Martin The Warrior (Redwall)

by Brian Jacques

  Skalrag turned to his archers, satisfied. ‘There’s one ship that won’t put out to sea again. Form up and follow me. We’ll take care of those longboats before we head back to Marshank.’

  The wily fox did not want to attract attention from the battle area by burning the longboats.

  ‘Put up those bows, use your swords an’ knives to hole these boats. That’ll leave Clogg trapped on the shore.’

  Unaware that the longboats were being destroyed, Martin and his companions were heading for them, figuring to take one and sail further up the coast, where they would leave the boat and travel to Noonvale for help.

  Felldoh looked to the fiery glow beyond the headland. ‘We’d better hurry. Those searats will be coming for the longboats to see if they can save their ship.’

  Martin glanced back towards the fortress as he remarked to his friend, ‘Good guess, Felldoh. There’s a whole bunch of them coming this way!’

  The dark shapes of yelling corsairs could be seen leaving the fray and making for the longboats. Martin grasped Brome’s paw.

  ‘Let’s put a move on, otherwise they’ll catch up with us.’

  Grumm had been looking ahead towards the boats. ‘Hurr, lookit, thurr be other vurmin by they boats an’ they see us’ns!’ he groaned in dismay.

  Felldoh gritted his teeth. ‘Foebeasts behind an’ before us, Martin. Either way is trouble.’

  Martin sized the situation up quickly. ‘We can’t turn back now. There’s less of ’em in front of us. Keep going. We’ll have to chance rushing them. Rose, take Grumm and Brome, pick out a boat and get going. Felldoh and I will hold them off. Please don’t argue, just do as I say. Right, Felldoh?’

  The big squirrel nodded. ‘Right! I recognize that half-eared rogue at the boats – it’s Skalrag. There’s about ten with him. Let’s get at it, Martin!’

  The young mouse and the squirrel dashed towards Skalrag’s group, yelling at the top of their voices.

  ‘Freedom! Chaaaaaaaarge!’

  Skalrag was not sure whether the swiftly advancing pair were armed, though he knew by their warlike cries that they intended doing battle. The fox hesitated a moment, unsure whether to meet them sword in paw or go for his bow. He lost the initiative, barely having time to shout a warning to his archers before Martin and Felldoh were on him. The squirrel grabbed Skalrag’s sword paw, struggling to get hold of the blade as Martin dealt the nearest rat a flying kick with both footpaws.

  ‘Help me, help!’ Skalrag was screaming.

  Now some of Clogg’s creatures spotted the activity by the longboats. They unsheathed their weapons and dashed forward to protect their boats. Two rats went down under the hefty digging claws of Grumm and a hearty wallop from a chunk of driftwood held by Rose. Brome began shoving the smallest of the boats out into the surf, and Grumm and Rose lent their weight to his efforts. Martin was holding on to one rat who was trying to stop the boat, whilst he held the head of another under the water. Felldoh had a stranglehold on Skalrag, whose sword belt had snapped; both sword and belt were lost somewhere in the shallows. The corsairs came charging in, yelling, surf splashing beneath their paws.

  Rose leaned over the stern of the small boat, pulling Brome in while Grumm found the oars. She began shouting. ‘Martin! Felldoh! Over here, quickly!’

  Thinking swiftly, Martin stunned a sea rat with a heavy blow. Grabbing a half-throttled Skalrag from Felldoh, he thrust the fox at the corsairs.

  ‘Here, mates. One of Badrang’s lot, tryin’ to steal our boats!’

  With a concerted howl of rage the corsairs threw themselves upon Skalrag and another rat Felldoh pushed towards them.

  Martin nudged his friend, whispering urgently. ‘Quick, into the boat!’

  Half wading, half swimming through the night-dark waters, they made for the boat. Grumm and Brome held oars over the stern to them.

  ‘Burr, ’asten, zurrs!’

  As they grabbed the oars and began climbing aboard, the corsairs suddenly realized what was going on.

  ‘Those ain’t searats. Stop ’em!’ the ferret called Boggs yelled hoarsely.

  Martin scrambled into the boat, but Felldoh was having a hard time with his huge bushy tail weighed down by sea water. The rat called Growch floundered forward and seized the squirrel’s footpaws. From the boat Martin managed to grab Felldoh by his other two paws, then another searat latched on to Felldoh’s tail and a tug of war began. Felldoh was stretched between water and boat, helpless, his mouth filled with salt water.

