My Grandfather is a Giant Schnauzer

I_Eson

May 25, 2025

My Grandfather is a Giant Schnauzer

Chapter 11 – The Fury and the Pirates

The bullet that had been found unsettled everyone on the island. I stepped closer to take a look. It lay sealed in a zip bag on a folding table, right next to a mug of still-warm coffee. The marines weren’t shouting or running, but you could see the tension in them. One of the soldiers, pretending to joke, put his vest and helmet on me. He said something—probably joking—and Louise explained that he’d asked me to guard his gear until things calmed down. But I understood: all this fuss was because of me. And he gave me the helmet not for fun, but to protect me from whoever had hidden in the boat that night.

Ded sat at my feet, looking in the same direction I was—not at the bullet, but at the sand.

“They think the shooter came ashore,” I whispered.

“They’re wrong,” Ded answered in my mind. “I would’ve smelled him. I memorized his scent in the boat. Sniffed everything he touched, on purpose. If I catch that scent again—I’ll know. And it’s not here. Not anywhere on this island.”

“So he’s gone?”

“Yes. During the night. By motorboat. I heard an engine approaching before dawn, then pulling away fast.”

I nodded. It had all been more or less clear already, but Grandfather’s confirmation settled it.

Louise was nervous too. I tried to tell her there was nowhere left to hide on the island, and the shooter was surely long gone. But she insisted that since I had been the target, we all had to return to the Équinoxe and leave the island at once. The treasure didn’t need us to guard it anymore—there were marines and archaeologists for that. And nearly everyone agreed with her.

Arina also said that we’d already stayed on the island too long, and the expedition had research plans no one had canceled. So the crew of the Équinoxe packed up and returned to the ship—seeking shelter behind the safety of its steel hull. Only the marines and archaeologists stayed onshore to guard the treasure and wait for the main group, whose ship wasn’t due for another six days.

By the end of the day, the Équinoxe was already at sea, heading for the Sargasso. I used to think the Sargasso Sea and the Bermuda Triangle were the same thing. But Louise explained the difference: the Sargasso Sea is a region in the middle of the North Atlantic, surrounded by ocean currents. The Bermuda Triangle is an imaginary zone, with corners at Miami, San Juan, and the Bermuda Islands.

“Stories of disappearing ships and planes? Mostly sea legends,” Louise said. “But vessels really do avoid the thick sargassum clusters. And now those same waters are choked with floating trash.”

“That’s exactly why we’re here,” she said, pointing at a chart in the mess hall. “All these zones are potential collection points. Bottles, nets, rubber, silicone, styrofoam, crates, spray cans, ropes. Different materials require different recycling approaches.”

“The drone with the claw approaches the trash island and collects samples,” Christian added, showing tablet photos of floating trash mountains—easy to mistake for real islands.

“That’s where I come in,” said Cécile with a smile, pointing at the vials filled with green-tinged fragments.
“My job is to understand how this waste affects the water’s composition. We’re testing different recycling methods.”

“And all of it,” Arina said, wrapping her arms around me, “so our children won’t breathe in microplastics or poison themselves on mercury-laced fish. So they can live full lives.”

“To save the sea!” I said, full of sudden joy.

“To save the sea,” she echoed.

I nodded silently. For the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel like a random tagalong or a curious little animal. I felt like part of something bigger. A real member of the crew.

The Équinoxe cut through the waves, heading toward new sampling zones. Onboard, among scientists and sailors, was a small boy named Toma and his dog—a living reminder of who we were doing this for.
And as the ship followed its course, I began to find my place in this world. No rush, no pressure—just gradually dissolving into the shared work, like sea salt in water.

The uncertainty had vanished without a trace.
Louise no longer left me alone with my doubts. The French lessons gave way to stories about her work. That’s how I learned that behind her modest appearance was one of Europe’s leading oceanographers—a research director at IFREMER and curator of a massive EU-funded ocean cleanup program.

“My team in Brest calls me ‘the boss,’” she said with a grin, showing me photos of her lab.
“But here I’m just Louise. Although…” — she poked a finger into my chest — “if you ever see me yelling about a broken drone, you’ll understand why the sailors on the Équinoxe nicknamed me Fury.”

