‘Look, what’s that? The water’s all ripply out there.’
In a trice Finnbarr was across the deck and up on the bowsprit alongside the squirrel. ‘Show me, Benjy, mate?’
‘There, see Mr Finnbarr, the sun glitters on it!’
‘Aye, I sees it, messmate. Joseph! Bring that tiller about, it could be a shoal of small fishes. You young uns, go an’ ’elp Log a Log rig up some nets. Mebbe our luck is back. Well done Benjy!’
Joseph and Log a Log watched the strange rippling water as Pearl Queen sailed towards it. The shrew Chieftain was plainly puzzled. ‘Never seen nothin’ like that before, hope it’s not rocks under the surface or anythin’ dangerous. What d’you s’pose it is, Joseph?’
‘I don’t know enough about the sea to say, friend. It certainly is odd though. Our best bet is to follow orders and trust Finnbarr. Are the nets ready?’
‘Aye, I’ve posted Fatch an’ the rest at the stern. We’ll do a spot of trawling if it is small fish.’
Figgs had given up trying to eat Rosie. Now she sat on the hare’s shoulders, gazing out over the flurrying, rippling strip of sea that came out of nowhere and vanished into the distance. It was about twenty boat-lengths wide.
The nets were cast over as soon as Pearl Queen entered the disturbed patch of water. Finnbarr Galedeep hung over the stern peering into the meshes at the grey wriggling swarms trapped in them. Pulling himself back on deck, he clapped Log a Log’s back with a paw that was hearty as it was heavy, and shouted, ‘Shrimp! We sailed into shoals of shrimp!’
A cheer went up from the crew. Rosie and Figgs headed swiftly for the galley. ‘Whoohahahooh! D’you hear that Figgs, shrimp! Now, I’m sure I spotted some mushrooms and spring onions. Aha, leeks! It’s shrimp stew all round for tea, what d’you say Figgs?’
‘Thrimps? Lack a day, tucker gone, Figgs want thrimps!’
Finnbarr helped the crew pull in the nets that bulged with grey wriggling shrimps. ‘Haharr, they’ll soon be all pink an’ tender when they gits cooked,’ the sea otter chortled. ‘I wonder, is there any pepper about? Great seasons, there’s a dish t’warm the cockles of yer ’eart, shrimp stew with hotroot pepper aplenty. Ahoy there, Bandle, steer us out o’ this lot now, we got enough!’
A panicked cry rang out from the shrew at the tiller. ‘I can’t hold ’er, Finnbarr. We’re bein’ pulled into the ripplin’ water, I can’t get ’er out!’
Finnbarr dropped the nets and dashed to the tiller. ‘Give it ’ere mate, this ship ain’t goin’ nowhere I don’t want it to. Come over, Pearl!’ The sea otter fought with all his strength against the tiller, trying to get the vessel back into calm seas.
Joseph strolled up and stood grinning at him. Finnbarr Galedeep’s face was a picture of disbelief. ‘Joseph, what ails yer, matey? Don’t stan’ there grinnin’ like a witless woodypecker, lend a paw ’ere an’ quick!’
The Bellmaker shook his grizzled head, saying, ‘Seems like your luck is back, Finn, you old wavedog. Shrimp stew for supper and you’ve found Roaringburn again.’
The sea otter’s jaw dropped in amazement. ‘Roarin-’burn?’
Joseph flung out a paw at-the rippling waters. ‘Aye, Roaringburn, look at the speed we’re travelling and headed due south too. What else could it be?’
Finnbarr gave over trying to control the tiller; he put it on a rope holder, due south. ‘Well, swoggle me whiskers an’ rot me rudder, if I ain’t a bottle-nosed son of a barnacle. Roarin’burn! Come ’ere, young Wincey, an’ give yer ole uncle Finn a great big kiss fer more luck!’
Wincey obliged, then ran off scrubbing at her lips. ‘Phtooh! Sea otter’s whiskers, yukk, tough an’ salty!’
As evening fell, Rosie wiped a paw across her brow, weary of serving up helpings of Figg’n’Rosie shrimp-stew. She filled Foremole’s bowl, saying, ‘Mercy me, Figgs, how many more to come?’
The tiny ottermaid was seated on a stool, helping out. She glared at a shrew who was shuffling in in a guilty manner. ‘Lack a day, Figgs seen you afore, two times – no more f’you! Mercy me, lots more wants more, miz Rosie.’
