The Rogue Crew

Fottlink had been dozing against a battlement. His head drooped forward, bumping against stone. He righted himself quickly, remembering he was on guard duty, then peered north up the path. The mouse Recorder became instantly alert. “Look, the vermin ship’s moving!”

Abbot Thibb, who had been resting on the north steps, came running. “Moving, did you say? Which way?”

Those on guard, the Abbot included, hurried to see. Dorka Gurdy shielded her eyes against the firelight. “Well, I never. They must’ve built some sort o’ bridge, ’cos the vermin are pushin’ it o’er the ditch!”

Ding Toller hissed, “Get down, everybeast down! We don’t want ’em t’know we can see wot they’re doin’!”

Everybeast crouched below the wall, leaving Ding to spy on Greenshroud.

“The ship’s over on the western flatlands now. They’re hoistin’ the sails. Wot d’ye think, Father, are they goin’ away?”

Abbot Thibb scratched his ears. “I hope they are, friend, but who can tell? What are they doing now?”

The tall, sombre squirrel reported. “So that’s how they got over the ditch—six logs made into a bridge. Now they’re bindin’ ’em t’the ship’s sides an’ takin’ ’em along. All the vermin are back aboard. I can see that Wearat at the tiller. I tell ye, it does look odd t’see a ship sailin’ along on wheels.”

Dorka Gurdy prodded Ding’s back. “We know that! Which way’s the ship bound?”

Ding pointed. “Straight into the west. She’s only goin’ along slowlike. There’s nought but a breeze to help ’er. But there she goes. It’s safe enough now. See for yoreselves.”

Heads popped up all along the west walltop. Foremole Roogo shook a clenched paw after the vessel. “Goo orn, away with ee, durty ole vermints. Burr aye, an’ doan’t ee cumm back yurr no more!”

Friar Wopple came trundling up the stairs; the old vole was in a panic. Thibb helped her onto the ramparts. “Friar, what is it?”

The good cook was quite out of breath, but she did the best she could to explain. “I . . . I . . . was out in my liddle’erb patch behind the Abbey, pickin’ some fresh mint for brekkist tea, y’see. Then I ’ears noises from outside. There’s creatures in the woodlands at the east wallgate, Father!”

Dorka thumped her rudder hard on the stones. “I knowed those rascals was up to somethin’. I could feel it in me whiskers, I swear I could!”

Fottlink grabbed her paw. “What d’ye mean, marm?”

The ottermum snorted, “A trap, a trick, that’s wot I mean. That great scummy Wearat was tryin’ to makes us think he’d sailed off. But he’s split his crew. I wager there’s a gang o’ the murderin’ scoundrels tryin’ to break in the back o’ the Abbey whilst we’re all watchin’ the front wall!”

Ding Toller looked grim. “Aye, that makes sense. Good job ye heard ’em, Friar. I’ll sound the bells an’ raise our creatures!”

Abbot Thibb halted him. “No, wait. Our bell sound carries a long way. The Wearat could hear it. Knowing we’re wise to his plan, he’d come back and attack us, maybe at the south wall, where there isn’t a fire burning.”

Fottlink waved his paws in agitation. “Oh, dear, what’ll we do?”

Thibb did not hesitate. “We’ll sneak over to the east wall and see how many vermin there are. Once we know that, I’ll be able to put some sort of plan into action. Come along, all of you, but go quietly as you can.”

They crept off in a bunch along the north walltop. As they neared the northeast gable, Fottlink gave a squeak of alarm. “There’s somebeast on the battlements yonder—a rat, I think!”

An indignant voice hailed them. “Rat yoreself, old mouseyface! Don’t ye know a Guosim Log a Log when ye see one?”

Dandy Clogs hopped nimbly from the battlements and swaggered up to meet them. “Has everybeast at Redwall got moss in their ears? We’ve been knockin’ on that liddle wallgate for long enough!”

Chuckling with relief and joy, Thibb held out a welcoming paw. “Guosim! Thank the good seasons for that. Do ye have some of your warriors with you, Log a Log?”

Dandy clasped the outstretched paw warmly. “Oh, I’ve got a couple o’ Guosim with me, but our bunch is mainly a load o’ Long Patrol hares an’ Rogue Crew sea otters. They’ve only come along ’cos they’ve heard o’ Redwall’s fine vittles, so ye’d best warn yore cook. Right now ye’d do well to open that small wallgate, afore Skor Axehound decides to take his battleaxe to it!”

Abbot Thibb was ecstatic as he saw the warriors crowding in through the wickergate. Captain Rake performed a smart salute with his blades. “Ah’m Captain Rake Nightfur, commandin’ a score o’ Long Patrol fighters frae Salamandastron. This is mah companion, Skor Axehound, Chieftain o’ the Rogue Crew from the High North Coast. We’re at your service, mah friend!”

Thibb waved his paws excitedly. “Let’s not stand on ceremony, Captain. I’m Thibb, Father Abbot of Redwall, but I’m sure we’ll all become acquainted soon enough. Right now I’m sure you’d much sooner be enjoying our hospitality at supper. How does that sound?”