Brian Jacques - The Rogue Crew

Just then several voices echoed from the bank.

“Ahah! Brekkist, just lead me to it, mates!”

“Huh, lead your flippin’ self, planktail. I’m so jolly hungry I could scoff the bloomin’ bark off a dead tree!”

“Aye, well go an’ find yoreself h’a dead tree, young sah. I’m h’all for some proper vittles. Move over, Drander!”

“I say, Sarge, watch who yore jolly well shovin, wot!”

Pinny Wiltud was no shy young blossom. She got order with paw raps from her stout beechwood ladle. “Back off, ye famine-gobbed beasts! There’s enough to go round, so form a line! Here, young Posy wotsyername, come t’the front.”

Trug Bawdsley protested. “I say, marm, I was here before her!”

Skor Axehound lifted Trug bodily and placed him to the back. “You ’eard Miz Wiltud. Now behave yoreself. I’m next after liddle Posy. Ahoy, Feyblade, stop pushin’ or ye’ll feel my footpaw round yore stern!”

Order was restored, and everybeast was served in turn.

Uggo picked scone crumbs from his pawspikes. “Much further to Redwall, is it, marm?”

Pinny wrapped a spare scone in a dockleaf, slipping it to Posy, who was rapidly becoming her favourite. “If we sets a good pace, we should make it after evenin’! Make the most o’ these vittles, ’cos I ain’t stoppin’ t’cook anymore today. Now, who’s the best climber amongst ye?”

Log a Log Dandy stepped smartly forward. “That’ll be me, darlin’. Where d’ye want me to climb?”

She pointed out a stately elm. “Try that un. Get as high as y’can, then shout down wot ye see to the east an’ a bit south’ard.”

The Guosim Chieftain was a nimble-pawed shrew. He shot up the elm trunk and was soon lost amidst the leafy canopy. There was a moment’s silence, then he yelled down, “Hah, ’tis a three-topped oak. A real ole giant!”

Captain Rake strapped on his twin blades. “So, away we go, eh, Sergeant?”

The grizzled veteran bellowed out in good parade-ground style, “Fall h’in, ye lollop-eared, bang-tailed, spiky-’eaded rabble! H’on the double, now, look smart, look smart! Chins in, chests out, shoulders back, paws swingin’, h’eyes front! Quick—wait for it, Miss Ferrul—quick march!”

Away they went, hares, otters, shrews and hedgehogs, with Lancejack Sage, who had a sweet strong voice, singing out.

“If I had no fine boat to sail,

then I’d walk all the way,

an’ if nobeast would carry me,

I’d march the livelong day,

hey, up the hill an’ down the grade,

with comrades true each one.

Ten! Twenty! Thirty leagues!

From Sala manda stron!

Go t’your left, left right, it’s a long way ’til tonight!

“So keep the vittles warm for me,

an’ serve me more not less,

an’ shed a tear, O Sergeant dear,

for Cooky in the mess,

he’s dishin’ double helpin’s

to all who haven’t gone.

Ten! Twenty! Thirty leagues!

From Sala manda stron!

Go t’your left, left right, it’s a long way ’til tonight!”

Tramping alongside Ferrul, the ottermaid Kite Slayer felt her feelings warming to Long Patrol hares. She mentioned this blithely to the haremaid. “I’m gettin to like this, y’know? All walkin’ along t’gether, singin’ songs an’ such. Aye, it’ll do me fine!”

Sergeant Miggory, who was nearby, on the left flank, had a word or two to say on the subject and let her know in no uncertain terms (as regimental colour sergeants invariably do). “Likes it, do ye, missy? Well, h’I am pleased for ye. Aye, h’an I’d like h’it, too, if’n ye could march properly. Wot h’is it about h’otters—’ave ye h’all got two left footpaws, h’an a tail wot keeps gettin’ h’in the way?”

Ferrul fluttered her eyelashes at Miggory. “Oh, I say, Sarge, don’t be too hard on Kite. She’s tryin’ jolly hard to keep step, ain’t ye, Kite?”

