Brian Jacques - Redwall #07 - Mariel of Redwall

The lobster doubled up to rid itself of Dandin, and the hefty fanlike tail caught Mariel a swipe as she tried to get close. The air was now forcing itself out of the mousemaid's mouth in huge bubbles. She wondered why her friends on the surface were not attempting to haul them up. Her limbs felt like lead and her head was ringing. Blindly she struck out with the sword and pierced the lobster's back, down near its tail. Infuriated, the lobster turned, lashing out with one claw.

Instantly freed, Dandin felt himself being hauled quickly to the surface. The lobster locked on to the sword blade with its viselike pincer. Mariel felt herself being hauled up on the rope. She was now upside-down in the water, clinging grimly on to the sword, the lobster below her hanging on to the sword blade with one claw whilst trying to get at her with the other.

A large rock came splashing down onto the lobster, followed by another and another. It let go of the sword as it was battered to the pool bottom by yet more rocks.

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Mariel was pulled clear of the pool with a whoosh of spray and a rush of air, and she fell upon the sand, spitting out water and gasping for breath.

Tarquin sat her up, pushing her back and forward. Mariel's head was rising and falling as it nearly touched her footpaws, and the water gushed out as she coughed.

"Come on, old gel. Just like the village pump, wot!" Tarquin chuckled cheerfully.

Dandin was in slightly better shape, having been pulled out marginally sooner than Mariel. He sat with his back against the rocks in the sunlight as Durry fussed about him.

"Any more water t' come up, matey?"

"No, thank you, Durry. Just let me rest. I'll be all right."

They sat Mariel beside him. She wiggled a paw in her ear.

"Well, what about that little adventure, eh, and all for nothing!"

Bobbo squatted in front of her, smiling behind his glasses. "Well now, why do you say all for nothing, young mouse?"

Mariel scuffed the sand irritably. "Because we never got the swallow."

Bobbo pressed something into her paw. "Then tell me what this is!"

Mariel stared at the tiny metal bird she was holding. "But how . . . ?"

Bobbo chuckled and patted her paw. "It was Firl. I told you that the newts are very good at the swimming. He went in and got it while you and your friend Dandin battled with the creature. We could not risk pulling you up, you see. The water was too cloudy and disturbed, and we could not see what was happening. Then Firl dived in and I myself decided you needed air or you would both drown, so I said, 'Pull up, whatever is happening. Pull!' "

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Durry swelled his chest out proudly. "The rocks were my idea, missy. Me 'n' Tarquin hurtled 'em at the beas-tie as we pulled you out."

Mariel got slowly up and hugged them one by one. "What good friends you are, all of you."

Later, in the cave, they took a closer look at the little swallow. It was made of some shining blue metal which gave off strange glints in the sunlight, shaped like a fan-tailed swallow, wings spread wide as if it were flying. Dandin noticed a small hole bored through one of the wingtips.

"See this hole what d'you suppose it's for?"

"I don't know, maybe for something to fit into it."

"Hmm, it'd have to be pretty thin to fit through that tiny hole."

Bobbo pulled a thread from the lining of his velveteen longcoat. "Something as thin as this, are you thinking, wayfarers?"

Dandin nodded. "Yes, that's thin enough. Let's try it."

The swallow hung by the piece of thread. It dangled there, turning slowly, then stopped, facing the right wall of the cave. They watched it; the little bird remained still.

Tarquin took hold of the thread. "Here, let's see the bally old bird." He spun it on the thread. Round and round it went, finally coming to rest facing the same way again, the right wall of the cave. No matter how many times it was spun it still ended facing the same direction.

The wall on the right side of Bobbo's cave!

Durry shook his head in amazement. "Just like the poem says, The swallow who cannot fly south.' "

Mariel smiled. "Aye, it flies the opposite way: north!"

Dandin recited the last lines of the poem.

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"His flight is straight, norwest is true. Your fool's desire he'll show to you."

Bobbo held up the swallow on its thread, watching as each time it stopped turning it pointed due north.

"This is a thing of great magic. You could be going anywhere, in dark or fog, yet it would guide you, see. Northwest is at the point of the bird's neck, between its head and left wing. So you see, travelers, let the little swallow think he is flying north, but you take the northwest course. Truly a marvelous bird, my friends."

At supper they sat around the fire discussing their next move. Mariel knew well what it was.

"We need a boat."

Dandin left off polishing the sword. "How long would it take to build a boat? Where would we get the timber? We know nothing of boatbuilding."

A gloomy silence prevailed. The fire flickered warmly about the rock walls as they sat mentally wrestling with the problem. Bobbo looked from one to the other before speaking.

"Ah well now, it is sad and dreary your faces are. You are my friends, I would like you to stay here forever, but I know that your fate and search are elsewhere and you will leave sooner or later. So listen to what I must tell you. You want a boat; I do not have a boat, but I know where a ship lies ..."

Mariel sprang up. "Where? Please tell us where the ship is, Bobbo."

The old dormouse sat back, stroking Firl's head gently.

"I saw her a few days ago; she was drifting north round the headland. A curious ship, with not a living creature aboard her. So then I followed her along the shore. She had neither masts nor rigging. The tide sent her up into the cove on the other side of the headland, and I boarded her in the shallows. 'Twas a terrible sight

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to see, a searat ship, Greenfang she was named, burnt out in some battle, though not anyone aboard of her. There was no supplies, or things I could be using myself. Ah well then. I anchored her fast to some rocks and left her there. Now I warn you, she has neither sail nor masts, the cabins are all gutted by fire, but the hull is sound and she has steering and a rudder. She will take you where you want to go. I will show you her on the morrow and you can decide for yourselves, though I see by your faces that your minds are already set on it. Go you to sleep now, 'tis probably the last good rest you will be taking in many a perilous day ahead. As for myself, I will bide here with my friend Firl. I am too old for such wild adventures. Peace is all

I seek now."

oo

By midmorning of the next day they were riding the charred hulk of Greenfang out upon the tide, with scant supplies, no proper accommodation and an outward wind. Mariel held the long tiller, the metal swallow constantly pointing north under cover of a makeshift awning. Tarquin wiped a paw bravely across his eyes, Dandin sniffed copiously, Durry wept unashamedly, but Mariel smiled fondly at the two small figures growing dim in the distance as they waved from the shoreline. She would never forget Bobbo the quaint little dormouse, or his silent friend Firl the newt and their peaceful existence in the cave amid the tall rocks. Now the mousemaid turned to the open sea, and the unknown dangers that lay before them.

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Abbot Bernard realized the value of battle-trained hares. Accordingly he allowed the trio full rein in defending the Abbey, trusting to their military judgment.

Clary organized most things within Redwall whilst the threat of attack was still a possibility. He was very good at it. Sentries were posted upon the walls in a regular rosterwith the exception of Simeon, no creature was excluded. At least one longbow archer was posted at all times, night and day, fully armed and ready to shoot. Apart from that, the day-to-day routine was not interfered with; creatures got on with the business of living at the Abbey, carrying out their chores and taking their ease and pleasure when permitted. Tonight was such a night.