The Lutra - Jacques, Brian - Redwall 09 - The Pearls Of Lutra

Grath was as puzzled as the mouse warrior. "Maybe there's somethin' or somebeast here they wanted us t'see. Let's use these broken struts as oars an' paddle o'er there."

Plogg poked his head from under the canvas awning. "Gwaw! I'm stiff as a board. Where are we?"

Welko thrust his head up alongside that of his brother, grinning. "Nice'n'warm, though," he said, "looks like it's goin' t'be sunny. I'm starvin'is that ole cooky awake yet?"

A long paw reached out and cuffed the shrew's ear. "Ole cooky indeed, you graceless, scruff-furred wretch. I, sir, am Cleckstarr Lepus Montisle, of the far northern Montisles doncha know. An' furthermore, young feller m'lad, I don't well appreciate foul young blots like y'self snorin' down my delicate ears all night. As for breakfast, 'fraid you'll have to whistle for it. Clean out o' grub, we are, wot!"

Viola shook her head in disgust. "Well, there's a fine thing, those seals sliding off without so much as a by your leave, and us without a bite of food, floating around goodness knows where, with nothing to show for it but a hulking great mountain shoving itself out of the water!"

Grath could not help smiling at the complaining volemaid. "Well tut tut, missie, grab a cob o' wood an' start paddlin'. We won't talkourselves outta this fix, that's for sure."

The rock was massive: smooth-sided, high and impregnable, and there was no discernible opening in it. They paddled most of the day, skirting the stone monolith, searching for a place to land, but the quest seemed fruitless. Sometime around midaf-ternoon they stopped to rest, sweltering under a hot sun.

Clecky gazed longingly at the clear blue sea. "Looks wonderful, don't it? I say, chaps, if I don't get something soon to wet my jolly old lips, I might try a drink o' that."

"I wouldn't recommend it, seawater can be nasty stuff!"

Clecky nearly fell overboard with shock. A young female otter had slid gracefully into the logboat and was sitting beside him.

"Who the flippineck are you, miss, an' where's y'manners? Jolly well near scared two seasons' growth out of me ears, pop-pin' up like that! Kindly don't do it again, bad form, wot!"

The little ottermaid smiled prettily, twitching her nose at them. "Beg y'pudden, sir, but what are you? You're not an otter."

"Hmph, I should say not, m'gel. I'm a hare, actually. Name's Clecky."

"Pleased t'meetcher, mister Clecky. I'm Winniegold of the holt of Wallyum Rudderwake. I 'spect the Hawm and his seal-folk brought you here to see us."

Clecky twitched his ears rather irately. "Tchah! Well, if he did, he never said anythin' to us about it. Blinkin' feller should say where he's takin' a chap, instead of all this haaaawmin' an' haaaaarin', wot wot!"

"Excuse me," Martin interrupted, "but if you two could break off this pleasant conversation long enough, perhaps you, miss, could show us to the holt of your father Wallyum Rud-derwake."

Realization suddenly struck Plogg. "The seals were sayin' Waaylumm! Maybe that's 'cos they couldn't say Wallyum properly!"

Clecky absentmindedly cuffed Plogg's ear. "Huh, I know that. Seal language, speak it perfectly, old chap, perfectly. I think friend Martin's right though, missie. You'd better take us to your dear old pater, wot!"

Winniegold directed them to take the logboat further round the side of the rock. A cable made from twined seaweed and kelp hung from a niche carved into the rock; it trailed away into the sea like a great thick serpent. The little ottermaid unhooked the cable, and passing it to Grath, she explained its purpose.

"Look down into the water, what d'you see?"

Grath stared downward into the clear depths. "There's a hole like some sort o' tunnel in the mountain, right near the surface here. The cable goes into it!"

Winniegold lowered her voice as if revealing a secret. “If we wait, the sea will lower itself and the tunnel will appear in front of us. My father says it is the trough between every nineteenth and twentieth wave that washes against the east side of our mountain; suddenly the sea level will sink and expose the cave mouth. If we all lie flat in your boat and heave on the cable, we can pull ourselves through to the inner island."

Viola leaned over the boat's edge, gazing at the great hole in the rock fearfully. "But it's underwater," she cried, "we'll all be drowned! I'm scared!"

Winniegold giggled at the timid volemaid. "Silly, there's no need t'be feared, you'll see. I haven't been countin' the waves, but I think it's best we all lie down."

Without warning a wave lapped high, sending the boat up on its crest, then it dropped sharply. There was a swoosh as if some gigantic monster had exhaled and they were looking straight into the mouth of the tunnel, wide and dark and dripping seawater, directly in front of them.

"Get down, mates, lie flat!" Winniegold yelled.

She gave a mighty heave on the cable and the logboat shot into the opening, like a tiny fish into the mouth of a whale. They were surrounded by an eerie blue light shimmering from the tunnel walls. The logboat rose, stopping no more than a paws-length from the shell-encrusted tunnel ceiling. As Winniegold tugged on the cable their vessel shot forward, and the entire logboat crew seized hold of the thick kelp and seaweed hawser and, lying flat on their backs, began pulling. The little craft sped along inside the tunnel. Limpets, barnacles, shells and hanging fronds almost scraped the prow of the boat, and great crabs scuttled about in the bluish light above their faces. The transition from sudden bright tropical sunlight to aquamarine dimness caused golden sunbursts upon their vision whenever they blinked. It was the oddest of experiences.

Suddenly it was bright, hot daylight again. Still holding the cable they stood up slowly and gazed awestruck at the scene surrounding them. Where the cable ended it was made fast to a treestump on the banks of a broad stream. Fields stretched about the entire area, ending in trees, which gave way to dense vegetation and shrubbery climbing the mountain's inner slopes.

Martin turned full circle, staring up at the high circular rock-rim. "It's like some kind of a massive crater, as if the mountain had had the heart taken out of it. We're in a big basin!"

Cupping both paws to her mouth, Winniegold cried out, setting echoes bouncing and ringing from the surrounding heights: “Rudddaaaawaaaaaaake!''

Otters came bounding from everywhere, dashing across the fields, tumbling down the banks and popping from the stream's surface. They crowded around the logboat, staring silently at the newcomers. Everybeast, male and female, even the babes, was fully armed; slings, clubs and javelins were much in evidence. Then a murmur ran through the ranks and they parted.

A magnificent male otter, fully a head taller than the rest, strode purposefully forward. His fur was dark, almost sable, and he was forbiddingly muscled through his sleek neck and broad shoulders. Grath stared curiously at the big bow he carried, a shaft set ready upon its bowstring. Over his shoulder she could see a quiverful of red-feathered arrows. He glanced down from the top of the bank, noting that she also carried a bow and arrows, then he nodded and stood to one side.

From behind the big otter another appeared, old and gray, but radiating a presence of wisdom and calm. The old otter carried an oak staff and was garbed in a long, homespun tunic of light brown color. His voice was deep and warm.

"Do you come to Ruddaring in peace? Are you friends?"

Martin realized who the patriarchal-looking beast was. Leaving the boat he waded ashore and, bowing low, placed his sword on the ground in front of the old otter.

"Peace be upon you, Wallyum Rudderwake, and all of your holt. I am Martin the Warrior of Redwall Abbey. The Hawm of sealfolk delivered us to your island. We are friends."