Brian Jacques - Redwall #16 - Triss

Sagaxus ... Sagaxus ...

Section from the log of the good shipFreedom, written by Bescarum Lepusivold Whippscut, formerly of Salamandastron: Rotten bounders, the whole crew of’em! Makin’ me get my dainty young paws covered in blinkin’ ink. I hate messin’ about with quill pens, an’ parchment an’ ink. I’m a jolly good cook, y’know, but they won’t let me near the galley, cads! Oh well, as my dear old ma always says, make do with what you’ve got an’ weep a lot until they give you what you want, wot?

Right, here goes. We’ve been out at sea now for exactly, er, a jolly long time. All the landlubbers aboard have become pretty salty old dogs (which means they’re all done with bein’ seasick). The other mornin’

I heard one of those Guosim types yellin’ out from the crows’ nest (don’t know why they call it that, I’ve never seen a bloomin’ crow sittin’

up there)Ñanyhow, he woke me up with his shoutin’. Somethin’ about two points north an’ a tack west, an’ all that nautical jimjam. What the blighter meant was that he’d spotted an island. Bloomin’ great mountain o’ greeny blue rock glimmerin’ away in the sunlight. Triss called it Peace Island. Had to agree with her, it’s the hugest piece o’ rock I ever saw stickin’ up out o’ the briny, wot. We didn’t go ashore really, too many of us t’be clamberin’ up a whoppin’ great mountainside. But the chaps who live there came t’see us. Sturdy-lookin’ bumpkins, big healthy hedgehog types. Spoke quite oddly, I can tell you. Theein’ an’

thouin’ an’ thyin’, bit of a rum do, wot? But the scoff they brought with them, great fur’n’frog feathers! I’ve never clamped eye on fruit’n’vegetables so big an’ plump an’ tasty. A good old mammy-type hog, name of Downyrose, took a shine t’me an’ fed yours truly enough to stuff a tribe o’ toads! I gave her a kiss an’ a hug (got the old paws prickled a bit, but well worth it, I’d say).

Whilst this all was goin’ on, Triss is weepin’ an’ kissin’ a hogmaid she calls Welfo, an’ another young chap named Urtica, an’ a big old daddy hog, name o’ Bistort. They did carry on, though, all laughin’

an’ cryin’ an’ sayin’, Thou hast returned, welcome to thee! Nobeast seemed t’be payin’ much attention to the tuck, so I located a rhubarb’n’apple crumble, an’ let’em get on with it.

Naturally there were lots more tears when Triss gave’em the sad news about poor Shogg, but when she told Welfo and her friends about the pretty little boat named after him, it cheered’em up a touch. D’you know, I can’t stand that blinkin’ Sagax, he paces the deck with that flamin’ great hatchet thing, watchin’ every mouthful I take. Keeps remindin’ me that there’s others aboard, an’ that we’ve got the rest o’ the voyage to complete, wot? As if I didn’t jolly well know. I told him if he didn’t like it he could swim behind the ship with his axe in his mouth, keepin’ an eye out for sharks the rest o’ the way. Good job he’s a pal o’ mine, or I might’ve tossed him overboard myself!

N.B. There is a space in the log here, also several stains on the parchment, which look like blueberry juice, leek-and-mushroom soup, and an unidentifiable pudding with honey and nuts in it. Then the log continues on the following day.

Life’s flippin’ rotten at times, ain’t it! We’ve hardly been here since last noon, an’ it’s furl the anchor, lower the bilges, rattle your reef sails (an’ all that seagoin’ codswallop). We’re leavin’? All that wonderful scoff, those delectable dishes, that fabulous fruit, those ...

(what’s a word that begins with V?) those very very nice vegetables, an’ we’re sailin’ off, leavin’ the bloomin’ lot behind! Miss Triss is lookin’ pretty edgy, I notice. Even old chubbycheeks Mokug has gone all pensive an’ grim. I expect it’s’cos the next stop is Riftgard. Well, forward the Buffs say I, true blue an’ never fail. A perilous hare like me should gain a few medals in the battle to come, wot. I’ll show’em!

Not a blot on me copybook an’ covered in glory, that’s how this young hero will return. Wonder what the food’s like on Riftgard?

This ink gets everyflippin’where, I’ll have to change me name to Scarum Bluepaw. Righty ho, then, ship’s log finished for the day, gorgeous smells waftin’ from the galley Good cooks, those Guosim lads. Oh, that reminds me. Log a Log an’ Sagax want a word with me, something important probably, wot. I hope they don’t mention that blueberry-an’-pear pudden missin’ from the galley last night. It wasn’t me, I was never near the placeÑthis is ink on me paws, not blinkin’ blueberry juice. Bet it was Skipper, I don’t know where he puts it. Must have a hollow rudder. Think I’ll go an’ hide in the fruit locker for a bitÑpleasant in there, wot!

Bescarum Lepuswold Whippscut, Esquire, signin’ off.

42

The following is an eyewitness account by a sea ottermaid.

My name is Sleeve. I am a slave, born and bred in the fortress of King Agarnu at Riftgard. I know no other place. It is a hard and cruel life.

My mother and father died here when I was very young. We bend our backs to the whips of Ratguards, working from before dawn until long after dusk. We are always hungry. I was taught to write by an old squirrel called Drufo, who is gone now, slain by a princess of the Royal Blood.

It was he who used to recite The Slave’s Lot to me. I can still recall the words as he spoke them:

Bend your back beneath the lash, Straighten it and feel some more, Sleep and wake, work and starve, That is what a slave is for. Speak in whispers, never smile, Serve the masters, bow your head. The only time a slave is free, Is when that slave is dead.

Yet I can remember the first day I really smiled. The day when three slaves stole a royal ship and escaped. My heart leapt within me to know that they had gone from Riftgard and all its miseries. I charged forward, with no weapon but my paws and teeth, me and many others. We stopped the Ratguards from capturing those brave three. But then we were outnumbered, Drufo was slain and I was beaten senseless. They threw us in the dungeons beneath Riftgard and locked us there, starving for many days. Yet we smiled, we laughed, because three of our number had found liberty and lived. Later, I was one of the group who carried food aboard that monstrous Freebooter ship, the Seascab. I saw the Princess screaming with rage, vowing to bring the fugitives back and punish them.

I saw Riggan the slavecatcher come aboard with Captain Riftun. 1 saw the wicked Prince Bladd join the ship. My heart sank within me. How could three half-starved slaves on a little vessel escape such a dreadful force?

But hope lives in every living thing, even a slave. We would whisper together as we toiled all day beneath the whips, we would dream every night as we were locked inside to sleep on stone floors. Where were our three friends, Triss, Shogg and Welfo? Had they really escaped?

Were they living in some sunny peaceful place? I would join them in my dreams, wandering through summery green woodlands, singing and laughing, with plenty of good food, and soft mossy banks where they could lie at night. Gazing up at the stars in an open sky Sleep can be glorious freedom to a slave, if the dreams are beautiful. But then the guards come, banging and shouting. Then you are forced into a waking nightmare. We were put to work on the King’s new idea: a stone tower on the clifftops, where he could watch for the Seascab’s return. As we laboured, we watched also, hoping that it would never return, for then we would be sure the three had made good their bid for freedom.

Our new captain, Hydrad, used his spearbutt instead of a whip. Anybeast caught gazing at the sea got badly beaten by him, yet still we took the chance to scan the horizon whenever we could.