The Rogue Crew

Ruggan began heaving himself out of the water. “I found it, so s’pose I’d best go first.”

He was almost on the ledge when his younger brother, Swiffo, denied him the chance. Bounding skilfully up onto Ruggan’s shoulders, Swiffo leapt, catching hold of the entrance rim. He pulled himself up, disappearing into the dark hole. There was a momentary silence, which was cut by Skor’s booming voice echoing off the tunnel walls.

“Now then, ye young scallawag, wot’s it like in there?”

Swiffo’s head appeared at the entrance.

“Too dark t’see anythin’. Pass me the torch, Ruggan.”

Ruggan lobbed the lighted torch carefully. It described a fiery arc, but Swiffo caught it deftly. He waved and vanished again. Everybeast watched as the flickering rays diminished.

Captain Rake called out, “Dinnae get yoreself lost up there, laddie!”

More silence, then a sound began to build. It was like a gale-force wind over a grove of trees, whooshing along into a crescendo, peppered with high-pitched squeals, multitudes of them.

Sergeant Miggory had to bellow to make himself heard over the gathering tumult.

“Wot’n the name o’blood’n’thunder’s that, sah?” Swiffo came hurtling out, still grasping the smouldering torch as he hit the water and went under.

Then the huge dark shape descended on the shocked creatures.

Redwall Abbey was the picture of tranquillity in early summer dawn. Dorka Gurdy was up early, strolling the walltop, sipping a steaming beaker of comfrey and dandelion tea and nibbling on a crusty oat farl.

The rampart walks at dawn and sunset had become almost a ritual with the Abbey’s otter Gatekeeper. Her constant hope was the return of her brother Jum Gurdy and Uggo Wiltud. They had been absent some considerable time now, but she never gave up hope of seeing the pair strolling home along the path which ran alongside the Abbey. Standing on the threshold above the main gate, Dorka enjoyed the quiet moments before Redwallers awakened. Far out across the flatlands a mist-shrouded horizon was being transformed by the eastern sunrise. Soft grey, faint blue and pale gold touched distant slow-drifting cloud wisps. Wood pigeons, with their constant broody chuckles, mingled with melodious blackbird and thrush serenades from the woodlands behind. The plaintive chirrup of ascending larks blended sweetly with the chorus. The Abbey Bellringer, Ding Toller, joined her.

“I was just on my way to ring the morning bells, but who needs them, with music like this, marm?”

Dorka rested her beaker on a battlement, nodding at the tall, sombre squirrel. “Aye, who indeed, sir.”

Ding glanced southward down the path, then out over the flatlands. “No sign of Jum an’ young Uggo?”

The big otter shook her head. “Not yet, but they’ll come soon—you’ll see. Though I think they’ll arrive from the north. Don’t know why, suppose ’tis just a feelin’ I get.”

Ding nodded. “Aye, ye could be right, marm. North’s as good as any place t’come from. Ye’ll excuse me, but I has t’go an’ see to my bells.”

He was about to move off when he saw two small figures clambering up the north wallstairs.

“Will ye look at those two liddle snips! Who told ’em they could come up to these walltops alone?”

He hurried along the west rampart, followed closely by Dorka, calling out to the Dibbun pair.

“Stay where ye are, don’t take another step!”

It was Alfio the shrewbabe and Guggle the tiny squirrel. They waved cheerily.

“Goo’ mornin’ to ee. Nice up ’ere, izzen it? We was goin’ t’climb up on a wall an’ look out.”

Ding took Alfio by the paw. “Ho, no, you knows the rules about liddle uns wanderin’ round up here alone. Now, come on down, ’tis breakfast time.”

Guggle the squirrelbabe scrambled up Dorka’s habit to perch on her shoulder. “I kin see everyfink from up here, Dorky—alla trees an’ the path an’ the big ship!”

Holding him tight, Dorka mounted the battlement top.

“Big ship? Where?”

Guggle’s tiny paw shot out. “Up there onna path, see!”

There was the Greenshroud, far off as of yet, but quite distinct. The green sails hung limply as it trundled gently forward, propelled by its vermin crew wielding oarshafts.

Ding helped Dorka down, passing the custody of Guggle to her. “Forget the bells—marm, you watch this un. I’ve got t’go an’ tell our Abbot about this!”

In Great Hall, Father Abbot Thibb presided over the day’s first meal. He was halfway through the grace when Ding Toller burst in, his footpaws slapping the floorstones as he hurried to the Abbot’s side.

Thibb gave him a reproachful stare. “Could this not wait until later?”

Panting from the run, the Bellringer tried to keep his voice down as he explained hurriedly, “Big ship with green sails comin’ down the path from the north. Me’n’Dorka saw it with our own eyes, Father!”

Thibb stepped away from the table, drawing Ding close. “Carry on with breakfast in my place, and not a word to anybeast. Roogo Foremole, Sister Fisk, Fottlink, Friar Wopple, follow me, please.”

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