Figgs was a proper little tyrant, she rapped Finnbarr with a ladle as he held out his bowl. ‘None f’you ’til you singasong. Figgs wants a song!’
The sea otter shook his ottercordion at her. ‘If you wasn’t so lucky I’d a cooked ye along with those shrimps, young Figgs.’
Figgs narrowed her eyes and brandished the ladle. ‘I cook you if you don’t singasong young Finnbars!’
Finnbarr Galedeep riffled off a jaunty chord. ‘I’m too young t’be cooked. I’ll sing for ye Figgs.’
Pearl Queen sped south into the night with the merry strains of singing hovering in her wake. The small galley was packed with crew, firelight from the stove flickering on their faces as they ate supper and listened to Finnbarr’s song.
‘Well there ain’t a dish in all the world,
As good as ole shrimp stew,
An’ this is the best I’ve ever ’ad,
An’ I’ve ’ad quite a few,
You kin keep yore big sea biscuits,
That duff an’ skilly too,
I’ll scrape me bowl an’ lick me spoon,
An’ sing to you by the light o’ the moon,
There’s better days a comin’ soon,
But none quite like tonight!’
It was still dark when Wincey shook Joseph. He sat up on the hatch covers rubbing sleep from his eyes. ‘What’s the matter, little one?’ he asked.
‘The ship’s stopped, Joseph.’ The Bellmaker sat quite still, holding his head to one side as he listened for the familiar noise of rigging, sail and wind. Taking Wincey’s paw he rose. ‘You’re right, the ship has stopped. I wonder why?’
Together they made their way up to the prow. Joseph lifted her on to the bowsprit as he peered over the for’ard end. The Pearl Queen lay in shallow water, nosed deep into a broad sandbank. To the west the Roaringburn current could be seen, running off into a distant arc. A movement close by caused Joseph to turn – it was Finnbarr.
‘Looks like the current don’t want us no more, matey. She’s drifted us off on to this ’ere sandbank, we’ve run out o’luck again.’
Joseph lifted Wincey down. ‘Go and get Benjy, little maid, and bring him here, quickly. Hold hard a moment, Finn. I think our luck may still be running good.’
Benjy came pattering along paw in paw with Wincey. Joseph boosted him up so he could see over the rail. ‘Tell me, Benjy, these sandbanks, those little islands yonder and that shoreline behind them, do you recognize them?’
The young squirrel nodded vigorously and spoke only one word – ‘Southsward.’
Joseph lowered him to the deck. ‘That’s what I thought. I’ve seen this coast once before from the deck of a ship some seasons ago, though I’ve never been ashore here. As soon as I saw it I had a feeling inside that this was Southsward. We made it, Finnbarr!’
The Bellmaker and the sea otter shook paws firmly.
Dawn came gently. A slight inshore mist lifting under the sun’s warmth revealed a verdant coast fringed with silver sand and backed by luxuriant woodland. As the last of the ship’s food and water was issued for breakfast, Log a Log joined Finnbarr and Joseph on the forecastle. Below on the hatch covers, Pearl Queen’s crew sat waiting for orders. Finnbarr gestured in the direction of land.
‘That’s Southsward mates, the place we set out t’find,’ he said. ‘It might look peaceable right now, but don’t let that fool ye. First we got to git ole Pearl Queen on an even keel in a safe cove; we kin manage that with a bit o’ tuggin’ an’ shovin’ when y’ve finished yer vittles, Joseph.’
The Bellmaker stood forward to speak his piece. ‘Then we choose our weapons and strike inland. No cooking fires, and sentries and lookouts at all times. Listen to me carefully – if you don’t it may cost you your life. Benjy knows this country and he will be our guide. Log a Log, have your Guosim protect our sides and rear wherever we go. Fatch, Durry, Rufe, you will scout ahea
d with Benjy. Take care of him, only he knows the way.
Rosie, you and Foremole will be in charge of the armoury – make sure everybeast is kitted out with the weapons that suit them best. If what Benjy has told me is correct, we are up against a large horde, far larger than we could ever imagine facing. So we must act as a guerrilla unit, hit and run all the time, and weaken the enemy by chipping away at their numbers. Most of you know Mariel and Dandin. We are searching for them, so look before you loose arrows or slingstones. I have my own ideas where we will find my daughter and her friend – right in the middle of any trouble we come across, so be prepared. Log a Log, have you anything to add?’
