Brian Jacques - The Rogue Crew

As they rounded the final dune, Captain Rake was nonplussed when he saw the column waiting on their arrival. “Corporal Welkin, Ah thought Ah told ye tae take them north along the shore. What are ye doin’ stannin’ roond here?”

Welkin waved a lance in a sweeping gesture along the dunes. Both sides of the sandy hilltops, north and south, were teeming with the foebeast horde, ready to charge down on them. It looked like a hopeless position.

Scutram frowned. “Ye did well t’keep the column here, Corporal. If they’d have caught us runnin’ north, strung out along the shore, it would’ve been a flamin’ massacre, wot!”

Rake weighed the situation swiftly. Silence had fallen on the dunetops. A whole army of shrews and lizards were watching the hares, waiting for them to make the next move.

Queen Dukwina squeaked scornfully, “It’s over, rabbets—surrender or die!”

Buff Redspore glared at the queen. “Nobeast asked for your comments, marm!”

Rake moved casually, flicking the sand with a footpaw as he spoke with Scutram and Miggory. “There’s no way out o’ this, mah friends. If we fled, they’d pick us off one by one, eh, Lieutenant?”

Scutram smiled grimly. “Fled, sah? Fled, did ye say? Sorry, but we ain’t much good at fleein’, doncha know.”

The tall, dark captain nodded. “Ah’m obliged tae ye for sayin’ that. So how d’ye feel about stannin’ an’ fightin’?”

Scutram held out his paw. “Thought ye’d never ask, old lad!”

As they shook paws, Miggory’s paw closed over theirs. “Pardon me sayin’, but h’a quick dash down t’the tideline. Keep the sea at our backs, dig into the wet sand, make ourselves a trench an’ make a barrier, a fort. May as well do h’it proper, sahs!”

Scutram smiled approvingly. “Jolly good, Sarn’t—a tiptop plan. How’d ye think of it, wot?”

Miggory saluted both officers respectfully. “Put it this way, sah, h’I was fightin’ vermin while you chaps was waitin’ t’be h’enrolled as cadets.”

Captain Rake winked admiringly. “Och, there’s a deal tae be said for experience. Thank ye, mah old friend. Ah, weel, we’d best be aboot our business!”

None of the horde on the dunetops was expecting the next move. Without a word or sign, the Long Patrol column broke away, going pell-mell for the sea, carrying their wounded and captives along with them. The departure was so sudden, it took their foes a few moments to realise what was going on and mobilise themselves. Some of their leaders, who seemed to be female shrews, began to scream and brandish their thin reed lances, urging the main body forward. The horde took up their cries and charged down the dunesides.

Big Drander had hauled the queen onto his back; the empraking was hurried along between Lancejack Sage and Ferrul; Crumdun, though fat, was quite fleet on his paws, running with the column. Bribbs had totally lost the use of his limbs, so Buff Redspore, Wilbee and Flutchers bore him between them. Captain Rake, Miggory and Scutram guarded the rear of the column. They made it to below the tideline just as the first of their pursuers landed on the flat beach.

Digging like madbeasts, young hares scrabbled in the wet sand, piling it up in front of them. Captain Rake was last to leap over the barrier, into the soggy trench. He gave rapid orders. “Dinnae hurl any lances, hauld on to ’em. Those wi’ bows an’ slings, load up an’ stand ready for mah command! How’s young Bribbs farin’, Wilbee?”

The young hare saluted, choking back tears. “Bribbs’s dead, sah. We left him a moment so we could dig the trench. When I went back to him, he was lyin’ there all limp, lookin’ up at the sun, poor chap!”

Sergeant Miggory, seeing Wilbee’s distress, stepped in. “Loss of h’a young life—we’re h’all very sorry, Wilbee. But stand ready for action now, h’or you’ll be next. Time for grievin’ later. Steady in the ranks, there!”