It turned out she had twenty expeditions behind her—ranging from the Arctic to the coral reefs of New Caledonia. And for the past five years, she had dedicated herself to fighting plastic in the Sargasso Sea.

I gradually settled into the rhythm of life at sea—like a sponge soaking up water. At first I just watched quietly. Then I started helping. Alice gasped when I sorted thirty samples by code without a single mistake. Jean, a born mechanic, suddenly let me hold his tools while he fixed the pump. And Thierry… Thierry made me his apprentice in the galley.

“Onions first, then carrots,” he grumbled, watching me chop vegetables. “Don’t slice—hack! Ever seen someone split logs with an axe? Like that!”

By the third day, I already knew—this was my place. Here, among these people. Even Ded, usually skeptical, now circled the galley with confidence, begging for scraps.

But we let our guard down. Three days after leaving Black Turtle Island, two suspicious boats appeared on the horizon.

Pirates.
They had found us.

***

After their prison break, Dok’s gang wasted no time. From Pinder, they learned that the Équinoxe had departed L’Île-Échouée. The hunt was on.

“We disguise the boats as coast guard patrols,” said Dok, pointing at a marked spot on the chart. “We approach at night, cut their comms, take the ship by force, grab the boy, and vanish. Thirty minutes, start to finish.”

Shadow racked the bolt of his rifle in silent approval.

“Even if by some miracle they call for help, it’ll take a plane at least ninety minutes to get there. We’ll be long gone.”

Elk turned a radio over in his hands, skeptical.
“The treasure’s still on the island. That ship’s full of scientists and glass tubes. No gold, no cash. Why risk your freedom for some scrawny kid?”

Dok slowly turned to him. The same fire that had carried them through storms now burned in his eyes.

“He’s not just a kid. He’s the one the sea chose. Tell me, Elk—when was the last time you made a vow?
I swore it back in that cell, to myself, to all of you, and to the ocean:
that boy is going to be one of us.”

"Elk… it wasn’t just a miss." Shadow’s voice was low.
"I fired three times—and each time, something got in the way. It wasn’t wind. It wasn’t shaking. It was like the sea itself wouldn’t let me hit him. Like its will turned my hand away."

"He’s not ordinary. Dok’s right. He’s not just a kid. He’s chosen."

Harpoon, sharpening his knife, gave a snorting chuckle:
"An' that mutt of his... I liked the beast. Proper animal. Shouldn't rot with those lab rats."

"They’re ours," Dok said, flicking a cigarette over the side.
"And we always take back what’s ours."

***

The boats sliced through the water at speed, their hulls rising onto plane as bow spray arced into the night.
On deck stood men in dark uniforms—no insignia, only counterfeit coast guard emblems stitched onto their sleeves.

“Two minutes to contact,” Shadow said, checking his tablet.
“Comms?” Elk asked curtly.
"Jammed," Shadow said flatly. "We’re already jamming. Nothing’s getting through."

Doc stared ahead, calculating.
He had no taste for unnecessary violence.
Even the dummy torpedo tubes, bolted hastily to the decks, were there purely to intimidate.
This had to be clean. No gunfire. No blood.

And there she was—the Équinoxe, her navigation lights glowing faintly in the black sea.

The boats moved in a coordinated pincer: one to port as a decoy, the other closing in on starboard for the boarding.

From the boat disguised as coast guard, flashing lights came on, and a piercing beam from the searchlight locked onto the bridge of the research vessel.

The sailors on Équinoxe’s deck exchanged confused looks—no one understood what was happening. It all looked like a routine inspection or escort.

Only when a commotion rose from the opposite side did the crew spring into action, racing to the water cannons in hopes of blasting the intruders into the sea. But it was already too late. Three pirates were climbing the storm ladder.

From the fake patrol boat, a voice barked through a loudhailer:

“If this vessel doesn’t halt immediately, we’ll fire torpedoes—and you’ll sink to the bottom!”

“To the citadel! Everyone below!” Captain Branc roared.
The citadel was a special armored compartment inside the ship’s hull, where the crew could shelter during an attack and send distress signals.

