Rat Catchers

Shipyard Encouters

At the furthest corner of the shipyard, aboard a beached knacker of a barge awaiting long overdue repairs that might very well never happen, a very small crew was preparing for a sea battle of epic proportions.

"Batten down the hatches, you bunch of salty bastards," James roared from the top of the crumbling cabin. "Next man I spot with empty hands is going for a swim with the sharks!"

Billy and Rose, weighed down with length of dried out rope, scrambled across the deck, slipping in the drizzle.

"Ready the canon!" their captain commanded at top volume.

The canon was a dented barrel they'd managed to heave onto their vessel with extreme difficulty. It was now jacked up on a couple of bricks, waiting to be loaded with a huge wooden sinker. It took both Rose and Billy to lift the thing off the ground and they approached the canon slowly, cursing their lazy captain under their breaths.

"Spaniards portside! Lock and load, ye rotters!"

With one last massive effort, Rose and Billy dropped the cannonball into the barrel. It went in with more speed and weight than their construction could handle. The cannon dislodged from the bricks and crashed onto the deck, splintering the already fragile planks beneath it. The cannonball rolled out, disappeared over the side of the barge and straight into a tower of wooden crates holding empty bottles. The noise was terrific.

"Useless, the lotta ya," James hopped off his perch and came running to the side of the barge. "Now, that's not looking too good, this."

Indeed it did not.

The crates had tumbled and the shards of broken bottles littered the place like freshly fallen snow. Rose scanned the yard and saw her uncle Charlie's form approaching through the drizzle.

"Scram, youse," she advised the boys, nodding towards the nearby wall dividing yard from street.

"Are you staying?" Billy asked, already halfway over. "Are you mad?"

"It's grand," Rose said hopping off the barge and heading to meet her uncle Charlie. "If he thinks it was just me, he won't mind."

"See ye, treacherous wench," James called and disappeared over the wall behind Billy, and not a moment too soon.

"Sorry, uncle Charlie," Rose called out as soon as he was within earshot.

"Orright, Rosie?" Her uncle surveyed the damage and whistled through his teeth. "How'd you manage this?"

"The cannonball got away," she answered.

"A pirate, are you?"

"I was, anyway." Rose smiled at him, watching as he tried to arrange his face into a suitably stern and irritated expression.

"Look at the state of the place," he growled unconvincingly. "It's a bloody miracle you've not cut yourself to ribbons. Wait here."

Charlie disappeared behind a shed and came back with a shovel and a rake.

"Get rid of this," he ordered. "And then come find me, I've something that'll keep you out of trouble for a bit, Cap'n Shelby."

"Aye-aye." Rose saluted and took up the shovel.

It didn't take her very long to dispose of the broken glass by shoveling and raking it into the cut; the rain even stopped, so it wasn't altogether unpleasant. She took the tools back where they belonged and ambled across the yard to one of the storage sheds, looking for her uncle.

Wandering between the rows of shelves and crates holding god-knew-what, was a posh woman drinking gin.

Rose ducked behind a large wooden box before she could be seen. The woman was humming to herself, seemingly very content to be here, strutting around like she owned the place.