The Ill-mannered Door (humorous sci-fi)

20.1: Fishing for Information

We made it to the docks in what must have been record time, at least for Derek and I. The king wouldn't arrive until a decent bit later, though he was aided by the trip being entirely downhill.

There were no ships at the docks when we arrived, and we quickly looked about for someone who might be able to help us. We soon found an old fisherman sitting at the end of the pier, so I quickly engaged him in conversation about the two ships we were interested in and when each might have departed.

"Well, one ship," the fisherman said, holding his middle finger up and then using it to gesture vaguely toward a point in the sky, "left when the sun was about there. Lady got on that one. Quite a looker too."

That must certainly have been Isabella. I then considered trying to explain that perhaps the old man ought to use a different finger for indicating things. However, I realized that being from a different culture, let alone planet, he had no concept whatever of our gesticular social customs. It also occurred to me that I might, at any point really, be in danger of completely offending someone with mine.

I then looked at the sky and pondered roughly what time he might have been indicating, but hadn't decided before the aforementioned offending middle digit was put back into use. "T'other one left about then."

Hmm, well, that hadn't helped either, but the two crudely indicated times didn't seem to be very far apart. I worried a bit before the old man cleared his throat and spat into the sea below.

"Hard t'say though, taint got no accurate way o' measurin'," the fisherman said.

"Uh, here, old-timer," Derek said, removing his watch and handing it over. "I think you need this more than I do."

The old fisherman stared at the silver-colored watch, stretching the flexible wristband experimentally and looking perplexed before promptly putting the wristwatch on his ankle.

Derek shrugged and stepped back, motioning toward me to follow. The fisherman's eyes grew wide at the gesture and then he gave us a scowl, so we walked away.

"Why did you give him your wristwatch, err, ankle watch?" I asked Derek.

"It was a cheap one I got at a night market, I can get another one. Besides, at least he'll know exactly what time it is when everything is turned to hot slag."

"But now we're not going to have any idea what time it is!" I protested.

"Sure we will," he said, showing me his middle finger and then pointing at the sun, "it's that time."

Sigh.

It wasn't too long after that, though it was harder to measure time now that Derek had given his watch away, that the king arrived at the docks and stopped, hands upon his knees for a bit until he caught his breath.

"Hey," His Majesty said, then took a few more breaths before continuing, "you figure anything out?"

Derek then mimicked the fisherman's gestures for the king and explained what we had learned. And being from Earth, the king looked properly offended.

Not too long after that, perhaps a knuckle width or so, the king pointed out into the bay and said, "Look, here comes the Bounty!"

"You named your ship the Bounty?" I asked. "Had any problems with mutiny?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"Never mind. Do you think they already dropped Isabella off in the Lonely Isles?"

"Most likely, those isles really aren't all that lonely," the king said. "They're just around the point there and offshore a bit."

I blinked a few times. Our journey had taken us the rest of the afternoon, then night, and we had finally arrived here yesterday morning. Now, math wasn't my discipline, but I thought I had a pretty good grasp of how time worked, so something here was definitely amiss. I said, "Then, can I ask why it took us so long to get here?"

"It's not like we came straight back. We went 'round the long way past some of the other parts of my kingdom. You know, fly the flag a little, remind the peasants that we're still kicking about. That sort of thing."

More like still napping about, which didn't seem the best plan for pacifying the peasants, but I figured that was better left unsaid. After all, if the peasants revolted, it would be him at the end of the pitchforks, not me. Not to mention the fact that everything would likely be blown up long before they got 'round to organizing a good uprising.

It was then that a new wave of worry crashed upon the shore of my mind. Isabella was probably on the island right now, possibly in danger of being blown to bits by the queen's men. We had to do something, and fast!

I began to pace back and forth on the dock, eyes fixed on the incoming ship. Perhaps they never dropped her off, and she was safely onboard? I knew it was a vain hope, and as the ship pulled up to the dock, that hope was thoroughly trodden underfoot. I could see no sign of Isabella on the deck.

I began moving toward the gangplank as I said, "Come on, we must go see if Isabella's all right!"

"Whoa, whoa, hang on there, Thomas," Derek said, grabbing me by the back of my dressing gown, "we're not running off to the island to check on your maid."

I rounded on him and said, "Oh, so she saved you from the rack, but you can't spare the time to nip off to see if she's all right?"

"Look," Derek said, pointing a finger in my face, "I never nip off, whatever that is, but the fact is, we'd never get there in time to do anything about her being blown up." Then he added, rather lamely, "Not that I'm saying she's gonna get blown up."

"But you don't know that!"

The king butted in with, "Yes, but I've got a fabulous idea. Come along."