Besides water cannons, the Équinoxe was equipped with an LRAD—a long-range acoustic device, or, as the pirates called it, “the devil’s horn.” But they didn’t dare use it: its sound didn’t distinguish friend from foe. Anyone still on deck would have suffered just the same.

Captain Branc clenched his jaw.
He had no choice but to stop the ship.

Once it was clear the crew wasn’t going to resist, and the captain emerged from the wheelhouse with his hands raised, Dok decided to board himself and speak to him directly.

While the pirates moved methodically through the cabins, opening lockers in search of loot, Dok gestured for the captain to return to the bridge, and followed him up. Branc looked back, but said nothing.

By the coaming of the hatch, hidden in the black shadow of the ventilation stack, crouched the figure of Ded—still and silent.

His dark, coal-colored fur melted into the night, and only the gleam of his narrow eyes revealed he was there—
He wasn’t a hero.
But he wouldn’t leave Toma behind.

“Easy, Captain,” Dok said calmly—almost gently. “We don’t want your ship. We’re not here for your cargo.”

He could barely follow the pirate’s speech, but he couldn’t call out to Louise—the only one fluent in the local dialect. Too dangerous.
He stepped up to the helm, leaned on it, and stared at the screen displaying the navigation chart.

“We’re pirates—not fools,” Dok said, squinting. Then, realizing the captain didn’t understand, he switched to English.
“Listen, Cap. We want the boy. Just him. The sea chose that kid.”

Right then, Louise appeared in the wheelhouse.
She was wearing a shirt stained with iodine, her face pale.
She had heard the words “the boy,” and spoke up—voice steady despite the fear.

“Listen to me. The sea didn’t choose him. I did. I’m his legal guardian. And as long as I’m alive, he’s going nowhere—with anyone.”

“That’s what you think,” Dok rasped.
He was waiting—for the signal that the boy had been found, and they could leave the ship.

And then I stepped out from behind Louise.

“Why do you want me?” I asked the pirate.

He looked at Louise. Then at the captain. And finally—at me.

“You’re coming with us. That’s not up for debate. This place—it’s not for people like you and me, boy,” he said, locking eyes with me.

I didn’t look away.

“I’m not like you!” I said.
“I’m going to save the ocean. I’m staying with Louise. Black Turtle told me so.”

Silence fell.
Only the navigation lights blinked on the instruments, and the dark waves murmured at the stern.

Dok froze.
His fingers, trained to grip the hilt of a knife, clenched and unclenched on their own.

“Black Turtle…” he whispered.

He turned to the open porthole, where the night water stretched black and silent. Then, suddenly, he shouted into the darkness:

"You see?! I could’ve taken him right now! Raised him into a real pirate! I kept my promise—we're square! You made his choice for him!"

He turned back to Toma.
There was no anger in his eyes—only a strange kind of relief.

"Alright, kid. So the Turtle chose you to save the ocean.
And me? To watch how you do it.
I won’t take my eyes off you.
Remember that."

“Stay with them.”
He turned on his heel and walked out of the cabin.

The attack ended as suddenly as it had begun.
The pirates withdrew to their boats and vanished into the night—
as if they had never been aboard at all.

But they had been.
And now the crew had work to do:
figuring out how the pirates managed to board the ship unnoticed, assessing the damage, contacting the shore.

But for now...

Louise pulled me toward her and hugged me tight. Her eyes shone with tears.

Something stirred inside me—and I hugged her back.
For the first time, not out of fear, but for real.

“Does this mean… we’re a real family now? Yes?” I asked, not knowing why my throat suddenly felt hot.

Ded, who had been hiding all this time, ran up and sat at our feet, letting out a soft whine.
Louise laughed through her tears and hugged him too.

So we stood there— the three of us,
under the mute sky of the Atlantic.
In a silence full of meaning.

***

And so ends the first book about Toma and his companions.

Ahead of him lies a path of learning—making choices, making mistakes, discovering new things—
and perhaps changing not only himself, but the world around him. The treasure they found was only the beginning.
One day, he won’t build a ship or a fortress out of that treasure—but something entirely new.
But that’s a story for another time. If this one found its way into you, dear readers.

en 1

Correct

Corrections

shadowfax26

My Grandfather is a Giant Schnauzer

Chapter 11 – The Fury and the Pirates The bullet that had been found unsettled everyone on the island.