  Rose leaned over the stern, wielding an oar.

  Thonk! Boff!

  She stunned the rats with two direct hits. Martin heaved mightily and Felldoh came tumbling into the boat.

  Whilst some of the corsairs held Skalrag and his platoon prisoner, the rest jumped into the boats and began rowing after the escapers.

  ‘Row!’ Martin cried out to his friends. ‘Paddle with your paws! Anything! Hurry. They’re coming after us!’

  Grumm sat in the stern, not moving. Rose looked at him curiously.

  ‘Come on, Grumm. Paddle, don’t just sit there.’

  The mole shrugged unhappily. ‘Oi carn’t move, mizzy. Iffen oi do, us’ll sink. Oi be setten roight on a gurt ’ole in ’ee boat!’

  The mole sat, completely soaked, blocking the hole as best be could, with water swilling around the bottom of the boat.

  Brome started to laugh. Felldoh eyed him disapprovingly.

  ‘I can’t see much to laugh about, young un. It’s not a very funny situation we’re in.’

  Brome held his sides as he tried to paddle and stop laughing at the same time. ‘Whooheehee! I’m sorry, Felldoh, can’t help it, heeheehee! Oh dearie me! Look at those creatures, hahahahahaha!’

  The two boats loaded with corsairs that were following were only going one way. Down!

  Rose joined in with Brome’s laughter. ‘Of course, that’s what Badrang’s creatures were doing, holing the boats after they’d set fire to the big ship. Lucky old us, we picked the one with the smallest hole in it!’

  The corsairs’ faces were a picture of abject misery as they baled furiously, while the boats filled up and sank beneath them. They floated about, treading water and watching the small craft, low in the water but going strong, head straight out to sea. A joyous shout rang out across the choppy night waves as the little boat pulled away.

  ‘Freeeeeeeeeeeeee!’

  9

  DAWN BROUGHT WITH with it a lull in the battle at Fortress Marshank. The weather was humid, and a heavy grey sky hung like a pall with greenish purple tinges out on the horizon. Badrang stood with Gurrad on the walltop, his battle-weary horde ranged along the ramparts, dull-eyed as they ate breakfast and catnapped at their positions. The Tyrant stoat noted with grim satisfaction that he had successfully defended Marshank against the corsair invasion. But Clogg was a resourceful enemy. What would his next move be?

  Oily-looking plumes of smoke rose into the still air from the cooking fires of the corsairs on the shore. The pirates were in surly mood. Not only had they failed to breach the gates of the fortress, but they had also suffered the indignity of having their ship gutted by fire and sunk. Cap’n Tramun Clogg and several of his messmates were holding an interrogation session behind a semicircular rocky outcrop close to the tideline.

  The unfortunate Skalrag and six of his remaining archers were the prisoners they were questioning. They huddled together on the beach, cruelly bound paw and muzzle with tough dried kelp strands. Skalrag stifled a terrified whimper as he stared wide-eyed at the ruthless faces of the searats and the vicious twinkle in the eyes of Clogg. The pirate stoat drew his cutlass, grinning evilly as he licked the blade and squinted along it towards the quaking fox.

  ‘Harr, tell me, Skalrag, what would you do to anybeast who set fire to yore ship an’ scuttled ’er?’

  Skalrag’s muzzle was tightly bound. The most he could manage was a strangled sob. Clogg swung the cutlass at the petrified fox’s head. It clipped several whiskers and
neatly severed the gag. Skalrag fainted clean away in a heap. The corsairs laughed uproariously as they doused him with sea water to bring him round.

  Tramun Clogg put the point of his cutlass to Skalrag’s nosetip. ‘I wouldn’t chop yer ’ead off, bucko. Ho no, that’d be too quick fer the likes o’ you. Avast, mates. Tell this scum wot we do t’ ship burners an’ scuttlers.’

  The corsairs tickled Skalrag with their knifepoints as they told him.

  ‘String ’im upside down in a crab pool!’

  ‘Roast ’im o’er a slow fire!’

  ‘Chop off ’is paws an’ make ’im eat ’em!’

  ‘Use ’im fer a batterin’ ram agin the fortress gates!’

