Joseph studied the plan, nodding solemnly. ‘I like it, simple and straightforward, that’s the best way!’
The remainder of that day they spent resting in the shelter of the dunes. Rufe Brush watched the lengthening shadows on the sand, confiding his worries to Durry in hushed whispers.
‘I’ve never stolen anything before. Well, I suppose I filched a few candied chestnuts when I was a Dibbun, but never something as big as a ship!’
Durry Quill, an adventurer born, winked at Rufe. ‘Don’t you fret yoreself mate, we’ll stick t’gether. Hah! Searats are all great big cowards, just show ’em a weapon an’ growl, like this. Grr! That settles ’em!’
Rufe picked up the rapier given to him by one of the Guosim. Waving it half-heartedly, he tried a timid growl. ‘Grr, how does that sound, Durry?’
‘Garrooohaharroogurrrrr!’ The twin blades of Finnbarr Galedeep’s curved swords flashed in front of Rufe’s startled eyes. Then, swiftly sheathing both blades, the big sea otter ruffled the young squirrel’s ears playfully.
‘Do it like that, matey, show ’em y’mean business an’ don’t be ’arf ’earted about it. You’ll do all right.’
Darkness fell as they made a final cold meal of oat-scones, cheese and cider – no fires were allowed to pinpoint their position in the dunes at the shore edge. Sentries were posted whilst the rest lay trying to steal a quick nap, each with their thoughts of what awaited them where the two ships lay at anchor around the headland. Would it be a swift victory and a good ship, or a wrong plan ending in capture and death, or slavery at the cruel claws of searats? A three-quarter moon shimmered over the restless sea in the soft summerdark as the time drew closer to midnight.
9
DAWN HAD ALREADY broken over Southsward when Furpp called two of his grandchildren to assist him.
‘Yurr Burdill, you an’ Grumbee stir ee stumps, us’n’s must take ee brekkist to our friends.’
Burdill shook his velvety head. ‘Hurr granfer, they’m a’ready be gonned. Miz Mariel, she’m roused t’ others long since, me an’ Grumbee packed ’em a brekkist to eat on ee way.’
Furpp inspected his digging claws closely, in the way that some older moles will do when deep in thought. He nodded decisively, then patted the two small moles. ‘Gudd gudd, ee did woisely, both o’ you’m h’infants. Hurr, tho’ oi wanders whurr they be agone to?’
‘Oi did ’ear ee gurt rabbet Meld’n say as they wurr eckertoimerin,’ Grumbee piped up.
Furpp blinked down at the youngster. ‘Eckertoimerin, hoo arr, that sounds noice, tho’ oi be wunderin’ wot ee means, eckertoimerin?’
Had the moles been able to pronounce the word properly they would have known that Mariel, Dandin and Bowly had gone out on a reconnoitring trip with Meldrum and his leveret squad. Meldrum the Magnificent was familiar with the terrain, he explained as they strode south over the hills.
‘Best route to Floret’s this way, see a stream ahead soon, take that route, might meet some otters, wot? Useful coves, otters, may get some info from them about this confounded Foxwolf thingee. Reconnoitre an’ gather information, that’s what I always say, eh?’
Mariel, whose idea it had been in the first place, nodded agreement as they crested the brow of an immense sandhill. On an impulse she spread her paws, stopping them from continuing further. ‘Hold it, did you feel the ground a bit shaky then? I did.’
Bowly crept under her outstretched paws, then after venturing a bit further on the hilltop, he tip-pawed gingerly back. ‘Yore right, it’s like a great over’angin’ sandcliff we’re stannin’ on, best move back afore it collapses!’
Meldrum waggled his ears and sniffed. ‘Don’t remember it bein’ like that before, bit of a while since I’ve been in this neck o’ the woods, doncha know. Not an uncommon occurrence, though – erosion I think they call it. Side of the jolly ol’ sandhill slips away one day an’ leaves the grassy top like a big overhang. No matter, we’ll go another way.’
They slid down the undamaged side of the hill and climbed to the top of another, safer, one. Dandin was first up, and he shot out a paw. ‘Look, there’s the stream. Something’s happening down there, looks like trouble!’
Mariel and Meldrum joined him. The hilltop commanded a good view of the scene taking place some distance off downstream. Two creatures, a squirrel and her young one, clung to the broad surface of a treetrunk which was being propelled by a band of otters. Closing rapidly on them was a band of rats, headed by two ermine and Nagru. The Field Marshal hare peered down, recognizing the adult squirrel.