I stepped closer to take a look.

It lay sealed in a zip bag on a folding table, right next to a mug of still-warm coffee.

The marines weren’t shouting or running, but you could see the tension in them.

One of the soldiers, pretending to joke, put his vest and helmet on me.

He said something—probably joking—and Louise explained that he’d asked me to guard his gear until things calmed down.

But I understood: all this fuss was because of me.

And he gave me the helmet not for fun, but to protect me from whoever had hidden in the boat that night.

Ded sat at my feet, looking in the same direction I was—not at the bullet, but at the sand.

“They think the shooter came ashore,” I whispered.

“They’re wrong,” Ded answered in my mind.

“I would’ve smelled him.

I memorized his scent in the boat.

Sniffed everything he touched, on purpose.

If I catch that scent again—I’ll know.

And it’s not here.

Not anywhere on this island.” “So he’s gone?” “Yes.

During the night.

By motorboat.

I heard an engine approaching before dawn, then pulling away fast.” I nodded.

It had all been more or less clear already, but Grandfather’s confirmation settled it.

Louise was nervous too.

I tried to tell her there was nowhere left to hide on the island, and the shooter was surely long gone.

But she insisted that since I had been the target, we all had to return to the Équinoxe and leave the island at once.

The treasure didn’t need us to guard it anymore—there were marines and archaeologists for that.

And nearly everyone agreed with her.

Arina also said that we’d already stayed on the island too long, and the expedition had research plans no one had canceled.

So the crew of the Équinoxe packed up and returned to the ship—seeking shelter behind the safety of its steel hull.

Only the marines and archaeologists stayed onshore to guard the treasure and wait for the main group, whose ship wasn’t due for another six days.

By the end of the day, the Équinoxe was already at sea, heading for the Sargasso.

I used to think the Sargasso Sea and the Bermuda Triangle were the same thing.

But Louise explained the difference: the Sargasso Sea is a region in the middle of the North Atlantic, surrounded by ocean currents.

The Bermuda Triangle is an imaginary zone, with corners at Miami, San Juan, and the Bermuda Islands.

“Stories of disappearing ships and planes?

Mostly sea legends,” Louise said.

“But vessels really do avoid the thick sargassum clusters.

And now those same waters are choked with floating trash.” “That’s exactly why we’re here,” she said, pointing at a chart in the mess hall.

“All these zones are potential collection points.

Bottles, nets, rubber, silicone, styrofoam, crates, spray cans, ropes.

Different materials require different recycling approaches.” “The drone with the claw approaches the trash island and collects samples,” Christian added, showing tablet photos of floating trash mountains—easy to mistake for real islands.

“That’s where I come in,” said Cécile with a smile, pointing at the vials filled with green-tinged fragments.

“My job is to understand how this waste affects the water’s composition.

We’re testing different recycling methods.” “And all of it,” Arina said, wrapping her arms around me, “so our children won’t breathe in microplastics or poison themselves on mercury-laced fish.

So they can live full lives.” “To save the sea!” I said, full of sudden joy.

“To save the sea,” she echoed.

For the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel like a random tagalong or a curious little animal.

I felt like part of something bigger.

A real member of the crew.

The Équinoxe cut through the waves, heading toward new sampling zones.

Onboard, among scientists and sailors, was a small boy named Toma and his dog—a living reminder of who we were doing this for.

And as the ship followed its course, I began to find my place in this world.

No rush, no pressure—just gradually dissolving into the shared work, like sea salt in water.

The uncertainty had vanished without a trace.

Louise no longer left me alone with my doubts.

The French lessons gave way to stories about her work.

That’s how I learned that behind her modest appearance was one of Europe’s leading oceanographers—a research director at IFREMER and curator of a massive EU-funded ocean cleanup program.

“My team in Brest calls me ‘the boss,’” she said with a grin, showing me photos of her lab.

“But here I’m just Louise.

Although…” — she poked a finger into my chest — “if you ever see me yelling about a broken drone, you’ll understand why the sailors on the Équinoxe nicknamed me Fury.” It turned out she had twenty expeditions behind her—ranging from the Arctic to the coral reefs of New Caledonia.

