The Long Patrol Part 15

"I've heard that hares can't sing," Ginko the Bellringer called out. "Is that right?"

170 Pasque Valerian threw a paw across Rubbadub's shoulders. "An' where pray did y'hear that, sir? Everybeast up on y'paws an' form two rings, one inside the other. One ring goes left, the other circles right. Midge, Riffle, you show 'em. Rubba-dub, you beat time an' I'll do the singin'. 'Hares on the Mountain.' "

Whooping and leaping, the hares gripped their Redwall partners' paws.

" 'Hares on the Mountain,' beat it out good'n'fast!"

Rubbadub grinned ma.s.sively, striking up his drum noises. "Rubbity dubbity dumbaradum, rubbity dubbity dumbar-adum ..."

Both circles began moving counter to each other with the beat, at every third step banging both paws down hard and doing a double clap. Soon the Redwallers had the hang of it. When the circles were moving to Pasque's satisfaction, she sang out loud and speedy: " 'O mother, dear mother, O mother come quick, Calamity lackaday bring a stout stick, There's hares on the mountain, they're all rough'n'big, A cuttin' up capers an' dancin' a jig!

They wear rusty medals an' raggy old clothes, There's one with an apple stuck fast to his nose, Another's got seash.e.l.ls all tied to his back, There's hares on the mountain alas an' alack!'

*O daughter, my daughter, now listen to me, Such rowdy wild pawsteps I never did see, Run into the house quick an' cover your eyes, An' I'll give those ruffians such a surprise!'

A hare in a frock coat so fine an' so long Sc.r.a.ped on a small fiddle an' banged a big gong, He seized the poor mother an* gave a loud cry, 'Let's warm up our paws with a reel, you an' I!'

'O mother, sweet mother, oh may I look now?' "Come stir y'stumps, daughter, an' look anyhow,'

171 As she whirled around the good mother did call, 'There's a handsome one here with no partner at all!

'So batter that drum well an' kick up your paws, I'm reelin with mine an yore jiggin' with yours, A leapin' an' twirlin' as cares fly away, Those hares on the mountain can call any day!' "

All through the grounds of the Abbey, the warm sunny afternoon resounded with the joyous sounds of feasting and laughter. Sloey the mousebabe filled her ap.r.o.n pockets with candied nuts and dashed off with the other Dibbuns to play hide-and-seek.

Gubbio and the rest drew straws to see who would be denkeeper. A tiny hedgehog named Twingle drew the short straw. Covering his eyes with a dock leaf, he began counting aloud in baby fas.h.i.+on.

"One, three, two an' a bit, four, sixty, eight, three again, an' a five-seventy-nine . . ."

Squealing and giggling with excitement, the little creatures dashed off to hide before Twingle finished counting.

"Four, two an' a twelve, don't knows any more numbers, Fm a c.u.mmin' t'find youse all now!"

. Back at the table the moles were broaching a great new cask of October Ale, singing uproariously along with the Redwallers, showing the Long Patrol hares what good voice they were in.

"October Ale, 'tis brewed when summer's done, From hops'n'yeast an' barley fine, With just a pinch of dandelion, A smidgeon of good honey, a taste of elderflower, An' don't forget the old wild oat Culled at the dawn's first hour.

We puts it up in casks of oak, All seasoned well with maple smoke, Then lays it in cool cellars deep, Ten seasons long to sleep.

172.

October Ale, no drink so good* n'cheery In winter by the fireside bright To warm your paws the whole long night, Or after autumn harvesting, to rest an' take your ease.

Just sip a tankard nice'n'slow.

With crusty bread an' cheese.

'Tis wholesome full an' hearty For any feast or party. We'd tramp o'er forest hill an' dale For good October Ale!"

Gurrbowl wielded her mallet, knocking the spigot through the bung with a satisfying thud. Skipper and his otters lined up with tankards and beakers as the foaming dark brew splashed forth. Sergeant Torgoch brushed his bristling mustache with the back of a paw, smacking his lips and clunking beakers with Galloper Riffle as they sampled the new barrel's contents.

Torgoch placed a coaxing paw around the Cellarmole's shoulders, saying, "Wot d'ye say, marm, 'ow about comin' to be Head Cellar Keeper at Salamandastron? Just think of all those poor hares who ain't never tasted yore October Ale. Take pity on 'em, I beg yer!"

