Brian Jacques - Redwall #20 - Eulalia!

"Hear the stream flow softly, slowly, see the waters calm and deep, floating on and on forever,

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slipping, dipping into sleep

Way hoooo my baby oooooh ...

Take me to the lands of dreaming, there small birds do sing so sweet, calm noontide sails into evening, where the sun and moon both meet.

Way hoooo my baby oooooh ...

Hush, you stream, be ever tranquil, silent now each paddle blade, trees o'erhead lean down to kiss you, sunlight warm and cool dark shade.

Way ooooh my baby oooooh."

Sitting in the lead logboat with her Guosim friend Osbil, who was still acting as prowspot, Maudie was pleasantly surprised at the silence which had fallen over the vessels. Looking back, she saw the otter and shrewbabes in the second boat, they were all sound asleep. "Well, who'd have thought a few verses of gentle singin' could send those little bounders to dreamland, wot?"

Osbil continued prowspotting as he replied. "Aye, that an' a few drops o' missus Frenna's shuteye potion. 'Tis nought but simple herbs, but it does the job every time, believe me, mate."

Barbowla swam alongside the logboat, issuing directions to the Guosim paddlers. "Better step up the pace, buckoes, Kurdly's rats have all reached the bottom o' the falls, they'll be right on our tail afore long. Stay straight on this course, but keep yore eyes peeled for a big, white willow tree to yore right. I'll direct ye from there."

Osbil saluted with his rapier. "Straight ahead it is, I'll watch out for the willow."

Log a Log Luglug had stationed himself in the coracle, with Rigril and Teagle. They kept to the rear of the log-boats, constantly watching behind for the first sign of Kurdly and his Brownrats. It came sooner than they had anticipated.

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Teagle spied about twoscore of the vermin front-runners in the distance. "Here they come, mates, all painted, well-armed an' ready for the slaughter. They're still a fair way off, but comin' along fast!"

Luglug groaned. "Aye, an' they're comin' along the left bank, too, we could've done without that!"

Rigril shrugged. "Makes no difference, look, there's another lot just appeared on the opposite bank!"

Luglug beckoned to an otter swimming alongside the coracle. "Git up front, matey, tell 'em to put on as much speed as they can. We need to get round that bend up ahead!"

Word went along the line of logboats, on Luglug's command they went into a formation of pairs. Grimly every Guosim bent to their paddles. Headropes were thrown out to the otters. With strong otters to each rope, they sped along in front of the vessels, increasing the overall speed as they towed skillfully. All this was done in complete silence. At this point nobeast wanted to wake the little ones, and cause extra confusion.

Stringle strode back along the right bank, to where the main body were coming from the foot of the waterfall. At the centre of the lines, Gruntan Kurdly was propped up on his carrying litter. Stringle made his way through to the Brownrat leader. "They been spotted, Boss, paddlin' along the stream up yonder, those streamdogs, too. Hah, won't be too long afore we catches 'em up now."

Gruntan did not even acknowledge Stringle's report. He was applying himself greedily to some cold plugs'n'dips, which had been looted from the otters' wrecked holt. Stuffing his mouth with plugs, he drank deeply from the cauldron. The cold mixture slopped down his chin, onto his bandages. Stringle stood waiting until his gluttonous leader could talk.

Gruntan belched aloud. Wiping a grubby paw across his mouth, he announced, "Hmm, that ain't bad grub, it'd

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taste better if'n it was 'ot, though. Lissen, don't slay all those streamdogs when ye catch 'em. Keep one o' them alive, I'd like to know 'ow they makes these vittles." Gruntan wiped his dip-slopped paw on the head of a nearby litter bearer, wincing as he sat up straight. "An ye say you've caught 'em, eh?"

Stringle shook his head, correcting Gruntan. "No, Boss, I only said we've spotted 'em, an' it won't be too long afore we catches 'em."

Gruntan glared at him peevishly, gesturing. "Then don't stand there a-flappin' yer jaw, go an' catch 'em! I gotta 'ave those sh'ewboats!"

Stringle knew there was no point in talking to his boss when he was in such a mood. He saluted and dashed off without further ado.

Gruntan shifted position, wincing again at another thorn, which Laggle had not yet discovered embedded in his rear end. There was a sound from the ranks behind him. What was it, a sneeze, or a snigger? Whirling his head around, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Somebeast laughed just then, who was it, eh?" The horderats remained silent. Gruntan fixed one rat with a stare which commanded an immediate answer. "You there, ugly mug, who was it wot laughed?"

The rat's throat bobbed up and down nervously. "It wasn't me, Boss, I swear on me oath it wasn't!"

Gruntan crooked a grimy claw at him. "Come over 'ere!" He watched the unfortunate approach on shaking paws. "Move yoreself, I said come over 'ere, stan' there!"

The rat stood close to his leader, right on the spot he had indicated. He tried one last plea. "It wasn't me wot laughed, Boss, honest!"

Gruntan bent his head close to the rat. "Well, let's 'ear ye laugh now. Go on, laugh!"

The rat made a feeble attempt. "Er, haha."

Without warning Gruntan seized the cauldron of cold dip and upended it over his victim's head, leaving him

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wearing it, like a monstrous helmet with mixture dripping from it. Gruntan dusted his paws off. "Now let's see ye laugh that off! Hahaharrr!"

The rest of the Brownrats laughed dutifully along with their boss, until he turned on them, bellowing, "Wot are you lot laughin' at? I never told ye t'laugh! Now get movin', double-quick, afore I really give ye somethin' to laugh about!"

Officers roared out orders as the ranks marched off at a rapid pace. Gruntan Kurdly was jounced up and down on his litter, pierced deeper by hidden thorns. However, he gritted his teeth and endured the pain, concentrating on a prize of six logboats.

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Once the logboats rounded the bend, they were out of sight from the rats. Maudie marvelled at their speed, they were going so fast that they were sending up bow waves. The shrewmum Frenna had covered up the babes with quilts and blankets; they slept on, blissfully unaware of everything.

Maudie was first to see the tree, she nudged Osbil. "Aha, one white willow straight ahead on the right!"

The Guosim shrew patted Maudie's back. "We'll make a prowspotter out of ye yet, miss!"

Barbowla came streaking through the water like an arrow. "There's thick bush the other side o' that willow. If'n ye look careful there's a hidden stream there, too. I'll go an' mark the entrance, we needs t'be in that cutoff, behind those bushes, afore Kurdly's crew arrives!"

A dismaying thought struck Maudie. "Er, a moment old chap, are you sure you've thought this plan through, right?"

The big otter forestalled her objection. "I knows wot yore goin' t'say, miz. If'n the rats comes along the bank on that side, they'll be bound t'see us, 'cos they've got to cross the very cutoff water that we're hidin' in. Is that wot you was

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goin' to say?" As Maudie nodded, Barbowla held up a paw. "Don't fret yore pretty, long ears, Miz Maudie, 'tis already taken care of. Now trust me an' git movin'."

Gasping for breath, and exhausted by their efforts, the Guosim paddled their final logboat behind the bushy screen. Luglug, Rigril and Teagle slid in with the coracle. The shrew chieftain had the same misgivings as Maudie. However, before he could speak, Barbowla silenced him.

"Let's 'ave every able-bodied beast out 'ere on the bank with me. Come on, we've got to provide a bridge for the vermin to cross. Luglug, get yore strongest shrews, mate. Aye, an' tell 'em to bring their paddles along, we needs all the muscle we kin get!"