‘Great seasons, it’s Queen Serena. Looks like she needs help – form into skirmish line, troop!’
Mariel placed herself squarely in front of the impulsive hare, halting any further activity. Her mind raced madly as she tried reasoning with him. ‘Field Marshal, sir, remember what you said, plan first, act later!’
‘No time now missie, duty calls y’know, stand aside!’ said Meldrum, as he adjusted the stone at the end of his rod.
Dandin joined Mariel. ‘Sir, there’s far too many of them for our small force to go up against. If you charge in now we’ll all be killed. Your four young nephews, Bowly, do you want to see them massacred by hundreds of vermin? There’d be no point to it!’
Whilst Dandin was reasoning with Meldrum, a solution had formed swiftly in the mousemaid’s agile mind. It was risky, but worth a try. She interrupted Dandin’s pleas.
‘Listen, I’ve just thought of a plan! Runtwold, Coltvine, we’ll need your slings and stone pouches. Bowly, take these four young hares back to Furpp’s dwelling, tell him to watch out for those creatures on the stream and shelter them. Go!’
Mariel’s voice had such a ring of certainty to it that Bowly and the hares were gone in a flash. As she and Dandin armed themselves with slings and stones she turned to the slightly bemused Meldrum. ‘Now, we need a beast of some weight and courage. Are you game for this, sir?’
Meldrum the Magnificent was caught up by Mariel’s urgency and sureness. His ears stood straight as he said, ‘Game? Hah, say on m’gel, there’s none gamer than this hare!’
Mariel knotted the Gullwhacker securely about her waist. ‘Good! Now here’s what we’ll do . . .’
Queen Serena hugged little Truffen to her. He was weeping piteously, frightened by the sight and sounds of the horde led by the Dirgecallers and Nagru. They were in plain sight now, pouring along the streambank after the floating log. While the rest of the otters pushed the treetrunk through the water, Iris and Greenbeck, armed with javelins, climbed on to the log. Protecting the squirrels with their bodies, the two brave otters prepared to face the onslaught together.
Howling with triumph, the Foxwolf halted his horde on the streambank. The two ermine snuffled and wailed hideously. Eager to get at their prey but reluctant to venture into the deep stream, they wove back and forth at the water’s edge. The otters had steered the log over to the far bank to distance themselves from attack. Some of the horderats were beginning to string their bows up and select arrows. Nagru turned on them with a snarl.
‘Put those bows away, arrows would spoil the sport. I’ve got them now and I want them alive and unharmed. My Dirgecallers can have the otters, but I want those two squirrels alive. Stand ready and await my orders!’
Without warning the rat called Mingol shrieked as, grabbing his head in both paws, he fell senseless to the ground. His partner Vengro stared down in puzzlement at him.
‘What’s wrong with Mingol? He was just . . . Unhh!’ Vengro slumped beside his companion. Nagru whirled about to see what the trouble was and a slingstone thudded hard into his back. One of the Dirgecallers yowled in anguish as another stone slammed into its ribs.
‘Get down, we’re being attacked!’ the rat Captain Riveneye yelled.
More stones followed in quick succession, and a mocking laugh rang out from some bushes a short distance away.
‘Hahaha! Keep those heads down, scum, there’s a whole army of slingers ready to pick you o
ff!’
The wolfhide had taken most of the impact of the stone that struck Nagru. He scrambled forward on all fours, peering into the bushes. Seeing he was not immediately hit, the Foxwolf ventured upright, ducking swiftly as a good-sized pebble lodged between the wolfskull and his brow. Grimacing with pain he plucked it out and hurled it back at the bush. A short yelp was followed by the sight of two mice retreating to the deep cover of thicker foliage. Nagru grabbed stones from the ground, throwing them at the place where the mice had hidden as he ran forward, calling, ‘There’s only two of ’em, it’s no army. Charge!’
Dandin nudged Mariel urgently. ‘The game’s up, time we weren’t here!’
They broke cover and began a mad dash, back the way they had come. Mariel risked a quick glance backward. ‘Better shift, the whole pack’s after us!’ she yelled.
