8. The Switchflag

The parrot with the wooden leg did not stay on Barbala long.

Widagai first spoke to Paunet. Aid? For the amazing captain Pi? That sounded like an adventure. Only Paunet had, as always, different plans. Plans that meant he never ever wanted to meet that boring captain Pi.

He said nothing of the ship he was building. He only told about the threat he received, the false message the war was over, and the weird things that happened since then.

Then Widagai flew to the President. After a conversation that lasted an hour, he left again. Paunet didn’t know what the President had said, but the parrot shivered and regularly forgot how to fly.

Good, Paunet thought. The ship is still completely mine.

The President had not given him another gold coin, as warned. That’s why the ship was missing some parts, like a mast, or a flag. But tomorrow … tomorrow it would be finished and he’d be gone.

By now, all of Barbala knew of the project. They often visited to give suggestions about the design. Sure, Paunet understood that an extra mast was nice, but he’d rather put the money into beautiful colors and a nice smell for the cabin. He thanked everyone, then ignored their completely valid suggestions.

He only listened once. At first, he’d called the ship The Wart. Because in his words: “It sticks to the enemy and makes them look silly, no matter how much they try to remove us!”

The island wasn’t thrilled with this name. So now the letters were repurposed to The Dragonth. According to Paunet, that was the “formal” spelling of the word Dragon, as intended by the First Dragon himself. Everyone assumed he’d just made that up.

As he walked home that night, he waved at Monogo. Still behind his trusted stall. He expected Monogo to reach stay alive for two hundred years and still look and do exactly the same.

“Ah, Monogo. Some final words? A goodbye? I leave tomorrow.”

He shrugged. “Same as always. Still donna understand why you go. Don’t you think: I have me home, me wife, me money?”

Paunet was about the explain himself, but merely mumbled: “As I thought.”

He made for his estate.

As he entered the bedroom, Paula was still awake. She sat upright and caressed the side where Paunet usually slept.

“Can I say something?” she started. “Anything that can convince you to stay?”

“Dear, I don’t have a choice. The President put everything into this ship. It cost a fortune. The crew has been assembled and—”

“You always have a choice!” Paula looked away. “Don’t lie to me. The President doesn’t trust you at all. You lie, you twist, you deepen your pockets with my family’s gold. The entire island expects you to sink immediately tomorrow, as soon as you hit the first wave!”

Paula hit the blankets hard. “They placed bets on how long you’ll survive at sea. Do you know the highest bet anyone placed? Do you? Three days.”

Paunet tried to appease his wife with a gentle feathery hug. “A bit more trust would not be—”

“Trust has to be earned. You didn’t build a ship, you build a fantasy.”

Paunet entered the bed to give his wife a kiss. She stood and walked to the other end of the room.

“No, Paunet, life hasn’t always been wonderful and exciting with you. If father hadn’t forced me to marry you, I’d have cast you aside at first glance. But we have a comfortable and safe life.”

Paula made her final attempt, crying, craning her head as if to pray to god. “Stay. I’d rather see you alive than dead.”

Maybe, on a different night, this would’ve been the dagger. Paunet would have put this wild and risky plan out of his head. He’d have hugged his wife, moved to a different island that was more lively, and made something more of their family and comfortable life.

But this night Paunet only felt the winds of adventure and smelled the scent of fresh gunpowder.

“And I don’t see the point of life if you can’t really live. If you haven’t lived to the fullest extent.”

Paula let him go. She sniffed and sprinted to another corner of the room.

“Then I want you to leave everything to me. Give everything you own to me and your daughter. It’s the least you could do.”

“Whatever you want, dear.”

Paula pushed an empty parchment below his beak. She’d prepared this, even though Paunet felt his wife had held the faintest hope he’d change his mind. This parchment looked familiar. He felt its texture—where did he feel this before?

As he signed a form that would give all his fortune and lands to Paula, he realized why it was familiar.

She had written that message.

She had broken into the ship hall and placed the threat.

She probably hoped to scare him. If he believed enemies were out there eager to kill him, he’d probably drop the entire project.

