Brian Jacques - Redwall #05 - The Legend of Luke

"Aye, there's only one thing worse'n a thief, Beau."

"Indeed, an' what is that, pray?"

"Two thieves!"

"Haw haw, rather good that, Vurg."

"We'll 'ave t'be more careful of a night from now on, mate. They'll be watchin' for us, y'know."

"Of course they jolly well will, so you do the stealin' an' I'll keep 'em diverted in me Sea Bogle costume, eh?"

Vurg chuckled. "Sea Bogle, wot a load of ole nonsense!"

Beau fixed two horns he had made from dried bladderwrack to his ears. He waggled them and scowled fiercely. "Talk not like that of ye Sea Bogle, old lad, or I'll put a spell from the dark murky deeps upon thee!"

Vurg closed his eyes, enjoying the warm noon sun. "Pity you can't put a spell on yore stummick, stop it needin' so much food, y'great fat fraud!"

"Steady on there, m'good mouse, us Sea Bogles need nourishment if we're to perform properly. No self-respectin' Sea Rogue'd be scared of a half-starved skinny Bogle. Er, any more of that skilly'n'duff left?"

"There's some in the bowl. Help yoreself, I imagine you'll spirit it away without too much trouble. What are you writin' there? The ship's log of our raft, the Floatin' Fender?Put me down as mouse mate, an' you c'n be cap'n Bogle."

Beau was scraping away with a charcoal stick on a strip of canvas, his tongue sticking out at the side of his mouth. "Actually it's a poem I'm composin' about Bogles. Some of those ignorant vermin may be unaware of the tale, so I'm doin' a bit of publicity for meself, doncha know."

Vurg winced as they heard the splash of water, followed by more agonized wailing from the upper decks. "Ooh! Must sting somethin' awful, bein' flogged an' gettin' salt water chucked on the cuts."

The hare was unmoved as he continued writing. "Prob'ly the only decent wash they've had since their dear old mothers used to scrub 'em in the tub when they were babes. There's a thoughtcan you imagine a filthy beastly little pirate babe bein' scrubbed in a tub? I'll wager his language would frazzle his auntie's slippers, wot?"

In the crew's accommodation that night, the vermin who had been released sat nursing their hurts, while others swaggered about, displaying the treasured gear they had thought lost. The rest huddled around the mess table, playing an old searat game with shells and fruit pips. The entire crew jumped with fright as the cabin door slammed open. Parug staggered in as if his paws were made of jelly, grasping a long strip of sailcloth.

The searat Willag helped him to a seat at the table. "Wot's the matter, bosun? Y'look as if y've seen a ghost."

Somebeast passed him a tankard of barnacle grog. He drank the fiery liquor in one long swallow, and it was dribbling down his chin as he stared wildly about.

" 'Twas the Sea Bogle, mates. I saw the Sea Bogle wid me own two eyes, on me affydavit I did!"

A chilled silence fell over the crew. Parug was quite a stolid rat, not given to silly imaginings. The tankard was refilled and Parug took a deep swig before continuing, "I jus' came out to patrol the deck, searchin' for a sign of any thieves. Before I could blink a glim it 'ad me by the throat. Long long arms it 'ad, like steel, I couldn't move! I tell ye, shipmates, I'll never be the same agin after seein' the Bogle. It 'ad great big horns, three eyes, an' a face that was all lit up, glowin'! Covered it was, wid 'orrible flowin' weeds from the bed o' the seas, all wet an' drippin'. Ugh! 'Twas too terrifyin' to describe!"

Willag took a gulp from the tankard Parug had put down. "Why didn't yer run an' tell the cap'n?"

Parug shot him a haunted glance, whispering dementedly, "Cap'n won't 'ear of it, 'e don't believe in Bogles. I couldn't tell 'im, mate, 'e would've slayed me!"

Foulscale temporarily forgot his stinging back. "Did the Bogle speak to ye, Parug? Wot did it say?"

