The Final Voyage of Gopher

Artist depiction of the resting location of the trade ship, Gopher.

The following is an excerpt from an interview conducted by the Royal Coalition of Conductors of Interviews Not Music. The subject in question is Alfred Dogsbody, the sole surviving deckhand aboard the trade ship, Gopher. It was lost on its return to an unspecified port in Western Crimson Rock.

Tell us of the last morning of the ship, Gopher.

Beg your pardon, but I am Alfred. Alf for short. Al for shorter. The ship was named Gopher. In any case, it was all by the by, wasn’t it? There I was, scrubbin’ the floors as was bid by me keeper. Truth be told, it didn’t need much scrubbin. Y’see, we had been on the water for nearly a moonstime. Those of us who suffer the sea’s sickness had already learned to keep our appetites low, lest we lose our own waters as well. I seen it happen afore. A lady too, as you like. She came aboard, plump and sweatin’. Within the span of a week, she had dried to a raisin and collapsed like an old pile of dog bones stuck in too little clothes. Why you’d even want to dress up dog bones is beyond me. For a time, some of the crew petitioned to rename the vessel to The Retching Bitch, but it didn’t sit well with the Captain.

Y’see, Captain Gurnst had been rather ornery durin’ the trip. Some say it was just his nature due to the long red locks he sported. Usually he would wake up the crew with some gentle yellin’ and boisterous bangin’ of pots and pans, but not that day. No, that mornin’ instead he came in fully nude and was yellin’ and screamin’ while waving around his great big, red ferret for all the world to see. He said at the top of his lungs that it wouldn’t go to sleep no matter what he did and he was in a right fit over it. Now I like a good wake up call as well as the next bloke, but this was a might tryin’. Tears streamin’ down his face, the Captain ran out as soon as he had come in like some great three-legged ghost or spirit or somethin’.

So me and the men thought, well we thought now there’s a captain who could use some cheerin’ up. We set to our tasks right away. Blind Benny went to the crow’s nest. Armless Joe went to steerin’. And yours truly went to scrubbin’. Now, to be honest I didn’t come up with the plan, but Armless Joe said the best thing to calm the Captain’s nerves might be for us to get the ship right and ready as soon as possible. Made sense at the time, I suppose.

So other than your captain’s unique issue, there was no other cause for concern?

At this, Alfred Dogsbody laughs before answering.

No cause for concern he says? Of course there was cause for concern! You see, I had been working for near a week then on what I have since dubbed “The Dark Portal.” I believe it had started as an oil spill mixed with sap and sick, but I can’t say for certain. All I do know is much like Captain Gurnst and his understairs rigidity, I had the devil of a time trying to remove the damned thing. Having already spent several days trying to shrink it down, I was nearing my wits end over it. Spit did nothing. Sandpaper only seemed to spread it. Once, after everyone had fallen asleep, I even tried setting the oil to fire in the hopes of burning it off. I had a bucket of water at the ready and everythin’. It would not light.

Alfred seems to be lost in frustration at this memory. He pulls out a tobacco pipe before scratching at his backside and then sniffing his fingers intently. Seemingly satisfied, he lights the pipe and looks at the interviewer as though he forgot where he was for a moment.

Wait, are you puttin’ down what I’m doin’ too?

No, please continue.

Of course. So it had been a few hours after wakin’, and I was below decks pacin’. The Dark Portal sat at my feet, the terrible stench of it makin’ my eyes burn. I decided to step away for a time, clear my head. As such, I made my way back above deck and looked out to the sea. I can tell you, I did not like what I saw one bit out there. A great ominous wall of clouds were standin’ to our starboard. Lightnin’ streaked ahead of it, but thankfully we were far enough away that I could not yet hear the great crashes. We might yet miss it, I hoped.

Still, I thought it odd. Usually when such a storm approaches, it’s all I can ever ‘ear about from Benny. I figured he must have fallen asleep again. He told me once it was some condition of his, where he’d fall asleep all of a sudden with no warnin’. I told him it happened to me too. I called it boredom!

Alfred seems crestfallen when his joke does not land amongst the interviewers. Sourly, he puts more tobacco in his pipe and continues.

So anyway, I climbed up the ladder to the lookout’s nest. And there was Benny. Only, he weren’t asleep at all. He was dead! Stabbed as it were. Twice in the stomach. I nearly puked, but I didn’t want more work, what with the mess down below still vexin’ me. I debated what to do, Benny had barely been dead for an hour or more far as I could tell. His blood was still damp and leakin’ out of him. I climbed back down, my legs nearly givin’ out from my shaky nerves.

Once I landed back on solid ship, I noticed another strange thing. That damned storm wall was now in front of us. And on top of that, the sun had changed positions as well. Well, I’ll tell you. It didn’t take long for yours truly to figure it out. We had turned towards the damnable storm! I could barely believe it. Confused as I was, I set out to find out what was goin’ through Joe’s mind at the wheel.