And for the past five years, she had dedicated herself to fighting plastic in the Sargasso Sea.

I gradually settled into the rhythm of life at sea—like a sponge soaking up water.

At first I just watched quietly.

Then I started helping.

Alice gasped when I sorted thirty samples by code without a single mistake.

Jean, a born mechanic, suddenly let me hold his tools while he fixed the pump.

And Thierry… Thierry made me his apprentice in the galley.

“Onions first, then carrots,” he grumbled, watching me chop vegetables.

“Don’t slice—hack!

Ever seen someone split logs with an axe?

Like that!” By the third day, I already knew—this was my place.

Here, among these people.

Even Ded, usually skeptical, now circled the galley with confidence, begging for scraps.

But we let our guard down.

Three days after leaving Black Turtle Island, two suspicious boats appeared on the horizon.

Pirates.

They had found us.

*** After their prison break, Dok’s gang wasted no time.

From Pinder, they learned that the Équinoxe had departed L’Île-Échouée.

The hunt was on.

“We disguise the boats as coast guard patrols,” said Dok, pointing at a marked spot on the chart.

“We approach at night, cut their comms, take the ship by force, grab the boy, and vanish.

Thirty minutes, start to finish.” Shadow racked the bolt of his rifle in silent approval.

“Even if by some miracle they call for help, it’ll take a plane at least ninety minutes to get there.

We’ll be long gone.” Elk turned a radio over in his hands, skeptical.

“The treasure’s still on the island.

That ship’s full of scientists and glass tubes.

No gold, no cash.

Why risk your freedom for some scrawny kid?” Dok slowly turned to him.

The same fire that had carried them through storms now burned in his eyes.

“He’s not just a kid.

He’s the one the sea chose.

Tell me, Elk—when was the last time you made a vow?

I swore it back in that cell, to myself, to all of you, and to the ocean: that boy is going to be one of us.” "Elk… it wasn’t just a miss."

Shadow’s voice was low.

"I fired three times—and each time, something got in the way.

It wasn’t wind.

It wasn’t shaking.

It was like the sea itself wouldn’t let me hit him.

Like its will turned my hand away."

"He’s not ordinary.

Dok’s right.

He’s not just a kid.

He’s chosen."

Harpoon, sharpening his knife, gave a snorting chuckle: "An' that mutt of his...

I liked the beast.

Proper animal.

Shouldn't rot with those lab rats."

"They’re ours," Dok said, flicking a cigarette over the side.

"And we always take back what’s ours."

*** The boats sliced through the water at speed, their hulls rising onto plane as bow spray arced into the night.

On deck stood men in dark uniforms—no insignia, only counterfeit coast guard emblems stitched onto their sleeves.

“Two minutes to contact,” Shadow said, checking his tablet.

“Comms?” Elk asked curtly.

"Jammed," Shadow said flatly.

"We’re already jamming.

Nothing’s getting through."

Doc stared ahead, calculating.

Even the dummy torpedo tubes, bolted hastily to the decks, were there purely to intimidate.

This had to be clean.

No gunfire.

No blood.

And there she was—the Équinoxe, her navigation lights glowing faintly in the black sea.

The boats moved in a coordinated pincer: one to port as a decoy, the other closing in on starboard for the boarding.

From the boat disguised as coast guard, flashing lights came on, and a piercing beam from the searchlight locked onto the bridge of the research vessel.

The sailors on Équinoxe’s deck exchanged confused looks—no one understood what was happening.

It all looked like a routine inspection or escort.

Only when a commotion rose from the opposite side did the crew spring into action, racing to the water cannons in hopes of blasting the intruders into the sea.

But it was already too late.

Three pirates were climbing the storm ladder.

From the fake patrol boat, a voice barked through a loudhailer: “If this vessel doesn’t halt immediately, we’ll fire torpedoes—and you’ll sink to the bottom!” “To the citadel!

Everyone below!” Captain Branc roared.

The citadel was a special armored compartment inside the ship’s hull, where the crew could shelter during an attack and send distress signals.

