Chak the Cruel

[Chak Ku'rill]

*CRACK!*

The sea otter?s whip snapped across the squirrel?s shoulders, leaving behind a puffy welt.

?Don?t matter what ye think yer name be, tree scab. Only thing what matters ?round here is what I be callin? ye. An? if that be Scrufftail, then that be yer name. An? if it be Baublebritches ye best be answerin? ta Baublebritches! Ya fath?m??

?Yes sir,? the squirrel muttered forcibly through gritted teeth.

The drums had stopped for the night as the pirate ship dropped anchor and Chak Ku?rill began the evening routine as he often did.

?Minstrel!? he barked.

?Yes sir!? a mouse replied with lively interest.

?Come on up here an? show this scurvy bilge-swigger what it means ta be one o? Chak?s crew. An? sing us the slop song. Looks like grub?s here.?

The musical mouse settled in next to the squirrel then broke into a lighthearted ditty, swinging his arms and bumping elbows with Scrufftail enthusiastically.

?Oh the slimy slop of Chak Ka-rule
Is a putrid sort o? runny stew
It looks like snot an? tastes like poooooooo-
Oh, it?s time for slaver?s gruel!

?Gruel, gruel, a pox most cruel
Yet a sadly necessary fuel
To shape an oarsbeast like a tool
Oh, tiz time for slaver?s gruel!?

A rat had rolled in a half-barrel on wheels full of steaming liquid and preceded Chak backwards down the aisle as the otter ladled out portions to his slaves in time with the tune. Most of the slaves joined in with the mouse, hoping to glean a larger serving.

?Yo ho ho! Yoo hoo hoo!
What makes up yonder loathsome brew?
Corns an? crust from Chak?s footstool,
It?s time for slaver?s gruel!

?Though the bane of any gourmand?s rule,
Yet it seldom fails to make us drool,
Cause there?s nothin? else we?d rather do
than eat more slaver?s gruel!?

The slaves repeated the song until Chak filled the last of the chipped, wooden bowls, granting seconds even to a lucky few who he viewed as demonstrably servile.  He saved the last scoop for Minstrel, as it was the thickest and most coveted portion. The mouse was gutsy and even a bit cheeky, which Chak appreciated. Perhaps in time, Minstrel would earn a position with more power and influence ? if he survived, that is.

The slaves were finished and had tucked away their bowls beneath their benches before the rat and the empty barrel even had time to leave. Chak ducked back into his small quarters and snatched a jar of pickled chestnuts from his cabinet. He counted the nuts to be sure none were missing then strode back out, swirling the jar in one paw so the chestnuts spun in a mini maelstrom. Hungry eyes stared, mesmerized.

?Now,? boomed Chak?s voice, ?I?d like ta know if there be any o? ye what think ye might deserve one o? these pearls o? sweetness.?

Several paws flashed into the air. Chak recognized the predictable dozen lowlifes who made it a habit to belly crawl into his good graces. Rarely did they have anything worth reporting, as the other fifty or so knew they couldn?t be trusted. But a short hedgehog near the wall caught his eye.

?You there, Hodgepodge. What ?ave ye got??

The hedgehog pointedly avoided the looks of his peers. ?Snubnose, sir. I saw him hiding somethin? ?neath the rim of his bench.?

Chak moved toward the familiar vole ? a beast that gave Chak few problems. He?d even received double portions tonight, which irked the slave driver somewhat.

?That true, Snub??

The vole looked near to tears, confirming the accusation without uttering a word. Chak reached under the bench and felt around, finding an object wedged in a seam. He pulled it out and scrutinized the pendant, which seemed to be a tiny carving set in a silver frame. Chak raised a brow at the offending vole, who trembled and shook.

?Please sir,? He pled, ?It?s just a keepsake. It don?t do no harm!?

?Ya know the rules, Snubnose. An? this be against ?em.?

The vole whimpered, but nodded, bowing his head and blinking rapidly. Chak scowled, pocketing the pendant, then turned to address the rest of the slave crew.

?This ship be yer home now, slavescum! No use hangin? on ta things that ain?t an? cain?t be. The sooner ye can accept that, the better off ye?ll be.?

He tossed a chestnut to Hodgepodge. Snubnose?s bauble had been harmless, but it could have been something much more dangerous.

