Monday, September 22, 2008

The Whaler

Late September.

Having been Cured of any trace of vampirism (a cure I'd rather not divulge, tho it included catnip oil, turkey basters, and a few days of squirtiness) I was invited to witness the capitulation of Steelhead to the Evil Tiny Kitty Genius Dr. Malegatto. She cleverly phrased it in terms of a "Non-aggression" pact, but it was clear that it was simple cry for mercy, derived from the appropriate awe they felt for her ingenious designs and suitable fear of her wrath. The good doctor, being wise, allowed them to keep their administration and town intact. For now. On my own part, I was able to secure a tidy little sideline.

When gathering intelligence on this Pacific Northwest town (by viewing the postcard on it's search results) I noticed a frolicking whale prominently pictured in the local harbor! I realized, after failing in our conference to determine the hiding-place of the silver-hoard the Elf-man and Genius-Girl administrators had amassed, that there may be some value in the whaley population- not so base as servitude in running smuggling blockades with crates strapped to chests; no, that had been done to death- but in old fashioned whaling! ...and then canning it as "Salmon" and selling it to hungry Caledon and Babbage! Perhaps with a bit of laudanum seasoning to keep the cans moving..

Having secured the whaling rights, I equipped myself and prepared to scout the Steelhead waters!

Miss Mari, of New Taloo, resplendent in naval outfit, agreed to accompany me on our scouting expedition. This was good, as I needed someone to haul and gut any catch we ran across.

We found no whale sign in the great harbors, and plied then the rivers in a steam tug, but again to no avail!

Could this be false advertising?! No whale-sign to be found! not so much as a beluga! How disappointing.
The sea had been barren, my frustration mounted. As any good Captain might, I took it out a bit on my crew.
I regained my senses, as Mari bid a hasty goodbye, I realized I had not investigated the science of whaling quite as much as I might have. I needed an experienced crew, salty, burly and one that would not ask many questions when it came canning time...

But, where, I pondered?
The next day, I realized- Pirates! Fisher-Pirates!

That day I travelled to a viking settlement to roust a crew, sturdy of frame, and indifferent of moral.
"Hmm...'Eat at Olav's'. Apparently the Linden ad-farm ban isn't working..."

Night fell. I met no-one, apparently all were out a-viking.

I anticipated their return at any time, silently I crept into the well to surprise them on their return...any moment now...

1 comment:

Rhianon Jameson said...

You might have lucked out, Mr. Quan. It takes a very special woman to be able to field-dress a whale.