The Rogue Crew (28 page)

Back at the Guosim streambank camp, a sentry was knocked flat by Voogal stampeding through the camp boundary. The shrew jumped up, calling the alarm.

“Logalogalogaloooog!”

The ferret was almost at the stream's edge when Dandy Clogs, who was never a heavy sleeper, came sailing sideways through the air.
Clakk!
The shrew Chieftain's clogged footpaws connected with Voogal's jaw, knocking him senseless.

Immediately the camp sprang to life. Dandy bellowed orders. “Vermin! Arm up, Guosim, an' check the area!”

It did not take long until shrew warriors began calling back, “All clear here, Dandy!”

“Ain't no more of 'em—must've been only one o' the scum!”

Uggo and Posy hurried to where Dandy was standing over the unconscious Voogal. Brushing off the side of one clog, Dandy commented coolly, “Just nicked the villain. He's out cold, but he'll live. Do either of ye know him?”

Kneeling, Uggo studied the ferret's face. “Aye. I saw this un aboard the ship. I warned ye they'd come after us!”

Rekaby chuckled drily. “Lucky we met friend Dandy, isn't it? I'll wager he could lay a whole crew o' those curmudgeons flat with those clogs o' his!”

Dandy nodded. “Good job there wasn't a full crew with him. Rawkin, sluice this rascal down with water 'til he comes round. The rest of ye, go back to sleepin'—we've got an early start in the morn.”

Posy spoke for herself and Uggo. “Can we stay and watch him, Dandy, please?”

The Guosim Chieftain shrugged. “As y'please, missy.”

Voogal spat water, wincing, trying slowly to rise. An ornate clog landed on his narrow chest, thrusting him back down. Dandy leaned over him, his eyes glinting like chips of flint in the firelight. He addressed the vermin in a flat, dangerous tone.

“Stay where ye are, muckface. I've got questions for ye.”

Seeing the big bird was nowhere about boosted Voogal's courage. He snarled his reply. “Questions, eh? Wot makes ye think I'm goin' to answer 'em, watermouse?”

Dandy smiled at Posy. “Listen to him. He don't know the difference twixt mouse or shrew. A real thick un, eh?” He turned back to Voogal, still smiling. “You'll answer, thick'ead, an' they'd better be answers I like, or things might get a bit hot for ye. Rawkin, shove yore rapier blade in the fire, will ye?”

Posy put a paw to her mouth. “You're not going to . . . ?”

Dandy turned away from Voogal, tipping Posy a huge wink. “Better stay out the way, me darlin'. This won't be fit for a young maid t'see. Rawkin, tell me when that blade gets to glowin' red.”

Voogal sighed deeply. “Alright. I'll answer any of yore questions, shrew. I ain't takin' any punishment fer a cap'n who don't care if'n I lives or dies. Ask away.”

Playing along with Dandy, Posy scowled fiercely. “If'n I was you, I'd tickle the scum up with that hot blade first, show him ye means business!”

Voogal gulped visibly. “No, don't! I'll tell ye all ye wants ter know, on me affydavit I will!”

Dandy nodded. “Oh, I think this un'll sing just fine without me havin' to dirty a good blade on his hide, missy.”

The Guosim Log a Log's eyes twinkled as he whispered to Posy, “Away with ye, bloodthirsty liddle snip!” He turned his attention back to the ferret. “Now, me snot-nosed ole vermin, tell us yore story.”

Voogal was readily blurting out the name of his ship and captain when Dandy held up a paw. “I already know all that from young Posy an' Uggo. So tell me, why were ye ordered to hunt 'em down?”

The ferret replied promptly. “'Cos the one called Uggo comes from a place named Redwall, an' my cap'n wants ter find out where 'tis.”

The shrew Chieftain glared sternly at Uggo. “Why didn't ye tell me this?”

Uggo shrugged. “Er, didn't have time to. . . . We were tired'n'hungry when Rekaby brought us here. I forgot.”

