The Mosque Hill Fortune (The Sons of Masguard, Book One)

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

“BOOYA!” Mckinley’s maniacal shout came from above the ship like a call to insanity. When the wind whipped just so, he could be seen through the mists holding to the mast with only one hand. Here and there, he leaned into the crisp morning air and howled to the salty clouds with all the stability of a free-flying pinwheel.

Far below, the majority of the crew went about their work, completely accustomed to his behavior.

But one among them watched his display with a terrified sort of fascination, hands clenched to his chest in bewilderment.

“Now I see why they call him Mad Dog…” the scraggly possum shook his pale head.

A nearby trio of raccoons lifted their gruff voices in turn, correcting him.

“Don’t EVER call him that.”

“’Specially not to ‘is face.”

“HATES that name, ‘e does.”

The possum hadn’t even realized he’d spoken aloud. Truth be told, he’d been so caught up in his spectatorship that he hadn’t noticed them working alongside him at all.

“Um,” he looked away self-consciously. “I wasn’t really planning on it.”

“Good lad,” the tallest of the three complimented. “Now, the Marauder’sgood, if you’re after a moniker in a pinch. You can call him that.”

“LOVES that‘un.”

“Thinks ‘e worked hard fer it.”

Furrowing his brow, the possum again turned his attention to the mop in his hands. “It’s neither here nor there, I suppose. Not like I’ll have much call to talk to him face to face. If ever I do, I’ll probably stick with calling him Captain.”

“Cap’n,” the eldest confirmed. “Safe choice.”

“Could always call him sir.”

“Can’t go wrong wi’ sir.”

“Shows respect.”

“Wenever call ‘im sir.”

“’Cause we ain’t respectful, is we?”

The tallest waved his hands at the two, shushing them. “You’re new, aren’t you, lad?”

Head spinning from the wall of words that seemed to hit him all at once, the possum forced himself to nod, but kept his eyes on the deck. “I’m Chimmy. Chimmy the Leech.”

“Nice to meet you, Chimmy. My name’s Lumber.”

“Gil.”

“Ormac.”

 Chimmy tipped his jaw in a weak greeting then tapped the bucket near his feet. “I, um, kinda have a lot of work to do here, guys.”

Lumber chuckled, ignoring Chimmy’s brush-off with a lighthearted jab. “And you’ll be at it all day, at that rate.”

“I’m doing my best,” Chimmy countered defensively. “This is my first run on a ship.”

Ormac tugged his eyepatch in surprise. “Aww, why diddun ya say so? None’s ever taught ya the proper way te swab a deck?”

Gil gave him a playful shove. “By proper ‘e means easy.”

Lumber pointed at Gil. “And by easy, he means awesome.”