The molewife was so fl.u.s.tered by the compliment she threw her pinafore up over her face. "Hurr, go 'way, zurr, you'm a tumble charmer, but oi wuddent leave this yurr h* Abbey for nought, so thurr!"

With a twinkle in her eye, Abbess Tansy chided Torgoch: "Shame on you, Sergeant, trying to rob us of our Cellar Keeper! But seeing as you like Redwall's October Ale so much, here's what I propose. You may take as many barrels back to Salamandastron as you can carry."

Rockjaw Grang placed his paws around a barrel. Grunting and straining, he was barely able to move it. The Sergeant pulled a mock mournful face. "Thankee, marm, yore too kind, I'm sure!"

Suddenly, Twingle the hedgehog Dibbun came stumbling up to the table, waving his paws wildly and shouting, ' 'Come a quick, 'urry 'urry!"

173 Arven picked him up and sat him on the tabletop. "Now then, you liddle rogue, what's all this noise about?"

Twingle struggled down from the table, yelling urgently, "We was playin' 'ide-seek an' Sloey failed down d'big 'ole!"

Shad the Gatekeeper lifted the Dibbun with one big paw. "What, y'mean the pit under the south wall, Sloey fell down there?"

Breathless and tearful the Dibbun nodded. ' 'All a way down inta the dark she gone!"

Like a flash the otters and hares were away, running headlong with Arven leading them.

Sloey's fall was broken by the rus.h.i.+ng waters far below. The swift current was about to whip her off into the bowels of the earth when suddenly she was plucked from the roaring torrent by her ap.r.o.n strings and flung up on the bank. Half conscious, the mousebabe struggled upright and screamed with fright as a coil, heavy and scale-covered, knocked her back down. Something licked her paw, and she caught the dreadful waft of stale breath, hot against her quivering nostrils. A long, satisfied sigh sounded close to her face. " Aaaaaahhhhnhh!"

32.

Tammo was with Arven, Perigord, and Skipper as they hurried onto the platform over the chasm. Shad could be heard calling behind them, "Stay back, too many'll collapse the platform! Stay back, mates!"

Grabbing a rope, Major Perigord knotted it through the carrying ring of the lantern left there by the moles. He swung the light out into the gorge, paying the rope out. Everyone leaned over the edge, peering down as the lantern illuminated the abyss.

Arven bellowed down, "Sloey, can you hear me? Sloey?"

A wail of terror drifted upward as the lantern traveled lower.

Perigord grabbed Skipper's paw. "Great thunderin' seasons. Look!"

A big yellow river eel was menacing the mousebabe on the bank, its brown back and muddy umber sides rearing up snak-ily, the gashlike downturned mouth open, revealing glittering teeth. It swayed slowly, as if savoring the antic.i.p.ation of a meal, while its eyes, amber circles with jet-black center orbs, focused on the helpless mite.

Skipper wiped a nervous paw across his dry lips, calling 174.

175 hoa.r.s.ely, "Keep quiet, liddle 'un! Stay still, don't move!"

Arven stared anxiously down at the horrendous scene. "Oh, mercy! What'll we do?"

Skipper of Otters acted swiftly. Grabbing the dirk from Tammo, he climbed up onto the rail of the platform. "I'll borrow yore blade, matey, speed's the thing now. One of you follow me down by usin' the rope. Rescue the Dibbun an' get 'er back up 'ere. Can't stop t'chat, mates, 'ere goes!"

With the long knife between his teeth, Skipper dove headfirst into the gorge.

Something flashed by Sloey and landed in the water with a booming splash. Instantaneously the big male otter surfaced and bounded clear of the rus.h.i.+ng stream. The eel was about to strike down on its prey when Skipper hurled himself on the coiling monster.

"Redwaaaaaaallllll!"

The eel struck, burying its teeth in the otter's shoulder and whipping its coils around his body. Skipper had sunk his teeth into the eel's back and was stabbing furiously with the dirk. Eel and otter went las.h.i.+ng and thras.h.i.+ng into the churning waters, locked together in a life-and-death struggle. In a flash they both were gone, swept away underground.

Arven and Perigord took hold of the rope together, but Tammo ducked between them and slid over the platform, clinging to the rope.

