Brian Jacques - Redwall #05 - The Legend of Luke

In his mind Luke saw himself asking the same question of his own father. He gave Martin the same answer he had received long ago.

"When I think you are ready."

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Throughout the remainder of summer and all of autumn, the tribe of Luke worked long evenings, after their day's chores of farming food and foraging the shores was done. Gradually the once rickety Sea Rogue ship took shape. The hull was careened, ridding it of weed, barnacles and other saltwater debris. Unsound and rotten planking was torn out and replaced with good stout oak, which they traveled far to find and haul back. Cauldrons of pitch and pine resin bubbled continuously. Lengths of rope were woven and hammered in between the ship's timbers. Then the pitch and resin were poured into the joints, sealing them and making the vessel watertight. Any spare food was cooked and preserved in casks for ship's stores, along with new barrels for fresh water to be carried in. Luke oversaw everything, paying careful attention to the slightest detail.

"Do it proper and 'twill serve you well!" Everybeast in the tribe became familiar with their Chieftain's constant motto.

Winter's first icy breath was coating the northern coast with rimefrost when the new mainmast was raised. Vurg and Drunn had chosen a good tall white willow, which would bend with the wind where other wood might crack and break. Newly patched and hemmed, the wide single mainsail was hoisted, fluttered a moment, then bellied proudly out in the cold north breeze. A cheer went up from the creatures who had worked so hard to repair the vessel. Luke stood back upon the shore with Martin and Windred, surveying the new craft. It had three curving sails from the bowsprit to the mainmast, with the big triangular sail and a tall oblong one either side of the new willow. At the stern was a smaller mast with one other triangular sail. It obviously met all Luke's requirements. He smiled at Martin. "She'll have to have a new name, son."

Martin, like all youngsters, always had a question. "Why do they always call ships 'she'?"

Luke had to think about that one for a moment. "Truth t'tell, son, I'm not sure, but I think they call ships she because, well, she's like a mother to her crew."

Another inquiry followed immediately from the serious-faced young mouse. "I haven't got a mother. Will she be my mother?"

Luke's eyes were sad as he replied, "No, son, I'm afraid not."

Windred stared reprovingly at Luke. "D'you mean you're not taking Martin along with you? He's your son, Luke!"

The Chieftain nodded. "Aye, he is, and that's why I'm not goin' to risk his young life out there on the seas. Beside that, Windred, you're his grandmother, so he'll have to look after youthe only family I have left in this world is you two. Now let's hear no more of it. Would you like to name the ship, son?"

Martin would not let anybeast see tears in his eyes, so he rushed off along the shore, calling back to Luke, "Call her Saynaafter my mother!"

Windred watched her grandson dash down to the sea, where he stood throwing pebbles into the waves. "I'm sorry, Luke, I should have kept my silly mouth shut."

Luke rested a paw gently on her shoulder. "Don't be sorry, Windred, I'd have had to tell him sooner or later. Martin's made of tough stuff. He'll grow to be a fine warrior, though the only way he'll learn is to be told the plain truth. 'Twould be no good telling him lies."

That night, a feast to mark the completion of the vessel Saynawas held in Luke's cave. Autumn's harvest had been good and the cooks had excelled themselves. Martin cheered up as he and Timballisto joined a young hog-maid called Twindle and Drunn's nephew Burdle. The four sat together, giggling and joking beneath a lantern at the rear of the cave, ruddy firelight twinkling in their eyes. They had never seen such a sumptuous spread. "Yurr, lookit ee gurt plum pudden!"

"Oh, an' see those likkle tarts, they've got cream on top that looks like a twirl. Bet my mum Welff made those!"

"Mmm! Have you tasted the soup yet? 'Tis full o' rockshrimps an' veggibles!"

"I want a slice o' that big cake, the one with honey an' redcurrants all over the top!"

They sipped Drunn's fizzy apple cider and munched hot wheat scones that contained chunks of candied pear. The elders drank special barley beer and cut off slices of celery and onion cheese to go with it. Old Twoola raised his beaker and broke out into song.

"Oh the weather's cold outside outside,

But we're all snug in here,

With thee an' me, good company,

An' lots o' barley beer!

Oh the snow comes down outside outside,

An' winter winds do moan,

But sit us by a roarin' fire,

An' you'll not hear one groan!

Oh the night is dark outside outside,

But the soup is good an' hot,

Good food, fine friends an' happy hearts,

I'd say we've got the lot!"

Amid the laughter and applause that followed, old Twoola poured himself another beaker, crying out, "That's the stuff. 'Tis a feast an' we be here to enjoy ourselves. Who's got a song?"

Drunn began using a gourd as a drum, beating out a rhythm on it with two wooden spoons. "Goo urr, missus Welff, show 'urn 'ow ee can sing!"

Goodwife Welff was immediately up, apron swirling as she danced a jig, clapping her paws and singing.

"Two plums grew on a pear tree,

A wise old owl did say,

Oh dearie me I'm certain,

They shouldn't grow that way.

For beechnuts come from beech trees,

While Mother Nature rules,

As long as acorns come from oaks,

No wisdom comes from fools!

Then came a little hedgehog,

Who said with simple smile,

Good day to you, wise creature,

Now list' to me awhile.

Why does a tree stay silent,

And yet it has a bark,

An' why do shadows fall at night,

But never leave a mark?

Though you may think me silly,

I know 'tis only fair,

Most any fool can tell you,

That two plums make a pair!"

The mice had never heard this quaint ditty before, and they chuckled at the logic of the little hedgehog.

Dulam poured Welff a beaker of cider, offering her his seat, so that she could catch her breath. "Good song, marm, that was very clever."

The hogwife winked at him. "If'n you think that's clever, then ponder on this. How many pears in a dozen pair, six or twelve?" She watched the bemused mouse trying to work it out.

"Er, six, I think, aye 'tis six."

Goody Welff chuckled. "Then I wouldn't send you to the orchard for my pears."

Dulam scratched his head and did some more figuring. "No, twelve, the answer's twelve!"

"Twelve pair o' pears, are you sure?"

"Er, er, aye! I'm sure, marm!"

Goody Welff drained her beaker, eyes twinkling. "But that's twenty-four, twelve pairs o' pears."

Dulam scratched his head furiously. "You've got me all mixed up, marm!"

Drunn patted the puzzled mouse's back heartily. "Ee try wurkin' et out in apples, zurr!"

Late into the night they carried on feasting, singing and setting riddles. The fire was burning low when Windred moved the cave barricade a little and peered outside. She shuddered and hurried back to the fire. "Brr, snow's beginnin' to fall out there!"

Luke took his cloak and spread it over Martin and Burdle, who had drowsed off together in the corner. Windred waited until Luke returned to the fire, then asked, "Couldn't it bide until the spring?"

Luke stared into the red embers. "No. I have stayed too long already. Snow or not, I'm bound to sail in the morning."

Windred sat silent awhile, listening to the snow-laden winds sweeping the shore outside. Suddenly she leaned forward and gripped Luke's paw fiercely. "Go then, and seek out Vilu Daskar. Slay him and destroy his blood-colored ship. Steal the life from him who robbed us of our Sayna. I'll take care of Martin and when he's grown enough, he'll care for me. But swear to me that one day you'll return here to the creatures who love you, Luke the Warrior!"