Rakkety Tam Page 28

  Didjety swiped at a cloud of annoying insects with her pinafore. “Be off, ye pesky mites, before I’m eaten alive! Yoofus, are you certain sure this is the right stream?”

  The volethief brushed a hairy caterpillar off his paw. “Er, I think so, me dear.”

  Doogy spat at a gnat which was trying to get in his mouth. “Ye think so? Ach, ye great fat-tailed fibber, ah’ve a good mind tae boot yer lyin’ bottom intae that water!”

  Yoofus tried a weak smile, which faded on his lips. Even Rockbottom shook his head in disgust.

  The raft had been slowly drifting forward, but now it ground to a halt with a bump. A huge, rotted beech trunk blocked their way; beyond it the stream was a mere trickle. Doogy flung his pole into the water, wrinkling his nose at the odour which arose from it.

  Didjety began to weep, throwing her pinafore over her face. “Oh Yoofus, how could ye do this to us?”

  Doogy rolled the drum onto the solid bank ground and placed the tortoise upon it decisively. “Dry yer tears, marm, an’ come ashore with me. Ah’ll try tae find us a way out o’ this without that lyin’ buffoon ye call a husband!”

  He lifted the volewife onto the bank, passing the supplies to her and glaring at Yoofus. “An’ as for ye, mah foolish friend, y’can shift for yerself. Ah can stan’ yore thievin’ an’ lyin’ no longer!”

  As darkness fell over the woodland depths, a small fire made an island of light in the gloom. Doogy, Didjety and Rockbottom gathered around the flames, roasting sausages on sticks and drinking beakers of the volewife’s plum and gooseberry cordial.

  Didjety glanced anxiously at the Highlander. “I wonder where Yoofus has got to. D’ye suppose he’s alright, Mister Plumm?”

  Doogy jiggled a hot sausage from paw to paw, breaking off a piece and tossing it to Rockbottom. “Och, ah wouldnae bother mah head about him, marm. Ah can hear him out there watchin’ us. He’ll come tae no harm, an’ mebbe he’ll learn a lesson or two, eh?”

  The volethief’s voice came through the trees to them. He sounded lonely and forlorn. “Ah, ’tis a sad thing t’be left to die alone in this ould forest, an’ all because of one liddle mistake. Sure, an’ it must be grand for some I know—sittin’ round a nice warm fire an’ feedin’ their gobs on sausages an’ cordial while the likes of meself is cast out into the wilderness to be et by flies an’ die of the hunger an’ drought. I must’ve led a wicked life to come to this!”

  He sounded so pitiful that Didjety had to wipe a tear from her little tortoise’s eye.

  Doogy heaved a sigh. “Och, ye may as well call the roguey in, marm.”

  Before the volewife could say anything, Yoofus dropped out of a tree to sit beside her, grinning from ear to ear. “Top o’ the evenin’ to ye, mates! Pass me a sausage, will ye, me ould darlin’ daisy? I’m dyin’ fer the lack o’ vittles. Doogy, me luvly friend, how are ye?”

  The Highlander passed him a beaker of cordial before responding. “None the better for yore askin’, thief. Now understand this! Ah’m leadin’ the way from now on, ye’ve got no say in it. If’n ah want tae get lost, ah can do it without yore help. You just roll that drum along an’ follow me!”

  Yoofus saluted several times, nodding in agreement. “Ah, sure yore right, sir. Orders are orders, an’ ’tis me faithful self who’ll be carryin”em out. Isn’t he right, Didjety, me liddle rosebud?”

  The volewife slammed a hot sausage into her husband’s smiling mouth, leaving him spluttering. “Oh, Mister Plumm’s right, sure enough. One more word from yore fibbin’ lips, Yoofus Lightpaw, an’ ye don’t get another bite to eat or drink from me. Is that clear now?”

  Yoofus patted Rockbottom’s head and fed him the sausage. “Hoho, me liddle pal, that one’s not a creature to argue with. Ah, cheer up now an’ I’ll sing ye all a grand ould song about a pore mouse who had a shrewish wife.”

  Doogy’s paw strayed dangerously close to his sword hilt. “No ye won’t. Ye’ll eat that supper an’ go tae sleep!”

  Yoofus collapsed backward, saluting as he did. “Go t’sleep, sir. Orders is orders, right y’are!”

