Brian Jacques - Redwall #16 - Triss

A hogwife shook her head wonderingly. Ah now, isn’t that the grand ould name for such a beast!

The hog sitting next to her ventured his opinion. D’ye think so? Well, I’m a hedgehog, so I am, an’ I never knew a shark with a name like that.

What was it called again, yer honour, I might be rememberin’ if’n ye tell me?

The hare danced up and down, waving his paws. The thing wotsabloomin’

name shark-eatin’ monster hog!

The little hogmaid tugged his footpaw again. Ah now, that’s not what ye said the first time, sorr.

The rest of the audience began discussing it among themselves, ignoring the storyteller.

Shure the maid’s right, he said a different name!

Away with ye, how’d you know, you was half asleep!

What, a monster shark-eatin’ hog? I’m thinkin’ that Scarum feller’s been out in the sun too long!

Ah now, you leave him alone, doesn’t he tell a fine ould tale. You go on, sorr, we’re lissenin’ to ye!

You lissenin’, hah,’twas you doin’ all the interrupting I take that from nobeast, stand up an’ say it t’me face if’n ye dare!

The storytelling became an argument, which broke out into a fight. Scarum gave up and sat down with his head in his paws. Sagax and Kroova were helpless with laughter as Cumarnee led them off.

Come an’ get some vittles. I forgot to tell your friend that the Migooch tribe is tumble at arguin’ an’ fightin’, so they are!

They were treated to huge bowls of vegetable soup, hot brown bread and some delicious mixed berry cordial, followed by an apple and pear turnover. Whilst they dined, the tent shook and bellied as the conflict raged outside. Cumarnee and Mammee carried on eating as though nothing was happening.

Cries from the combatants echoed round the dunes as Cumarnee and his wife passed the pie and poured cordial.

Take that, y’ould pincushion!

Yowch! Wait’ll I get me paws on ye!

I say there, chaps, steady on. Oof!

Owp! Kick me, would ye, well try this fer size!

Yerrrk! Ye great lump, you bit me nose, take that!

Steady on, chaps, now stop all this fightin’. Ooch!

Scarum staggered into the tent, one eye half-closed and rapidly changing colour, his nose looking puffy and swollen. Cumarnee moved over and made a place for him to sit.

The hedgehog chuckled. So now, me bold beast, how did the story end?

Scarum touched his swollen nose and winced.

The shark ate me, I think. Jolly ungrateful lot, your tribe. I say, that turnover looks rather good!

Kroova licked his lips and grinned happily. It certainly was, me old messmate. I’m just eatin’ the last slice.

The hare’s ears drooped in dejection as he gazed longingly toward the pot. An’ the soup?

Mammee picked up her ladle. Tis all gone nearly, but I’ll scrape ye up a drop from it. Here, take this ould crust of bread, sorr, ‘tis the last bit. Have ye any cordial left fer the great Sharkslayer?

Little Fridilo shook the empty flagon. None at all, Mammee, but there’s a beaker of fresh water over here. Drink that, sorr, ‘twill do ye good.

As Sagax and Kroova discussed the possibility of the Migooch tribe helping with the repairs to their ship, Scarum could be heard muttering complaints to himself.

Rotten lot, hoggin’ all the scoff while a chap’s out there defendin’

his reputation an’ tryin’ to restore order. Huh, I’d sooner face a score of sharks any day. Savage cads, bad-mannered bounders, hope a bloomtn’

great shark comes along an’ eats them all, wot!

19

In the misty dawn of the following day, they went out to the ledge, accompanied by all the able-bodied hogs of the Migooch tribe. It was the time of day when the tide was at its lowest ebb. The ketch Stopdog lay heeled over, almost high and dry.

Kroova stood on the tideline, explaining what was to be done. We’ve got to get’er back’ere for fixin’. I know she ain’t a big craft, but’twill be’eavy goin’.

Cumarnee spat on his paws and rubbed them together. Ah, now don’t ye fret. Us Migooches are well up t’the job!

He was right. The tribe were expert salvagers, having spent their lives living off the flotsam and jetsam thrown up by the seas on all types of coastlines.

Carrying huge coils of rope and pushing a cartload of rounded wood logs, they padded out over the wet sand. When they reached the ketch, Cumarnee began shouting orders to his tribe. Sagax was surprised at the energy and obedience of the normally disorganised beasts.

Hear me now, buckoes, Cumarnee yelled. Make fast those lines t’the bowsprit, for’ard peak an’ amidships. I’ll draw ye a grand ould line in the sand with me stick, lay the logs straight on it. That’s the way, yer doin’ a lovverly job. Right now, shoulder those ropes an’ I’ll mark the pullin’ time for ye with an ould shanty!

Cumarnee perched in the lopsided bows of the Stop-dog, singing the hauling shanty, the pullers joining him on the appropriate lines as the ketch rolled forward on the logs.

Ahoy, me lads, when I was young, Many’s the lively song I sung. Way haul away! Way haul away! Me paw was strong, me back was, too, I’d pull a ship from under you. Way haul away! Way haul away! An’ though’tis not me way t’boast, I’ve towed a ship off many a coast. Way haul away!

Way haul away! We’ll pull’er to the sandy shores, So bend yer back, dig in yer paws. Way haul away! Way haul away! For when I was a babe so young, Me mother o’er me cradle sung. Way haul away! Way haul away!

Kroova and Sagax were out in front, ropes looped about their shoulders, hauling heartily with the hedgehogs. The badger nudged the sea otter.

Scarum’s on the midship side with a rope, can you hear him?

Kroova smiled as he listened to the hare’s nautical bellows.

When I get our ship to the shore,

I’ll need some scoff an’ then lots more.

You can haul away! I’ll just eat all day!

Soup’n’salad, pudden an’ pie,

Just load me plate up, don’t ask why.

Bloomin’ rotten hogs! Scoff-pinchin’ dogs!

Mammee and some others were waiting the other side of the tideline with a couple of pails full of nettle-and-dandelion beer. No sooner was the Stopdog dragged onto the warm dry sand than the toilers cast aside their ropes and gratefully gulped down great beakers to quench their thirst.

However, their rest was short-lived. Cumarnee soon had them up on their paws again, bustling about as he sent his orders left, right and centre.

Tis a good fire I’ll be needin’! Light one right here! Build me an ould sandhill, a long one, about the height of the Stopdog’s decks. Here now, start pilin’ up the sand alongside the ship. Mammee, did ye bring along the pitch an’ resin with ye? Bring it here t’me. Fridilo, me likkle dar-lin’, fetch me that ould bushy rope. Aye, that’s it!

Sagax and Kroova helped to build the long sandhill and wedge the Stopdog hard up against it. Another sandhill was built on the vessel’s other side, so that she stood straight and upright. They sat, taking a rest, sipping beakers of nettle-and-dandelion beer, watching the pitch and resin bubbling together in a cauldron over the fire.

Kroova’s eyes searched among the workers. I don’t see Scarum around, ain’t seen ‘im in a while. Any ideas where that flopeared layabout’s got to, mate?

Sagax refilled his beaker. Anywhere there’s food, that’s where you’ll find him, I suppose. That pitch and resin looks about ready.

The crew went back to work, plugging up the gaps between the planking staves of the Stopdog’s bows. Old rope was hammered into the cracks with mallets and flat-bladed chisels, after which the molten pitch and resin were poured liberally over the whole job. By early evening the ketch was completely shipshape and watertight once more.