Mea Culpa

[Tooley Bostay]

The ocean was full of sounds that night--the rumbling of dark waves, the dying crackles of fire upon the broken debris, and the sobbing of a weasel, clutched to a broken length of a mast.

Tooley cradled his head against the damp fur of his arm. He trembled as a wave splashed up against the mast, catching saltwater in his eye. His body rocked with another round of sobs, and he gripped the mast all the tighter.

Can't look up. Can't see.

It was gone. He'd tried to stop the fire. He'd tried to find Daggle. He'd tried everything, but nothing was left.

He felt his chest burn with anger at the hare he had fought. It was his fault! If he hadn't gotten in Tooley's way, he'd have reached Vasily. They could have stopped the fire! Then everything would be all right!

He shivered as another wave crashed into his side, and his anger fizzled into another round of wracking sobs. There was only one person he could blame, and it wasn't the hare.

He'd lost count of how many times he played the events over and over in his head. The desperation in Vera's eyes, the screams of corsairs and Waverunners alike, the fire reaching up to grasp the sails...

Something brushed against his back, and the memories of smoke and ruin faded away. Tooley turned with a choking gasp to see a lifeless, overturned body.

It was a ferret.

The cool air pierced through his chest. He stared for a long moment, then reached a trembling paw out.

"C-Cap'n...?" he managed to squeak out as he gripped the ferret's shoulder.

The ferret dipped into the water and came up face-first. A ragged breath escaped him when he saw the snake tattoo running down her neck. It wasn't the captain.

He tried to turn away, to return to the comfort of the mast, but he found himself staring at the ferretmaid's eyes. Dead, fixed, and frozen in an accusatory stare that only seemed to ask why fate had dealt her these cards. He recognized the look. The captain had looked at him with the same rage and pain in her eyes, cutlass raised high. She had known it was all his fault.

But the blade had not fallen. For whatever reason, the captain had spared him--given him a second chance.

Tooley reached up and touched a paw to the hole in his hat.

"But... if'n there's not... An' what then? What if yer fam'ly don't need ye anymore? What if ye ain't got a 'ome t' go back to no more?"

"I guess the only thing you can do in that situation is just grab on to something, anything, and never let it go..."

The captain still needed him. She had to. He'd lost his home, but he could still find his family. And maybe... just maybe, they wouldn't want to kill him.

Tooley's exposed ear perked up suddenly. There was a sound. A voice. In the distance to his left, someone was shouting. He couldn't make out the words, but the sound was enough. He wasn't alone.

Tooley pushed aside the body of the ferret, then kicked off the mast. He weaved left and right through scattered debris, and the voice grew louder and louder. Soon, he emerged into a small clearing. Someone was thrashing about in the water, trying to grab onto something. The moonlight was enough to show that it was a rat, and Tooley gasped as the light illuminated a familiar, crooked eye.

"Daggle!" Tooley cried out, his strokes speeding up and sending water splashing all about him.

Daggle looked up just as Tooley crashed into him. Tooley wrapped his arms around the rat in a tight hug, a strange mixture of joy and sobbing issuing forth from him.

"Ow, ow, gerrof me!" Daggle yelped, shoving at Tooley.

Tooley let go, sniffling and wiping a drenched paw over his teary eyes. "I-I looked everywhere fer ye, an' when I couldn't find ye, I thought..."

"What, that I was dead?" Daggle grimaced. "Sure wishin' I were." He moved to swim away, but suddenly sucked in a sharp breath and bent over into the water.

Tooley rushed over and pulled at his friend, and the rat emerged with a string of hacking coughs and curses. Tooley guided him to a nearby broken ale cask, where Daggle collapsed upon its rough frame.

"Ye all right, mate?" Tooley asked, a worried paw steadying his friend.

"Me leg," Daggle wheezed, coughing out more water from his lungs. He dug his claws deep into the barrel, and Tooley swore he saw tears forming at the rat's eyes. "Cain't feel it, and it hurts somethin' awful when I move."

