Brian Jacques - Redwall #01 - Lord Brocktree

'Cos the sea's in a sea otter's blood.

Haul yore nets in mates an' let everybeast wish,

That tonight we'll be dinin' on saltwater fish!

Well I've seen 'er stormy, sunny an' calm,

An' I've tasted the good, briny spray,

Just show 'er respect an' she'll do ye no harm,

She'll send you 'ome safe every day.

Throw those pots in mates, down deep t'the sea,

Tonight you an' me'll 'ave lobster for tea!

Them waves come a-crashin' on out o' the blue,

Aye big rollers all topped white with foam,

I sees my ole boat prow a-cut 'em clean through,

An' I sings then a-sailin' back 'ome.

We're ashore now mates, let yore mains'l go limp,

I've brought my ole mum a great netful o' shrimp!"

Scarce had the otters finished singing when Rulango stalked into the cave. Brogalaw stroked the great heron's neck. "Well now, about time you showed up, mate. Did you 'ave a good feed o' fish out there?"

Rulango nodded several times. Brogalaw tickled his crest. "Yore an' ole scallywag, fishin' while these good-beasts are waitin', gnawin' their whiskers for news o' their mateys. So, what've ye got t'say for yoreself?"

Rulango tapped the sandy floor with his widespread talons. The sea otter smoothed out an expanse of the sand, winking happily at Stiffener. "Our friend's got news for us. Watch this. Right ho, me ole bird, tell these creatures what ye saw."

The heron began drawing in the smooth sand with his beak. Stiffener moved close, interpreting what he saw. "There's the coastline an' the sea . . . now he's sketchin' out our mountain. Look at this, Bramwil!"

The ancient hare joined Stiffener and watched admiringly. "I say, this bird is a good artist. That's Salamandastron sure enough, viewed from the seaward side if I'm not mistaken. What's that? Oh, I see, it's him, circling round the rocks, about three-quarters of the way up. Hmm, he's drawing a circle in the mountain. Wait, 'tis a window hole, near the top level. But I don't understandwhat are all those funny leaf-shaped things he's sketching inside the window hole?"

Stiffener stared hard at the leaf shapes. "Strange-lookin' things. I can't tell what they are."

However, Brogalaw identified them without hesitation. "Why, bless yore 'eart, matey, they're long ears, just like yours. Good bird, you've found where Trunn's keepin' the hares locked up. Is that right?"

The heron nodded his head emphatically, then retired to a corner, where he perched on one leg.

Blench viewed the sketch with dismay. "Oh lawks, we've no chance of climbin' up that 'igh. Wot's t'be done, Stiffener?"

The boxing hare bit his lip and scratched his whiskers. "Aye, what's t'be done? A difficult question, marm!"

Trobee slumped moodily by the fire. "Of all the rotten luck, chaps. The blinkin' bounder has locked 'em up in a place far too high for us to do any thin'. I mean, how in the name o' sufferin' salad are we supposed t'get up there, eh, eh, wot, wot?"

Brogalaw's mother, Frutch, looked appealingly at him. "Oh, say you can 'elp the pore beasts, Brog!"

The Skipper of Sea Otters closed his eyes patiently. "I'll give it a try, Mum, but don't go gettin' yore 'ankychief out an' weepin', or I won't be able to think of anythin'. Quiet now an' let me ponder this."

Frutch blinked back grateful tears. She avoided reaching for her kerchief as she smiled at Blench. "Don't ye fret, m'dear. My Brog'll find a way to 'elp ye!"

Silence reigned in the cave. Outside the wind whipped up the rain into a fresh assault on the cliff face, and waves could be heard breaking on the shore. Brogalaw nodded to himself a few times, as if confirming his thoughts. Then he opened his eyes.

"Right, mates, 'ere's the top'n'bottom of it all. 'Tis too 'igh for us t'climb up to 'em. But they could climb down with the right 'elp. This is my plan. We needs ropes, good long 'uns. Once we've got 'em, Rulango can fly the ropes up to yore mates an' they can lower themselves down!"