Dandy shook his head in disbelief. “Razzid the Wearat has a shipload of vermin murderers aboard of a vessel that can travel land or water, an' he wants t'go to Redwall Abbey. What for, d'ye suppose? To take tea wid Abbot Thibb, eh?”

All Uggo could do was to murmur lamely, “Wasn't my fault, all I did was forget. Sorry.”

Dandy struck his clogs on a stone, sending sparks flying. “Sorry! Is that all ye've got t'say, sorry? Rawkin, Dobble, Banktail! Ready the logboats! Guosim, break camp an' ship yore gear. We're leavin' now!”

The fat Guosim called Banktail scratched his ear in bewilderment. “Now, Chief?”

Dandy roared at the hapless shrew, “Aye, now! We've got t'get to Redwall afore the Wearat an' his vermin do. We got to warn 'em there's goin' t'be an attack, so come on, shift yore fat tail!”

Dandy pushed past Uggo, berating him coldly, “An' you, make yoreself useful an' lend a paw. But if'n ye can't do that, then stay out of me way!”

Feeling completely crushed, Uggo hung his head, staring at the ground.

Old Rekaby patted his back. “Don't fret, young un, we all make mistakes. Dandy'll be in a better mood once the logboats are on the move. Us Fortunate Freepaws won't be goin' with ye. We've got t'join the rest of our tribe. It's been good meetin' ye an' you, too, Posy. Good fortune go with ye, friends!”

Posy hugged the ancient silver squirrel. “Thanks for everything, Rekaby. You're a kind creature.”

Without warning, young Swiffo also embraced Rekaby. “Aye, yore one o' the best I ever travelled with. I'll miss ye, too, ole silvertail!”

Rekaby merely smiled ruefully at the sea otter. “So you're off, too, ye young ripscarum. I wondered how long 'twould be afore ye grew tired of our peaceable ways.”

Swiffo grinned roguishly. “I've got t'go with Posy an' Uggo, 'cos I'd hate to miss out on an adventure an' mayhaps a slice of action. Ahoy, Dandy, got room for another one?”

The Guosim Chieftain laughed. “Hop aboard, I wouldn't refuse a son o' Skor Axehound!”

They boarded the logboats, which Guosim paddlers steered skilfully out into midstream. Rekaby and his followers waved them off from the bank.

“Safe journey, hope ye make it to Redwall in time!”

Swiffo nodded toward Voogal. “D'ye want us to ship that vermin aboard with us?”

Rekaby considered the request briefly.

“No, thankee. We'll dress his wounds an' keep him with us. Maybe teach him not t'be such a bottlenosed curmudgeon!”

From the prow of the lead logboat, Dandy called out orders to his Guosim. “Keep 'em head down an' centre current. Stay in line, slipstream the boat in front of ye. No sails, there ain't a puff o' wind to fill 'em tonight. Hark, now, I wants t'see those paddles double strokin' good'n'deep. We got a long way t'go an' a short time t'do it in, so dig deep, me buckoes!”

Uggo and Posy sat with Swiffo in the stern of the back logboat. They felt a surge as their craft lurched forward under the power of double stroking. With their gruff bass voices, the Guosim shrews struck up a stream shanty, keeping the pace fast and smooth.

It was such a catchy tune that Posy found herself bumping a footpaw to keep time.

Swiffo cautioned her, “Don't do that, pretty one—ye'll put the rowers off.”

Uggo snorted. “No, she won't. Posy's just helpin' 'em along.” He tapped the back of the Guosim rower sitting in front of him. “Ahoy, mate, you Guosim certainly knows how to row. D'ye mind if'n I borrow yore paddle an' have a try?”

The oar shrew was big and tough. He spat into the stream, turning scornfully to Uggo. “Lissen, daftspikes. Try puttin' a paw near my paddle an' I'll belt ye right inta next season with it!”

Uggo's voice sounded small and apologetic. “Sorry, sir. I was only tryin' to 'elp.”

