The Rogue Crew

The Seer withdrew her paw coolly from his grasp. “Because I’ve been watchin’ ye. I could tell, believe me. Wigsul had a big mouth—he’d have done for us all sooner or later. Razzid thinks he’s quelled any mutiny now, an’ that’s the way we’ll keep it, until the time’s ripe.”

Jiboree agreed. “She’s right, mate. Once the cap’n is outta the way, we’ll be in charge o’ everythin’, that Abbey, an’ all wot goes wid it!”

Mowlag looked from one to the other, then nodded. “I’m with ye!”

Shekra lowered her eyes to the deck, whispering, “Look out, he’s watchin’ us!”

Razzid had been standing in his cabin doorway. He began walking toward them, but a cry from the mast top brought him up short.

“The ford, Cap’n! ’Tis dead ahead as she goes. The ford!”

25

Uggo gripped Posy’s paw tightly, even though they were travelling in the centre of the group. Old Drogbuk Wiltud was supposedly taking them on a shortcut to Redwall, so they could arrive ahead of Greenshroud and Razzid Wearat’s crew. They were in a forbidding and eerie part of Mossflower, one seldom used by other travellers. The trees were enormous, their upper foliage coming together—cedar, oak, elm, sycamore, ash, beech and other varieties—blocking out the sunlight. It was a world of green gloom haunted by dark shadows. Nothing except trees and odd fern beds seemed to grow there in the all-prevailing silence. The woodland floor was deeply coated with leaf loam and dead pine needles.

Uggo chuckled nervously. “Ain’t much fun strollin’ through this place, is it?”

His voice echoed hollowly around the monolithic trunks. Posy squeezed his paw. “Hush, now, be quiet. Sound carries round here.”

The Guosim shrew Banktail whispered furtively, “D’ye think somebeast might be lissenin’?”

Log a Log Dandy, who was bringing up the rear, pawed at his rapier hilt, putting on a show of bravado. “I don’t care who they are. They can lissen long as they like, providin’ they don’t try anythin’ on me. All they’ll git off’n this Guosim is a taste o’ cold steel!”

Walking in the lead with Drogbuk, Swiffo had to slow his pace to match the ancient hog. He was not best pleased when the oldster sat down on a fallen spruce trunk.

The young sea otter held forth his paw.

“C’mon, Granpa, up ye come. Let’s get goin’—I don’t like this place. Sooner we’re outta here the better, eh?”

Drogbuk shook the paw off his shoulder, stating moodily, “I don’t like this place either, but a beast o’ my seasons ’as to rest. I ain’t as spry as you whippersnappers.”

Swiffo called a halt. “Take a short rest, mates.”

Drogbuk felt inclined to argue, so he did. “A short rest is it, eh? Lissen, wavedog, I’ll rest fer as long as I likes, see? I’m the one wot knows the way, so ye can’t go anywhere widout me to guide ye!”

Log a Log Dandy tried humouring him. “Yore right there, ole feller. You cool yore paws awhile.”

Drogbuk stuck out his snout stubbornly. “Aye, an’ whilst I’m coolin’ me paws, wot about some vittles an’ a drop t’drink, or do I ’ave t’starve t’death?”

Swiffo shrugged. “Wouldn’t mind a bite o’ grub meself, mate. Trouble is, we ain’t got none, an’ there ain’t any to be got around this place, unless anybeast wants t’go foragin’.”

The Guosim scout Dobble dusted loam from his tail. “I’ll take a look around. There’s got t’be somethin’ a body could eat.”

Frabb, a tough-faced Guosim, volunteered himself. “I’ll go with ye, Dobble. If’n I don’t git me paws on some vittles soon, I’ll start eatin’ me own tail!”

As they strode off together, Log a Log Dandy called, “Keep yore eyes skinned for trouble, mates, an’ give our Guosim cry if’n there’s anythin’ amiss.”

After the pair had vanished into the green gloom, the others sat resting. It was an uneasy time. A pall of silence lay upon the whole party. Uggo and Posy moved closer to each other, staring uneasily around, stiffening at a sound in the background.

The shrew Banktail looked rather unhappy at the situation. “See? I told ye we was bein’ watched. Now they’re trackin’ us.”

Dandy nudged him hard. “Why don’t ye talk a bit louder, so that whoever it is can find us easier? Huh, wot makes ye think we’re bein’ tracked, eh?”

As if fearing to turn, Uggo gestured backward. “That noise just then. It sounded like somethin’ slitherin’ through the dry leaves, a snake maybe.”

At the mention of the word snake, a fearful moan arose from the shrews, who were mortally afraid of serpents.

Even the Log a Log looked apprehensive; he prodded Drogbuk. “Did ye say there was snakes round here, old un?”

The ancient hog nodded. “Aye, an’ I ain’t in the habit o’ tellin’ lies. That could be the sound of a snake!”

Swiffo gathered some dried moss. With knifeblade and flint, he began conjuring up a smouldering little heap. “Ahoy, Guosim, don’t sit there like crabs at a cookup, git gatherin’ dry wood. Fire’ll keep anybeast at bay, even snakes. C’mon, mates, show willin’!”