The Rogue Crew

by Brian Jacques

  “A keg of best Addersting grog to the one that lays paws on ’em first!”

  The searats needed no further encouragement. With shouts of joy, they leapt into the sea. However, only two surfaced.

  Razzid called to Mowlag and Jiboree, “Where’ve those two gone?”

  Mowlag pointed at two rats breaking the waves, only to sink back beneath them. “There they are, Cap’n!”

  The Wearat snarled at him. “Fool! I mean the other two—maybe they got washed under the hull?”

  Jiboree was gesticulating furiously. “Yaaah—look, Cap’n, look look!”

  One of the tall, rangy searats was practically standing up on the water’s surface, rushing toward the ship. Nearing the port side, he suddenly shot up out of the sea, striking Mowlag as he flopped to the deck.

  Jiboree dashed to the fallen vermin’s side. “Blood’n’thunder—’e’s dead!”

  “Hoohoohooh! Howooooooommmmm!”

  Almost a score of sleek black seals popped up, flapping their fins and honking mockingly. A moment later, the limp forms of the other three searats were tossed up onto the deck.

  Razzid Wearat stamped up and down on the prow with rage. “Wot the . . . ? Kill ’em, slay those things. Now!”

  The seals were too close to focus the giant arrows on, but corsairs flocked to the Greenshroud’s midship deck, flinging anything that came to paw at the circling seals. Still hooting and honking derisively, the skilful mammals seemed to treat the corsairs’ efforts as a joke. They playfully ducked any weapons, then, using their snouts, bounced them back at the vermin crew, two of whom were badly wounded by spears. A few of the seals discovered a rope hanging from the vessel’s stern. A group of them seized it in their teeth and began twirling the ship, towing it in circles and submerging anytime something was thrown at them.

  Razzid Wearat was in a towering rage, but the more he cursed, kicked or swore at his hapless crew, the worse the situation became. He could see that the seals were actually relishing his discomfort, honking merrily and clapping their flippers in scornful applause.

  Stamping off to his cabin, he snarled at Shekra, “I need to rest. Call me when those stupid beasts tire of their silly games an’ leave us alone!”

  The vixen was about to reply when a bunch of wet kelp slapped her in the face. The seals were enjoying their game.

  “Hoohoohoo! Haaaawuuurrr!”

  The two runaways made it to the foot of the dunes, whereupon Uggo slumped down on the warm, shifting sand, gasping wearily. “Can’t go no further, mate, don’t care wot ’appens!”

  Hiding her own fatigue, the pretty hogmaid sat down beside him. “We can rest awhile, but not for long. Once those seals stop tormenting them, the vermin will come after us again. Our best plan is to find somewhere to hide.”

  A shrill voice rang out from the dunetop. “Wiggles, git back ’ere—you’ll fall!”

  A cascade of sand from the duneside almost enveloped Posy and Uggo. A tiny hedgehog babe emerged blinking from the sand. She pulled tongues at them, then began dancing, and squeaking back up the sandhill.

  “Yah, yah! I didn’t never felled, see? I jumpered!”

  A moment later, a squirrelmaid of about the same age as Posy and Uggo slid gracefully down from the summit. She nodded briefly to them.

  “’Scuse me, be witcha soon!”

  She went after the babe Wiggles, who evaded her grasp at every turn, giggling as she did an elusive dance.

  As the tiny hog was passing, Posy stuck out a paw and tripped her. Uggo grasped Wiggles, holding her still. This gave the squirrelmaid time to grab the little hog, then wrap her tightly in a shawl as she squeaked angrily, “Yew lemmee go, Foober—y’ain’t my mammy!”

  The squirrelmaid, Foober, tweaked Wiggles’s snout. “I wudden be yore mammy, not fer a barrel o’ nuts. Wait’ll I tells ’er ’ow you’ve been behavin!”

  She nodded to Uggo and Posy. “Y’ain’t from round ’ere, are yer? Whereja come from, then?”

  Posy pointed to the Greenshroud out at sea. “We were prisoners on that ship, but we escaped, an’ now we need to hide somewhere before the vermin come after us.”

  Foober passed Wiggles to Uggo. “Ye keep ahold o’ that liddle snit—yore an ’edge’og. Someplace to ’ide, eh? Foller me!”

  She started back uphill; they followed her hurriedly. Living up to her name, Wiggles wriggled wildly in Uggo’s grip.

  He shook her, though not too hard. “Be still, baby, or you’ll fall. Yowch!”

  Posy turned to see what was happening. “What now?”

  Uggo ducked his head out of the little one’s way. “She bit me on the nose, the liddle savage!”

  Foober chuckled. “Then bite ’er back—go on!”