  Like a broken silver coin, a half-moon shone down on the small group sleeping around the glowing embers of the fire. Doogy lay wrapped in his plaid, wondering if he would ever again see his friend Tam, or walk through the welcoming gates of Redwall Abbey.

  33

  The broadstream was running so furiously that there was little need of oars, though the Guosim held them ready to fend off their vessels from rocks and to keep the logboats in midstream.

  Tam sat in the stern of Togey’s big boat, his paws clenched tight to the gunnels. He gazed about in awe: to his right, high limestone cliffs towered over the waters; to his left, rocks were broken into large chunks, overgrown by trees and vines. He realised they were speeding down an ever-narrowing slope, which concentrated the stream so greatly that little could be heard but the roaring of water. A fine spray enveloped everybeast.

  Log a Log Togey sat beside Tam, his eyes narrowing against the rushing spray. The shrew chieftain manoeuvred the tiller skilfully with one paw whilst signalling directions to the other logboats in his wake. They were travelling ahead of the other boats.

  Tam glanced back upstream, shouting to Togey, “No sign of Gulo an’ the vermin, mate!”

  Togey called back, “Keep yore eyes peeled on that left bank. That’s the route they’ll be followin’.”

  Skipper was in the last logboat. He balanced upright, steadying himself on his broad rudder as he peered back upstream. His keen eyes caught movement. Pointing, he roared at the top of his voice, “They’re on the river, comin’ fast this way!”

  Tam and Log a Log both turned to look. In their wake, the broad stream resembled a single long and narrowing avenue. In the distance, the big willow trunk was thundering downstream, loaded with vermin. Gulo could be seen standing high amid the roots which formed the prow. The wolverine was gesturing madly as he exhorted his crew to paddle with branches and spears. Tam’s first reaction was one of alarm. The huge tree seemed to be gaining on them, travelling at a very fast pace indeed. Log a Log Togey nudged a nearby shrew. Together they studied the unusual craft racing along in their wake. Then they held a hasty whispered conference, both smiling and nodding.

  The Borderer looked enquiringly at the Guosim chieftain. “What’s so funny, mate?”

  Togey pointed ahead. There was a turn coming up in the distance where a massive rocky outcrop poked out into the water. He put his mouth close to Tam’s ear. “Wait’ll we round that curve, an’ you’ll see!”

  He waved to the other logboats, pointing to the curve and nodding off to the left. They signalled back that they had understood the order. Immediately all the Guosim crews dipped their oars and began paddling strongly with the headlong current. All the logboats shot forward.

  Lancejack Wilderry was seated in the prow of the big front boat. He became so exhilarated by the sudden turn of speed on the wild waters that he rose up, roaring, “Eulaliiiiiaaaaa! Let ’er go, chaps!”

  A stern old shrew shoved the young hare down, clambering over him to crouch in the very peak of the prow. “Keep yer ’ead down, matey. I gotta watch out fer the Chief’s signals. Stay out o’ me way now!”

  The hares in all the boats had drawn their weapons at first, thinking that Gulo and his vermin might overtake them. But when it became obvious that he would not, they put up their arms and clung tight to the gunnels, their ears blowing out straight behind them as the logboats skimmed over the boiling waters. The shrews in the prows of other boats began uncoiling stout ropes with grappling hooks attached. Log a Log and Tam watched as the foebeasts tried to put on more speed. Gulo, lashing about with a long, whippy willow bough, exhorted them to greater efforts.

  Togey shouted to Tam above the watery din, “Grab this tiller with me. Now when I call starboard, you push it t’the right with all your might. Got that?”

  Tam nodded, repeating the instruction. “Starboard, push to the right!” He set both paws
on the tiller, gripping it fiercely.

  Suddenly the bend was upon them. Tam felt Log a Log Togey tense. Then the shrew warrior bellowed out his commands, “Starboard! Starboard! Push for yore life!”

  Bracing his footpaws against the port bulkhead, Tam pushed until veins stood out upon his neck. Water was dashing into the logboats as shrews in the prows whirled ropes with grapnelled ends and cast them.

  A hidden inlet, diguised by overhanging trees, was right around the bend. Tam felt the big logboat shudder as it turned sideways in the melee of water. He caught but a brief glimpse of the rocks on the right, looming up at the stern, before a powerful shock knocked him almost flat.