"I'm lighter than you chaps. Stand by t'pull me up when I get the Dibbun!"

Paw over paw the young hare descended, looking down to where the babe lay and s.h.i.+vered in the light of the bobbing lantern. Tammo dropped lightly beside Sloey and, taking off his tunic, he wrapped her in it, talking in a soft, friendly tone.

"There now, that nasty thing's gone, thank goodness. I know, we'll make you a nice seat so they can pull you up, wot!"

Sloey turned her tearful face to her rescuer. ' 'I failed downa hole an' nearly got eated up!"

Tammo detached the lantern, knotted a fixed loop into the rope's end, and sat the mousebabe in it. "Yes, I know, but you're safe now, Sloey. You go on up an' have some more food at the feast, that'll make y'feel lots better."

176 He signaled and the Dibbun was lifted up in the makes.h.i.+ft sling, clinging tightly to the rope and calling back down, "Tharra naughty fisnysnake, me 'ope Skipper smack its bottom good'n'ard!"

Lying flat on the rocks, Tammo allowed the waters to drench him as he held up the lantern and squinted away to where the boiling torrent raced off downhill into the darkness. Nowhere could he see sight or sound of Skipper or the yellow eel.

A pall had been cast over the golden afternoon. The feast lay abandoned as Perigord explained what had happened. In stunned silence the Redwallers heard the news.

Abbess Tansy stood by her chair, wide-eyed with disbelief. "Oh, poor Skipper, is there nothing we can do?"

Tammo wiped his wet paws on the gra.s.s. "I stayed down there an' took a good look, marm. The water goes straight down underground-'fraid Skipper's gone. What a brave beast he was, though. Never considered his own safety at all!"

Arven leaned against a table, his eyes downcast. ' 'I saw his face before he jumped. I could tell that there wasn't anything he wouldn't do to stop little Sloey from being hurt. Skipper of Otters was a true Redwaller!"

Major Perigord gripped his saber handle tightly.

Some distance southeast of Redwall Abbey, the streams, brooks, and back channels became less rapid, flowing placidly through Mossflower Wood. It was here that they converged on the margins of a sprawling water meadow. Log-a-Log, the Guosim Chieftain, gave orders to s.h.i.+p oars and let the little fleet of logboats drift. He sat in the prow of the lead vessel, conversing with his friend Frackle, their voices a low murmur, as if to preserve the sunlit peacefulness that hung over the flooded meadows like an emerald cape.

A half-grown dragonfly landed on the boat, close to Log-a-Log's paw. It rested, unconcerned by the shrews, its iridescent wings fanning gently.

"Hmmm, nothin' like a bit o' peace," the shrew leader sighed. ' 'I never yet rowed through this place, always let the boat drift. See, Frackle, 'tis summer, the water lilies are startin'

177 to open, an' look over there 'twixt the fen sedge an' bulrushes-yellow poppies sproutin' with the cudweeds. I tell you, matey, this is the place to take a picnic on a quiet noontide!"

Frackle let her paw trail in the dark water, swirling a path amid the minute green plants that carpeted the surface.

Then a white-fletched arrow hummed, almost lazily, through the still air, burying itself in the prow of the logboat, and a gruff roar rang out from somewhere behind the banks of fern and spikerush: "Thee'd ha' been dead now hadst thou been a foebeast!"

Log-a-Log stood up in the bows of his logboat, rea.s.suring the other Guosim with a quick wave of his paw. Then, sitting back down, he pretended to stifle a yawn as he replied idly, "Yore brains are all in yore boots, Gurgan Spearback. If I'd been a foebeast I'd have spotted the smoke up yonder creek, from the chimneys o' those clumsy floatin' islands you call rafts!"

Hardly had he finished speaking, when one of the rafts came skirting the reeds and headed for the logboats. Propelled by six hedgehogs either side with long punting poles, the craft skimmed lightly and fast, belying the awkward nature of its construction.

There was a hut, a proper log cabin with shuttered windows and a door, built at the vessel's center, with a smokestack chimney sprouting from its roof. Lines of was.h.i.+ng ran from for'ard to aft, strung between mast timbers. Between the rails at the raft's edges, small hedgehogs, with safety lines tied about them, could be seen playing. It was obvious that several large families were living aboard.

