All the while, one agile monkey is atop a mast attending to the sails and keeping a watch.  The Captain, Labaguette and two guards are paying attention to Birdseye’s guidance and are helping look after the Colonel’s every needs.  Lying on the floor with his lips apart, Colonel Loga is painstakingly swallowing drops of rum which is being poured bit by bit from Birdseye’s only remaining flacon.  One guard is rubbing the Colonel’s feet, another is keeping his head cool with damp, rum soaked cloths.  Chloroph is holding a scented seed under the Colonel’s nostrils.

“Not one of your tricks, Chloroph!” the Captain thunders.

“Shut up and do something!”

There is Labaguette squawking:

“My wings are too heavy,” he complains, “I should be the one being looked after, don’t you see?”

One movement of the chin from the Captain and one of Spinostress’ guards takes out a glass jar and unceremoniously catches Labaguette, now a mosquito in the making.

“Get to the bottom of it,” Birdseye says.”

“He can’t hear you,” the Captain says.

“Get to the bottom of it, Captain.”

“I?  Me?”

“We need more rum.”

“The bottom of what?”

“Follow me!” Chloroph says.

“I don’t think this is a good—“

“—Do as he says!” Birdseye adds.

Inside the ship’s hull, layers of unfolded ropes have been stretched and extended from one end of the ship to the other and are soaking in the golden liquid.

“Was a hook used?” the Captain asks.

“This is Spinostress’ work.”

“I’d recognise that smell anywhere.  What is all this?”

“The materialisation of Rum.  Spinostress collected some when the river surfaced and volcanoes erupted on RythmaRymosthesis.”

“Is she still trying to emulate the Syck Monkey’s rope?”

“She was.”

To be continued…


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