After putting the jar back in its place and locking the cabinet, Chak returned to the captives, pulling automatically at the thin chain around his neck where a single key hung. One by one he manacled each of his sixty-one slaves in place, two to a bench. It felt oddly subservient to kneel before them in this way, but it was important to the crusty sea otter that he do it himself, as a form of personal life insurance. When he reached Minstrel, the mouse actually wished him a good night. Chak grunted and finished his task before standing to scan his wards. He made sure no blankets were missing, as some slaves had been known to steal from others, then snuffed out the lanterns to conserve oil.

All was silent save for the creak of the ship and the occasional sniffle or cough. Chak retreated to his quarters and drew the curtain closed. This did little to stifle the snores of the slaves, or their stink for that matter, but Chak valued the ability to listen in on the whispers and quiet conversation.

Tonight, however, he had other plans.

********************************************

?Arrr ? Scabeye! Look lively!? Chak fake-boxed a ferret on the upper deck, catching him off guard. Scabeye lifted his own fists in playful defense then laughed, clapping Chak on the back.

?Well if it isn?t Chak the Cruel! It?s been ages, mate! Ye?ve been holed up in the lower decks far too long!?

?Aye, that I have. Them slaves be needin? a nursemaid me thinks.?

?Har har! Or maybe they just need a good flogging,? the ferret suggested pointedly.

?Ye cain?t always fix broken with more breakin,? mate. Ye gotta be creative.?

The ferret tutted, shaking his head. ?Ye?ve got a soft spot fer them scurvy beasts, me thinks! Allus makin? sure they be fed proper an? that somebeast be changin? their piss pots?poor Tooley. Now he?s in the brig I bain?t be surprised if ye be doin? it yerself!?

Chak huffed and growled. ?Ye be thinkin? wrong, me bucko. We?ve sixty-one slaves n? thirty oars. That be two per paddle an? one ta beat the drums. Each be vital ta keep this here ship movin?.? Chak frowned thoughtfully, stroking his braided whiskers, then pointed a claw at Scabeye. ?Think o? them like a garden, mate. It be needin? care an? atten-shun ta give ye a good yield.?

?If ye say so, matey,? the ferret replied distractedly. ?Hey, Vera?s been workin? on a tuna the lads caught this mornin?! Nuff ta go ?round twice over, rumor says!?

Chak?s face split into a wide grin. ?Well blow me down ? that do sound flavorsome!?

?Yeah. Tell ya what, Chak, mate ? I?ll catch up with ye later. Gonna try me luck in Deadpaw?s bone toss, me thinks!? The ferret pirate rubbed his paws together with anticipation and danced over to a group of other beasts, who were taking bets in a circle.

?Arrrr.? Chak nodded after him, then filled his lungs deeply with fresh ocean air. It had definitely been too long. But slave driving was more than a job to Chak. It was a profession. Most of his crewmates had no idea how much cunning and effort it took to maintain a healthy and obedient slave crew, and that required dedication.

Chak surveyed the upper deck, trying to spot a certain telltale, droopy blue hat. Vasily, at least, seemed more understanding than the others. This was probably because the quartermaster was manipulative in his own right. The cat had invited him up to share a drink, as the captain had declared a cask of grog be opened in celebration of their approach. Chak doubted the crew would stop at a single cask, yet he was eager to get started, as supplies were limited.

?Finally made it out of the bilge, I see!? A gray cat appeared at Chak?s elbow, sans the usual wide-brimmed hat he wore during daylight hours. He sniffed and made a face. ?Though it seems you brought the essence of it with you?? He waved his paw elegantly before his nose as though wafting an enticing aroma, ?Essence of galley slave!?

Chak grinned and grabbed Vasily?s head under his arm, scrubbing the top of his head with his knuckles. ?Arrr, Vasily, ye scurvy sutler!?

?Augh! Ugh!? The cat spluttered and made a retching noise, pulling out of the grab. ?What part of ?you stink? did you miss there, mate?? He straightened his all-weather vest and smoothed his head fur with a snuff of irritation.

?Arrrr,? Chak agreed. ?Whaddaya say we go find us some grog?? He patted his messmate on the shoulder with some affection.

?Grog? I can do far better than that, friend.? Vasily held up a tall mystery bottle. ?Rum!?

?Well boil me britches! How?d ye come by such a prize?? Chak inspected the bottle with a yellow-toothed grin, pulling the stopper and snorting at the powerful fumes.

?Well, if you must know, I traded an authentic pair of shark-hide boots.?

?Which were really a phony pair o? wax cloth galoshes, aye? Har har har!?

Vasily looked affronted. ?As a matter of fact, they were quality rubberized canvas.?

?Arr, that be my mistake, har har!? Chak took a swig of the rum and grinned.

