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looks to me like a bit of a windship.”
    Intrigued, Trundle and Jack got up and stared out over the prow of the Thief in the Night .
    “By golly, I think you’re right,” said Jack.
    At first Trundle couldn’t really make out the tiny object at all. But then, as Esmeralda turned the tiller and they made a long, slow curve toward the floating whatever-it-was, he began to realize what it was: a broken length of a windship’s mainmast, complete with the crow’s nest and the powerstone basket. And as they got closer, he also noticed the skinny andragged shape of a hare, squatting on the basket and flapping his arms about as though he was swatting insects.
    “The poor fellow,” said Jack. “We must rescue him.”
    “Ummm…,” began Esmeralda. “Well-l-l-l-l…”
    Trundle looked at her. “You’re not seriously considering just leaving him there like that?” he protested. “Not even you could be so heartless.”
    “Of course not,” Esmeralda said indignantly. “We could give him some food and water. You know, enough to keep him going till someone else comes along to rescue him. What do we do with him if we do pick him up? We’re serious questers, Trundle, not a local ferry service.”
    “But what if no one else does come along?” asked Jack. “No! We have to bring him aboard—it’s the only civilized thing to do.”
    “And then what?” Esmeralda asked. “We’re heading off into uncharted regions. Where do wedrop him off? Or are you suggesting we go all the way back to Swallowhaven with him?”
    “I’m sure we’ll find somewhere perfectly pleasant up ahead to put him ashore,” said Trundle.
    Esmeralda shrugged. “Very well, then. If you insist,” she said. “But if this all goes pear shaped, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
    As they moved cautiously closer to the floating chunk of mast, they could hear the flailing animal chattering away to himself.
    “Flies and fleas, wasps and bees! Bite my nose and gnaw my knees! Without a ‘may I’ or a ‘please’! Flies and fleas and wasps and bees!”
    The Thief in the Night came up gently alongside the debris with its wretched babbling passenger. So far as they could tell, the air around the gibbering hare’s head was quite empty of insects.
    “Uh, hello there,” Trundle said amiably.

    The scrawny figure became still, fixing him with a bulging and lunatic eye.
    “Would ye have a cup of toenails for a poor lost mariner, me pretty bucko?” he asked in a high-pitched, screechy voice, his long ears twisting and untwisting above his head like propellers as he spoke.
    “Not as such…,” Trundle hesitantly replied.
    Before anything more could be said, the hare made a flying leap onto the Thief in the Night , clutching at Trundle and sending him bumping onto his back on the bottom boards.
    The tattered hare sat on him, staring around and grinning. “Life begins at one o’clock!” he said, blinking his huge eyes at Esmeralda and Jack. “Brandy for the parson’s nose, if you please.”
    Trundle gazed up at the manic hare. “Are you entirely all right?” he asked in a squashed kind of voice. The newcomer was all skin and bones, but hewas sitting full on Trundle’s chest, which did make breathing a little difficult.
    “Who be ye, me pretty bucko?” asked the hare, eyeing him again. “I can see by yer snout you’re as wise as a cuckoo’s egg!” And so saying, he began to shriek with laughter, clutching at his knees and rocking back and forth on Trundle’s chest while all poor Trundle could do was gurgle and splutter.
    “Here, let me help you up,” Jack said kindly, lifting the skinny hare under his armpits and standing him on his feet. “Welcome aboard the Thief in the Night .”
    “Thief? Where thief? Who thief?” squeaked the hare, clutching at his ragged clothes and peering suspiciously about the skyboat. “He’ll get nothing from me, the dirty rotten burglar. A man’s blackpowder pouch is his own private kingdom! I’ll eat