Mariel Of Redwall Part 28

Fishtail the mate leaned across the rail, listening to his Captain's instructions as Terramort Isle appeared like a tiny pinpoint on the horizon.

"Cap'n Flogga should be there with the Rathelm. It could be dangerous fer me, Fishtail- I'm no friend of Gabool or Flogga. When we drop anchor in Terramort cove, I want you to go up to Fort Bladegirt an' spy out the lay o' the land. Take most of the crew with yer, matey. I'll be all right aboard here with Blodge an' five others. Stay well armed an' careful, keep an eye peeled on that Gabool and learn if anybeast brought Graypatch back an' claimed the booty from the Darkqueen's hold. Oh, an' you might have a chat with Flogga, see if he favors Gabool, an' listen out fer any talk of the other 301.

Cap'ns formin' an alliance against Gabool. But mind what I say, matey: be careful of Gabool-he's wild, an' crazy with it. I'll wait aboard this ship for yer return.

Got that?"

"Aye aye, Cap'n. Leave it t' me."

The gruff voice of Blodge rang through the galley. "Ship oars, me lucky buckos. We'll ride in to Terramort on the swell."

All around Dandin and Durry the oarslaves leaned heavily on their oars, bringing the shafts down and locking them by wedging the ends beneath the benches, thus leaving the oarblades sloping high out of the sea to port and starboard, giving Seatalon the appearance of a bird with outspread wings as she drifted toward Terramort on billowing sails.

Durry licked his paws gently. "I feel powerful sorry for the pore child who owns these paws. What my o' nuncle'd say if he saw his fav'rite nephew a-chained up in some scurvy searats' galley I fears to think!"

Dandin wiped beading sweat from his brow. "I wonder where we are."

The little oarslave directly in front of him, a field-mouse named Copsey, provided the answer.

"We're coasting into Terramort. Didn't you hear Blodge? It makes no difference where we drop anchor, us rowers stay right here, chained to our benches. That's the life of an oarslave, Dandin."

She bent her head against the oar and rested. Dandin patted her scarred back. "Not if I can help it, Copsey." Wooden bowls were pa.s.sed among the slaves. They leaned toward the alleyway, each holding the big bowl in their right paw, the smaller in the left. Blodge pa.s.sed with his a.s.sistant, a small, evil-faced rodent named Clatt. They had with them two wooden buckets, one full of boiled barley meal, the other of water. Blodge filled the large bowls with water, Clatt the smaller ones with barley meal. Both rats thought it great fun to slop 302.

the water or meal carelessly at a bowl so that it missed and splashed upon the deck.

"Come on, sc.u.m. Lively now, an' hold those bowls out straight!"

"Aye, we're too kind to you idlers, treat you like a pair o' nursemaids, we do. Hee hee hee!"

Using their paws to eat the lukewarm mess, Dandin and Durry listened in to Blodge and Clatt's conversation.

"When I get to Bladegirt I'm gonna grab some roasted seabird an' sweet wine an' some o' those sugary dried fruits King Gabool keeps."

"Huh, you goin' to Fort Bladegirt? No such luck, Clatt. You're stayin' aboard with me'n Cap'n Catseyes an' four others."

"Gerrout, Blodge. Yer jokin' with me!"

"Cap'n's orders, matey. Do as yer told, or else!" Blodge drew a claw across his throat, indicating what would happen.

Clatt threw the bucket down, its contents slopping out onto the deck. "h.e.l.l's teeth! We may's well be oarslaves, stuck aboard this old tub all the time while others are havin' a good leave on Terramort. It's not right, mate, I tell ye. I'm sick an' fed up with it!"

"Nan, you stop 'ere with me, Clatt. I think there's goin' t' be trouble up at Bladegirt. Best we stay out of the way. Tell you what, shipmate-we'll go to the forecastle head cabin an' make skilly, you an' me."

Clatt brightened up at this suggestion. "An' some raisin duff. Can we make a pan o' raisin duff?"

"Aye, skilly an' duff. That'll gladden our 'earts. Ain't nothin' like skilly an' duff in a snug liddle cabin."

Clatt turned to the nearest oarslave, a very young shrew. "Avast, you bilgepup, d'you like skilly an' duff?" The young shrew nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir!"

"Well, you won't be gettin' none, it's all fer me an' Blodge. Hee hee hee!"

303.

Durry Quill gritted his teeth as they strode off laughing. "I'd like to meet that Clatt when I don't have no chains on one day!"

The Seatalon rode at anchor in Terramort cove as evening gave way to night. The wind had dropped, leaving the air still and warm. Captain Catseyes leaned over the rail, staring up to the lighted windows of Bladegirt. Blodge popped his head out of the forecastle cabin.