  ‘Oh no, please, Cap’n,’ Skalrag wailed in despair. ‘Don’t let them do it. I was only carrying out Badrang’s orders!’

  Clogg sat by the fox and stroked his head soothingly. ‘There there now, matey. Dry yore eyes an’ don’t blubber no more. Ole Tramun Clogg’s got an ’eart soft as swans-down. I won’t let nobeast kill yer. But ’earken now, y’ must swear on yer oath that you’ll do exactly as I tell yer.’

  Skalrag nodded vigorously. ‘I will, Cap’n, I will. I swear on my oath as a fox!’

  Tramun chuckled as he patted the fox’s cheek tenderly. ‘Of course yer will, matey – cos if yer don’t, the things my crew threatened to do to yer would be as nothin’ to wot I’d do when I caught up with ye. Lissen now, ’ere’s wot you’ll do . . .’

  ‘What about them?’ Skalrag nodded towards his six bound comrades.

  Tramun winked broadly. ‘Oh don’t fret yore ’eart over that lot. Worms like that’d be too much trouble as galley slaves. They’ll be fishbait afore nightfall, mate.’

  Skalrag’s former archers gave a muted moan of anguish.

  The slave compound was a circular palisade of upright logs driven into the ground and bound together by ropes. It had a single gate, which was generally kept locked. Inside, the occupants shifted as best as they could for themselves. Most slept on their sack mattresses against the walls, some underneath a rough wooden awning that shaded part of the structure. At night the slaves were allowed a fire in the centre of the dirt floor.

  Keyla and the rest of the slaves had been on barricade duty all night, piling rubble and rocks against the gates to reinforce them against the battering ram. Now they sat locked inside the slave compound, relieved of quarry and field labours whilst Marshank was under siege.

  Old Barkjon shook his head. ‘It’s a bad business. If Badrang wins, we’ll still be slaves here. However, if the victory goes to the corsairs, we’ll all end up as galley slaves after we’ve been forced to refloat their vessel or build a new ship. Slavery is bad enough, but the life of a galley slave is worse than death.’

  Amid the troubled muttering that followed, Keyla came forward.

  ‘That’s the bad news, now here’s some of the good. Before we were herded back in here at dawn, I checked the prison pit. There was nobeast inside. Martin, Felldoh and Brome have escaped – they’re free!’

  Barkjon’s chin quivered a little as he patted Keyla’s paw. ‘That is good news indeed. My son Felldoh a free creature! He’ll bring help to us, you’ll see!’

  ‘Aye and Martin too,’ Hillgorse the old hedgehog chimed in. ‘He’s a tough one, that young mouse. He’ll see that we get help of some sort!’

  The slaves nodded agreement, one or two of them even emitting low cheers. Barkjon silenced them with a wave of his paw.

  ‘Keyla, was there something else you wanted to say?’

  The young otter held a piece of sacking. It clinked as he strode about speaking in a low clear voice.

  ‘All very good, but what are we doing to help ourselves? It’s no use just sitting here on our tails making fine speeches and waiting for others to do something. Look!’

  He flung the sacking open and weapons clattered to the ground. ‘Three knives, a spearhead and four slings. I collected them from dead vermin while we were working through the battle last night. There’s a start to our armoury.’

  Purslane, a mother mouse, stepped forward carrying her infant. She took an axehead and a broken swordblade from inside the little one’s shawl and added them to Keyla’s weapons.

  ‘I managed to get these. It’s not much but it’s a start.’

  Others started to come forward and add their contributions.

  ‘This dagger’s got no handle, but it’s sharp.’

  ‘Here’s the top from a long pike. It only needs a pole.’

  ‘I got a whip and these two arrows. The bow was too big to carry.’

  ‘Pouchful of slingstones, a sling and this iron hook.’

  A hedgehog, little more than a baby, tottered out and threw his offering on the small pile of armaments. ‘Dagga an ’stones to fro’!’

  The otter called Tullgrew began gathering them up. ‘Well done. We’d best hide these until the right time comes along. I’ll bury them in the earth underneath my pallet.’

  Hillgorse nodded approvingly. ‘Good work. Remember now, stick together, help each other, steal anything you can from Badrang’s creatures. Each day, my friends, we will become stronger, more determined. Only our bodies are held in slavery. Our minds and hearts are free.’

