Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

"We've had no luck up that ways, have ye found any-thin' yet--a sign of either shrews or hogs?"

Buckler explained, "We found tracks leading away from where they slept. Couldn't be sure, though, might've been rats an' other vermin. Pawprints o' the little uns had been trampled over, an' no sign of Flib. We trailed 'em to here, but they fade out on the bankside."

One of Jango's scouts examined the faint prints. The Shrew Chieftain watched him closely. "Wot d'ye think, Sniffy?"

Sniffy the Tracker made his report. "Buckler's right, Chief. Somebeast's been here. Hard to tell, though--they've covered their trail well. They've gone into the water, stickin' close t'the shallows, as far as I kin see."

Diggs tossed a pebble into the stream. "Point is, which flippin' way have the blighters gone? ProbTy downstream, but they might've gone upstream just to fool any pursuers, wot!"

Jango scratched his grey whiskers. "Couldn't have gone upstream or we'd have spotted 'em before we got to the raft. I think downstream's the best bet. Wot's yore verdic', Oakie?"

Oakheart stared downstream to where the water ran out into open country before it looped back into woodland. "A plausible thought, sirrah. Actually, that's the route we were planning on taking today. Bound for Redwall, y'see. Er, that's before we had a turn of ill fortune and went

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aground. Purely through no fault of my own, I assure you, Streamlass is jammed tight on the rocks."

Jango signalled his logboats to dock on the bank. "Hmm, I'm havin' a few thoughts on this situation. Tell ye wot. Jump aboard an' let's git back to yore raft, Oakie. I'll have a word with the wives. But lissen, all of ye--don't make any mention of vermin tracks in front of the ladies. Y'know 'ow that sort o' thing upsets 'em. Leave the rest t'me."

Furm and Dymphnia were questioning them even before they had boarded the raft.

"Was there any sign o' my liddle twins--did ye see them?"

"Did ye pick up Midda an' Borti's trail? Wot about Flib?"

Diggs was at his courteous best. "Patience, ladies. There was no sign of any young uns, but that's all t'the bloomin' good, really. Now, Log a Log Jango has a proposition to discuss with you. By the way, marms, is there any chance of a jolly old bite or two? We'll eat on the bank while the Guosim crew refloat your craft, wot, wot?"

Whilst the shrews made the raft streamworthy again, the rest sat on the bank lunching on mushroom pasties and celery soup.

Jango explained his scheme. "Now, we don't know if the little uns are lost or just roamed off someplace, like young uns do now'n'then. Any lost creatures in this neighbourhood always ends up at the same place, Redwall Abbey, right?"

Furm agreed. "Aye, that's right enough. The Abbey always welcomes lostbeasts, especially young uns. But suppose they're not there, wot then?"

Oakheart spoke encouragingly. "Then what better place to enquire than Redwall? Have they not got more knowledge of this area than anybeast? Why, 'pon me spikes, I'll wager Abbess Marjoram will be ready and more than willing to assist us!"

Buckler took the initiative, silencing any doubts by

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declaring stoutly, "Then there's no more t'be said, friends. Next stop Redwall, I say. Agreed?"

Everybeast raised a shout of assent, except Diggs, who had a mouthful of pasty--he nodded furiously.

The Guosim lashed their logboats to the sides of the raft. With their combined paddling and a light breeze to swell the sail, Streamlass got underway in brisk style. To assure himself that there were no long faces and to avoid speculation about the young uns' fate, Jango gave the order for his Guosim to give a shanty. This had the added virtue of keeping the paddle strokes in unison. To the tapping of small drums and some fancy headspike work on Oak-heart's Hogalino, the shrews sang out lustily.

"A rum turn turn, a rum turn turn

Oh, pass me a paddle, matey!

"I'll be sailin' all me days, along these good ole waterways, there's nothin' like a gentle breeze, an' bein' alive on days like these.

"A rum turn turn, a rum turn turn,

Oh, pass me a paddle, matey!

"Through woodland thick our logboats ply, that's how I loves to see the sky, a-driftin' by in sun an' shade, round willowy bank an' leafy glade.

"A rum turn turn, a rum turn turn,

Oh, pass me a paddle, matey!

"Now, I could never understand, why somebeasts spend a life on land, an' never hearken to the call, of rapids wild or waterfall.

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"A rum turn turn, a rum turn turn,

Oh, pass me a paddle, matey!

"An' when my stream of life runs out, don't weep for me or mope about, just lay me in some ole logboat, an' to the sea of dreams I'll float.

"A rum turn turn, a rum turn turn,

Oh, pass me a paddle, matey!"

The logboats emerged from the woodland fringe onto the heathlands. Buckler and Diggs leaned on the rail of the raft. Several times they had volunteered to wield paddles alongside the shrews. Their attempts elicited some fruity rebuffs from the Guosim, who were convinced nobeast was their equal at paddling.

One wag called out, "Ye wouldn't need paddles--you two could do the job wid those long ears o' yores!"

Log a Log Jango rebuked the caller sternly. "Mind yore manners, Fligl, or I'll take that paddle to yore tail!"

Diggs munched on a pasty he had rescued at lunch. "This is the life, old scout. Hah, I'll wager General Flackbuth'd go spare if he could see us now, wot!"

Buckler sighed. It was indeed a pleasant interlude, just leaning on the rail taking in the scenery. Bees buzzed around the red clover growing in clumps on the heath. Clouded yellow butterflies winged gaily in and out of the harebells and scarlet poppies. Dragonflies patrolled the stream edges on iridescent wings, guarding their territory from caddis fly and alderfly.

Young Rambuculus joined the hares, pointing to the distant tree fringe off to their left. "We'll be there by eventide. See the way this stream takes a broad curve? Prob'ly arrive at Redwall some time afore tomorrow evenin'."

Buckler nodded. "Does this stream flow right to the Abbey?"

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Rainbow, the Witherspyks' resident mole, joined them. "Nay, zurr, she'm stream bee's a-runnen some ways off. Us'll 'ave to walk to ee h'Abbey frum thurr."

Rambuculus explained further, "There's a liddle deadend cut-off backstream. That'll be the closest to Redwall we can get. It's a good place to stow the raft an' the shrew-boats, too. Not too far a walk from there, mates."

Diggs brushed pasty crumbs from his tunic. "By the left an' the centre, Buck. These chaps have certainly got it worked out, wot! Paddle an' sail wherever you jolly well can, an' march as little as bloomin' possible. Y'know, I think Salamandastron could do with some sailin' craft, have a sort of navy of its own, wot! That'd be just the flippin' ticket for me. Think I'll suggest it to Lord Brang. Admiral Diggs, that could be me!"

Buckler chuckled. "What do you know about sailin', you great fat fraud?"

Diggs replied indignantly, "Huh, as much as you or any other beast knows. I've been lissenin', y'know. Aye, an' I've learnt a blinkin' thing or three--I know all the sayin's an' commands!"

A shrew who had been eavesdropping from the logboat closest to them called out, "Go on then, rabbet--show us wot ye know!"

Diggs waggled his ears scornfully at the Guosim. "Rabbet, y'self, spikebonce. Right--listen t'this."

Cupping both paws around his mouth, Diggs called out in what he imagined was true nautical style, "Lower yore tillers, me hearties. Take 'er about an' swell me scuppers, make fast yore rowlocks an' forard yore stern, then unfurl yore mastheads--ahoy, mateys, an' so on. Well, how was that for an old riverdog, eh?"

Log a Log Jango gave him a scornful wink. "That's enough t'sink any vessel an' drive the crew mad."