The shrew Chieftain drew his short rapier and showed it, blade foremost, to his tribe. ‘Guosim, you know how to use these, swift and quiet. Protect our friends at all times and make them proud to fight by your side in battle.’
It took half the morning to prise Pearl Queen off the sandbank. The crew strove, waist deep in seawater, levering and using log rollers. Once the ship was back afloat she was towed on two stout ropes by the crew. Panting and struggling they pulled her through the shallows to a wooded cove. There she was made fast to three trees on slacked ropes that allowed room for the tide’s rise and fall.
The afternoon was taken up with the issue of weapons. Rosie Woodsorrel tested would-be archers before giving them bows and arrows. She had a good eye for slingers, javelin throwers and spearbeasts too. Beside their chosen weapon every crew member was given a knife or sword from the searats’ well-stocked armoury. Wincey, Benjy and Figgs, accompanied by Durry, Rufe and Fatch, collected buckets of hard, round seawashed pebbles from the tideline for slingstones.
Evening shades fell as the sun started to dip below the western sea. Joseph stood on the cove bank with his little army, watching Finnbarr say goodbye to his ship. The sea otter had personally checked that all the sails were reefed tight under their mast spars; every piece of rigging he inspected, carefully coiling each rope and line. After battening down the hatches and securing galley and cabin doors he leapt ashore.
‘Take a good rest, Queen,’ he said, ‘y’ve earned it. We’ll see yer when we gets back off this trip if our luck stays with us.’ All the crew raised their weapons in a salute to the good ship they had come to love so well.
Then they turned inland to whatever fate and fortune would bring them. Death or victory.
29
WARM DUSK STOLE through the twilight at the pond’s edge in Redwall Abbey’s grounds; moths fluttered softly over shimmering firelight reflections upon the still waters. Scarlet and gold flames flickered upward from the fire, their light forming a cave in the encroaching dark of night. Oak Tom and his pretty wife Treerose had temporarily deserted their Mossflower seclusion to be at the festivities. Tom tended the fire whilst Treerose supervised the roasting of wheat ears.
Tarquin L. Woodsorrel was in fine form. He had taken command of his leveret family, who were laying out the food. ‘You there, thingummy, stop paddlin’ in the water an’ give y’sister some assistance to fill up the plates – and wipe y’paws.’
‘Got it pater, assist the sister, what’s to be done?’
Tarquin sent young hares scurrying as he explained, ‘Simple really, one small fruit pie to each plate, four candied chestnuts, three honeyed plums and a good ladle of meadowcream to dip ’em in, per plate, per creature.’
‘But what about this scrummy cheese’n’celery dip, papa?’
‘Oh, er, nip back t’the kitchens, you three, an’ get the small wooden bowls to put it in. You there, sir, what’s y’name? Don’t put the cheese’n’celery stuff on the plates with the fruit pies, not done, y’know.’
‘Papa, shall I slice these oat farls an’ put em round the salad in a nice pattern?’
‘What? Er, yes, there’s a good little haremaid. No! Give me that knife, I’ll do the slicin’. You, whatsaname, will y’come out the water, please. Oh hares’n’horrors! Rosie, where are you? I can’t control this bally brood of yours, mine, I mean ours. Stop scoffin’ those honey-plums, you rip!’
Simeon and Mellus sat with their footpaws in the shallows, oblivious to the bustle around them.
‘Ah, this is the life, Simeon, I haven’t done this since I was a Dibbun. Nothing like it for cooling the paws after a hot day.’
‘Indeed, it certainly is refreshing. The old Abbey pond, there was nothing like it when we were Dibbuns. Fished it in spring, swam around it in summer, sailed and skimmed pebbles over it in autumn and skated on it in winter. What a useful thing it is to be sure, Mellus. Listen, I can hear Oak Tom planning other uses for our pond.’
The sturdy squirrel had Blaggut and Slipp by their ears, shaking them sternly as he lectured on manners. ‘It’s share an’ share alike at Redwall. If I catch either of you grabbing roasted wheat ears before the others I’ll duck some courtesy into you in yonder pond, understand?’
The two searats were dancing a little jig of agony as Tom tugged their ears, when the mousebabe intervened. ‘They ’ad enuff now, Tom. C’mon, Blackguts an’ Slick, me’n Furrtil wants you to put lanterns in our boats.’
Oak Tom released the searats and watched them follow the mousebabe off to the boats, rubbing their ears and grumbling. The squirrel dusted his paws off reflectively. ‘I don’t like those two, they’re trouble, you mark my words!’