Vasily directed Chak to a pair of comfortable stools he?d reserved for the occasion, and it didn?t take long for Chak to absorb an alarming portion of the bottle?s contents whilst they conversed. This did not seem to bother the cat in the least, however, and he smiled as Chak appeared to loosen up. A few other crew mates joined them when the fish was being passed around, adding their own jokes and tales of personal prowess to the mix. Vasily wowed the circle of pirates with extraordinary adventures that Chak was sure he invented on the spot, but soon his attention returned to the slave driver who had become suitably saturated.

?So, Chak, I?ve been wondering,? he ventured, ?how did you end up with all those scars on your paws??

A moment of silence hung in the air as the circle of beasts strained their ears. Chak made a point to never talk about his past, after all, so there was an unusual amount of interest.

?Arrr, it be long ago, matey ? afore Blade came along an? built ?is pirate-friendly ports. There be few ways ta maintain a vessel o? disrepute back then, an? corsairs aplenty sought seafolk like me ta scrape the barnacles offa their ships? underbellies. Twas a quick n? dirty solution, but right dangerous, as ye might fath?m. One otter?d be cut an there be blood in the water. Three otters get cut and there be a whole lot more. T?were like chummin? fer sharks when a job needed done. But many a time they baint lettin? ya outta them waters til the job be finished, see?? Chak squinted an eye and nodded at the near-empty rum bottle.

?Yarrr, me thinks them be terms few mariners be keepin? to,? commented a weasel sitting nearby on a barrel. ?Musta been offrin? a hefty sum!? He saluted Chak with his tankard.

Chak glared at the weasel, then at nothing in particular. ?T?weren?t up ta me, mate.? He finished off the bottle and chucked it off to one side where it shattered against the deck. ?T?were by force.?

Some of the pirates shifted uncomfortably. Chak?s background was bound to differ from their own, as he obviously was not born into piracy, but assumptions had been made that his initial enlistment had at least been voluntary.

?Yer a survivor,? a sage old searat named Halfear interceded, before it got too awkward. ?We all be livin? life against the odds out here. An? weren?t Grubclaw conscripted, Bloodeye??

The weasel nodded, ?Aye, at the start. But he be signin? up fer this an? other voyages hisself.?

Chak nodded. ?As I were sayin?, that be long ago. I be but twelve seasons at the start, an fifteen when I be promoted.?

?Caw, slave drivin? afore ye even came o? age!? Braka laughed. ?Chak, ye be a blaggard if ever I did meet one, mate!?

?I bain?t be surprised if?n he were crackin? the whip on ?is own mum, truth be told,? remarked Bloodeye.

?Aye!? chortled Braka, then raised his voice to a high pitch. ?Shut yer face, Mumsie! I be goin? ta bed when I jolly well feels like it!? The ferret lashed out with an imaginary whip, imitating the crack.

Chak laughed along good-naturedly. The jokes served only to build up his fearsome reputation.

?I be thinkin? ?is Mum be ?avin? a pree-mo-nishun when she spawned ?im,? Braka suggested. ?As she be namin? ?im ?cruel?.?

?Yarrr! He be destined ta be a villain.?

It was only then that Murdin, a typically reserved stoat, decided to speak his mind, ?Wudlanders be a cowardly lot. That's why they be enslaved so easy.? He sneered at Chak, challenge in his bloodshot eyes. ?That a wudlander be slappin? ?round other wudlanders fer show ain?t such a shock ta me, mates.?

Chak stiffened noticeably, but the stoat?s usual reticence had been washed away by grog.

Murdin leaned forward. ?D?ye know how many otters? throats I?ve slit in me lifetime?? He pulled his dagger free, licking the blade clean. ?How many o? them d?ye serpose were family??

Chak showed the stoat his yellowed fangs. ?None I care about, mate, but ye be treadin? dangerous waters??

?Ye think I be scared o? ye, sea dog?? Murdin scorned.

An alarmed Vasily stepped in, putting a paw to Chak?s shoulder. "C'mon mate, he's just drunk. Come back over here. Lemme serve you some of Vera's excellent tuna. You don't want to miss it..." He managed to get Chak to stand and turn his back on the stoat, albeit with effort and much cajoling.

Murdin's derisive voice continued. ?Once a slave, allus a slave. See, he knows who his betters be.?

The stoat barely had the last word out when Chak?s fist smashed into his jaw, dropping him like an anchor.

Still breathing heavily from the rush, Chak stood over the crumpled form and scowled.

?When ?e wakes up, tell ?im I'd be glad ta show ?im more o? me submissive nature.?