The tough sea ottermaid scowled. “I’m in perfect step.’Tis all the rest who aren’t!”

Miggory raised his eyes imploringly skyward and fell silent.

It was just past high noon when they reached the ancient three-topped oak, a massive woodland giant with a treble crown of foliage. They rested in its shade whilst Drogbuk questioned Pinny.

“Which way now, ole miz fussy apron?”

She treated him to a glare that would have wilted daisies. “Listen, you scrawny-peeled Wiltud. Anybeast that looks like you shouldn’t dare to try and make fun of others!”

Captain Rake interrupted. “Mah sentiments exactly, marm, but could ye ignore that auld misery an’ tell us the route tae the Abbey, please?”

The hogwife pointed south, across the stream. “Certainly, Captain. It’s that way. The next tall tree we come across, our Guosim Chief should be able to view Redwall’s belltower roof in the distance.”

Rake saluted. “Thankee, marm. Right, rest up awhile. Those who are thirsty can take a drink at the stream.”

Posy enquired, “Can we cool our footpaws in the water?”

Skor Axehound huffed. “Aye, miss, as long as ye do it downstream from where I’m drinkin’.”

Droghuk grumbled, “I’m too old an’ tired t’go further.”

Lieutenant Scutram, who knew that Drogbuk was only hoping for volunteers to carry him, answered, “Why, to be sure, old lad, if you’re too jolly tired to march with us, then you can flippin’ well stay here an’ catch up with us when you’re recovered an’ fit t’walk, wot!”

The ancient fraud groaned pitifully. “S’pose I’d better cool me footpaws in the stream if yore forcin’ a beast o’ my seasons t’march!”

Kite Slayer advanced on him, smiling maliciously. “Pore ole creature, d’ye think another good hard scrub would help ye? I’m willin’ t’do it!”

Drogbuk fled down the bank. “Yew keep away from me, ye young murderer!”

When they set off again, Captain Rake noticed Buff Redspore looking back over her shoulder, sometimes stopping and listening. Keeping his voice down, he walked alongside her. “Is anythin’ wrong, bonny miss?”

She shot a swift glance at the surrounding woodland. “Actually, I’m not sure, sah, but now an’ again I feel we’re being followed. Not too certain, though.”

Rake persisted. “How many d’ye think there is—one or a group?”

She shook her head. “No more’n one, sah, but whoever it jolly well is knows somethin’ about shadowin’.”

Rake nodded. “Ah’ll take the other side o’ the column an’ keep mah eyes’n’ears peeled.”

Noon shades were lengthening when Pinny Wiltud pointed out a very tall, slender ash tree, which towered over its neighbours.

“Now, if’n ye was to climb that un an’ look south, the top o’ the Abbey buildin’s can be seen clear from there.”

Log a Log Dandy spat on his paws, peering upward. “Looks like a fair ole climb t’me.”

Young Swiffo laughed. “You ain’t scared o’ heights, are ye? Bet I could climb t’the top quicker’n you.”

Dandy called back as he raced for the ash trunk, “Yore welcome to try, ye young pup!”

Swiffo bounded to the ash behind Dandy. As the Guosim Chieftain placed his paws on the trunk, the young sea otter bounded up his back, jumped on Dandy’s head and went away up the tree with a great turn of speed. Dandy was right after him, slightly behind but doing his best to catch up. Everybeast on the ground began cheering them onward.

“Hoho, go on, Chief, you can beat ’im!”

“Come on, Swiffo mate, don’t stop t’look back!”

“Try the other side o’ the trunk, Dandy—there’s more holds!”

“Stick at it, Swiffo, yore winnin’!”

As good as Dandy was, Swiffo had youth and fleetness of limb on his side. He vanished for a moment into the high, spreading foliage, then emerged on top of the tree. Leaning dangerously out, the young otter shouted, “Yore right, Pinny, I can see the belltower roof!”