Footpaws thrumming madly against the earth, Mariel and Dandin ran for their lives, the breath rising ragged in their throats as the two Dirgecallers, heading the pack, sped on their tails, gaining by the moment. Nagru followed in the rear, hurling challenges and threats.
‘Tear them to bits! Stop and fight, mice!’
Dandin stumbled. Mariel, catching his paw quickly, pulled him upright and they dashed on together, side by side, dust and sand flying, hearts pounding wildly, with the Dirgecallers, slightly ahead of the horde, closing fast. Mariel’s head came up; she glimpsed the big eroded dune ahead, rearing up like a mighty wave of sand, the grassy crest projecting perilously over a huge inward curving hill. Through her blurred vision she could barely make out the ponderous form of Meldrum perched far out on the grassy top. Putting on a final spurt she tugged Dandin along. ‘Not far . . . Come on . . . just a bit more!’
Meldrum the Magnificent watched the tableau below, gritting his teeth with suspense. It looked as if the two mice would surely be stopped by the ermine before they made the slope. No! They had put on an extra spurt and pulled away a bit; now they were on the final stretch and, calling up stamina from some deep reserve, they actually broke into a headlong sprint. As Meldrum stamped his footpaw down with delight the whole dunetop shuddered. He went still immediately, saving his move until the exact moment. Leaning out, he squinted downward – there they were! Mariel and Dandin had made it to the hill. Sand flew from beneath their paws as they battled upward into the curve with the ermine and about ten front runners of the horde beginning to close on them again. The two mice suddenly changed course, veering sideways to the right where the curve of the hill straightened, and Mariel shouted one word at the top of her voice.
‘Now!!!’
Meldrum instinctively knew the pursuers were climbing the hill directly beneath him, but Mariel’s voice confirmed it. The old hare jumped as high as he could into the air.
Whump!
The whole dunetop shook. He jumped again, harder.
Whump!
The earth trembled as he landed, grass roots tearing as they parted company with the sand. Gritting his teeth, Meldrum the Magnificent leapt high in the air a third time, yelling out the battlecry of hares and badgers.
‘Eulaliaaaa!’
Whoooosssshhh! Whooomph!
The entire top curve of the high dune fell with an almighty avalanche of weeds, grass and sand. It seemed to hover in midair a fraction, then down it came like a thunderbolt, with the old warrior perched atop still yelling his warcry. The Dirgecallers and at least a score of the rat horde never knew what happened to them. Countless tons of sand wiped them out instantly.
Nagru came dashing up, pushing and kicking his way through the awestruck masses. He made his way to the front and gaped in amazement at the scene. Mariel and Dandin had escaped the worst, but they were trapped, buried almost to their necks in sand. Meldrum had fared little better; being immersed to his ample waist he could only struggle helplessly and hurl insults at his enemy.
‘Good wheeze, eh, wished we could’ve got the crummy lot of you under there with your stinkin’ rotten ermine and some of your other pals. Well, what’re y’gawpin’ at?’
The Foxwolf glared at the bold veteran. ‘My Dirgecallers, you killed them!’
Mariel spat sand from her mouth and yelled defiantly. ‘Aye, dig me out of here and I’ll give you a run for your acorns too, you great two-headed, slop-mouthed, ringtailed excuse for a toad!’
Dandin joined in hurling imprecations. ‘Now then scabbyskin, just imagine if we had been an army? Hah! You and those other grey slime wouldn’t be around to tell the story. Dig us loose and you’ll find out that we’re not a couple of helpless squirrels!’
Nagru controlled his rage. ‘Oh, we’ll dig you out all right, but after a good spell of starvation in my dungeons you’ll find yourselves dangling by your footpaws as target practice for my archers, then you’ll wish you had been a couple of squirrels. Wetchops! Go and get those squirrels. Take fifty archers and finish those otters off, then bring the Queen and her brat to me. The rest of you, dig those three out and bind them tight!’
The three companions were dug out and tightly pinioned with ropes, though they continued their verbal abuse of Nagru and his horde.
‘Hey, lily liver, tie my paws tighter, because if I get them around your filthy neck I’ll throttle you!’
‘Zounds! Takes six of yeh to truss me up, eh, so it should, you frog swampin’, mud scoffin’, fly wallopers!’
They were lugged down the hill and bound to carrying poles. All three lay in the sand as Nagru circled them, aiming the odd kick at their prostrate forms as he spoke.
