The Girl, The Rat, And The Five Whiskered Snow Dragon

Chapter 12

Cold Hands

Ransom and Flick worked hard on the Voyager Cumulus. They washed the decks, patched and waxed old sails, arranged the cargo as barrels of un-fallen rain were harvested through the ships vents as krill through a whale's teeth. They collected enough to head back to port, but Captain Rook had one last chore in mind for Ransom, one that all rookies were made to do.

Rook looked over the boy. He was a striking young lad with that face, scarred by man-o-wars. He might have suggested to one of the lords that he would make a promising captain if things had been different. They weren't going near there now. Rook had no idea what they would do now.

Many times Rook stood on his deck, the Cumulus' deck, with his legs positioned broad to lower his center of gravity. "Ye ain't afraid of heights are ye, boy?" Rook said behind Ransom, slamming his paw into the boy's back.

Ransom turned his head to the mongoose. "I think I do alright with heights." That was certainly the truth, though at the moment Ransom believed it was actually a lie; he hadn't felt comfortable since he'd fallen into the sky. As a young boy Ransom had a great fear of heights, but his desire to climb trees had driven him to do something which his stomach greatly objected to and his legs also seemed to second his stomach when he approached each higher limb; but once he was high in the tree, the beginnings of fear in Ransom's heart disintegrated beneath the burning sun created by the excitement of wonder. At the moment, Ransom could not remember his views of the sunsets from the treetops, and so he was uneasy at whatever Rook was getting at.

"I'll bet," The captain sneered and signaled to Cheeks.

The second mate signaled for Ransom to follow. He stopped at the aft of the ship. "Strap this here on," Cheeks grabbed a weathered, double strapped, leather bag and cast it to Ransom with a wink.

"What is it?"

"That is what's called a parachute. It'll catch the wind and keep ye afloat so's you can collect the rain. I'll strap ye into this," he gestured to a steel hoop which was screwed into the deck, "then ye'll catch wind into the sky above and behind us and we'll steer ye to the cloud," he smirked, checking for any sign of fear in the boy.

Ransom gulped, but his face was like a stone. He nodded and began to strap on the holster as if he'd done it before.

"Ye be puttin' it on upside down," Cheeks laughed, "try turning it the other way."

Ransom nodded.

"Ok, now that ye got yer gear on, I'll loop this," the mongoose looped a worn but sturdy rope through the holster, "through your strap and then tie her to the ship. "Alright," Cheeks slapped Ransom's shoulder, "Ye see this string here," he pointed to Ransom's side, "once you jump overboard, count to ten, a good slow count, and then pull this here string and ye'll be flyin' over and behind us like your pixie friend."

"I can't catch rain with my hands." Ransom double checked his straps to make sure he was properly secured.

"That's what this here is for," Cheeks said taking a hose as it was handed to him, "point this hose in the mist and that cloud'll be drained in no time. Watch yer hands, wouldn't want anythin' to get sucked in besides un-fallen rain."

Ransom nodded and took the hose.

"Alright, to the plank with ye," Cheeks yelled and all the men about their duties gave an "Aye," in reply.

"I always love sayin' that," Cheeks laughed.

Ransom looked down to the earth below—way below. He might be getting sick.