The Rogue Crew (9 page)

The fat stoat cringed away from the steel points. “I can take ye t'the spot where the ship made land an' I 'opped off. But why she berthed there I don't know. Nobeast aboard ever tole me nothin', sir. I didn't even know where we was sailin' to. On me oath, I never!”

After breaking camp, the sergeant unbound Crumdun but kept him on a rope halter. The column marched down out of the dunes onto the shore.

The stoat pointed. “That ways, straight north.”

Trug Bawdsley, paw on swordhilt, kept trying to edge within blade distance of the prisoner. Lieutenant Scutram clasped his paw tightly over Trug's, stopping him from drawing his blade.

“What the deuce are ye playin' at, Bawdsley?”

Trug gritted his teeth with rage. “My sister Trey, she was slain by that vermin an' his crew. Allow me to draw my sword, sah. I mean to kill him!”

Scutram released the young hare's paw, shaking his head. “Carry on, by all means, Bawdsley. I'll write it up in my report as an act of bravery. ‘Private Trug Bawdsley slays a foe in an heroic battle. The vermin, a half-starved stoat, was unarmed and held under guard on a rope halter. Bawdsley showed great courage by attacking him with a sword. The prisoner did not—beg pardon, could not—defend himself.' There, young Trug, how does that jolly well sound, wot?”

Shamefaced, the young hare did not attempt to draw steel.

“Blinkin' awful, sah. 'Twould make me sound like a coward.”

The lieutenant winked broadly as he patted Trug's back. “You're no coward, young un, anybeast could tell that. Wait, watch an' learn, Bawdsley, an' one day you'll make us all proud o' ye, eh!”

Trug squared his shoulders, saluting. “Aye, sah!”

Captain Rake Nightfur gave a tug on the prisoner's halter. “We've been marchin' the best part o' the morn, ye rascal. Where are ye takin' us tae?”

Before Crumdun could answer, Buff Redspore, who had climbed back into the dunes to scout the land, called out. “North an' a point west along the shore, sah—can't make out what it is. Shall I scout ahead an' see?”

Captain Rake waved a paw. “Aye, do that, lassie. Sarn't Miggory, go with her in case o' bother.”

Miggory joined the tracker as she descended out of the dunes. Together they set off at a brisk run along the tideline.

As the column followed up at normal march pace, the haremaid Ferrul looked at Wilbee, who was trudging alongside her.

“Beg pardon, did you say somethin'?”

Wilbee pointed to himself. “Who, me? No, 'twas Drander.”

Drander explained mournfully, “I never said a word. It's this bloomin' belly o' mine, growlin' an' beggin' for scoff.”

Flutchers, another young ranker, grinned foolishly. “Y'don't say? My tummy is, too. Listen, can ye hear it?”

He began making a noise out the side of his mouth, like a growling stomach speaking actual words. “Gwaaaa w w w , I want lunch! Kwuuuurrr! Gimme some grub!”

This caused general merriment amongst the young hares, who began imitating Flutchers.

“Bwuuurrr! Foooooood, I wan' foooood!”

“Kwuuurrrrk! Scoffff, I need scooooofffff!”

Corporal Welkin Dabbs was down on them sternly. “Silence in the ranks, ye bellowin' beasts! Don't think ye can start playactin' 'cos Sarn't Miggory ain't here. The next growlin' gut I hear'll be on half rations an' double guard duty tonight! D'ye hear me, wot!”

Ferrul fluttered her eyelashes prettily. “We hear you, Corporal!”

Dabbs pulled a ferocious face at her. “Then pay attention, me beauty. I may only be a corporal, but I'm an 'orrible, fearsome corporal who'll have your ears for breakfast, your scuts for snacks an' your guts for garters! Wot'll I have, Miss Ferrul?”

The pretty haremaid fluttered her eyelids again, replying in a soothing tone, “You'll have the most frightful headache if you continue bellowing like that, Corporal dear.”

Welkin Dabbs glared at her, his ears a-twitch with wrath. “Watch that dressin'! Pick up your pace at the back there! Hup two, left right! Shoulders back, Wilbee. Eyes to the front, Miss Ferrul! Now march, you sloppy, straw-pawed,'orrible, misbegotten lot!”