  The shrew in the prow had thrown his rope, its grapnels thunking into the body of an ancient pine. Guosim shrews threw themselves upon the ropes, hauling madly. Logboats heeled almost onto their sides as the bounding current pounded them. Then they righted. Ropes thrummed tautly, and the boats were hauled swiftly into the tree-covered inlet.

  Tam found himself soaked to the fur and gasping for breath, still gripping the tiller.

  Log a Log Togey patted the warrior squirrel’s back, complimenting him. “We’ll make a streambeast of ye yet, Tam. Well done, mate!”

  Then the Guosim leader turned his attention to the other boats. “All craft in now? Oars shipped an’ boats well hid?”

  Skipper, whose logboat was the last to be hauled in, gave Togey a wave. “All craft in an’ tied up tight, Chief!”

  One of the hares whispered to Threeshrew, “Rather neat, wot! D’you chaps do this often?”

  Looking grim, she responded, “Nobeast ever tried it afore, we’re the first to do it. I thought we was all deadbeasts for a while back there.”

  The young hare’s ears stood up rigid. “Good grief, y’might have told us ’twas your first time!”

  Tam could not help but smile. “Would it have made any difference?”

  Skipper murmured to Togey, “They should be here soon. Wot if’n they sees us as they pass by?”

  The shrew chieftain shrugged. “Wouldn’t make any difference if we stuck our tongues out at ’em an’ sang rude songs, mate. They wouldn’t be able to stop. That tree’s headed for a waterfall so steep you can ’ardly see the bottom. Though if’n ye did, ye wouldn’t like it—the bottom of those falls is nothin’ but a big heap o’ rocks stickin’ up. Mark my words, Skip—Gulo an’ his scummy crew are all deadbeasts!”

  As it happened, Gulo did not spot the hidden cove as the big willow trunk shot by. He was too busy lashing about at his vermin and yelling out over the din of wild water, “Faster! More speed! Keep going, ye idle fools!”

  With nobeast to steer or otherwise control it, the huge bulk of the fallen tree continued to hurtle through the water as it went with the currents. Veering in to the right, the massive treetrunk eventually struck the enormous outcrop of rock, directly on the bend. Were it not for his powerful claws, which he had latched into the trunk after releasing his willow whip, Gulo would have died on impact.

  Then disaster struck the tree, the shock of the collision turning it end to end. And it carried on—turning and turning and turning. . . . The wolverine and his terrified crew clung to the log, lost in a whirling chaos of water and rock, the sky revolving above them.

  When Tam and Togey last caught sight of them, the vermin were gripping tight aboard the spinning log, screaming and yelling as it swept out of sight around the bend.

  Log a Log Togey relaxed his hold on the tiller. “There’s about six more bends afore they reach the big waterfall. When they hit the bottom, there won’t be enough left of ’em to scrape up in a basket!”

  Tam looked stunned, but he responded to the shrew’s remark. “Good riddance to bad rubbish, mate!”

  Leaving the logboats securely moored to trees, they clambered ashore over the rocks. Guosim cooks found a convenient spot among the conifers to set up camp. There a fire was built, water fetched from the stream and wet garments set out to dry. Everybeast took their ease, weary after their ordeal on the wild waters, which could still be heard thundering along in the background.

  Tam sat with Skipper and Togey, watching the westering sun setting distant trees into silhouettes tinged with purple and gold. The trio were silent, each with his own thoughts, until the shrew chieftain stroked his beard reflectively.

  “Well, mates, a good end to a long, hard day, eh?”

  Tam began slowly honing the blade of his dirk against a rock. “Aye, ’twas that, though I’ll wager Gulo the Savage had an even harder day on his journey to Hellgates. I never kept my vow to slay him, though.”

  Skipper flicked drops of water from his rudder. “Ye ought to bless fate for that, Tam. We should thank Mother Nature for takin’ care o’ that one. I don’t think any ten beasts could’ve faced a monster like Gulo in combat. That ’un was a mad slayer an’ a flesh eater. Yore a warrior, Tam, but I don’t think you’d have stood a chance agin a beast like Gulo the Savage.”

  The Borderer tested the edge of his blade. “We’ll never know now, will we?”