She didn’t understand that the threat had actually helped his gold and his desire to seek adventure. What was more interesting than a mystery in your backyard? Than someone so afraid of you that they have to threaten you?

“The war is really over,” Paunet whispered, “isn’t it?”

Paula nodded.

“But that means … that the parrot didn’t … and so Pi didn’t …” Paunet mumbled, as he sorted his thoughts.

Paula kept nodding. “When I noticed my threats didn’t hurt you in any way, I stopped.”

Paunet grinned and gave his wife a final kiss. To the surprise of both, this was the first passionate and sincere kiss in years. “Burglary. Treachery. Dropping swords. Dear, this is the most exciting thing you’ve ever done!”

His wife smile weakly. Her heart wasn’t ready yet, but may this was the best for both.

All of Barbala had gathered their best clothes, their tastiest coconuts, and assembled on the beach. Cheering and clapping they accompanied Paunet’s ship, as it rolled off the logs, got stuck in the sand, but eventually reached the sea without too much hassle.

The first test was passed: the monstrous ship floated. Several bets about how long The Dragonth would last could already be thrown in the garbage.

Paunet waved at everyone. He grabbed the rope to hoist himself onto the ship, when the President appeared. He carried a flag: bright blue, containing the royal symbol of Casbrita.

Not everyone cheered. The Brita had conquered Barbala a while ago with violence and threats, turning it into a colony of theirs. The natives were still the largest part of the population. Hares such as the president did not even naturally appear on Barbala at all.

Paunet accepted the flag with a glimmer in his eyes and a spring in his step.

“We might not have always seen eye to eye,” the President said cautiously. “And you’ve wasted so much gold that we’ll feel the emptiness of our coffers for years.”

The beach laughed. The President shook his head and studied The Dragonth with admiration. More than fifty cannons. Beautifully painted sails on every mast and flames all along the hull, scratched into dark brown wood.

“But you’ve built the largest ship I’ve ever seen. I’ve let the king know that you’re an official member of the fleet. Make us proud, weird peacock. Make this flag proud. Make your homeland proud.”

Paunted rolled up the flag and stuck it under his armpit, so that he was free to give the president a sincere hug. His crew already prepared the ship behind him.

He suspected this was his wife’s doing. Most of his crew members had arrived from different islands and just “happened” to be here when he needed them. They held themselves well and were more skilled than the crew he had assembled himself. Paula’s last attempt to keep him alive.

“Goodbye!” Paunet yelled ceremoniously. He took off his black hat to wave at everyone.

He looked for his wife in the crowd, but she hadn’t come. As he stood on the bow, he could see more of the island, even as far as their estate in the east. That’s where he found his family standing on the front porch, watching him go.

His daughter waved absently. He blew her a kiss.

The ship moved. Slowly the beach let them go. The crew worked on their own, without any commands from Paunet. That was fine, said he. He didn’t know any commands.

He ripped the king’s flag to pieces and pushed it into a random barrel.

He walked to his own room, below deck, and grabbed a different flag. One that surely didn’t glimmer and shine with bright colors and pride. One that was black and had a skull.

Below the main mast, he attached the flag to a thin wire. By pulling on the other end, the flag would surely be dragged upwards, to the highest point of the entire massive ship.

The beach fell silent.

His own crew had expected it; Paula knew him better than he gave her credit for.

He used his beak to dislodge a few letters on the side of the ship, and brought back a few letters from the old name that he’d stowed away. Not long after, his ship had a new name: The Wrath.

“Filthy scummerbag!” the President yelled.

Paunet could barely hear it, for he was long gone. All the “ooh” and “aah” sounds from the beach were merely an angelic choir to his ears.

He smiled, flew to the flag, and spread his wings wide.

As if he would ever work for that boring king. As if he would do what was expected of him any longer. As if he sought the ocean for its peace.

A new buccaneer had entered the stage. One with the largest and most expensive ship ever built. And a loud scream, in his heart, demanding danger and battle and adventure.

Now Paunet only had to learn how to steer a ship.