 

            I was not the first one to sit down at the table as the strong smell of frying umagine wafted over the room.  Besides me, both Kerlie and Gaviella were sitting, doing basically whatever they pleased.  Kerlie had his nose in a book (it looked like something to do with ancient cultures), and was jotting down notes.  Gaviella seemed to be concentrating hardly on the tip of a candle, which I noticed had gotten rather wet, as if she had accidentally cast water instead of fire. 

            And so, I sat rather awkwardly amongst the two of them, and quickly got bored.  Standing up, I walked over to Jordie, and found him also reading while his umagine and biscuits were frying.  I shook my head, not wanting to disturb him, was about to go up above deck, when Lillian came down.

            “Well aren’t we a quiet group,” she said, and plopped herself down on the bench.  “Jordie, why are you the one cooking?” she asked.

            He shrugged, “I got assigned the job,” he said, “Looks like no one else here can cook at all, so I’m cooking.  Seems like I’m the only one who, despite my worldly childhood, has ever really done everything normal.  After I became a librarian, my life became as normal as the next kougara’s.”

            “Wait, why did you become a librarian?” I asked, rather intrigued at the whole concept of him being an ex-adventurer.

            He shrugged again, “After I became a bit famous for helping discover Moltara, my parents quickly brought me back home and put me back in school.  I was so bored with my life that I began reading adventure stories, and found my love of books.  So, when I got older and Roxton and Clara were no where to be found, I became a librarian with the mission to read everything I could.”

            “Hmm,” I muttered, “It’s just strange to think that someone would just give up something they wanted, just because of one little thing like that.”

            He shook his head, “There was more to it then just that.  The peer pressure was the worst; no one would think me sane to go off and do something crazy like exploring Shenkuu.”

            “I’m never ever gonna let anything get in my way,” I told him earnestly, “I’m always gonna go out there and explore, no matter what anybody says about anything.”

            “You make it sound easy,” said Jordie, pointing a batter covered spatula in my direction, “but following your dreams isn’t exactly always 1 2 3.”

            Lillian nodded, “I always wanted to become a world renowned botanist for my work on the lost isle and then be able to fund another expedition.  But very few people believed what I said, so I was most certainly unable to continue exploration.  So I worked at archeological digs in Tyrania mostly.  But everyone still thought I was crazy.”

            Loud, clomping boots that sounded like about a hundred elephantes walking in unison filled my ears, as Roxton came down the stairs followed by Clara and a certain grumbling captain.

            “There are not going to be any severe storms, Ms., I’ve been sailing my whole life and you’re only some type of young scholar.  I think I’ll know when there are going to be storms, Ms. Chatham,” angrily muttered the captain.

            “But sir,” responded Clara, “You can tell by the clouds that there is easily going to be a large storm.  What is that rhyme again?  Uni tails and techo scales?  Or was it techo tails and jetsam scales?  I forget the exact wording, but I can tell because of the nimbus overshadowing the low aero-cumulous, there is going to be quiet the tropical storm in a few hours.”

            “Bah,” said the captain, “I hardly feel any extra moisture in the air, nor are there any high waves.  Certainly, I understand what you mean by the higher wispy clouds, but those smaller lower clouds can only mean dryness.  The two of them contradict each other.”

            “Ehem,” said Jordie as they continued arguing, “despite the fact that there may or may not be a storm coming, we have a meal to eat.  So enjoy, and stop yelling at each other!” he finished with a shout, as the bickering in the room grew louder and louder.

            We went silent for a minute, but then continued our discussions.

            “Well, I happen to side with the captain on this one,” said Roxton, “he has had more experience then you.”

            “Oh, and do you remember the last time you didn’t believe me about the weather,” asked a rather annoyed Clara, “‘Oh, let’s take the direct route, we’ll lose too much time going the other way’ don’t you remember, Jordie?”

            Jordie paused in mid bite.  He swallowed, and said, “It may seem recent to you, but for me, it’s a memory of my childhood.  No, I don’t remember it, but I must believe Clara on this one.  She is usually right, and anyways, better safe then sorry.”

            I tried to chime in that perhaps we should all look outside to see what we ourselves thought about the weather, but I was practically run over by their harsh and weary words as they squabbled over what to do.

            I think that pretty much everyone except Gaviella had entirely forgotten about Moht in the midst of the dispute.  When she finally told us, in that quiet, zombielike voice of hers, we all looked around, searching in vain to find Moht in the Galley.

            Since I had already finished, as I hadn’t been arguing and was able to eat instead of talking, I went up above deck to try and find Moht.  I looked around, searching for him, when I found him, sitting there writing on the uppermost deck.

            I quietly approached him, not wanting to disturb his writing Zen or concentration or something of that sort.  I read over his shoulder:

[i] Today was a day filled with excitement, thrills, and just a few fascinating historical figures.  Along with Lillian Fairweather, and Jordan Filishimer, today I have met Captain Rourke, Clara Chatham, and Roxton A. Colchester III, and plan to interview each of them.  I do not expect to get much out of the captain, and I anticipate to get a slightly exadurated response from Roxton, but I do expect a decent interview from Clara.  For now, I will simply have to sit tight and see what comes next.  The clouds in the sky seem to predict a storm, and I have heard quite the argument going on about it. [/i]

            “Uh, Moht?” I said, and he looked up, “there’s dinner down in the galley, if you want any.  We got kinda worried about you.”

            “Oh sure,” he said, “But I think I might wait, since everyone is still shouting about this storm that could come.”

            “Well, you could always threaten them with the fact that you could write everything they say down for the paper.”

            He smiled that small smile of his, “That’s a bit of an idle threat, seeing as no one would even want to read about a small argument about a storm that might not come.  And besides, not all of my stories are going to be in the paper.  But sure, if it’ll make them be quiet, I might as well.”  And so we walked began walking back down.

            As we were about to go down below deck, the sky grew darker, and it began to rain a little bit.  Of course, no one but Moht and I actually noticed, since everyone else was still in the middle of their heated dispute.

            “Oh, Moht, we were a bit worried about you,” said Lillian, “We were worried you had fallen overboard and were eaten by the chasm beast.”

            Moht smiled, “No, I’m fine, but it is starting to drizzle a little bit.  Looks like we have a compromise.”

            Everyone stared at him blankly for a second, then jumped right into whether it would clear up or get a ton worse.

***

My art for part 2!  The second one, with May saving Lillian, is actualy based off of another drawing, but I’ll show that to you at the end of part 8