Turned out, it was the ship’s wheel, or at least one of the handles. He was skewered through the eye like it was Skull Fuckin’ Night at the Necromancy Lounge. His weight had shifted the ship across calm waters into a storm I would daresay could have been the end of Gopher.

So you’re saying the storm did not cause the ship to sink?

I’m still tellin’ the story, aren’t I? So the ship was two crewmen down. Two damned fine crewmen as it were. I knew I must tell the Captain. So I did what any crewman with great scruples and a heart of gold would do and I marched down to the Captain’s Quarters with a blindfold on as to avoid embarrassin’ him any further.

The interviewer notes that Alfred has several bruises on his forehead and that his nose seems crooked as though it had recently been broken.

I knocked at the Captain’s door, several times, but there was no answer. To my surprise, as I pushed in on it, the door creaked inwards. Now I had never been in the Captain’s room before, so with care, I peeled the blindfold off and saw the state of things. His sheets were scattered, covered in blood and other fluids. He had a great barrel of scented lotion, torn open with the murky fluids sloppin’ out with each pitch of the ship. On his desk and walls, he had crude drawings of women. I guess he must have missed bein’ ‘round the fairer sex somethin’ fierce. I stepped inside to inspect things more closely. Most of the carvings had been pierced through. It was a right mess.

That’s when I heard it as the musky hot air hit the back of my neck. The Captain was breathin’ right behind me. I turned, apologizin’ afore I even saw him. Still nude, still… turgid, and covered in lotions. Only he also had been covered in blood up to his elbows and knees. I asked him if he knew about Benny and Joe, and he muttered something I couldn’t understand. When I asked him to explain, he seethed, and lunged at me, and grabbed my arm. Only, his hands slipped on account of all the lotion and blood. I must have let out a yelp or somethin’ cause he tried to smother my mouth with his other hand, but I ducked under his arm and managed to make it out of the room. His feet, though bare, shook the floors as he stomped wetly after me.

I didn’t know where to go, so I just ran. Afore I knew it, I was back down below. Not the best choice, I’ll admit, but there it was. I had just run around The Dark Portal when I heard him careenin’ down the steps like some great beast. Scared, I hid behind one of the barrels of spice. Then, the strangest thing happened.

At this point Alfred would not continue the story until one of the interviewers asked what happened.

What happened?

Suddenly, I found myself speakin’. I said to the Captain I said, “I’m sorry Captain Gurnst. I’m still workin’ on this here portal.” I mean really, like the Captain would care about a sticky mess when he’s in the state he’s in.

Only thing was, he stopped. For a few moments, all I could hear was the creakin’ of the ship. I peeked an eye over the top of the barrel, and there was the Captain, just standing at the edge of the stain and peering at it. Leering even. Feelin’ a little calmer despite my heart in my throat, I asked the Captain if he was okay. He laughed, as though that were a response. Then he peered into the stain further, like he was seein’ somethin’ he liked.

To be honest, I was curious, so I stepped out from hidin’ and checked myself. I saw a great black stain, and maybe a little more if I crossed my eyes just right. I could also see where some mold had started collectin’ ‘round the edges. It might have looked like a lady, but I don’t claim to be an expert of the fairer sex. Then the Captain spoke.

“A portal,” he says. “I see them Alfie,”

Now it’s confusing, but you see, Alfie was another nickname, and not one I’ve ever been particularly fond of. In any case, he starts goin’ on describin’ some broad he sees in the floor. It gets right uncomfortable, like he’s tryin’ to get me to raise masts with him. I excuse myself, and he relents. Then, soon as I leave the lower decks, I hear a great scraping and grunting behind me before it settles into the sounds of flesh on wood and oil and sick.

So I go back topside, trying to figure out what I should do next. Benny and Joe are dead. Captain Gurnst is clearly preoccupied. And now there’s a great storm only a few leagues away. Then it happens.

Alfred pauses knowingly.

(Sigh) What happens?

The ship started lowering into the water afore we even hit the storm proper. It was happenin’ so quickI climbed back up the lookout and sat with Benny. The winds and rain started comin’. I think the ship was already under by this point, but it was hard to say from all the tossin’ and crashin’ of water against my head. A great white light filled my eyes and part of the mast splintered off and struck me square in the face. Next thing I knew, some kid on the shoreline was pokin’ at me with a stick askin’ if I was his dear lost father. Then, you fine folks found me.

So, to be clear, your assertion is that Gopher was sunk by…

By Captain Gurnst and his understairs ferret, yessir.

The interviewer notes that Alfred Dogsbody seems rather pleased with his telling as though he just revealed a great mystery. They are unsure as to the truth of his story, but with nothing else to go on, intend to mark it as resolved for the coalition records.

THE END


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