  The meeting ended, Tullgrew began burying the weapons. Druwp the bankvole pretended to be sleeping, but he was noting through half closed eyes the spot where Tullgrew was digging.

  Slavebeasts snuffled and moaned in their slumbers. The fire burned low in the crowded compound, and stars in the soft dark sky looked down on the misery of the wretched creatures below as they slept, all save two.

  Keyla was still watching Druwp!

  Dawn light found the small boat had been carried far out by the ebbing tide. It bobbed about on the heaving grey waves like a leaf in a storm. Felldoh, Martin and Brome baled with paws and oarblades, trying to splash the water over the sides. They were fighting a losing battle. Rose stood in the stem, straining her eyes for a sight of land. All she could see were mountainous grey-green waves wherever she looked. Grumm sat miserably, blocking the leak with his bottom, baling with his little ladle as the boat settled ever lower in the water.

  ‘Burr, oi can’t swim. Et be a shame t’ finish up drownded.’

  Something struck the side of the boat, causing the timbers to creak. Brome looked up from his baling.

  ‘I hope that was a rock or something floating by. I’d hate to think it was a big fish!’

  Rose peered down into the water. Her eyes went wide with shock. She looked up, pretending to scan the horizon.

  Her brother shook his head. ‘C’mon, Rosie, you can’t fool me. I saw you gaping into the water. What’s down there?

  ‘It’s a big fish!’ Rose’s voice was little more than a whisper.

  They stopped baling. Felldoh chuckled half-heartedly, ‘Big enough for us to catch and eat?’

  Rose shook her head. ‘The other way round, friend. It’s big enough to catch and eat us!’

  There was another thump against the boat’s side. Grumm sat tight, staring uncomfortably at the sky.

  ‘Burr, oi ’ates t’ think o’moi pore bottom a-poken through ’ee bowt wi’ a gurt fisher swimmen under oi.’

  The fish struck again!

  This time it fractured the planking, and sea water squirted in as the boat settled lower.

  Martin grabbed an oar. ‘This will make a good float, Felldoh. You and Brome hang on to that other oar. I’ll take this one with Rose and Grumm. If we get separated, we’ll meet up at Noonvale. Look out, here we go!’

  The boat filled up, sea water rushing in over the sides as it dropped from beneath them, plummeting into the depths below. In an instant they were all in the sea, struggling and kicking out as they held on to the oars. Submerging his head, Martin gazed down into the depths. He could dimly make out the gigantic shape of some deep-sea fish as it chased the sinking craft into the greeny depths. As he pulled his head from the waters, Rose was shouting. ‘Brome, Felldoh, over h
ere. Can you reach us?’

  The young mouse and the squirrel were being swept away on the crest of a big roller, whilst Martin’s oar was being pushed under, weighted as it was by three creatures. Instantly, Martin released his hold on the oar. It bobbed up and began travelling away from him on the waves, and he struck out after it. Rose paddled madly, turning the oar so it would drift nearer to Martin.

  Grumm helped as much as he could, calling out, ‘Marthen, swim o’er ’ere. See iffen you’m can catch a hold o’ moi paw!’

  Painfully Martin came fractionally nearer his friends on the oar. Rose kicked back with all her might to hold the oar from being swept off, and Grumm stretched himself full length in the water.

  The sun began breaking through the windswept grey cloud masses, bringing with it a heavy summer rain slashing and hammering on to the face of the deeps. Half blinded and spitting sea water, Martin felt his outstretched paw come in contact with Grumm’s footpaw. He clung on furiously for dear life as Rose cried out, ‘Hang there, Martin. Just tread water. It’ll relieve the weight on this paddle. When I’m tired I’ll change places with you.’

  Rose kicked out with the waves, sending the oar skimming along through the rain-washed sea.

  Felldoh had his mouth open to the sky, trying to drink in some rainwater. Brome had heaved himself up on the oar. Anxiously he scanned the sunny storm-swept wastes.

  ‘There’s no sign of ’em. The waves are too high!’

  Before Felldoh had a chance to reply, the water beneath them heaved and they were both lifted high into the air. The big fish had hauled the sinking boat around like an empty peapod. It had found something to play with! Its huge body buffeted and banged the boat about.