The bosun held up the canvas strip. "It never said nothin', jus' growled an' gave an awful squeak, like a bottlenose dolphin. Then it pressed this sailcloth inter me paw, let go of me neck an' stood there."

Foulscale shook his head in amazement. "So wot did you do?"

"Do? Wotjer think I did? I ran off, fast as I could!"

"Is it still out there, d'ye think?"

"I don't know. Go an' look fer yoreself!"

"Wot? Lissen, mate, I ain't movin' out o' this cabin 'til it's daylight an' the sun's shinin', so there!"

The crew nodded their heads vigorously in agreement.

Willag picked the sailcloth from Parug's shaking paws. "See, there's writin' on it. Wot does it say, Parug?"

"I don't know, I can't read letters or words."

Grigg the searat beckoned to Willag. "Give it 'ere. I can read. Let's see wot it sez."

Grigg read it out in halting tones. He could read, but only just. His voice echoed out in the awed silence.

"From the dark and icy deeps,

Where the dreaded Bogle sleeps,

He'll rise one night and climb aboard your ship,

Bringing fear and deathlike doom,

To your very cabin room,

Beware the Bogle's clammy vicelike grip!

Aye, woe betide that crew,

Sailing on the main so blue,

And to those who don't believe me double grief,

When the Bogle takes a meal,

You will hear a dreadful squeal,

He strikes when nighttime falls, just like a thief!

Aye, who of you can tell,

Give him gifts and feed him well,

Then the Bogle may slide back into the sea,

But if gifts and food be few,

Hearken now, for it is true,

The Bogle may eat you, or even me!

Crack some ribs or crush a skull,

Stuff down hearts 'til he is full,

Rip paws and tails off any poor seabeast,

Lock your cabin doors this night,

Shake with terror, quake with fright,

For the Bogle may invite you to his feast!"

Grigg was quaking so badly when he finished the poem that he dropped the canvas. Willag was the first to move. He dashed to the cabin door and locked it, calling down the long smoky cabin to his mates, "Bar those skylights, batten 'em down tight! Trim the lamps an' clean 'em, we need it good'n'bright in 'ere!"

Fleabitt and the ferret Ringpatch were on duty in the Death Pit. The slaves were sleeping, draped across their oars. Ringpatch, who generally worked on top deck of the trireme, took a quick glance around.

"Hoi, Fleabitt, this lot won't be no trouble fer the rest o' the night. Come on, mate. Let's go up to top deck, it stinks down 'ere. Walloper an' Ching from middle deck'll be up there, my mate Flanjear, too. Top deck ain't like this pest'olewe got a liddle oven up there. Bet they're makin' skilly'n'duff an' suppin' grog."

Fleabitt coiled his whip over one narrow shoulder. "Skilly'n'duff! Why didn't yer say, matey? Lead on, I'm right be'ind yer. Nothin' like a bowl o' the ole skilly'n'duff!"

The moment they were gone, Luke and Ranguvar sat up. All through the bottom deck, oarslaves became alert. Luke's orders were relayed from one to another.

"Those closest to the steps, keep watch. Give the warning if y'hear anybeast comin'!"

"Dulam, Denno, look to your oarports. Vurg will be along with food soon."

"Ranguvar, how's that big staple coming along, nearly out?"

The black squirrel looked up from her labors. " 'Tis a big 'un, set deep an' well rusted, but I've got it on the move, Luke."

"Good, but be careful you don't splinter the wood too much. Bullflay usually stands near there, an' we don't want him to spot anything suspicious."

Norgle the otter tossed something across to Ranguvar. "All taken care of, matey. I'm mixin' tallow with dirt from the deck, that'll disguise it good."

Luke nodded his approval. "Great stuff, matey. See if y'can get more o' that tallow. We'll need it for the oar-chains."

As Luke talked he was busy with his own oarshackles, filing a deep groove into a link close to his paw. "Gricca, have you got those weapons stowed safe?"