Tooley gnawed at his lip. There was no way Daggle could make the swim to the island. The thought occurred to him that he could push the barrel, but he dismissed it quickly. The water was too cold, and he knew he couldn't make it all the way to the island. They would drown.

Tooley felt a familiar feeling creep into him. They could die here, and that'd be the end of it. Tooley grit his teeth and shook his head. There was no time for thoughts like that. Daggle needed his help now.

"Wait 'ere," he said with a pat on the barrel's rim.

"Eh? Where ye goin'!" Daggle shouted, but Tooley was already paddling away.

He cast glances about the dark waves, ignoring the bodies as he swam up to any large chunk of debris he could find. A broken spar and a mesh of wood and rigging caught his attention, but he pressed on. There had to be some sort of suitable raft among the wreckage; he needed something sturdy and big , like...

His eye caught something to his right, and he stopped. He had to scrub at his eyes to make sure he wasn't imagining things.

It was one of the Maiden's lifeboats, somehow still intact. And unoccupied.

Still not convinced it wasn't the saltwater playing tricks on him, he began paddling towards it. Then his speed increased. Soon, he was cutting his way through the ocean with wide strokes, afraid that it would somehow disappear if he did not reach it in time.

He gripped the edge of the boat, chuckling in disbelief. Then he froze, and his smile disappeared.

There was a squirrelmaid clinging to the other side of the boat.

Tooley felt his heart pound against the hull of the boat. He tried to steady his breathing. Squirrel's weren't good swimmers, were they? He'd heard that somewhere. He could dive underwater and lose her before--

No. No, he needed this boat. He couldn't run away.

"P-please, marm," Tooley began softly, "me mate's 'urt real bad, an' I... I dunno what ter do. 'E needs 'elp. Please..."

The squirrel furrowed her brow and regarded Tooley carefully. Her eyes flicked between him and the boat. She hesitated, then spoke, "How... is he hurt?"

Tooley blinked. "...eh?"

The squirrel sighed. "How is your friend hurt?" she repeated, then her expression softened slightly. "I'm a healer."

A healer. Tooley's expression brightened. Healers were always good. Not always goodbeasts but they always helped beasts, didn't they?

"O-oh! Err... 'e said 'e can't feel 'is leg, and it 'urts real bad when 'e moves it."

The squirrel pursed her lips as she considered this. "Where is he?"

Tooley pointed. "Back thataways."

The squirrel was silent once more. She glanced back the way she had come, and seemed to be stuck in thought.

"Are... are ye gonna 'elp?" Tooley ventured hopefully.

The squirrel rapped her claws against the rim of the boat, then sighed. "I suppose I am. Grab a hold of the side."

Tooley watched as the squirrel gripped her side of the boat and began pushing it along.

"Oh, yes marm!" he said, quickly grabbing his own end and following her lead.

Together, they pushed the boat back through the wreckage. Tooley guided the squirrel back to the clearing where he had left Daggle, and he soon saw the rat come into view.

"Oy!" Tooley shouted, waving a paw.

Daggle looked up from his cask and a grin curled around his scarred face. "Great seasons, ye actually found--" Daggle stopped and the grin was gone. "Who's that?"

Tooley smiled. "Oh, she's 'ere t' 'elp!"

"She's one o' them Waverunners," Daggle spat. "'Ow many o' us y'think she's killed, eh?"

The squirrel frowned. ?None, as a matter of fact. I help beasts? even some such as yourself at times.?

Tooley nodded helpfully. "Aye, she's a real 'ealer beast! A right fortune fer us, mate!"

Daggle's scowl only deepened. "Oh, aye, right fortune indeed..."

Tooley and the squirrel placed the lifeboat beside Daggle, and the squirrel swam over to the rat. She stopped several feet from him and pointed.

"I'll need you to remove that coat."

Daggle spat in the water and let his chin fall onto the cask. The squirrel rolled her eyes, then looked at Tooley.

"'E really likes 'is coat," Tooley said.