From the ranks, an unidentified young hare sobbed mockingly, “Oh, dear. I wish our lovely old sergeant would come and rescue us from this cruel corporal!”

 

The object Buff Redspore had espied from the dunetop appeared as no more than a dark smudge above the tideline. Miggory's paws drummed time with the tracker's as they drew closer to their goal. The sergeant put on a spurt. Drawing ahead of Buff, he held up a paw, calling out a warning.

“Hold 'ard, marm. Let me take a peep first!”

Buff knew Miggory never acted without purpose. She halted but could not help querying his motive. “I say, Sarge, why do I have to stay here?”

Miggory's reply was terse. “Just smelled somethin' I don't like. Stay put, if ye please, marm.”

It was a large mound of ash, black, white and grey, from a sizeable fire long gone cold. The grizzled colour sergeant stirred the debris with a swift paw. He crouched down, eyes roving over the area, shaking his head.

The tracker took a few tentative paces forward. “What is it, sah . . . ?”

Miggory whirled in her direction, his voice loud and strained. “Wot did I tell ye, Redspore? Stay back! Take yoreself off now, back t'the column. Tell Corporal Dabbs t'keep the young uns away. Send Cap'n Rake an' Lieutenant Scutram t'me, quick h'as ye like!”

Buff hesitated. “But, Sergeant, what is it?”

Miggory's bellowing sent her scurrying to obey.

“Don't argue with me—just do as yore h'ordered!”

The column stood well off downshore as Captain Rake and Scutram crouched amidst the ashes with Miggory. Rake Nightfur's eyes were blank with shock as he picked an object from the ruins.

“What manner o' monster could do sich a thing tae another creature? Ah've never seen ought like et!”

Scutram surveyed the awful scene, leaning on a lance. “Aye, this has got t'be the work of a Wearat, sah.”

Young Uggo Wiltud soon found that Jum Gurdy's bark was not serious, and his supposed bite was nonexistent. The young hedgehog knew that the otter, despite his forbidding size and appearance, was quite easygoing. Together they trudged off along the path, cutting across the ditch and travelling west through the area of Mossflower woodlands which skirted the vast flatlands. Midmorning saw warm sun seeping through the leafy canopy of oak, beech, elm, sycamore and other big trees. Soft, loamy earth was sprouting with grass, young fern, cowslip, primrose, silverweed, milkwort and alkanet. Birdsong was everywhere, echoing through patches of sunlight and shade.

None of this was of any great interest to Uggo, whose stomach had been telling him of his need for food all morning. Jum, who had been forging doggedly ahead, turned to the young laggard in his wake. “Are ye weary already, Master Wiltud?”

The reply was loud and swift. “No, I'm 'ungry, Mister Gurdy!”

Jum nodded at the sky. “Sun ain't reached midday yet. That's when we stops for lunch. Keep goin' awhile yet.” He carried on.

Uggo followed, but not without complaint. “Huh, 'tis alright for you, Mister Gurdy. You 'ad brekkist back at the Abbey, but I never, an' I'm starvin'!”

The otter leaned on the lance he used as a travelling stave. “Ho, dearie me, pore liddle 'og. Wot a pity ye can't go sneakin' off down t'the kitchens a-stealin' vittles.”

Uggo stuck out his lower lip surlily. “Wouldn't 'ave to. There's always summat t'be 'ad round Redwall. You only'ave to ask nicely.”

Jum made a sweeping gesture with his stave. “An' wot about ole Mossflower, eh? There's plenty t'be 'ad around here without even the askin'!”

Uggo chanced a scornful snort. “Hah! Like wot?”

The big otter cast swiftly about, then pulled a stem with yellow buds adorning it. “Like this. Try it.”

The young hedgehog took the stem, sniffed it, then took a tentative nibble. “Tastes funny—wot is it?”

Jum shook his head pityingly. “You young uns are too used t'bein' carried round an' gettin' vittles served up on a platter. That's young dannelion, matey. I ate many a stem o' that when I was yore age. Now, try some o' these.”

He gathered various pieces of early vegetation, feeding them one by one to Uggo and explaining.