‘You’ll wish you’d never crossed trails with the Urgan Nagru when I’m done with you. Two bold little mice, eh, maybe we’ll give you to the cooks after my archers have finished with your carcasses. Hmm, and a big fat hare, I’ve never tasted hare. What d’you say, hare, will you be tasty enough to be served at a conqueror’s banquet?’
Meldrum sniffed in disgust. ‘If it’s the last flippin’ thing I do I’ll stick in your rotten throat an’ choke you. Blaggard!’
Wetchops came dashing back yelling, ‘They’ve gone! There’s not a sight nor sound of otters or squirrels anywhere! They’ve vanished into thin air!’
Mariel winked cheekily at the Foxwolf. ‘Bit of good news, eh? How d’you feel about that, lumpbrain?’
Nagru kicked the mousemaid savagely. ‘Not half as bad as you’re going to feel, mousemaid!’
10
SIGHING RESTLESSLY, THE boundless sea broke large rollers into white cream which hissed hungrily up to the tideline. A sea breeze, with no clouds to chase around the moonlit vault of the skies, spun dry sand into dancing spirals. Midnight laid its cloak over the Mossflower coast. The four logboats, propelled on muffled paddles by Log a Log’s Guosim shrews, slid silently out over the remainder of the stream that stretched across the shore from dune to sea.
Finnbarr Galedeep and Log a Log sat in the prow of the leading vessel. Between them lay a mallet and a broken sword which would serve well as hammer and chisel. Hon Rosie and Joseph perched in the stern, both armed with strong throwing slings and satchels of sturdy pebbles. The female hare wriggled her ears delightedly, scarcely able to contain her excitement.
‘I say, what a jape! Whoo . . . Umff!’
Joseph damped strong paws about Rosie’s mouth, his voice stern and low. ‘Not one single giggle, d’you hear me, Rosie Woodsorrel?’
Rufe, Durry and Foremole wielded paddles in the second boat, the mole muttering darkly to himself. ‘Oi doant moinds liddle boaters an’ streamwater, but those gurt shippers as sails on waves, boo hurr, no zurr!’
Rufe mispaddled and splashed himself. ‘Wish I was back in Redwall,’ he sighed. ‘I’d kiss the grass an’ never have ought to do with water again, not even to wash!’
Durry Quill smiled across at the timid squirrel. ‘Acorns! By the end o’ this voyage you’ll be as big an old seadog as ever stood afore a mainmast. Keep yore tail up, Rufe, an’ dip that paddle deep.’
The prows of all four boats bucked as they struck the first waves f
rom the sea. Finnbarr turned to the crew sitting abaft of him, his single eye shining wildly, and shouted, ‘Now dig those paddles strong’n’deep cullies, we’re on blue water!’
Cap’n Slipp of the Pearl Queen sat alone on the shore beyond the headland, toasting whelks over an open fire. He had been arguing with his brother Cap’n Strapp again. Though Slipp was the larger and stronger of the two searats, he did not possess Strapp’s eloquent tongue. Tonight they had argued over whether to sail north or south. Slipp wanted to sail north, but Strapp painted such a glowing picture of southern sun and easy pickings that both crews sided with him. They had all gone aboard his ship the Shalloo to celebrate, leaving Slipp alone to sulk over a small fire on the shore. Slipp was not worried; tomorrow he would continue the argument, escalating it into a fight, and he could always beat his brother hollow in a hard scrap. Then he would humiliate Strapp and regain command, perhaps he might even imprison him aboard the Pearl Queen, and have Rappsnout, his first mate, take over as Captain of the Shalloo. Slipp smiled to himself. Yes, that would teach Strapp to keep his high-flown opinions to himself.
Log a Log looked worried. He knew something was wrong with the plan as soon as he spotted the tiny fire on the shore, then his view was obscured as the hulks of the two ships loomed large in the dark.
‘Finnbarr, did you see, there’s hardly anybeast on shore?’
The sea otter thumped the prow with his paw. ‘Barnacles’n’bilgewater! I shoulda knowed t’wouldn’t be all plain sailin’. Hark though, mate, they must be all aboard the Shalloo, see the lights shinin’ from ’er ports an’ lissen to that racket. They’re ’avin’ some sort o’feast below decks. All the better for us, they won’t ’ear the mallet.’
The Bellmaker Page 8