The squirrel cocked her head towards Daggle several times, glancing between Daggle and Tooley.

"Oh!" Tooley said, suddenly understanding the expectant look on her face. He swam over to Daggle and tapped a claw against the rat's shoulder. "Err, mate, ye should prolly do as she says. I mean, she needs t' see yer leg, so, um..."

Daggle snorted, flicking a pawful of water at Tooley. "Aye, aye, I ain't no infant."

He let go of the cask and went to remove his coat. Halfway through, he cried out and hit the water facefirst. Tooley and the squirrel both rushed over, each grabbing a shoulder and pulling him up. He emerged, spitting coughs and curses.

"Get him to the boat!" the squirrel shouted.

They reached the edge of the boat, and, after some back-and-forth, managed to shove Daggle up into it. His footpaws hung over the side, and Tooley stared at the way his right leg twisted and dangled at a strange angle.

"That... that ain't good, is it?" Tooley asked, chewing at his lip.

"What're ye yabberin' about?" Daggle growled, his head sticking up from the boat.

The squirrel made a clicking sound and her mouth tightened into a line. "It's a fracture."

"What's that mean?" the rat asked.

"It means you're going to be off your feet for some time."

Daggle soured at this, head dropping back into the boat with a groan.

The squirrel regarded the lifeboat, then looked at Tooley. "It also means we have a lot of rowing to do."

---

Tooley let out a heavy breath as he drew up his oar for another row. It had been several hours, or at least it felt that way. The remnants of the Silver Maiden faded further and further behind them, yet the island ahead seemed to forever be on the horizon.

Tooley looked back to where Daggle was resting and trying - unsuccessfully - to get some sleep. His injured leg was propped up with two wooden shafts on either side, tied together with a sash the squirrel had been wearing around her waist. It was almost a comical looking thing, but Tooley couldn't help but wince whenever he glanced back.

He turned to the squirrel rowing beside him. She was breathing heavily, grunting with every push of the oar. Tooley opened his mouth to suggest they take a break, but he paused. The squirrel seemed to know what she was doing. She was no captain, but Tooley knew that beasts in charge didn't like hearing complaints and worries. It "sullied the crew's mural," it did.

Thankfully, he didn't have to ask. The squirrel called for a brief rest, and both rowing beasts collapsed back against the boat. Tooley let out a relieved sigh as he let the oar slip from his fingers and hang at the edge. He sucked at some newly formed blisters on his paws as Daggle shifted in the back.

"Don't surpose ye got any grub on ye?" Daggle muttered.

"No," the squirrel answered, not bothering to look at him. "That's why we need to get to the island, and soon."

Daggle snorted, but made no further comment.

Tooley glanced between the two in the silence that followed. "So, err, marm..." he said hesitantly.

The squirrel glanced up at him. "Crue."

Tooley paused, then nodded. "Oh, err... aye, we ain't got much of a crew t' speak of."

"No, that's my name. Crue Sarish. You don't need to keep calling me 'marm.'"

Tooley didn't quite understand, but nodded again. "Err, right. Miss Crue."

He returned to looking about the ship and sea, taking an interest in a vaguely anchor-shaped cloud in the sky.

"Did you have a question?" Crue asked.

Tooley shook his head. "Oh, nah, just wanted to ask what yer name was."

Tooley watched as the cloud anchor shifted with the winds, ending up looking more like a cross between a seagull and a rotten apple.

"What's your name?"

"None o' yer business,'" Daggle grumbled before he could respond.

Crue glared at the rat, but remained silent.

"Oh, it's Tooley," Tooley said with a toothy smile, "an' e's Daggle."

"Curse ye an' yer fortune, Tools," Daggle groaned, a paw clutched at his sweaty forehead.

Crue briefly smiled back at Tooley, then stared back out across the ocean, her eyes glazing over as if in thought.

It only seemed polite to ask her a question back, so Tooley thought. He tried to remember something about the Waverunners, but only came up with things like "d'ye know who killed Stitchtail wit' that axe?" or "did ye lose any mates?" After several seconds of scratching at his chin, he remembered something far less grim.