Besides water cannons, the Équinoxe was equipped with an LRAD—a long-range acoustic device, or, as the pirates called it, “the devil’s horn.” But they didn’t dare use it: its sound didn’t distinguish friend from foe.

Anyone still on deck would have suffered just the same.

Captain Branc clenched his jaw.

He had no choice but to stop the ship.

Once it was clear the crew wasn’t going to resist, and the captain emerged from the wheelhouse with his hands raised, Dok decided to board himself and speak to him directly.

While the pirates moved methodically through the cabins, opening lockers in search of loot, Dok gestured for the captain to return to the bridge, and followed him up.

Branc looked back, but said nothing.

By the coaming of the hatch, hidden in the black shadow of the ventilation stack, crouched the figure of Ded—still and silent.

His dark, coal-colored fur melted into the night, and only the gleam of his narrow eyes revealed he was there— He wasn’t a hero.

But he wouldn’t leave Toma behind.

“Easy, Captain,” Dok said calmly—almost gently.

“We don’t want your ship.

We’re not here for your cargo.” He could barely follow the pirate’s speech, but he couldn’t call out to Louise—the only one fluent in the local dialect.

Too dangerous.

He stepped up to the helm, leaned on it, and stared at the screen displaying the navigation chart.

“We’re pirates—not fools,” Dok said, squinting.

Then, realizing the captain didn’t understand, he switched to English.

“Listen, Cap.

We want the boy.

Just him.

The sea chose that kid.” Right then, Louise appeared in the wheelhouse.

She was wearing a shirt stained with iodine, her face pale.

She had heard the words “the boy,” and spoke up—voice steady despite the fear.

“Listen to me.

The sea didn’t choose him.

I did.

I’m his legal guardian.

And as long as I’m alive, he’s going nowhere—with anyone.” “That’s what you think,” Dok rasped.

He was waiting—for the signal that the boy had been found, and they could leave the ship.

And then I stepped out from behind Louise.

“Why do you want me?” I asked the pirate.

He looked at Louise.

Then at the captain.

And finally—at me.

“You’re coming with us.

That’s not up for debate.

This place—it’s not for people like you and me, boy,” he said, locking eyes with me.

I didn’t look away.

“I’m not like you!” I said.

“I’m going to save the ocean.

I’m staying with Louise.

Black Turtle told me so.” Silence fell.

Only the navigation lights blinked on the instruments, and the dark waves murmured at the stern.

Dok froze.

His fingers, trained to grip the hilt of a knife, clenched and unclenched on their own.

“Black Turtle…” he whispered.

He turned to the open porthole, where the night water stretched black and silent.

Then, suddenly, he shouted into the darkness: "You see?!

I could’ve taken him right now!

Raised him into a real pirate!

I kept my promise—we're square!

You made his choice for him!"

He turned back to Toma.

There was no anger in his eyes—only a strange kind of relief.

"Alright, kid.

So the Turtle chose you to save the ocean.

And me?

To watch how you do it.

I won’t take my eyes off you.

Remember that."

“Stay with them.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the cabin.

The attack ended as suddenly as it had begun.

The pirates withdrew to their boats and vanished into the night— as if they had never been aboard at all.

But they had been.

And now the crew had work to do: figuring out how the pirates managed to board the ship unnoticed, assessing the damage, contacting the shore.

But for now... Louise pulled me toward her and hugged me tight.

Her eyes shone with tears.

Something stirred inside me—and I hugged her back.

For the first time, not out of fear, but for real.

“Does this mean… we’re a real family now?

Yes?” I asked, not knowing why my throat suddenly felt hot.

Ded, who had been hiding all this time, ran up and sat at our feet, letting out a soft whine.

Louise laughed through her tears and hugged him too.

So we stood there— the three of us, under the mute sky of the Atlantic.

In a silence full of meaning.

*** And so ends the first book about Toma and his companions.

Ahead of him lies a path of learning—making choices, making mistakes, discovering new things— and perhaps changing not only himself, but the world around him.

The treasure they found was only the beginning.

One day, he won’t build a ship or a fortress out of that treasure—but something entirely new.

But that’s a story for another time.

If this one found its way into you, dear readers.

"Alright, kid.