  Uggo bared his teeth menacingly, though he had no intention of biting Wiggles, who began wailing, “Waaahaaahaaah! It not fair, yew got big sharp teef, ya bully. I’m on’y likkel.”

  The threat had worked. Uggo gnashed his teeth for better effect. “Then be still or I’ll bite yore nose clean off!”

  They followed Foober almost out of the dunes, where the heathland was dotted with scrubby hummocks. Smoke from cooking fires rose from behind a large patch of gorse bushes. Foober yelled, “Comin’ in! Open d’gate, Freepaws.”

  A section of the yellow-flowered spiked branches was drawn back by two hairy voles with hooked staffs. They escorted the small party through to a fire, where a big old silver-tailed squirrel was roasting parsnips in the embers.

  He waved to Uggo and Posy. “Hah, two young ’ogs, eh? I likes ’ogs, affable beasts they usually are. Are ye affable?”

  Not knowing what the word meant, Posy nodded. “Oh, we’re affable, sir, very affable. I’m Posy, and he’s Uggo. We’ve escaped from a vermin ship.”

  For his length of seasons, the silver-tailed squirrel had a fine set of teeth. He grinned widely at them. “Name ain’t sir—’tis Rekaby. Excaped, eh? ’Ard work, excapin’. Y’must be ’ungry, come an’ eat.”

  Scraping ash from two roasted parsnips, he gave them one apiece. They tasted very good. Uggo looked around at the others within the gorse compound. They were a diverse bunch: squirrels, moles, voles, hedgehogs and various types of mice.

  Foober helped herself to a parsnip, winking at the silver-tailed patriarch. “Nobeast kin roast parsnippers like yew, Granpa. Wot are yew starin’ at, Uggo?”

  The young hog explained. “Sorry, but I couldn’t help noticin’ yore certainly a mixed bunch.”

  Rekaby shrugged. “That’s ’cos we’re the Fortunate Freepaws, y’see. We do no ’arm to anybeast, go where we like an’ do wot we please. Even the Axehound’s Crew leave us be. Good name that, ain’t it, Fortunate Freepaws? I thought it up meself. I like big words—d’you know any?”

  Posy scratched her headspikes thoughtfully. “Er, how about curmudgeon, or lackadaisical?”

  Rekaby repeated the words, relishing their sounds. “Curmudgeon, lackadaisical. . . . I likes them. Wot do they mean?”

  Posy explained, “Well, a curmudgeon is a beast who’s moody and sulky. Lackadaisical, I’m not quite sure, but I think it means some creature who is idle and couldn’t care less about things.”

  Rekaby scraped off another parsnip, nodding sagely. “Good new words, I’ll remember them. Thankee, Miz Posy.” He gave the parsnip to Wiggle. “So then, ye liddle curmudgeon,’ave yew bin behavin’ yoreself, or ’ave ye bin givin’ pore Foober the runabout?”

  Wiggle climbed up on the oldster’s lap, giggling. “Ho, Wiggle gived ’er the runabouts. I’m a real ’mudgeon!”

  Rekaby kissed the babe’s soft headspikes fondly. “See that? Ye’ve nearly learned my new word. Go on, now, off with ye an’ torment yore mammy for a while.”

  Uggo gained Rekaby’s attention. “Ain’t you worried about the vermin we escaped from? They’ll be comin’ ashore an’ huntin’ for us. There’s a lot of ’em, y’know, an’ they’re pirates an’ murderers.”

  The old squirrel laid an earthenware pot in front
of Uggo and Posy. “Try dippin’ yore parsnips in this. ’Tis gorseflower honey—we gets it from the bees here.”

  Both hedgehogs did as Rekaby suggested, with Posy pursuing Uggo’s enquiry. “Mmm, it tastes quite pleasant, but you haven’t answered my friend’s question, Rekaby.”

  The old squirrel gestured with his parsnip. “I think I hear your answer comin’ now. Open the gates for Swiffo, will ye?”

  Hooking back the spiny gorse, the two hairy voles admitted a lithe young sea otter. Rekaby called him to the fire. “Now then, ye young curmudgeon, I’ve roasted a parsnip or two for ye. So, what news?”

  Swiffo winked at Uggo and Posy as he helped himself to the food. “You two were lucky to escape that ole vermin ship. Ye wouldn’t have made it ’cept for the Whoomers. Hah, I likes Whoomers—they’re good fun!”

  Rekaby tweaked Swiffo’s rudder. “Beg y’pardon, but yore supposed t’be reporting t’me, not chattin’ away to them two. Now, tell me all that went on, an’ any good new words ye’ve heard.”

