Inane Verbiage

VIII

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh sh- we have to tell Goldbeard, right?”

 “Yeah.” Eros lets out a sigh at that, already halfway across the deck. “Tom! Warship at three-‘o-clock!”

 I have to admit I’m kind of impressed - even though I’m pretty sure Goldbeard has never seen a floating hunk of (bloody fear-inducing) metal in his (probably not-too-long) 18th-century life, he reacts pretty darn fast when Eros all but screams that out.

(Then again, it may just be the fact pirates have to have fast reactions, what with the navy chasing after them all the bloody time.)

I scurry up to Eros, who is busy ordering the crew (who seem more than willing to do so, I notice) around. "What are we going to do?" I ask, frantic as I catch sight of the warship(s! What?) happily sailing (charging, more like) closer.

He just shrugs. Shrugs! "What else? Buckle up tight and wait for impact, then."

"What?!" Does he have a death-wish? (Well technically he can't die, but STILL!) "Can't you do something? Use your 'godly abilities' to conjure up some giant hammer than can smash the cats and their ships to death or something of that sort?" 

He shakes his head. "Shaman shield, remember? I can't do anything."

 …"dash it all." I have another thought. "Do we have cannons on the ship, then?" 

Eros glances at me warily. "I think so… why?" 

I grin evilly in reply. "Why don't we strike the cats before they can hit us? A good offense is a good defense, 'ey?"

 He just sighs in exasperation. "No."

 I stare at him, aghast. "Why not? It's a bloody smart idea, if I do say so myself!" 

"It would be, if said cannons weren't stolen from the Royal Navy back in the 18th century and are all locked up."

 Oh. "Can't we pick the locks, then?"

 He shoots my a dry look, gesturing to the panicking crew (who are busy raising masts and typing rope and basically just making me feel bloody useless in general). "They're pirates, Toilet Girl. Do you think they've never tried?" 

Good point. "We could always try again?" I ask hopefully, not ready to give up on that idea (especially since it is pretty much either them getting bombed, or us.) "Maybe it might work this -"

 A large boom drowns out the rest of my sentence as the whole ship (which I'd just found out was called the Golden Mary. I had no idea what to say to that) lurches to one side. 

Too late.

 In the general panic that follows (as cats leap down from their ship and onto ours and pretty much wreck havoc among the crews), I belatedly notice that the reason why said army of the Crazy Pharaoh can do such a thing so easily isn't because mutant cats have the ability to jump extraordinarily far, but is more likely due to the gaping hole where The Warship had crashed into the Golden Mary. 

Apparently cats may be violent, but not very good at planning and cutting losses.

 Or, I can't help but think with a tinge of amusement as I study the angry, claw-covered paw coming in my direction, it's probably because they are unable to pull the trigger due to their lack of opposable thumbs.

…that's when I realize that there is an angry, claw-covered paw coming in my direction. With a squeak of alarm, I instinctively kick up, the heel of my high-tops making contact with what I think is the face of a tabby cat with a sharp crack.