  Sensing the challenge in Tam’s voice, Log a Log Togey changed the direction of the conversation. “Makes no difference now, mates. Ole Gulo’s out the way, an’ yore headed back to Redwall.”

  Tam nodded. “First thing in the morning, an’ we’ll have to step out sharp. The Abbey’s probably under attack by half a hundred vermin—remember, Gulo split his forces.”

  Skipper looked grim. “Yore right there. I ’ope our friends aren’t in any difficulties, I’d hate to think ole Humble or my young Brookflow was in any trouble. I expect you feel the same way about Sister Armel. Eh, Tam?”

  The warrior looked surprised. “I hope they’re all safe an’ well, Skip. Why should I be particularly worried about the Sister?”

  The otter chieftain chuckled. “Hah, you ain’t foolin’ anybeast, Rakkety Tam MacBurl. Everybeast noticed the way you two was gazin’ at each other an’ whisperin’ together!”

  Suddenly Tam was lost for words. He was saved by the arrival of Lancejack Wilderry. “I say, you chaps, are you goin’ to sit there chunnerin’ away all blinkin’ evenin’, or d’you want some scoff?”

  It was Guosim tradition that, whilst on campaign, the Log a Log was served first. Out of deference to the shrews, the Long Patrol hares observed this rule. Gathered around the spread the cooks had set out for them, both groups eagerly awaited Togey’s arrival, which would signal that it was time to dig into the feast. Upon his appearance, however, the shrew chieftain first had a few words to say.

  “Comrades, this is a fine meal laid out for us. I want ye to enjoy it an’ give thanks for livin’ through today. Not just us Guosim, but you hares, too. We lost some fine friends today, good shrews an’ gallant hares. Our victory was gained, but at a price. So I want ye to give a moment’s silence an’ think of the ones who ain’t with us t’share these good vittles.”

  In the silence that followed, the Guosim thought of their mates who had been lost whilst freeing the broadstream of the fallen willow. Many wept openly. The Long Patrol hares kept a stiff upper lip, but it was hard: they all had memories of gallant Corporal Butty Wopscutt, who had given his life for his friends. Tam thought of Butty, too; he had been very fond of the jolly corporal. At the same time, he could not help thinking of Doogy. Where was the little Highlander? Was he safe and well? Then his mind wandered to other things. His feelings for Sister Armel were just as Skipper had expressed them. Tam smiled to himself as he reflected on what an unlikely match they made—the warrior and the gentle healer!

  The reverie was broken when a shrewcook held out a plate of stew, some rough bread and a beaker of shrewbeer to Tam. “Here y’are, matey. Get that lot inside o’ ye!”

  As night fell over the waters and the woodlands, they did what warriors always did after a long hard day—ate well, drank heartily, told tales and, especially popular with the young hares of the Long Patrol, sang songs. One Merriscut Fieldbud, a haremaid with a trilling voice, entertained the
m with a barrack room monologue.

  “Well pish an’ tush an”pon my word,

  I am the Primrose Warrior.

  The day I joined the Long Patrol,

  no maid was ever sorrier.

  They woke me up at break o’ dawn,

  and sent me off to war,

  before I’d had a chance to bathe,

  or dust each dainty paw.

  I went away to fight the foe,

  with comrades rude an’ rough.

  They’d never seen a perfume spray,

  much less a powder puff.

  With not a drop of daisy balm,

  or any rosehip lotion,

  I marched along, a dreadful sight,

  my ears shook with emotion.

  Then soon we faced the enemy,

  an’ it was my firm belief,

  between that awful scruffy lot,

  was not one handkerchief!

  What were their mothers thinking of?

  Not one had washed his face.

  I mentioned to my Officer,

  they looked a real disgrace!

  All filled with indignation then,

  I charged them single-pawed,

  with boudoir mirror for a shield,

  and parasol for sword.

  I curled their ears and brushed their teeth,

  and wiped their runny noses,

  then sprayed on toilet water,

  until they smelt like roses.

  They ran away in swift retreat,

  that rabble so unseemly.

  My General then promoted me,

  for beating them so cleanly.

  So when you see me on parade,

  you chaps must all salute.

  I’m called the Primrose Major now, and

  Isn’t that a hoot?”

  Everybeast laughed and applauded, especially the shrews.