Treerose pulled roasted wheat ears from the embers at the fire’s edge and stacked them with others, ready to be dipped into the bowls of celery and cheese. ‘Oh, give them a chance, Tom,’ she said. ‘They’re not used to Abbey life like Redwallers are. Now, how many more wheat ears do I need?’
Benches and logs had been placed in a circle not far from the fire. Everybeast found a seat, and the food was served. As Abbot Saxtus shared a bowl of dip and wheat ears with Brother Fingle he looked around at the happy faces in the firelight, Dibbuns and old alike, enjoying themselves hugely.
Fingle watched his Abbot. ‘An acorn for your thoughts Father,’ he said.
Saxtus licked dip from his whiskers pensively. ‘My thoughts, Brother? You may have them for free. I was wishing that Joseph and his party were with us here to enjoy this evening, Mariel and Dandin too. May the fates be kind to them wherever they are. You know, Fingle, nothing gives me more pleasure than to see my Redwallers happy and well fed. Contentment, it is a thing I love dearly. I was never one for dashing off on quests and adventures. The Abbey and its life is sufficient for an old stay-at-home like me. I’m glad I thought of this concert. Look at them – did you ever see a merrier, more peaceful bunch? That’s my adventure, the quest for contentment and happiness for all in my Redwall.’
Brother Fingle accepted a fresh bowl of dip and wheat ears from a well-mannered Dibbun. ‘Here, Father Abbot, get some of this inside you before you content yourself off to sleep, you’re starting to nod.’
Tarquin produced his harolina, a cherished though slightly battered instrument. He tuned it, plucking the strings lightly, ears close to it. ‘There, good as the day I first serenaded Rosie and won her bally heart, wot? Righto, line up chaps, two to each corner, maids in the middle, bow to the centre. Good, here we go with the mousemole reel!’
Blaggut and Slipp found themselves hauled up among whooping and cheering Redwallers as Tarquin raised his voice:
‘One, two, let me bow to you,
Away we go from the centre through.
Oh there was a mouse in Mossflower,
And he was plump and cheery,
Lived right next to a mole so fair,
A little dark-eyed dearie.
Three, four, I’ll tell you more,
Whirl your partner round the floor!
She baked a pie, oh my, oh my,
And said, “I’ve got no cherries,
Sir mouse when you go out abroad,
Will you bring back some berries?”
Five, six, here’s a fix,
Curtsy maids and gather sticks!
The mouse roved out into the woods,
&nbs
p; And came back heavy laden,
With cherries and ripe fruit to boot,
To give unto the maiden.
Seven, eight, stand and wait,
Clap your paws, it’s very late!
The mole took up a wooden bowl,
The mouse he grabbed a ladle,
And as they ate that lovely pie,
They danced around the table.
Nine, ten and back to one,
Bow to your partners for the dance is done!’
Laughing and panting, the dancers retired breathless to their seats. Blaggut whispered to Slipp, ‘We goin’ fer the treasure now, Cap’n?’ He was rewarded with a swift kick.
‘We ain’t goin’ nowheres ’til I gets me wind back, bladderbrain. Whew, that dancin’ takes it outta a beast!’
Tarquin cleared his throat officiously and took centre stage. ‘Errahem! Father Abbot, Mellus marm, good creatures all, it is my singular honour to open the concert singin’ competition, wot? I have with me the jolly old prize for the winner, it is right here . . . somewhere?’ The hare beckoned hastily to one of his leverets. ‘You there, thingybob, it’s under me seat, bring the blinkin’ thing here, will you? Ah yes, as I was sayin’, I have here with me the winner’s prize. As you can see, it is a badger drinkin’ vessel, hmm, chalice in fact, silver mounted, gold lined, with lots of rather jolly stones studded around it, precious gems I’d say. Now, who’s goin’ t’be the first to get up an’ warble off a song? Oh, by the way, we must thank our good chum Mellus for donatin’ this prize. Cheer for Mellus, thank you!’
When the cheering died down, Mellus stood up, a grin of mischief on her broad face. ‘Thank you one and all. Now, as for the first singer, or singers, I think I have the privilege of choosing them. As is our custom at Redwall, guests first. Mr Blaggut and Mr Slipp would you be so kind as to oblige us?’
Willing paws seized the unwilling searats, who were hustled into the centre of the circle, where they stood nervously shuffling from paw to paw. Slipp was not amused.