"Skilly an' duff, Cap'n. Me an' Clatt made enough fer all claws aboard."

Catseyes left the rail, adjusting the sword of Martin so it rode more comfortably at his side. "Thankee, Blodge. I think I will!"

00.

The weary oarslaves were slumbering chained to their oars as the hooded mouse stole carefully into the galley-deck. He glanced around, shaking his head at the pitiful figures. The mouse was not young anymore, but he was well set up and strongly built. From his belt he drew several sharp three-cornered rasp files. Dandin had been watching him through half-closed eyes; now the young mouse sat upright as the other crept past him. Dandin caught hold of the stranger's dark cloak. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The hooded mouse held up a warning paw. "Ssshhh! I bring freedom!"

Dandin nodded, recognizing immediate friendliness in the stranger's voice. "What do you want me to do? Say the word and I'll help."

"Wake the others as quietly as you can. Here, take one of these and use it on those chains."

Dandin accepted the file. He shook Durry and Copsey gently. "Hush now, be quiet. Wake up the others, but do it softly."

All around Dandin oarslaves were being wakened as he worked away with the file. It was a good file. He 304.

freed himself then began on Durry's chains. The hedgehog smiled at him in the darkness.

"Wait'11 I tells my o' nuncle 'bout this!"

The strange mouse gave a low whistle, and twenty other mice entered the galleydeck. They set about helping to release the slaves.

A small thin harvestmouse stood up. Unable to contain himself, he laughed aloud and threw his broken chains noisily to the deck. One of the helpers m.u.f.fled the harvest mouse in his cloak, but it was too late.

Pawsteps sounded above, then Captain Catseyes' high-pitched voice called out: "Who's that? Who's down there?"

The stranger took off his cloak. Beneath it he was a broad, fit-looking fellow, clad in a searat jerkin, though Dandin noticed that he was completely silvery gray. The mouse bundled the cloak up and pa.s.sed it to Dandin. "Who's that calling out on deck?"

"Captain Catseyes, the Master of this ship. Why?"

"Everybeast back at their oars, hide the broken chains and leave this to me. Be quick now!"

The oarslaves seated themselves, whilst the other cloaked mice hid beneath the galley benches.

"Cap'n . . . Cap'n Catseyes," the strange mouse called up to the deck. "Gabool sent me down. His Majesty has news for you ..."

Catseyes came bounding down the companionway. Anxiously he strode up to the strange mouse. "What news from King Gabool?"

The strange mouse stepped close in, drawing a dagger from the back of his belt. "Gabool doesn't know, but I brought you this!"

He slew Catseyes with one fierce thrust.

Dandin leaped forward. Unbuckling the dead searat's belt, he retrieved the swrord and scabbard. More paw-steps sounded above on deck.

"Cap'n, can we get some wine from yer cabin?"

305.

"Aye, skilly 'n' duff's better with a drop o' wine, Cap'n."

"That's Blodge and Clatt," Dandin whispered to the stranger. "Leave them to us when they come down."

"Right, how many more aboard?"

"Four besides them."

"We'll take care of them. Get that body out of sight and sit back down as you were. The rest of you hide."

Blodge and Clatt came stumbling down into the half-light of the galleydeck. Blodge peered around bad-tem-peredly.

"Cap'n, where are yer? Ain't we goin' t' get no wine tonight?"

"Not tonight or any other night, slavedriver!"

Clatt gave a squeak of dismay; blocking the stairway was the stranger, backed by twenty hooded mice. He whirled about to find himself facing Dandin. Blodge unwound the whip from about his shoulders and raised it threateningly. "Get back, or I'll have the hide off yer!"

Dandin chopped the nailing lash in two pieces with a sweep of his sword. "You'll never use that whip on another creature, rat!"

He hurled himself upon the slavedriver, who fell back yelling hoa.r.s.ely as he grappled at his belt for his own sword.

Copsey and Durry gave Clatt a mighty shove in the back, and he shot from the alleyway straight into the arms of a bunch of oarslaves who were waiting, swinging lengths of broken chain. Clatt had time for just one short despairing scream. Just one, no more!

From above decks the sound of four bodies splashing in the sea told the oarslaves that the stranger and his companions had dealt finally with the remaining crew members. Dandin stood straight, distastefully wiping his sword upon the fallen body of Blodge.

"He died as he lived, a cringing coward who could only strike out at helpless creatures in chains!"

306.

The freed slaves made their way up to the deck. The stranger and his band were loading up with any weapons that they could find. He nodded at Dandin "All finished down there?"

