Part 19 (1/2)

Kroova opened one eye and nudged Sagax. ”I 'ope ole Scarum means that. At least we'll get a bit o' peace!”

Sagax replied with both eyes still closed, ”No such luck, mate, he's too hungry to die. Oh well, we'd better get up and see about breakfast. Anything to report, Scarum? Disasters at sea, s.h.i.+ps in the night?”

The mention of breakfast had cheered the hare up considerably. ”What, er, oh, not a confounded thing, just the bally usual. Water, water an' more flippin' water, wot! I say, I'll bet that jolly good sleep you've had is makin' you feel a bit peckish. What d'you say 1 make brekkers, eh, wot?”

”Put one paw near that grub an' I'll chop it off!” Scarum stuck out his tongue at Kroova. ”No y'won't, 'cos then I wouldn't be able to steer!” Sagax was about to start preparing the breakfast when Kroova's sharp eyes caught a dark ma.s.s on the eastern horizon. The otter yelled out in fine nautical fas.h.i.+on, ”Land ho! Take 'er bow east, matey!”

Scarum managed to turn his eyes from the food. ”Wot, er, righto, me old messmate, me salty seadog, er, er, bow east it is, s.h.i.+pmate!”

The otter sighed wearily as he retrieved the tiller from the jaunty hare. ”Yore 'eadin' out t'sea, bow east is the other way. Go an' do somethin' else, I'll take 'er in.”

This did not diminish Scarum's happy mood a whit. ”Do somethin' else, right ho/ Cap'n. Shall I bail out the bilges or scuttle the masthead, wot? I say, perhaps I'll lend a paw an' help me old messymate Sagax with brekkers!” The badger stowed the rations back under the bow seat. ”Breakfast will have to wait until we make land, so forget your stomach and help me to look out for reefs.”

Scarum's long ears wilted. He sat in the bows staring down into the clear blue water, muttering, ”Forget about breakfast, the very idea! First shark that comes along can have me. Huh, providin' sharks like scoffin' thin, sickly-lookin' chaps!”

As they drew closer to the coast, Sagax could feel excitement beginning to bubble up within. ”I can see a stream running out across the sh.o.r.e, coming right through those woodlands and out of the hills. Do you think we've reached Mossflower country, Kroova?” The otter grinned triumphantly. ”I certainly do, mate!” Scarum set the craft rocking to and fro as he leaped up and down on the bows in a victory jig.

”Well hey ho and a nonny no, good old us, wot? We finally made it, chaps, the land of scoff'n'honey. Hoorah!” Sagax grabbed the leaping hare by his tailscut. ”Keep bouncing about like that and you'll capsize us. I'll watch the water. If you want to use some energy up, go and furl the sails. Take them down completely and roll 'em up. We'll need them to make a shelter.”

Scarum's attempts at sail-furling were pathetic. He tugged the sternsail down on his head, enveloping himself. Sagax and Kroova exchanged winks as they watched the ma.s.s of sailcloth wriggling about. They joshed him: ”That's the stuff, mate, fold it nice'n'neat now.”

”You can tell Scarum's a trained seabeast. Wish I could furl a sail like thatyou'd think he was born to it!”

The parcel of canvas sprouted lumps as Scarum tried madly to extricate himself from his prison. ”Yaaagh, gemme out, you fiends, it's dark in here. Come on, you dreadful rotters, help a chap out. Don't you dare make breakfast until I get m'self free of this lot. Gurrrr!”

Midmorning saw the ketch Stopdog Stopdog glide smoothly into the stream's outflow. Kroova dismantled the bow seat, and together he and Sagax began paddling the craft upstream, across the sh.o.r.e. glide smoothly into the stream's outflow. Kroova dismantled the bow seat, and together he and Sagax began paddling the craft upstream, across the sh.o.r.e.

Scarum had finally managed to extricate himself from the clutches of the sail. He folded it carefully, muttering darkly against life's injustices. ”Might've bally well smothered in there, huh, a lot those two would care. Almost half blinkin' well through the day and food hasn't pa.s.sed my peris.h.i.+n' lips. Next time I go t'sea it'll be with a fat duck an' a jolly frog, wot!”