The Guosim, a hard-faced warrior, curled his lip. “Only tryin' to 'elp, eh? Gettin' us to lose a full night's sleep, an' paddlin' like madbeasts round these streams. You've done enuff as 'tis, fool. So belt up, or get belted!”

Swiffo clouted the back of the shrew's head sharply. “Lissen, mudsnout, if'n ye feel like beltin' anybeast, then why not try me fer size, eh? Go on, I'll belt ye into that stream afore ye can raise a paw. So just shut yore trap an' row!”

Without a word, the Guosim went straight back to paddling.

Swiffo whispered to his two hedgehog friends, “An' you two stop bumpin' the side o' the boat. Don't argue wid Guosim beasts, an' grab some sleep whilst ye can!” The young sea otter grinned broadly, winking at them both.

They drifted into sleep on the dark night-shaded stream, cheered up by the fact that they had a good companion, and a real tough one, to boot.

 

Despite the fact that they were eager to exact retribution on Razzid Wearat and his crew, the march in search of the vessel
Greenshroud
was both long and arduous. This was mainly owing to the scorching pace set up by both hares and otters trying to outmarch each other. It became a question of regimental pride on the Long Patrol's side, opposed by a display of Rogue Crew toughness and stamina. Neither side was prepared to concede a fraction to the other. Skor Axehound, bringing up the rear with Captain Rake Nightfur, began to fall some way behind. Neither had spoken a word thus far, merely pressing onward, spitting dust and fine sand.

The big sea otter finally halted, nodding toward the marchers. “This has gone far enough, Rake. They're goin' to run themselves into the ground if'n they keep on like that!”

The hare captain caught his breath, nodding. “Aye, Ah'm with ye there, mah friend. D'ye ken they'd hear ye if ye called a halt?”

“Let me give it a try, eh!” Skor spat on his paws, cupping them about his mouth. His massive chest swelled as he sucked in air. Then he let out a bellow which had Rake covering both ears. “On my command . . . haaaaaaaalt!”

Surveying the dust cloud which arose over the marchers, Skor chuckled. “Haven't lost my touch, it'd seem!”

Both sides sat in the sand, heads down, fighting for breath but still defiant.

“By the left, what've we jolly well stopped for, wot?”

“Search me, I was just gettin' warmed up!”

Neither side would admit tiredness. They carried on thus until Sergeant Miggory (one of the few who was still breathing normally) sprang up to attention. “Silence h'in the ranks. Offisahs'n'chieftains present!”

Skor strode up and down, shaking his big bearded head. “If we met up with those vermin now, wot good would any of ye be, eh? I order ye to stop this foolishness. Captain Rake, would you like to say a word?”

His companion fixed them all with a reproving glare. “This is nae a race, ye ken. Skor Axehound's right, an' Ah'm surprised at the behaviour of mah Long Patrol officers. Whit were ye thinkin' of, eh? Right now, let's do things proper. Take a rest for a while, but no food, just a small drink each, tae quench the dust. Then we'll be up an' marchin' again in good order. Lieutenant Scutram, ye'll do us the honour o' a marchin' song, an' I mean a proper sauncy air, not a stampede scramble. Understood?”

Scutram threw him a smart salute. “As y'say, Cap'n, I'll keep it to a brisk march, sah!”

When the march resumed, things went a lot better, progressing at an even pace. Much to everybeast's amusement, Skor strode at the head of the parade, hurling his battleaxe high and catching it deftly as Scutram's tuneful tones rang out.

After the song, one of the sea otters, Garrent, chuckled as he chatted to Big Drander. “Wot sort o' marchin' song is that? Bit sissy, ain't it?”

Drander kept his eyes front, muttering out the side of his mouth, “Tell that to Cap'n Rake. He wrote it.”

Kite Slayer, the tough ottermaid, scowled darkly. “Ain't the sort of marchin' song I'd be caught singin'. Would ye like to hear a Rogue Crew song? One Skor wrote?”