Chapter 26

I Wish it Were as Easy as Fishing

Barnacle-eyes

Green-fin was busier than it was yesterday! Everyone had been ordered to walk on tables if there wasn’t any room on the floor.

Wet goblin feet slapped on the wood; I wasn’t the only one to protect my tankard and keep it close. Every once in a while, a wet sock splatted upon my shoulder. Water dripped from clothing. Goblins that were wet brushed up against enough other goblins that they soon dried.

The goblins that came in soaked were new in some ways. They had small, round ears. Their skin sheened a gray-yellow in the light by the windows. Every one of them did not seem happy to be there. No matter how hard they rubbed their sad faces into wet, used towels, their expressions did not change. Their heads came out of tassels of towels dry, but still sad.

A shallow pool of water had collected upon the floor. Boots no longer tip-tapped, they splish-splashed. A goblin heaved and grunted behind the bar. Something loud popped, and the noise silenced the din of goblins for a moment. A drain clogged with slime and hair was held up like a trophy. Listening closely, I heard a constant flushing whirl. Boots went from splish-splashing back to tip-tapping.

“Poor ones,” Far-see said.

“They’re all wet!” I said.

“Of course they’re wet. Their sloop sank. Talked to Three-nostril this morning. Three-nostril talked to the pier guard. Pier guard talked to a coast guard. Coast guard came upon a swimming goblin—Got-toes…Got-toes said that their sloop sank way down, down. Coast guard’s been picking up as many survivors as they could and dropping them off here. Not a lot of survivors. What you see is what I see.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Wrinkle-knuckle said.

“Why?” I said.

“That’s why Green-fin’s here—I mean.”

“You’re the one of the few around here with a ship now,” Far-see said.

“I hired a few snots,” I said.

“That’s what Green-fin’s for,” both said.

“Everyone here is for hire,” Far-see said. “That’s the dream, at least.”

“Not the dream for captains,” Wrinkle-knuckle said.

“Not for me either,” Far-see said. “I’m no captain, but I’m with those who just want to go home.”

“Some aren’t so picky,” Wrinkle-knuckle said. “They’ll sail with anyone who's hiring. Not so much humans, but other creatures. Orcs. Hunchlings when they come around. Legrinauses…”

“You’re lucky,” Far-see said. “A lot of goblin ships sink around here.”

“Cause of the rocks,” Wrinkle-knuckle said.

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“No, it’s because of the city. Goblins get excited and they stop bailing. Only the best captains keep ‘em focused.”

“My best friend Thrush can get them!” I said.

But they were having none of it. In their eyes, no one—not even Thrush—could fetch sunken ships. The sea might as well be bottomless. I didn’t fault them for not believing me. They didn’t know Thrush and what he’d done in the past. However frustrating it was that no one believed me, just talking to goblins kept me happy. My heart felt so fuzzy and warm that I swung my feet into the legs of other goblins.

As one, we brought our tankards up for a sip. Over my rim, goblins were everywhere! They were stacked upon each other, spread out on tables, and several green ladders had formed to make space for wet newcomers. There were goblins on shelves, all the way to the ceiling. This was home. No one would believe me, but all the makings of a goblin home were there in Green-fin. I closed my eyes, smiled big, and swung-swung my feet into the legs of other goblins.

Laughter peeled from 50 goblins at once. I craned my neck to see through the throng. If there was such a good joke, I wanted badly to see it. Far-see and Wrinkle-knuckle, just finishing their tankards, craned their necks too. And though most of us weren’t laughing, we were at least smiling. I was convinced then that I wasn’t the only one who knew that Green-fin was a home.

There were only a handful of goblins who weren’t smiling. The goblin at the table in front of us, the one I’d been kicking, was simply staring down at his clasped hands in his lap.

I tugged on Far-see’s sleeve and said, “It’s happy, why isn’t he?”

“Oh that’s Tongue-pores. He’s been here a couple of months. Captain of another sinker like we were talking about. Only survivor of four hundred goblins. Tried to go down with his ship but some goblins float.”

“Quite a few captains around,” Wrinkle-knuckle said. “Any unhappy face—That’s ‘em. Look there between those green ladders. That’s Captain Pinky-chew. She lost half her crew when her sloop sank. That whole lot was hired by Pock-ears. She’s been having a hard time of it too.”

“It’s the rocks,” Far-see said.

“That’s a lot of hoards,” I said.

“So many hoards,” Far-see said. “All the way at the bottom.”

“What’s it matter to the snots?” Wrinkle-knuckle said. “Have to feel bad for the Captains, but otherwise, none of the hoard ever goes to the snots.”

“What about promotions?” I said.

Promotions were promotions. We entered a lengthy discussion detailing how promotions were different from hoarding hoards.

“I don’t like it,” I said. “I’m going to share my hoard from now on. All of my snots will get a cut!”

A silence cascaded out around me, like I was the epicenter. A hundred eyes, from floor to ceiling, blinked at me. Then those eyes rushed me. Goblins came at me. They wielded questions and the words “hire me, work, in search of sloop, big beautiful ketch, hard worker, deck swabber, best bailer, count on me, sail,” and a raucous of mumbling. There were only two types of goblins that didn’t come asking for a job: forlorn Captains, and goblins that only wanted to go back to their homes.

One goblin spit on the floor. “She’s full of lies,” he said. “She’s telling you that she’ll split her hoard but I’ve been told the same thing before! Always a lie!”

As if having been awakened from a dream by those words, some goblins bared their teeth, snarled at me, and then retreated back to their seats. But some goblins were persistent enough to follow me out to my ketch. I introduced them to Remember-not and the rest of my crew. I hired all of them.

But what about the captains? It was no good seeing such broken eyes on goblins. No good to anyone. But I understand their truth. Any goblin sloops that made it to Lavenfauvish already had Captains.

As I looked out over the taffrails that night, and the wind ruffled the gigantic leaves of the flowers and garlic and onions, I dreamt of recovering those sunken ships and repairing them, just to give them back to those Captains. There was only one person I knew who could do that.

I retrieved a dreambon ale from my private forecastle and poured a libation. Thrush did not answer.

“Where are you?” I muttered. “I have to sell spit beer! I need your help!”

Someone rapped on my door. I let Remember-not in and we sat upon canvas sacks of boots.

“Lots of new snots,” she said.

“A whole lot,” I said.

“Is everything all right?”

“I wish I could retrieve those sunken ships like Thrush could. I wish he were here. I wish I could do it. I wish it were as easy as fishing.”