  Swiffo took a great gulp from a gourd of pennycloud cordial, then took up the tale.

  “Big ship out to sea. Saw our friends here make their dive from it. Great ole green-sailed tub it is, packed with searats an’ corsairs. I thought these two weren’t goin’ t’make the shore, ’specially when somebeast aboard fired a big arrow at ’em. Coloshuss it was, like a pine tree with flights, but it missed ’em. So, next thing the Whoomers comes t’the rescue, puts the ’edgehogs on land, safe’n’sound. Then after slayin’ a few vermin, those Whoomers starts tormentin’ the big ship, haulin’ it to’n’fro, hurlin’ the vermins’ weapons back at ’em. I tell ye, Whoomers knows ’ow to enjoy theirselves!”

  Swiffo broke off to dip another parsnip into the honey, but Rekaby chivvied him on.

  “So, what happened then—an’ did ye hear any new words?”

  The young otter munched away reflectively. “I heard those vermin usin’ lots o’ new words when they was shoutin’ at the Whoomers, but I ain’t about to repeat ’em with maids present. Though there was two—bottlenosed an’ pestilential.’Ow do they sound to ye?”

  Rekaby repeated them slowly, then nodded. “Better’n nothin’, I suppose. Well, is that all, ye lackadaisical rip?”

  Swiffo licked honey from his paws, winking at the old one. “Oh, no. I was savin’ the best for last. Here’s wot’appened. The Whoomers left off playin’ with the ship an’ went off after a herrin’ shoal. Then a one-eyed uglymugged beast came on deck an’ ordered the ship t’sail for shore.”

  Uggo interrupted. “That’ll be Razzid Wearat. He’s the cap’n.”

  Swiffo prodded him with a sticky parsnip. “Ahoy, d’ye mind? I’m tellin’ this story. Anyhow, ye’ll never guess wot’appened next!”

  Rekaby gave the young otter a long-suffering glance. “No, Swiffo, I’ll never guess what ’appened next, but I’d be pleased to hear it from ye.”

  Swiffo covered his mouth, emitting a muffled giggle. “I wouldn’t ’ave believed it if I didn’t see it with me own two eyes, but that ship came sailin’ right up t’the beach, then rolled out o’ the sea an’ along the shore like a big wagon with sails—”

  Rekaby’s paw shot up. “Stop right there, young un! The ship came out o’ the sea an’ went along the shore. How?”

  Swiffo shrugged. “It’s got wheels, y’see, four of ’em. If’n ye don’t believe me, then go an’ take a look!”

  For an old squirrel, Rekaby rose nimbly. “Foober, you an’ Laka gather up the babes! The rest of ye, douse the fire, pack up camp an’ make ready to travel. Uggo, Posy, Swiffo, Fiddy an’ Frudd, come with me!”

  Swiffo led the way as the others followed. Posy trotted alongside Fiddy and Frudd, two hairy vole brothers. She could not help noticing they were unarmed.

  “Don’t you carry weapons?”

  Fiddy shook his head. “None of us Fortunate Freepaw tribe do. We avoid violence an’ offer it to none.”

  Leading them along a tortuous path through the dunes, Swiffo came to his former vantage point on a high, reeded sandhill. He pointed upshore triumphantly.

  “See for yoreselves!”

  16

  Mowlag judged the distance between the flat shoreline and the dunetops. “Don’t see ’ow we’ll catch ’em if’n they’ve gone up there, Cap’n.”

  Razzid wiped at his weeping eye, answering caustically, “I didn’t think ye would. D’ye recall who got us atop o’ the dunes by the stripedog mountain?”

  Jiboree wagged his head admiringly. “That was you, Cap’n!”

  The Wearat nodded. “Right, an’ here’s how ye do it. First we find the easiest of these dunes, the smallest. Then ’tis just like steerin’ a ship at sea. Get the wind behind ye, then tack an’ weave from a distance away. Get the crew standin’ by to punt with the oars on both sides. We gets up speed on the flat, then goes full sail at the smallest hill. Soon as we hit it, the crew start helpin’ her up by pushin’ with the oars. Remember now, mudbrain?”

  Mowlag tugged his snout meekly. “Aye, Cap’n, ’twas yore idea. Once we’re up, it’s like sailin’ up an’ down the waves.”

  Swiffo and the others watched Greenshroud from where they crouched in the dunetop reeds.

  Frudd scratched his bushy head. “Wot are they up to? Maybe they’re goin’ back to sea, eh?”

  Rekaby, who had been eyeing the vessel keenly, shook his head. “I don’t think so. Look, she’s caught the breeze on the turn to get up a fair lick along the hard sand.”

  Swiffo gasped. “Lookit the speed it’s goin’ now, good gosh!”

