Chapter 11

Big Fish

Boggo

Tunnels contained scents. It was easy to smell what was at the end of one tunnel, how far another one went, and how deep yet another one delved. Smells were like landmarks.

There was nothing above ground to contain smells. There was no order to scents—they just bounced around like tufts of fur in a twirling breeze. Because I couldn’t rely on my sense of smell, I failed at locating red bestie tunnels. There were thousands, yes, but I found not a single one. My memory was incorrect. I’d thought Ella and I had come out of a tunnel under a particular stretch of dock close to Green-fin, but I either missed it or I searched beneath the wrong dock.

All the foot traffic above was just as bad as the storm we had faced at sea. Human footsteps were louder than the goblins. To be fair, the goblins were barefoot. And since I was near the Green-fin shack, I heard a whole ruckus of padding. I listened for the clomp of big black boots but couldn’t pick anything up of the sort. Barnacle-eyes must have been inside Green-fin.

My gut was twisted with worry. What if Barnacle-eyes sold her beer before I had the chance to see Ella again? Would we leave for Fiberthorn cove before I had the chance to sell warm-warm beer to the red besties? Especially if she could maybe help me locate the red besties? I had no time to wait. I needed to find her; but to do that, I needed to brave the surface.

I turned one last rock over, hoping to find a tunnel. Instead, a crab skittered over sand. I leapt back to the landing of wet sand. Waves came sliding up the sand in the long shadow of the dock. I scaled a piling and put my claws into the dock. Upside down, I skittered along the underside of the dock until it met the boardwalk. The wood shook under foot traffic. Sand and pebbles fell between planks. My heart raced and I panted like a burrowing squirrel after a day under a hot sun.

My ears perked. A wooden door squeaked open. Goblins slurped and cheered and grumbled and spoke over other goblins.

I scampered over to a corner and climbed up into daylight, onto the surface of the dock. Humans zoomed by. Cloaks hung from their shoulders like draping willow leaves. Hair and hats formed a canopy atop their heads. They crossed the sun and threw a stripe of shadow over me.

My eyes were wide. I wrung my hands. I crept along the side of the boardwalk. Two women gasped and hopped away from me. Another woman shrieked and leapt away. I scuttled along the edge of the boardwalk in a rush. I ran so fast that I put my head down to muster speed.

The next thing I knew, I entered a cool shadow and slammed into a green ankle. It became quiet in Green-fin. Goblin faces peered at me from on high like clusters of round ores. My tail puffed up. My fur stood on end. I put one foot back behind me and reached for-for…I just reached behind for anything. The wall of goblin bodies parted to birth an ochre-green head.

“Are you the ship rat-bestie? The Boggo?”

“I’m Boggo.”

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“It’s him,” another goblin said.

Green tendril shaped fingers wrapped around me. I soared through the air, and I was gently set down on a table top. A tankard slammed onto the table beside me. It was as tall as I was from head to tail-tip. A tidal wave of foam sloshed onto the table. I shook droplets from my fur.

“What are you doing in Green-fin, Mr. Boggo?”

“I came looking for Barnacle-eyes.”

“A fine goblin! Well you missed her. Just missed her.”

The tankard soared high. The rim met with goblin lips. The goblin slurped. I saw the gulp in their neck and it was as big as Hawkin’s fist. The table shook when the tankard slammed back down.

More goblins gathered around me and there was no path of escape. But as they began to ask questions, I began to have second thoughts of escaping. They weren’t mean. They were curious, mostly about Barnacle-eyes’ ketch and the gigantic flowers aboard. Nearly half the goblins were astounded that a goblin ship could float without bailing. But those were questions that the Admiral could answer—not I.

When they asked about the crew, I told them that the crew was small. Just the four of us; sometimes Thrush. When a pair of goblins sighed and wished they could be part of the crew, I suggested they talk to Barnacle-eyes. Green-fin became silent, save one small voice.

A short goblin stood tall on a stool and said, “She’s looking for goblins? Why, we’re all goblins. Most of us have been lost at sea. That’s how we got here.”

“Not me,” another goblin said as he began picking an ear. “I was left behind.”

Goblins chorused agreement.

“Why don’t you tell Boggo all about that, Mold-maker.”

Mold-maker pulled a clump of gray and yellow wax from his ear. He used the table edge to clean his finger before going in for another scoop. He pinched the collected wax with his other hand. He began molding his earwax on the table with the pads of his fingers.

“We fought a fish—Big fish, on our way up from Donkeydunes…Nice place for a goblin home; dunes and donkeys and goblins and eels for eating. This fish—big as those giants up on the hill—had a few couple of legs on it. We were too close to the coast; it attacked our sloop. Captain Sniffle-nose was my captain and he put me at the harpoon. I aimed for the eye of the fish; shot him right in the eye—saved us all. That big fish swam-ran off. Next thing I knew, I was at the top of green ladders. Made Captain Sniffle-nose jealous; when we passed through here, I woke up in the care of Green-fin employees.”

Mold-maker, by the end of his story, had collected several thimbles worth of wax. He gave his mold a final pinch and placed the figurine in front of me. He had molded a crude rendition of the fish with legs.

“You can keep that,” he said and pressed the figurine into my hands.

I gulped.

The afternoon was filled with goblin tales. Tales of the sea, of loss, of promotions, and the camaraderie they found at Green-fin while they waited for other goblin ships to sail on by.

By the end of the afternoon, Mold-maker carried me back to the ketch. I couldn’t toss away his waxy gift—not in front of him—so I climbed aboard and went straight up to my crow’s nest. I put the figurine beside the one of Belut, the wiregull, and the elder bestie.

I fluffed blue fur into a poof and spent the evening role playing Mold-maker’s battle with the big fish. I used the elder bestie to represent his character. The thought occurred to me then to use the canvas board from Tunnels and Potholes to reenact a chase. With the luck of a die, The figurine representing Mold-maker narrowly escaped the dark depths of the big fish’s belly.

I was left imagining what it would be like to be eaten by a big fish. To look up from the belly and see the mouth close. To see the daylight blink away. And it was just like watching the afternoon darken to evening.

I fetched a handful of dreambons and gazed at the lights of Lavenfauvish. Tomorrow was another day. I hoped to summon Thrush. I needed help finding red bestie tunnels. Maybe the red besties had more stories to share. I know the goblins did. I wanted more of those stories. I wanted to reenact them with figurines and a roll of the die.