The Stopdog's Stopdog's keel ground to a halt on the sandy streambed. keel ground to a halt on the sandy streambed.

Kroova s.h.i.+pped his makes.h.i.+ft oar. ”That's as far as she'll go until the evenin' tide washes up this way an' deepens these shallows. Away, boat's crew mates, all ash.o.r.e that's goin' ash.o.r.e!”

Sagax was first overboard. He took a deep drink from the streamwaterit was fresh, though slightly sun-warmed. He drove a stake into the sand and moored the ketch to stop her being washed seaward.

Kroova gathered driftwood from the tideline and set about lighting a fire with flint and tinder. Soon they had a camp pitched on the dry sands, with an awning of sailcloth and a concoction of supplies bubbling merrily away over the fire.

Sagax sat under the shade of the awning, facing landward. The warm umber sands gave way to high hills topped with gra.s.s and backed by thick woodland. It was a pretty sight on a bright summer's morn.

They had relented and allowed Scarum the position of cook. He was throwing ingredients w.i.l.l.y-nilly into the pot and gurgling happily. ”Just wait'll you chaps taste this. Ooch! It's a bit hot right now, but delicious all the same, wot. Even though one says it oneself, absoflippinlutely delicious!”

Headed by Slitfang, a score of Freebooter vermin wandered the coastline, looking out for the landmarks that Captain Plugg had described to them. Tazzin panted as she climbed a steep sandhill. ”Is this the one Cap'n Plugg said ter look out for?” Slitfang shrugged. ”Could be. We won't know 'til we gets to the top an' takes the lay o' the land.”

The stoat Sc.u.mmy gritted sand between his few teeth. ”Wouldn't ye think old Plugg'd come an look fer hisself? Bet 'e's playin' wid 'is new likkle boat, 'im an' that fat white sissy Prince.”

The weasel Stinky grabbed at a tussock of gra.s.s. It came out by the roots and he tumbled backward. Wiping sand from his eyes, he flung the gra.s.s away savagely. ”Yore right there, bucko, I don't see the sense in traipsin' up an' down the beaches. 'Tis a flamin' vinegar trip if'n yew ask me!”

Slitfang turned to face the complainants. ”Well, I didn't ask yer, Stinky. Vinegar trip, eh? That's wot ye call carryin' out Cap'n's orders, eh? I ain't askin' ye now, I'm tellin' youse two. Shut yore gobs an' stop talkin' mutiny, or I'll report ye to the Cap'n when we gets back. Now I've warned yer, one more word”

Tazzin had reached the hilltop. She called out to Slit-fang, ”Ahoy, Slitty, come an' take a dekko at this!”

The weasel turned his back on the two crewbeasts and scrabbled his way to the top.

Below them the sh.o.r.es stretched south, broken only by the broad stream that flowed across from the woodlands. This was what they had been looking for, exactly as Plugg had described it. However, it was not the stream that caught most of the Freebooters' attention.

A smile of villainous delight crossed Slitfang's ugly face. ”Well, sc.r.a.pe me barnacles, will ye look at that. I swear, 'tis the old ketch wot King Sarengo used to tow abaft of 'is big s.h.i.+p. I remembers it from when I was young. Haharr, an' there's a camp alongside it, all nice 'n' cosy like!”

By this time the others had climbed up and joined him. The rat Ripper licked the edge of a sharp sickle he carried.

”Couldn't be crewed by more'n 'arf a dozen, an' there's twenny of us. Wot do yer say, Slitty?”

Slitfang spat on his paws and rubbed them gleefully. ”I say we takes a walk down there, nice'n'quiet, so as not ter frighten 'em off. That fire's burnt low, bet they're 'avin a peaceful noontime nap under that there lean-to. Now lis-sen, youse lot, I don't want no killin'. We'll take 'em as prisoners back to the Cap'n. I gotta feelin' Plugg'd want to 'ave a word with 'em. Foller me, an' no noise.”