It was a splendid idea, but Willip found an obstacle. "I don't see any great long ropes hereabouts. You'll forgive my sayin', Brog, but the plan won't jolly well work without ropes."

Brogalaw was forced to agree with Willip. "Yore right, marm. Ahoy, Rulango's drawin' again!"

The Skipper of Sea Otters took one look at the sketch.

"Yer a crafty ole wingflapper, mate. Durvy, Kolam, Spraydog, come with me'n'Rulango. There's work t'be done!"

Chapter 22

Cloaked in lengths of old sailcloth, two Blue Horderats stood deck watch on the bows of one of Ungatt Trunn's vast flotilla of vessels, which were anchored in the bay facing Salamandastron. Both rats blinked rain from their eyes, staring miserably at the mountain.

"Bet they're all sittin' snug an' dry in there tonight, mate."

"Aye, quaff in' grog an' fillin' their bellies wid vittles."

"Nah, I wouldn't go s'far as to say that. Vittles is short an' grog's only fer Ungatt Trunn an' 'is cronies. I'll bet we gets stuck on 'alf rations in a day or so."

"Mebbe yore right, cully, but I wager they're all warm'n'dry an' sleepin' their fat 'eads off, snorin' like 'ogs."

"Huh, an' look at us beauties, stannin' out 'ere on deck watch in the storm, soakin', cold, 'ungry an' sleepy!"

"Whoa! Wot was that?"

"Wot? I didn't see nothin'. Wot was it?"

"Like some kinda big bird, swooped down aft there!"

"Never! I thinks you needs some shuteye. Y'see funny things when yore tired, or at least you thinks you sees 'em."

"But I did see it, I'm certain I did, down at the stern end!"

"Well, let's go down an' take a look. If 'tis there, a quick chop of me cutlass'll settle it. I'll take it down t'the galley an' we'll share it wid the cook."

Both rats staggered down the slippy deck, clinging to the rails, and climbed the stairs to the stern peak.

"Well, where is this big bird o' yours?"

"Er, it musta flew off, but I saw it!"

"Arr, yer talkin' through yore tail, mate. There wasn't no big bird 'ere. All the birds is long gone."

"Oh, they are, are they? Then tell me, where's that big thin heavin' line that was coiled up, right where yore stannin'?"

"I don't know, cleversnout, you tell me?"

"The big bird took it!"

"Why, 'cos it thought it was a giant worm? Don't talk rubbish, mate. The 'unger's gone to yore 'ead. That fox Groddil musta took it. He was 'ere t'day, lookin' fer ropes."

"No, I'd take me affidavit the rope was 'ere when we came on watch. I saw it!"

"Aye, just like y'saw the big bird. Lissen, mate, you keep on seein' big birds an' vanishin' ropes an' I'm not comin' on deck watch with you anymore!"

Rulango dropped the last rope to Brog and his otters, who were waiting in the sea. Silently they coiled nine strong, thin heaving lines about them and swam off shoreward, swift and sleek.

Durvy caused great merriment back at the cave as he related what he had heard, imitating the vermin voices expertly, while Brog knotted the heaving lines into one massively long rope. Purlow watched the long coils building up into a great thick cylinder.

"Great seasons, nobeast'd be able to lift that whackin' huge thing. How do we move it to the mountain?"

Brogalaw had thought it all out carefully. "Nine of us forms a line, each one carryin' only a single rope's length. When we reaches yore mountain, Rulango takes the end an' flies up t'the window an' passes it to 'em. No fancy twiddles, mate, a plain'n'simple plan. But not to worry. Me an' my crew will do ityou rest 'ere."

Stiffener had a word to say about that. "Sorry, Brog, but I'm comin' with you, mate. 'Tis my sworn duty. I wouldn't feel right, lyin' warm an' dry here while your otters were out facin' all the danger. I'm going!"

The otter Skipper shook his paw warmly. "Twill be a pleasure to 'ave ye along, Stiff mate. Now there's no time to lose while 'tis night an' bad weather. If we puts a move on, there's a chance we could get yore messmates down from the mountain afore daylight. Hearken, crew, we got a hard'n'fast night's work. Let's be about it!"