Brian Jacques - The Rogue Crew

The vermin crew stayed for ’ard, fearful of any reprisals his wrath would bring on them. Somebeast was going to pay for letting the prisoners escape.

Mowlag, looking up from the bow, signalled for another arrow. “The closer we get, the more chance I got of slayin’’em!”

Razzid’s trident struck the bow, knocking it aside. “We ain’t got arrows to waste on two liddle pinhogs. Hold the ship dead ahead an’ we’ll run ’em down if’n we’re fast enough! Jiboree, set some good runners up here, an’ let me know when we’re in the shallows.”

Posy was first ashore. She glanced back at the rapidly closing galley as she took Uggo’s paw. “They’ll be right on our tails soon. We need to run and hide amongst those dunes!”

It was easy going on the firm sand below the tideline, but once they crossed the debris of seaweed and driftwood, things became difficult. Their paws sank into the dry sand, which slowed their progress considerably.

Uggo, never the fleetest of runners, tripped, sprawling headlong. He spat sand. “Phtooh! I ain’t much good at bein’ chased, Posy. You go on, leave me here. . . .”

The young hogmaid pulled him upright. “I’m not leaving you for those dirty vermin. Come on now, let’s get going—show me what you can do!”

Razzid sized up the four searats whom Jiboree brought for’ard. Two of them had the long, lean limbs of runners; the other two looked young but capable. He positioned them either side of the bowsprit.

“See if ye can make it to land afore this ship does an’ run those two escaped prisoners down. I want them back aboard alive, understood?”

The four nodded, bracing themselves to jump the moment some shallows showed. Razzid pointed at the two little figures stumbling toward the dunes.

“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.”