The Song of Ribbeté

Chapter 7

The Return of the Queen Sally

RIBBETÉ TRUNDLED ONTO THE FERRY. THIS IS the Sally? he asked himself. Dregs! Aunque la mona se vista de seda, mona se queda. [You can't fix ugly.]

His boots made low clumping sounds as he walked along the deck. A toad wearing shoes wasn't unheard of, but it wasn't a common sight, either. With their feet usually too bulky to conceal, amphibians hardly chose to wear foot coverings. They were too heavy and clunky, and they made it harder to get around. But Ribbeté's feet were abnormally undersized when compared to the rest of his body, and he wore his ankle shoes well. Taking in his surroundings, he saw that the Frog in Black had climbed up and into the crow's nest of the main mast. Unworried about his fellow passenger, he continued to amble about until he heard the sound he'd been waiting to hear. It was behind the door of the captain's quarters on the starboard side of the ship. The wooden planks of a deck always sounded hollow underneath him. The profound depths of the hull ensured the thudding noise of heels on wood resonated with a booming bass. It was loud and full-toned. Then there was the slight knocking he heard when his soles landed on the board currently beneath his feet. This sound could've only come from a plank overtop a shallower section of the ship—one disconnected and hidden away from the others. It was the telltale sign of false floor, or ceiling if you were below deck, which was exactly what he'd been hoping to find. This really is the Queen Sally, then. That tosspot better not be dead down there. With the boat not at the dock and a pack of rabid delinquents  on the beach, he knew something must've gone wrong. Captain Jean "Jiggers" Florin was an old acquaintance of his. He was a relic of a long-dead age, but he'd managed to hold onto a fearsome reputation. And of all the tall tales told about him, there were two rumors that were absolutely and undoubtedly true: the first was that he was the best sailor in the world; and the other was that he threw troublemaking travelers overboard. Jiggers never would've allowed those rabble-rousers on his ferry. But then Ribbeté could tell the metamorphs were fresh off the boat from New Rana. It was in the way they spoke—in their pronunciations and diction. For these reasons alone, it was safe to assume that something was wrong. If Jiggers had sailed the Sally, there was no way he would've missed the dock—not even after a full barrel of his favorite gnat brandy, when he was half-croaked and seeing things sideways, would he have missed. And if he was still captain on the boat, there's no chance  those salamanders would've made it ashore alive. They would've been fish food by now.  

Ribbeté bent to scrutinize the floorboard further. I know you're down there. Now, get your drunk arse up and get us out of here.

• • • • •

Hugo slid away from his spy-hole and pressed himself against the wall. The dread creeping into his heart only grew as the pint-sized one came closer. The dark figure had climbed up a rope ladder, but the toad was wandering around and investigating. His chest tightened and his insides turned.

 If I 'old tight, 'e won't see me, he thought. Oh please don't let 'im see me.      

The light shining through the small opening disappeared for a moment—someone was walking or standing on the fake board. This one piece of wood had a knot removed so he could peer out from his hiding place. But the timber couldn't have been any bigger than a quarter webby in length, and it blended in perfectly. 'ow did 'e find it? 'ow could 'e 'ave? Then a more rational idea came to him. One that gave him comfort and calmed his frazzled nerves. 'e didn't. 'e couldn't. 'e must be looking at one of the riggings or taking stock of the ship, the geeza. There was no way he'd found this hiding spot. Not that fast. Not with such precision.

Hugo broke free from the wall. I'll just take a quick peek. The opening was mostly covered, leaving him in near darkness. Just one look. His heart began to throb and the loud thump, thump, thumping in his ears muted everything else. Using his tiptoes, he careened his head upwards and stared out. At first, he didn't know what he was looking at. It was an amber orb of some kind and it had a high shine to it. Maybe it was wet. There was a definate sheen surrounding it, like glass, and it was... Wait. Did it move? Wha' tha... When it blinked, he understood what it was immediately, but it was too late. He looked into Ribbeté's eye and realized he'd been caught.