The Rogue Crew

Razzid chuckled. “Yore a smart young un, but ye ain’t as clever as Razzid Wearat. I’ve already thought o’ that. We’re carryin’ the logs with us, so afore we sets off, we lashes ’em back into position an’ stands ’em on the bows. At the right moment, we lets ’em flat, right across the ditch without losin’ speed. Then it’s over the ditch an’ bang! Greenshroud’ll knock only once on those doors, an’ they’ll fall flat.”

He turned to Shekra. “An’ ye know wot happens then?” Without waiting for a reply, he raised his voice into a harsh shout, waving the trident on high. “Then we conquers Redwall Abbey, shipmates! Slaves to wait on us, loot to share, soft berths an’ the best o’ vittles. Now, ’ow does that sound to ye?”

A roar went up from the assembled corsairs and searats. “Razzid! Razzid! Razzid Wearaaaaaaat!”

Captain Rake had been sleeping peacefully on the streambank, wrapped in his cloak but with his two claymores lying close to paw. It was not any woodland sound that wakened him, but a scent. A tantalising aroma of hot mint tea and fresh-baked coltsfoot and rosehip scones. It was still dark as he made his way to the glowing embers of the previous night’s campfire. Pinny Wiltud was already awake, readying breakfast.

Rake made an elegant leg. “Guid mornin’ tae ye, marm. Up an’ aboot early, eh!”

Busy with her work, the hogwife hardly gave him a glance. “I was wonderin’ when somebeast would sniff my breakfast. Sit ye down, Cap’n. You can be first served.”

She ladled out a beaker of the tea from her cauldron and placed four scones on a dockleaf.

“Careful now, the tea an’ scones are still hot.”

Rake sampled a nibble of scone and a sip of tea. He nodded admiringly at Pinny. “Marm, you’re a real treasure! Ah havenae tasted scones like these since mah auld granny used tae bake ’em. Rosehip an’ coltsfoot, right? Wi’ just a wee touch o’ dandelion bud. Och, a real taste o’ mah young seasons!”

Just then several voices echoed from the bank.

“Ahah! Brekkist, just lead me to it, mates!”

“Huh, lead your flippin’ self, planktail. I’m so jolly hungry I could scoff the bloomin’ bark off a dead tree!”

“Aye, well go an’ find yoreself h’a dead tree, young sah. I’m h’all for some proper vittles. Move over, Drander!”

“I say, Sarge, watch who yore jolly well shovin, wot!”

Pinny Wiltud was no shy young blossom. She got order with paw raps from her stout beechwood ladle. “Back off, ye famine-gobbed beasts! There’s enough to go round, so form a line! Here, young Posy wotsyername, come t’the front.”

Trug Bawdsley protested. “I say, marm, I was here before her!”

Skor Axehound lifted Trug bodily and placed him to the back. “You ’eard Miz Wiltud. Now behave yoreself. I’m next after liddle Posy. Ahoy, Feyblade, stop pushin’ or ye’ll feel my footpaw round yore stern!”

Order was restored, and everybeast was served in turn.

Uggo picked scone crumbs from his pawspikes. “Much further to Redwall, is it, marm?”

Pinny wrapped a spare scone in a dockleaf, slipping it to Posy, who was rapidly becoming her favourite. “If we sets a good pace, we should make it after evenin’! Make the most o’ these vittles, ’cos I ain’t stoppin’ t’cook anymore today. Now, who’s the best climber amongst ye?”

Log a Log Dandy stepped smartly forward. “That’ll be me, darlin’. Where d’ye want me to climb?”

She pointed out a stately elm. “Try that un. Get as high as y’can, then shout down wot ye see to the east an’ a bit south’ard.”

The Guosim Chieftain was a nimble-pawed shrew. He shot up the elm trunk and was soon lost amidst the leafy canopy. There was a moment’s silence, then he yelled down, “Hah, ’tis a three-topped oak. A real ole giant!”

Captain Rake strapped on his twin blades. “So, away we go, eh, Sergeant?”

The grizzled veteran bellowed out in good parade-ground style, “Fall h’in, ye lollop-eared, bang-tailed, spiky-’eaded rabble! H’on the double, now, look smart, look smart! Chins in, chests out, shoulders back, paws swingin’, h’eyes front! Quick—wait for it, Miss Ferrul—quick march!”

Away they went, hares, otters, shrews and hedgehogs, with Lancejack Sage, who had a sweet strong voice, singing out.

“If I had no fine boat to sail,

then I’d walk all the way,

an’ if nobeast would carry me,

I’d march the livelong day,

hey, up the hill an’ down the grade,

with comrades true each one.

Ten! Twenty! Thirty leagues!

From Sala manda stron!

Go t’your left, left right, it’s a long way ’til tonight!

“So keep the vittles warm for me,

an’ serve me more not less,

an’ shed a tear, O Sergeant dear,

for Cooky in the mess,

he’s dishin’ double helpin’s

to all who haven’t gone.

Ten! Twenty! Thirty leagues!

From Sala manda stron!

Go t’your left, left right, it’s a long way ’til tonight!”

Tramping alongside Ferrul, the ottermaid Kite Slayer felt her feelings warming to Long Patrol hares. She mentioned this blithely to the haremaid. “I’m gettin to like this, y’know? All walkin’ along t’gether, singin’ songs an’ such. Aye, it’ll do me fine!”