  With a stiff breeze bellying out all sails, Greenshroud really whipped along below the tideline. Suddenly the big craft changed course, thundering at an angle toward the lowest dune. Excited shouts could be heard from the vermin as their ship hit the reeded slope. Oarpoles shot out, port and starboard, digging into the sand to keep up the momentum. The wheels scarce had time to settle on the duneside. It was an amazing sight.

  Gaining the dunetop, Greenshroud careered off across the hilly summits, skilfully steered by corsairs heaving and slacking the rigging and ratlines under Razzid Wearat’s command.

  Rekaby kept his head low, muttering to his companions, “I think ’tis time we weren’t here!” The small party made a hasty retreat, though as they surmounted the next dune, a hoarse cry rang out from Greenshroud’s lookout at the mainmast peak.

  “Ahoy, Cap’n, there they go, the two ’ogs an’ four otherbeasts. Straight ahead, an’ a point starboard. See ’em, Cap’n? Atop o’ that dune, crouchin’ down!”

  Old Rekaby shook his head woefully. “D’ye hear that, the bottlenosed curs have spotted us. I wonder how they managed that.”

  Young Swiffo knew. “It’s that ole tail o’your’n. Sticks up like a curly silver flag. We’d best make ourselves scarce!”

  Rekaby sighed. “Aye, but don’t take the trail back to our Fortunate Freepaws, or they’ll be huntin’ us all down.”

  Fiddy pointed northeast. “We’ll lead ’em away from our tribe first. Then try to lose the villains somehow.”

  Posy looked doubtfully at the suggested route. “But we’ll be leaving the dunes for the heathland. Surely they’ll overtake us easily on the flat.”

  Swiffo grinned mischievously. “Hah, but you don’t know this country like we do, miz!”

  Greenshroud was rolling along smoothly under Razzid’s command. Driven by the breeze under full sail, the ship glided uphill and down dale without a hitch.

  The Wearat yelled up to his lookout, “Where away are they now, Redtail?”

  The keen-sighted stoat laughed aloud, pointing. “Haharrharr! The fools are makin’ fer the flatlands, Cap’n. We’ll run ’em down wid no trouble!”

  Jiboree grinned wickedly. “We kin keep the liddle ’ogs’til they tell us where Redwall is. But wot d’ye say we does wid the rest, Cap’n?”

  Razzid twirled his trident, imitating a spit. “Been a while since we ’ad somethin’ that wasn’t bird or
fish. Some roast red meat would cheer us all up, eh!”

  Now the fugitives were on the heathland, which apart from some scrub, was level ground. Uggo managed to run up front with Swiffo.

  “I hope ye know wot yore doin’, mate.”

  The young otter glanced back over his shoulder. “Save yore breath, friend. That wheely boat’ll soon be out o’ the dunes. Lissen, wot can ye hear?”

  Uggo listened carefully. “Nothin’ much. Wot d’ye want me to hear, Swiffo?”

  Breaking stride, Swiffo caught something in his paw. He showed it to Uggo before it leapt away. “Grasshoppers, big fellers—the sort we calls marsh hoppers. Now look, there’s dragonflies, an’ black darters. Wot does that tell ye?”

  The young hedgehog looked blank; he shrugged. “Wot?” Swiffo called to Posy, who was running behind them, “D’you know, Miz Posy?”

  “Dragonflies are usually flying near water—streams, riverbanks an’ such. Is there a river round here?”

  Rekaby spotted Greenshroud coming down the last duneside. “Looks like we’ll soon have company. How far now to the marsh, Swiffo?”

  The otter scout replied, “We’re already on the start of it. Single line, now, an’ follow in my trail.”

  Uggo looked nonplussed. “Wot is all this about—” Running to one side of Swiffo, Uggo’s footpaw suddenly sank.

  The young otter grabbed him back on track. “Told ya to stay in my trail. I knows the track through this marsh like the back o’ me own paw, so stick close.”

  Uggo’s paw had made a hole in the crust of the marsh, which was only a thin cover of soil and dead vegetation. The paw made a sucking noise as he pulled it from the foulsmelling, dark green ooze.

  Posy covered her mouth against the fetid odour. “Phwaaah! Stinks like cabbage boiled last summer and bad eggs. Don’t come near me ’til you’ve cleaned it off!”

  Grabbing a pawful of moss, Uggo began scrubbing at his footpaw. However, he was brought up sharply by a kick on the bottom from Rekaby.

  “No time t’be lackadaisical, young un. We’ve got a shipload o’ vermin on our tails. Now, get ye goin’, an’ keep in line with Swiffo. Ye can get cleaned off later!”