Tazzin tossed her blade skilfully and caught it. ”Right y'are, Slit, let's pay 'em a visit!”

Beneath the awning, Scarum was snoring gently. Something tickled his nose; he brushed it away. It tickled again, and he hit out at it. His paw struck something hard. Opening his eyes, the hare found himself staring into Slitfang's grinning face.

The weasel was dangling a dagger over his nose. He winked at Scarum. ”Wakey wakey, rabbit, you got visitors.”

The Salamandastron hare came awake fighting. His long back legs shot out into the weasel's stomach as Scarum shouted, ”Eulaliaaa! We're being attacked, mates!”

His companions leaped up, Sagax flooring a rat with a hefty blow. Kroova caught a ferret's footpaws and sent him flat. Then the Freebooters swamped them. Fighting like madbeasts, the three companions tried to battle with overwhelming odds. Scarum seized their makes.h.i.+ft paddle and broke free. He batted the campfire with it, sending showers of hot embers at his foes. Sagax exerted his mighty strength. Grabbing the rat Ripper, he whirled him bodily over his head.

Slitfang roared out, ”Surrender, or this 'un's a deadbeast!” Slitfang had stunned Kroova from behind with his cutla.s.s hilt. Both he and Tazzin crouched over the otter, their blades at his throat.

Fear for their friend's life caused Sagax to drop Ripper. Scarum ceased scattering fire. Immediately they were set upon by vermin and bound with s.h.i.+p's ropes.

Slitfang spat out a tooth he had lost in the melee. He looped a rope around the half-conscious otter, nodding with satisfaction. ”That's better. No sense in slayirT youse . . . yet!”

Four vermin had Sagax lying bound upon the sand. He tried to struggle upright, but was kicked back again. ”What's the meaning of this attack? What do you want with us?”

Slitfang held his cutla.s.s point to the young badger's chest. ”Oh, nothin', stripedog, just a bit of information, but that'll wait 'til ye meet Cap'n Plugg Firetail.”

Scarum was lying facedown, the ropes biting cruelly into his paws. Lifting his head, he blinked sand out of his eyes. ”I should've booted your belly through your backbone, you sc.u.mfaced villain. If I wasn't jolly well trussed up, I'd give you such a blinkin'”

”Yah Shuddup, rabbit!” The stoat named Sc.u.mmy ground his paw on the back of Scarum's head, pus.h.i.+ng his face into the sand.

Tazzin felt heat on her back. She turned. ”The s.h.i.+p's burnin'!”

Blazing embers from the scattered fire had stuck to the pitch and resin coating of the bows. With such inflammable materials, the Stopdog Stopdog immediately burst into a sheet of flame. Everybeast leaped back from the blaze. Slitfang tried running forward to see if he could fight the fire, but a breeze caught the conflagration. He, too, was forced to leap back from the blistering heat. Then the awning caught light from a salvo of pitch- and resin-soaked splinters. Dragging their captives, the Freebooters abandoned the site, beating at their smouldering clothing as more sparks leaped out from the burning vessel. immediately burst into a sheet of flame. Everybeast leaped back from the blaze. Slitfang tried running forward to see if he could fight the fire, but a breeze caught the conflagration. He, too, was forced to leap back from the blistering heat. Then the awning caught light from a salvo of pitch- and resin-soaked splinters. Dragging their captives, the Freebooters abandoned the site, beating at their smouldering clothing as more sparks leaped out from the burning vessel.

Slitfang kicked out viciously at the young hare. ”Yew caused that, rabbit! It was yore fault, whackin' fire all over the place like that!”

Scarum bit at the weasel's paw, but missed. ”Rabbit y'self, you great smelly bully!” He looked over at Kroova apologetically. ”Sorry about your s.h.i.+p, old chap.”

Half dazed, the otter managed a lopsided grin. ”Bet-ter'n lettin' the Stopdog Stopdog fall into the paws o' vermin, eh.” fall into the paws o' vermin, eh.”