Corporal Welkin took a hasty look at Bribbs. “Cap’n, sah, they’re usin’ poisoned darts—otherwise, Bribbs would’ve been just wounded.”

Sergeant Miggory bellowed out an order. “Off tunics, wet’em in the seawater an’ use ’em as shields. Darts won’t git through wet cloth!”

Then the charge came like a breaking wave.

There were three bows and ten slings in the column. They launched a salvo at the attackers. All the hares were bellowing war cries, loud and wild. The strike of missiles, and the fierce shouts, seemed to drastically slow the enemy onslaught.

Captain Rake decided that it was time to utilise the queen once more. Holding her in front of him, he roared stridently, “Back, all o’ ye, or Ah’ll fling her intae the sea—take mah word for it, she’ll drown!”

The empraking leapt about, assuring them eagerly, “He will, y’know, just you watch! The rabbets have lost one of their young uns, so they’re out for revenge!”

Wriggling furiously in Rake’s iron grip, Queen Dukwina shouted, “Hold! Keep back—don’t charge ’til I give the command!”

The empraking whispered to Lancejack Sage, “That did the trick. She’s terrified of the big sea. All of us are, really, an’ the lizards can’t abide salt water.”

Sage watched the horde shuffling back. “Jolly well seems to have worked, wot!”

Corporal Welkin lowered his wet tunic. “It’ll work for a while, but the chaps at the back don’t really know what’s goin’ on. They’ll start pushin’ those in front of ’em, right, Sarge?”

Miggory nodded. “Right enough, Corp. Sooner or later, the front rankers’ll ’ave nothin’ t’do but be pushed flat or shoved for’ard—that’ll be the charge. I’ve seen h’it ’appen afore.”

An uneasy deadlock fell over both sides. The trench which the hares had dug in the damp sand below the tideline began to fill up. However, they stayed put, peering over the small barricade of sand.

A short distance from them, some of the queen’s supporters were beginning to chant, waving their venomous blowpipes and lances. It was a highly charged situation.

Lieutenant Scutram conferred with the captain. “Won’t be long now, sah, by the flippin’ look of it. Seems like we’re up the jolly old creek without a blinkin’ paddle, wot!”

Rake twitched his dark furred ears grimly. “Aye, they’d have charged long since, if only they knew Ah wouldnae drown their queen in the sea. Yer right, mah friend. There’s little left for us tae do but stan’ an’ go doon fightin’.”

Big Drander brandished his sabre. “Take as many o’ the blighters with us as we bloomin’ well can, sah—what d’ye say?”

Rake Nightfur gave the sturdy young hare a smile. “Ah, weel, laddie, we’ve got a braw day for it. Ah’m thinkin’ we may’s well open the ball!”

Drawing both claymores, the tall captain was about to launch into a war cry when a piercing scream rent the air. “Yeeeeeggh!”

This was followed by another, and yet a third scream. Pygmy shrews and sand lizards began scurrying hither and thither. A long red-fletched arrow with a fishbone tip came soaring over the enemy ranks, thudding into the sand barricade.

Buff Redspore climbed onto the sandy rampart, pointing toward the dunes. “Otters, sah—they’re bein’ set upon by otters!”

Queen Dukwina threw herself flat into the flooded trench, moaning, “Axehound’s beasts, the Rogue Crew!”

There were only six of the sea otters, and a seventh one who did not seem to be one of them. Their leader, a burly young beast, armed with a longbow, quiver and battleaxe, came running forward, giving a long ululating call. “Hoolawhey! Hiyareeeee! Fall down or be slain! Hoolawhey!”

The effect of this was astonishing to see. Pygmy shrews and sand lizards dropped their weapons, flinging themselves flat on the shore and covering their heads with their paws. The lead otter strode boldly up to the barricade, treading purposefully on the foebeasts’ prostrate bodies. He was a barbaric sight, wearing a woven bark kilt, carrying a round shield across his back and sporting a chunky coronet of amber pieces strung through with silver.