The young mouse sheathed his sword. "As finished as it'll ever be. What next?"

"We take everything we can from this ship-weapons, food and clothing-then we get off and sink her. From there we go to the caves at the other side of the island. When the time is right we will attack Fort Bladegirt and put an end to Gabool the Wild. Are you with us?" J The freed slaves looked at Dandin. He grasped the stranger's outstretched paw.

"We're with you every step of the way and glad to be along! My name is Dandin of Red wall. What's yours?"

The stranger swirled his dark cloak about him, a broad, honest grin creeping across his strong features. "They call me Joseph the Bellmaker!"

307.

33.

The morning was a fine one. Blue smoke from the searat campfires drifted through the high woodland trees, mingling with sloping shafts of sunbeam across leafy boughs of oak, ash, rowan, sycamore, elm and beech. Soft mosses, short gra.s.s and variegated flowers carpeted the ground, broken here and there by beds of fern and flowering nettles.

The beauty of it all was lost upon the searats; food was the more practical problem of the moment. Gray-patch had argued, ranted and cajoled, but the faction led by Bigfang and Lardgutt won the day, appealing to greed rather than conquest. Hunger made Bigfang unexpectedly eloquent on the subject of food.

Graypatch listened, knowing he had no real answer to Bigfang's argument.

"Shipmates, we ain't woodland rats, we're searats. We always had plenty o' fish an' seabirds too, besides what stores we could plunder. But here we ain't got nothin', an' there's too many of us to be sharin' nothin'! Oh, leaves, berries, roots 'n' fruits are fine, if y'know which are the right ones an' which ones won't make a body sick or even kill yer. But we don't! So we're goin' to starve if we can't get proper vittles to eat!"

308.

There was ma.s.sive agreement with this statement. Graypatch shrugged.

"Well, fair enough, Bigfang. Tell us the answer- you're so smart!"

Bigfang had his answer ready this time. "I say we use our weapons to get food, not to fight some Abbey or guard a lot of useless oarslaves. Split up, go in gangs, fish the streams an' ponds, kill the birds with slingshots, arrows, anythin', but let's get some decent grub inside of us!"

Amid the roars of approval, Graypatch waved his sword for silence.

"All right, all right! That sounds sensible t' me. I never had no objections to a searat crew feedin' theirsel-ves, mateys. But there's still these oarslaves. They're ours, and we can't let 'em be nabbed away by those Redwallers, so I suggest we build a cage for 'em, then we can go huntin'. Avast, what do ye say?"

Bigfang pointed his sword at Graypatch. "You do what you want, rat. We're goin' to get food!"

The entire crew stopped what they were doing and watched. Bigfang had finally laid down his challenge. Graypatch gripped his sword tight and confronted his enemy.

"So, it's come t' this, eh, matey!"

Bigfang circled, crouching low, sword at the ready. "I'm no matey o' yours, rat!"

"Haharr, I reckon you fancy yourself as Cap'n round here!"

"Couldn't make no worse a job of it than you, smart-mouth!"

With a roar they clashed, blade striking upon blade. The searats formed a circle for them to fight in. Bigfang was strong; he used his sword like a club, hacking and bludgeoning at his opponent. Graypatch was vastly more experienced; he ducked and parried, dodging away from the main attacks, using the campfire as a barrier.

309.

They fought in silence, none of the crew shouting encouragement to one or the other lest the shouter back the losing beast. Dust and ashes from the fire rose in billows as the pair battled savagely, Bigfang gaining the upper claw slightly with his size, strength and ferocity. Graypatch countered most of the moves, sometimes making Bigfang look awkward and ungainly, but as sword locked sword they gritted and sweated, their faces almost touching.

Graypatch began to realize that he was not as young and powerful as Bigfang. Fighting desperately to keep the foe from his blind side, he felt himself starting to tire and weaken. But experience was on his side; he kept his single eye on the main chance. Striving wildly, he turned Bigfang so that his back was to the fire and redoubled his attack. Bigfang was forced backward until one foot went into the fire. He yelped in pain. Gray-patch dodged away, as if giving his adversary a chance to recover. Bigfang looked down at his scorched foot-claws for a vital second.

It cost him his life. Graypatch s.n.a.t.c.hed the spear that Frink was holding and hurled it. He was too close to miss.

From the branches of a tall beech close by, a fat squirrel sat watching. He shook his head as he saw Bigfang fall. "Hmm, could've told him that'd happen. That old rat's no fool!"

Graypatch stood with his narrow chest heaving. He glared around the circle to rea.s.sert his authority as Captain.

"Come on, riffraff, anyone else wanna be Cap'n?