“This is alkanet—taste like cucumber, don't it? Try some coltsfoot. Nice, ain't it? This one's tutsan, good for ye. Charlock, sweet Cicely. There's all manner o' vittles growin' wild in the woodlands. No need t'go 'ungry.”

Uggo chewed gingerly, pulling a wry face at the bitter flavour of one particular plant.

“T'aint the same as proper food, though, is it, Mister Gurdy?”

Jum snorted at the lack of gratitude. “Maybe not to yore way o' thinkin', but 'twill keep ye goin' until lunchtime. Now stop moanin' an' git walkin'!”

When midday eventually came, Jum was secretly glad of the rest. He had aged, and he had put on weight being in charge of Redwall's Cellars. It was some while since he had undertaken a journey to the coast. Careful not to let his young companion see that he was tired, the big otter put on a springy step.

“Keep up now, Master Wiltud. Yore fallin' behind agin!”

Uggo was not in a good mood. He pointed angrily upward. “You said we was goin' t'stop for lunch when the sun reached midday. It did that some time ago, an' you ain't stopped. Wot are we waitin' for, Mister Gurdy, nighttime?”

It was the sight of a stream ahead which prompted the otter to say, “On the bank o' yon water 'neath that willow. That's the spot I was aimin' for. Would've been there afore, except for yore laggin' behind.”

It was indeed a pleasant location. They soon had a small fire going and mint tea on the boil. From the haversack, Jum sorted out some cheese, scones and honey. Cooling his footpaws in the shallows, he oversaw Uggo toasting two scones with cheese on them. “That's the way, matey. Nice'n'brown underneath with bubbly cheese atop. Perfect!”

The young hog did not mind preparing lunch. “I'll need two more scones, to spread honey on for afters.”

Uggo was surprised at how good food tasted outdoors.

After they had eaten, Jum spread a large dockleaf over his eyes. Lying back against the willow trunk, he settled down.

“Let's take a liddle nap. Ain't nothin' like the sound of a gentle runnin' stream at early noon.”

Uggo skimmed pebbles awhile, then felt bored. “I ain't sleepy, Mister Gurdy.”

The otter opened one eye. “Go 'way an' don't bother me fer a while. Do a spot o' fishin' or somethin'.”

Uggo stared into the clear running stream. “But there ain't no fish t'be seen round here.”

The otter gave a long sigh. “Well, go downstream. There's a small cove where the water's still. May'aps ye'll find some freshwater shrimp there, an' we'll make soup fer supper t'night.”

Uggo persisted. “I'll need a rod an' line.”

Jum took on a threatening tone. “Ye don't catch watershrimp with a rod'n'line. Take one o' them scone sacks an' make a net. I trust yore not so dim that ye can't make a simple fishnet, are ye?”

Uggo stumped off, muttering, “O' course I can make a net. I ain't dim, Mister Gurdy. You take yore nap. Huh, oldbeasts need naps!”

It was lucky for him that Jum did not hear most of what he said. Closing his eyes, he settled down with a yawn.

Finding a long twig with a forked end, the would-be shrimpcatcher attached the ends to either side of the little cloth sack. Making his way downstream, he watched the water intently, feeling happy about his new purpose, still murmuring to himself. “Just wait, Jum Gurdy. I'll catch a whole netful o' watershrimps. Then I'll creep back an' flop them in yore lap—that'll waken ye!”

The cove was further than he had expected, but Uggo finally came across it—a small inlet, patrolled by dragonflies skimming the still, dark water. There were no shrimp to be seen, but Uggo gave his net a speedy pull beneath the murky surface. Pulling it out, he turned the net inside out and was rewarded by the sight of two tiny, transparent-grey, wriggling things.

“Ahaah! There ye are, me liddle watershrimps! Any others swimmin' about down there? Let's see, shall we?”

 

A curious wasp, investigating one of Jum Gurdy's eyelids, woke him. He brushed it off dozily and was about to continue his nap when he noticed the position of the sun through the hanging willow branches. It was past midnoon! The big otter heaved himself upright. Had he really been asleep all that time? Taking the pan of lukewarm mint tea from the ashes of the dead fire, he drank it in one draught. A quick dash of streamwater across his face brought Jum fully awake and alert.