Brian Jacques - Rakkety Tam

Didjety pressed more sausage rolls upon Doogy. “Ah sure, don’t be frettin’ yerself, Mister Plumm. My Yoofus will get us there. Here now, I’ll sing ye a song t’cheer ye up!”

The volewife, with her sweet little voice, launched straight into song.

“Ould Roderick vole had a grand appetite,

sure he’d lived with it all of his life,

an’ when he got home to his cottage one night,

he called out to his own darlin’ wife,

‘O bring me some stew, a big bucket or two,

an’ ten of yore ould apple pies,

a cheese from the shelf as big as yoreself,

an’ a trifle just as a surprise!

Now me stummick is slack, for me health to come back,

then ye must keep me nourished an’ fed,

I’ll be happy alright an’ well rested tonight,

when I toddle off to me ould bed.

So bring out the cake for a dear husband’s sake,

an’ a bathtub o’ soup nice an’ warm,

six loaves for to dunk, sure an’ when ’tis all drunk,

then I’ll sleep like a babe ’til the morn.

Providin”tis clear there’s a barrel o’ beer,

for to save me ould teeth from the drought,

some cordial an’ tea sure I’ll sup happily,

get a move on before I pass out!’

Well his wife did no more than fling him out the door,

hit him squarely wid all the ten pies.

She poured all the stew o’er his head, an’ it’s true,

that the trifle came as a surprise!

She loosened his teeth with the cheese if y’please,

stuffed the loaves down his ears gleefully.

Then both him an’ the cake she slung into the lake,

Shoutin’, ‘Come back tomorrow for tea!’ ”

Doogy smiled and applauded the song, but he was still far from being cheered up. “Very entertainin’, marm, but jokes an’ comic ditties won’t find the banner an’ the claymore yore husband thieved. Aye, an’ ah’m thinkin’ they won’t get us any closer tae Redwall Abbey.”

Yoofus began poling the raft up the narrow stream as if he had not a care in the world. “Ah, sure yore a proper ould worry wart, Mister Plumm. Do ye not think I know me own way around Mossflower? Don’t get yore tail in an uproar now. I’ll wager we find yore gear soon enough. I recognise this stream.”

But the day wore on without success; in fact, their position worsened. By early evening the stream had narrowed. Trees and bank foliage pressed in on them, and the water became murky and stagnant. Doogy’s mood darkened as he assisted the water vole to pole the craft along, constantly having to slash at the encroaching vegetation with his claymore blade.

Didjety swiped at a cloud of annoying insects with her pinafore. “Be off, ye pesky mites, before I’m eaten alive! Yoofus, are you certain sure this is the right stream?”

The volethief brushed a hairy caterpillar off his paw. “Er, I think so, me dear.”

Doogy spat at a gnat which was trying to get in his mouth. “Ye think so? Ach, ye great fat-tailed fibber, ah’ve a good mind tae boot yer lyin’ bottom intae that water!”

Yoofus tried a weak smile, which faded on his lips. Even Rockbottom shook his head in disgust.

The raft had been slowly drifting forward, but now it ground to a halt with a bump. A huge, rotted beech trunk blocked their way; beyond it the stream was a mere trickle. Doogy flung his pole into the water, wrinkling his nose at the odour which arose from it.

Didjety began to weep, throwing her pinafore over her face. “Oh Yoofus, how could ye do this to us?”

Doogy rolled the drum onto the solid bank ground and placed the tortoise upon it decisively. “Dry yer tears, marm, an’ come ashore with me. Ah’ll try tae find us a way out o’ this without that lyin’ buffoon ye call a husband!”

He lifted the volewife onto the bank, passing the supplies to her and glaring at Yoofus. “An’ as for ye, mah foolish friend, y’can shift for yerself. Ah can stan’ yore thievin’ an’ lyin’ no longer!”

As darkness fell over the woodland depths, a small fire made an island of light in the gloom. Doogy, Didjety and Rockbottom gathered around the flames, roasting sausages on sticks and drinking beakers of the volewife’s plum and gooseberry cordial.

Didjety glanced anxiously at the Highlander. “I wonder where Yoofus has got to. D’ye suppose he’s alright, Mister Plumm?”

Doogy jiggled a hot sausage from paw to paw, breaking off a piece and tossing it to Rockbottom. “Och, ah wouldnae bother mah head about him, marm. Ah can hear him out there watchin’ us. He’ll come tae no harm, an’ mebbe he’ll learn a lesson or two, eh?”

The volethief’s voice came through the trees to them. He sounded lonely and forlorn. “Ah, ’tis a sad thing t’be left to die alone in this ould forest, an’ all because of one liddle mistake. Sure, an’ it must be grand for some I know—sittin’ round a nice warm fire an’ feedin’ their gobs on sausages an’ cordial while the likes of meself is cast out into the wilderness to be et by flies an’ die of the hunger an’ drought. I must’ve led a wicked life to come to this!”

He sounded so pitiful that Didjety had to wipe a tear from her little tortoise’s eye.

Doogy heaved a sigh. “Och, ye may as well call the roguey in, marm.”

Before the volewife could say anything, Yoofus dropped out of a tree to sit beside her, grinning from ear to ear. “Top o’ the evenin’ to ye, mates! Pass me a sausage, will ye, me ould darlin’ daisy? I’m dyin’ fer the lack o’ vittles. Doogy, me luvly friend, how are ye?”

The Highlander passed him a beaker of cordial before responding. “None the better for yore askin’, thief. Now understand this! Ah’m leadin’ the way from now on, ye’ve got no say in it. If’n ah want tae get lost, ah can do it without yore help. You just roll that drum along an’ follow me!”

Yoofus saluted several times, nodding in agreement. “Ah, sure yore right, sir. Orders are orders, an’ ’tis me faithful self who’ll be carryin”em out. Isn’t he right, Didjety, me liddle rosebud?”

The volewife slammed a hot sausage into her husband’s smiling mouth, leaving him spluttering. “Oh, Mister Plumm’s right, sure enough. One more word from yore fibbin’ lips, Yoofus Lightpaw, an’ ye don’t get another bite to eat or drink from me. Is that clear now?”

Yoofus patted Rockbottom’s head and fed him the sausage. “Hoho, me liddle pal, that one’s not a creature to argue with. Ah, cheer up now an’ I’ll sing ye all a grand ould song about a pore mouse who had a shrewish wife.”

Doogy’s paw strayed dangerously close to his sword hilt. “No ye won’t. Ye’ll eat that supper an’ go tae sleep!”

Yoofus collapsed backward, saluting as he did. “Go t’sleep, sir. Orders is orders, right y’are!”

Like a broken silver coin, a half-moon shone down on the small group sleeping around the glowing embers of the fire. Doogy lay wrapped in his plaid, wondering if he would ever again see his friend Tam, or walk through the welcoming gates of Redwall Abbey.

33

The broadstream was running so furiously that there was little need of oars, though the Guosim held them ready to fend off their vessels from rocks and to keep the logboats in midstream.

Tam sat in the stern of Togey’s big boat, his paws clenched tight to the gunnels. He gazed about in awe: to his right, high limestone cliffs towered over the waters; to his left, rocks were broken into large chunks, overgrown by trees and vines. He realised they were speeding down an ever-narrowing slope, which concentrated the stream so greatly that little could be heard but the roaring of water. A fine spray enveloped everybeast.