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Hawkin's Magic Beers: Book 3. Gold Rank Brewer.
B3. Chapter 28. A Hoard Untouched.

B3. Chapter 28. A Hoard Untouched.

Chapter 28

A Hoard Untouched

Chance of Mutiny: 0%

60 levels until ketch evolution.

An assortment of goblin sloop materials had amassed. Water dripped from farm tools, saplings, planks which had once belonged to red barns, flattened wheelbarrows, the wooden rails of fences, and a whole wall made of scrap metal and wide boards. Remember-not painstakingly matched a number of her fingers to the number of items.

Sails cupped the sea wind. The crashing sea battled against the hull. But the hull always won and left a wake, shaped like a gash, in the sea. The rigging lines thrummed. The pulleys clanged. Insects chirped. Blue jays shrieked. Crows laughed. Most delightful of all, goblins hooted and hollered.

Our makeshift anchor dragged along the sea bed, just off the coast of Lavenfauvish. We circled a large gray rock that stood above the water like an iceberg. Every lap we made around the rock, we picked up some piece of a sloop.

Goblins disassembled metals from the wood and organized things into Hawkin’s weird-color barrels. The more pieces we collected, the more Remember-not strained to count. We had only to keep fishing for ships until we had enough material for a whole one!

The anchor line went taut. It sounded like a finger sliding on a stringed instrument. The sloop rolled and pulled to a halt. Everyone went tumbling ears over feet. The sloop stayed at an angle.

“Churn the capstan!” I hollered.

“Aye Aye, Admiral!”

Goblins scampered, leaped, crawled, scaled, swung, fell, and climbed in a mad rush. Like monkeys on a carnival wheel, we leap-frogged over each other to spin the capstan. Click by click, the gears sung; the anchor rose.

Something crashed against the hull. The sloop suddenly rolled upright. Once more we were knocked on our feet. I ran to the starboard taffrail and peered over. There in the water, was a splintered goblin freebooter stern. Water poured from the stern like it was one of hawkin’s old reed-woven strainers. Beside me, my goblins hooted with joy.

We returned to the capstan and strained to continue lifting the broken stern. However much we grunted and went purple in the face, the capstan churned no further. We locked it.

Lassos were of little help; but to tether the stern. There were enough ropes to make it appear that we’d scooped up the stern with a net.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Admiral,” Jiggle-cheek said. “Look at Green-fin!”

With a hand to my brow, I put a shadow over my eyes. There was the pier, our empty docking spot, the other ships, the boardwalk, and a whole pile of goblins. I brought my monoscope up to an eye and peered.

It wasn’t quite a pile of goblins. But Green-fin seemed to have turned inside out. Every goblin was crowded around and on top of the shack. Nearly half of them hopped from foot to foot and pointed at my ketch. The ones that didn’t hop up and down—the former Captains with forlorn faces—stared with big deep eyes at the recovered stern.

“Ours now!” my crew chanted. “Ours now!”

“Admiral,” Remember-not said. “Where are you going?”

I climbed over the taffrail. “I’m going to start fixing it up.” I descended the net of ropes that tethered the stern. I alighted on the broken vessel, then climbed down and dropped inside. It was dark. A number of junk-made ladders were stuck in holes through walls and levels. Barrels, a heap of bailing buckets, and soaked fabrics were scattered everywhere. There was only twenty feet of stern, and the second half was the forecastle.

The stern was at such an angle that I kept my left hand on the floor, and my right hand on the wall of a passage. Barely two feet beneath the floorboards, the sea thrashed. I stepped over a barrel and passed through a hovering smell of rotting food. When I reached the forecastle door, I tried the knob. It was locked.

I placed my hand flat against the wooden door.

[Replace Plank skill used.]

A plank of wood, taller than me, fell from the door. Water streamed around my boots. I parried the plank and used my skill twice more before I was able to squeeze into the forecastle. It was darker still. A dim rectangle of light fell onto the corner of the room. I leaned aside so that I didn’t block the light. My shadow moved too.

A cot was turned on its side over a pile of rubbish. I pulled the cot off by one of its legs. It snagged on everything along the way until I finally muscled it free. A chest gleamed in the light. I rushed over and pried it open with my pliers. They served as a near perfect peen.

Coin glittered within! Gold coin! 3 Fable Stones! The head of a silver pickaxe! A sea map!

[Congratulations! You have commandeered your first sloop by capturing the hoard!]

[Your Admiral quest path has increased to level 692!]

[58 levels until ketch evolution!]

Oh no! The headaches! I gulped down one of Hawkin’s waterskins of fresh water. It was enough to ward off skull-splitting pain, but not enough that I didn’t need to lie down to rub my temples. I righted the wet cot as best as I could and lay on it. Between rubbing my head, groaning in discomfort, and muttering, I fell asleep.

Snoring woke me up. But I wasn’t snoring, and there was more than one snore! I sat up and peered into darkness. In the gloom I could make out almost my entire crew. Little-belly was curled up on a wet canvas. Black-thumb was sleeping with his back slumped against the wall. Mint-breath was sprawled over Black-thumb’s legs. Bags-neck’s head was propped up inside a bailing bucket. A dozen other goblins tossed and turned in the hall and in the forecastle.

Every single one of them had left the hoard untouched. I put the Fable Stones into my inventory, then the entire hoard filled chest. The weight of it made my knees buckle. I felt like Thrush! My grumbling woke everyone all at once. I gave orders to transport everything onto the ketch. The task was chaotically fulfilled.

Meanwhile, as goblins came and went, I touched the stern of my commandeered sloop and used my Boat Builder skill. Foot by foot, the materials fused together to form a strong construction. Saplings shredded into planks. Metals flattened into braces. Odds and ends fell from the walls and popped up from the floors.

Within the hour, I was out of mana. I needed Thrush! He had all the mana beer!