Brian Jacques - The Rogue Crew

The brawniest of the ferrets, a corsair named Lugsnout, narrowed his eyes viciously. “Leave it to us, Cap’n. If’n they moves a paw back’ards, they’re both worm meat!”

As they went to get pikes, Razzid reached behind him, dragging Shekra forward by her tail.

“An’ you, my Seer, you’ll be watchin’ the watchers. If’n anythin’ goes amiss, the job o’ bridgin’ the ditch’ll be yores. Unnerstand?”

The vixen protested, “But, Lord, I’ve got a ruined paw. I couldn’t lift those pine trunks on my own!”

Razzid winked at her. “You’d be surprised at wot ye can do if’n I comes behind ye with my trident. Go on with ye!”

Whilst all this had been going on, Greenshroud had been rattling forward over the flatlands. Razzid pulled himself up on the tiller, peering ahead. He was rewarded by the sight of Redwall Abbey in the distance, its monumental bulk highlighted by twinkling lantern lights from dormitory windows. The Wearat shuddered with unholy joy.

“I see ye now. Ye can’t run or hide from ole Razzid. I’m comin’—there’s nought ye can do to stop me!”

Howling gale-force winds drove battering rain at the main door of the Abbey building. Fortunately, almost all the Redwallers were dry and warm inside. Friar Wopple and her helpers busied themselves in the kitchens, baking, cooking and preparing for the valiant defenders on the outer walltops. Sister Fisk and her assistants were hard at it in the Infirmary, readying supplies of bandages, poultices and healing remedies for the inevitable casualties of the coming conflict. However, the proudest creature in the Abbey was Uggo Wiltud, who had been ordered by the Abbot to guard the door against all comers. Armed with the sword of Martin the Warrior, the young hedgehog stood sentinel behind the huge oaken door. This was the greatest honour ever bestowed on him, and live or die, Uggo was determined to see it through.

Outside on the ramparts, it was difficult to distinguish anything on the western flatlands. Corporal Welkin Dabbs and Kite Slayer, two of the keener-sighted beasts, were on lookout. Skor Axehound and Captain Rake Nightfur stood alongside them in an effort to keep watch. Blustering winds and driving rain, plus the heavily clouded darkness of the night skies, limited their vision drastically. Captain Rake turned his head aside, dashing rain from his eyes. “Och, can ye nae see anythin’ out yonder?”

Welkin Dabbs blew water from his nosetip. “Alas, sah, not a bloomin’ thing, I’m afraid. What about you, miss? Your eyes are jolly much younger’n mine, wot?”

Kite Slayer shielded her vision with a dripping paw. “Huh, waste o’ time tryin’ t’spot anythin’ in this foul lot!”

Skor patted her back. “Keep lookin’, young Kite.”

The other hares and otters sat below the walltops with their backs against the battlements, crouching hooded and cloaked on the lee side of the storm.

Buff Redspore tugged the hem of Rake’s cloak. “Beg pardon, but might I take a peep, sah?”

Sergeant Miggory shot her a reproving glance. “You’ll h’obey h’orders, miz. Keep yore ’ead down, like you’ve been told to!”

Lieutenant Scutram cast an eye over the waiting warriors, dispensing some sound advice. “Steady in the ranks, chaps. Stoppin’ where you are gives us the element of surprise, y’see. I’m sure you’d all like t’be up on watch, but that’d let the vermin spot us. Don’t jolly well want that, do we? By the left, we don’t—it’d lose us the blinkin’ edge. Right, Cap’n?”

Rake nodded. “Aye, that’s mah plan. Though if anybeast has a canny idea tae suggest, Ah’m ready tae listen.”

A Guosim shrew piped up eagerly, “Wot about sendin’ up a pile of fire arrows? Then we’d be able to see the vermin.”