"So, err, that big beast wit' the sword slashin' about. Was he yer cap'n?"

Crue looked askance at him. "He was the captain, yes."

"Oh." Tooley's gaze trailed downwards. He was curious to ask more - he'd never seen a beast that big - but Crue was giving him a look that the captain sometimes gave him. It meant "shut up and go away." He couldn't really go away in the small boat, so he just settled for shutting up.

He looked away, and his gaze fell on Daggle's coat. It had been bundled up right behind where Tooley was sitting. His expression brightened as an idea crossed his mind. He dug a paw into the coat, feeling for the inner pocket before he pulled a weathered sack free.

"'ere," he said, handing it to Crue.

She slowly took the bag from him, eyes widening at the weight of it as she shifted it back and forth in her paws. "What's this?"

"Err, money. Fer all y'done fer us, it's only right t' pay ye, ain't it?"

Crue opened her mouth to respond, but the boat suddenly shifted hard to one side.

"'Ey!" Daggle shouted, "give that here!"

Tooley fell back against the edge of the boat, blinking in surprise as Daggle pushed himself up onto his paws. As soon as he tried to move forward, however, he let out a yowl and slammed back into his original spot.

The rat breathed hard through his nostrils, eyes fierce on Crue. "Lady, I ain't kiddin', give me that right now."

Crue's posture stiffened. "I appreciate the gesture, Tooley, but I don't think money will do me any good right now." She held out the bag, eyes narrowing at Daggle as she added, "Or any of us."

Daggle snatched the sack and stuffed it down into his shirt. He mumbled something as his breathing evened out. He kept a watchful eye on Crue, with the occasional frustrated glance shot Tooley's way.

Crue turned back to her oar and set her jaw. "We need to get rowing again," she said as her oar creaked into position.

"A-aye," Tooley said with a nod, then reached for his own oar.

The two began rowing once again, but he couldn't help but notice that they seemed to be going slower. He tried pushing harder but only ended up twisting them off course. Stopping for a moment, he looked at Crue. The squirrel's expression was hard, eyes focused on the horizon. She didn't even seem to notice that he'd put them slightly off course.

As soon as the boat straightened out, he gripped his oar once more. He gnawed at his lip, then paused.

Crue... that name reminded him of something. Sounds trickled into his head, accompanied shortly by multiple voices ringing out. Suddenly, he could see himself back in the slave galley on the Maiden, running errands as the slaves belted out a hearty rowing song.

"Crew, crew, rowin' crew
Move your paws one an' all,
Row, row, me and you
Heave and ho and away we go!"

Tooley smiled at the song, bopping up and down to the rhythm of his strokes.

"What was that?"

He turned to see Crue staring at him, a curious smile poking at the corner of her mouth.

"Eh, what?"

"That song you were singing."

"Err, but I weren't--" he stopped himself. He didn't really understand it, but Crue seemed to be happier. He tried thinking back to the slave galley again. The words came back to him slowly, and he was aware of his mouth moving to the memory.

"Crew, crew, rowin' crew
Heave your backs stay on track,
Row, row, me and you
Hoist the sea from the gallery!"

Tooley looked over. Crue was smiling now, which caused Tooley to smile as well. He noticed her strokes had more effort in them, but that they dipped a little too low into the water and cut the wrong way. The memory still ringing in the back of his mind, he cleared his throat and sang,

"Crue, Crue, Missus Crue
Twist yer oar a liddle more,
Row, row, me an' yer
Cut th' waves an' make 'em behave!"

Crue laughed and set about adjusting her grip on the oar. After several rows, she looked back at him. He looked at her strokes and nodded with a big grin.

"Crue, Crue, Missus Crue
That'll do, that's th' truth,
Row, row, me an' yer
Fer a sqwerl yer a nat-ur-al!"

Tooley heard Daggle groan behind him, but he didn't mind. For a night that had gone so wrong, maybe things were about to get better.