The leader of the Waterhogs was a fearsome sight. Gurgan Spearback wore great floppy seaboots and an immense bra.s.s-buckled belt, through which was thrust a hatchet and a scythe-bladed sword. He had long sea gull feathers impaled on his headspikes, making him look a head bigger than he actually was. His face was painted white, with scarlet polka dots daubed on.

Gurgan leaned on a long-handled oversized mallet, its head a section of rowan trunk. As the raft closed with the leading logboat, the Guosim Chieftain sprang over the rail and hurled 178.

himself upon the Waterhog leader. They wrestled around the raft's deck, pummeling each other playfully while they made their greetings.

"Thou'rt nowt but an ancient blood pudden, Log-a-Log Guosim!"

"Gurgan Spearback! Still lookin' like a spiky featherbed wid boots on, you great floatin' pincus.h.i.+on!"

More rafts joined them, sailing out from a creek on the far side. Soon they were joined into a square flotilla, with the logboats tied up to their outer rails. Food was served on the open decks, hogcooks bustling in and out of their huts, carrying pans of thick porridge flavored with cut fruit and honey, the staple diet of Waterhogs. This was accompanied by hot cheese flans and mugs of rosehipVapple cider.

The little hogs wandered between groups, eating as if they were facing a seven-season famine. Big, wide-girthed fathers and huge, hefty-limbed mothers encouraged them.

"Tuck in there, Tuggy, th'art nowt but a shadow, get some paddin' 'round thy bones, young 'og!"

Log-a-Log refused a second bowl, patting his stomach to indicate that he had eaten sufficiently. "Phew! I wouldn't chance a swim after that liddle lot, mate!"

Gurgan s.n.a.t.c.hed the bowl and dug in with a scallop-sh.e.l.l spoon. "So, what brings thee'n'thy tribe around these 'ere parts?"

Log-a-Log patted a pa.s.sing young one's headspikes and winced. "I could ask you the same question, messmate, but we're chartin' a course close to Redwall Abbey to warn the goodbeasts there. Did y'know there's Rapscallions on the move?"

Gurgan licked the empty bowl and hiccupped. "Aye, that I did. We've been four days ahead o' yon vermin since they burned their fleet on the southeast coast. Damug Warfang has o'er a thousandbeast at his back, too many for us. I was lookin' to avoid 'em someway."

Log-a-Log nodded gravely. "Perhaps the answer is to join forces and go after the vermin. We'd have a chance together."

Gurgan began licking his spoon thoughtfully. "Aye, that we would. But hast thou seen the number o' liddle 'uns we're 179 rearin' now? 'Twould not be right to put their lives in danger."

The shrew sipped pensively at his beaker. "Aye, but think on this a moment, Gurgan. Warfang an' his army are like to sweep the whole land an' enslave all, 'less they're stopped. If Mossflower were conquered an' ruled by Rapscallions, wot kinda country would that be to bring young 'ogs up proper?"

Gurgan's paw tested the sickle-edged blade at his belt. "Thou art right, Log-a-Log. What's to be done?"

"We'll take yore young 'uns up to the Abbey an' lodge 'em there. That'll leave you free to fight!"

Paw met paw; Log-a-Log winced again as Gurgan's big mitt crushed his with right good will.

"Thee've an 'ead on thy shoulders, comrade. Thun-der'n'snowfire! Ah'll give yon Warfang an' his ilk some death songs t'sing!"

181.

Half the Guosim were left on the water meadows with the fighting crews, while the old and very young were conveyed toward Redwall in the logboats. Twilight was upon the land as they paddled upstream. Not too far off, Redwall could be seen, framed by Mossflower Wood on its north and east sides.

The logboats lay in a small cove, where the stream took a bend on the heathlands before turning back to the woodlands. Gurgan waddled ash.o.r.e, leaning on a long puntpole he had brought along. "This looks as close as we'll hove to yon Abbey. Best leave the boats here an' walk the rest o' the way. Come hither, young Blodge, an' quit messin' about there!"

The young Waterhog Blodge had jumped ash.o.r.e ahead of the rest and was poking about with a stick at the foot of a hillock by the stream bank. Waving the stick, she came scurrying along. "Look ye, I finded water comin' out o' yonder hill, sir!"