Log a Log Dandy stared scathingly at the unfortunate shrew. “Fire arrows? How long d’ye suppose a flamin’ shaft’d last in this storm? Huh, the way the wind is blowin’, it’d come straight back at us. Fire arrows! Are ye crazy?”

The Guosim ducked back under his cloak, murmuring, “Sorry, Chief. ’Twas just a thought.”

Dandy softened his tone. “Never mind, mate, we’re all on edge.”

Everybeast gave a start as a thunderous blast boomed out directly overhead. Then a prolonged flash of chain lightning ripped its way across the sky for several seconds.

Corporal Welkin Dabbs pointed, roaring out frantically, “The ship! There they are! I saw the ship, sah!”

Rake hastened to the corporal’s side. “Ye saw it? Where away?”

Dabbs kept his paw pointing out into the storm-torn night. “Right there, sah, midway twixt us an’ the horizon, comin’ this way, sah!”

Another fitful flash of lightning lit the land briefly. It was enough. All four lookouts saw Greenshroud clearly.

Nothing could have stopped the vermin vessel. It was stampeding madly forward, every stitch of sail canvas stretched almost to bursting. Timbers cracked and groaned; rigging whistled a dirge in the gale. The four wheels jounced and banged over every hillock and rut as the ship careered toward the Abbey at an alarming rate.

Skor was in his element. Bounding up onto the battlements, he whirled his huge battleaxe. “Come on, wavescum! I’m the Axehound, Warchief o’ the Rogue Crew! Come an’ take our name to Hellgates with ye. Come on!”

The lightning that crackled over the scene also allowed the vermin a plain view of Redwall. Perched high on the masthead, the stoat lookout took a swift bearing on their target. Scrambling to the deck, he informed Razzid, “Cap’n, I kin see that Abbey plain as a pikestaff. ’Tis dead ahead, an’ we’re bound to hit the door plumb centre afore too long!”

The Wearat seized a stout coil of line, skilfully lashing the tiller into a fixed position. He grabbed his trident. “Thankee, Redtail. Let’s go up for’ard—I don’t want to miss any o’ this!”

The searats and corsairs toward the prow were knocked roughly aside as Razzid bulled his way up to the forepeak.

Shekra followed close on his paws, waving and gesturing. “Sire, we won’t need those pine trunks, at the rate she’s goin’— Greenshroud will jump that ditch at a go!”

Pawing Mowlag and Jiboree aside, the Wearat stood out on the prow, grasping at staylines to steady himself.

“Aye, nothin’ can stop us now. Mowlag, Jiboree, git yoreselves on that big bow. As soon as ye see that main gate clear, then loose one o’ those shafts at it, an’ don’t miss!”

Relieved from a virtual death sentence of their former task, both beasts sprang smartly to obey the new order.

Corporal Welkin Dabbs joined Skor and Rake on the threshold, waving and pointing. “I say, lookit the speed o’ that bloomin’ ship! Well, chaps, ’twon’t be long before they arrive here, eh, wot!”

Skor bared his teeth savagely. “Hah, the gates ain’t locked. ’Tis only good manners to open the doors to visitors, eh, Rake!”

The tall, dark hare drew both his blades. “Aye, let ’em come. But Ah’d no’ be surprised if yon ship doesnae get stuck in that gateway. Looks tae me like it might, d’ye think?”

The big sea otter scratched his matted beard. “Mayhap’twill, but they’ll still have to face us. Right, let’s get down there an’ form a welcomin’ committee.” Swinging his battleaxe, he roared out over the storm, “Rogue Crew, all down to the gates. Yaylahoooooo!”

Skor’s warriors needed no urging. They rushed to the wallsteps yelling bloodcurdling war cries.

Long Patrol hares and Guosim shrews arose, ready to follow, until Log a Log Dandy shouted sternly, “Hold yore positions. Ye ain’t been told t’move yet!” They stared from the ramparts, spellbound, as Greenshroud burst out of the storm-tossed night. The vessel’s rattling wheels could be plainly heard now.