"Ahoy, Waveblade, where have ye come from?" Riptung called out.
The small steersrat indicated back across her left shoulder, but did not shout a reply. Riptung understood.
"South, eh. We wer down that way, must've missed yer. Are you on for a race back to Terramort, cask o' wine fer the prize?"
The small rat shook its head, jiggling the tiller and shrugging.
Riptung nodded. "Rudder trouble, matey? Where's Cap'n Orgeye?"
The lanky one on lookout pantomimed sleep, resting his head on the foredeck rail and pointing below.
Riptung laughed aloud. "Haharr, lazy ol' Orgeye, snorin' like a hog. Too much wine, eh?"
The lanky one did a stagger and held his stomach and forehead at the same time. Riptung smote the tiller, laughing uproariously.
"Scupper me, the drunken ol' blubberfish. Ahoy there, tell 'im when he wakes that he missed a chance o' winnin' a big cask o' wine."
3*7
The two searats waved back as the ships drew away, racing pell-mell for Terramort, Riptung shouting tidings of Orgeye to the other two Captains, who shook their heads with merriment.
Rawnblade's huge head poked out of the cabin doorway. "Have they gone?"
Tarquin blew out a long sigh of relief. "Aye, m'Lord, but it was a close thing. Any nearer to us and the game would've been up; they would have seen we weren't bally searats."
Mariel leaned back against the tiller, wiping her brow. "Whew! See that? It isn't seaspray, it's sweat. How they could ever have taken me and Tarquin for a couple of scurvy searats, I'll never know."
Rawnblade strode up on deck. "We'll furl in the sails and let them get in to Terramort well ahead of us. Up you go, Woodsorrel. I'm too heavy to be climbing masts, and Mariel's needed on deck."
Tarquin took a look at the swaying mainmast billowing with sail. He threw a paw across his eyes and staggered giddily.
"Oh, corks. Do I have to climb up that great swayin' thing an' fold all those windy old bedsheets? Do I really, sir?"
Rawnblade pointed a stern paw to the topmast. "Up, Woodsorrel, up!"
Tarquin spat on his paws but made a last-ditch plea to a passing gull. "I say, birdie old bean, just furl a jolly old sail or two as you're passin', there's a good chap."
The sea gull flew heedlessly on. Rawnblade stood with his hefty paw still pointed into the rigging. "Up!"
Tarquin nervously scaled the mast, calling out to the sea gull, who had decided to hover overhead and view the performance.
"Yah rotten ol' featherbag, bet your mum was a cuckoo. Oh golly, if Hon Rosie could see me now she'd split her fur laughin'."
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34
At that precise moment Hon Rosie had never been more serious in her life. She stood in a small wooded area, just out of sight of the searat camp. With her were Clary, Thyme, Rufe Brush, Oak Tom and the pretty squirrel Treerose. The hares were armed to the teeth lances, bows, arrows and a dagger apiece. Clary was talking to the squirrels.
"Now you know the drill, chaps. As soon as I shout out t' you then you come runnin', get the slaves away pretty darn quick an' head north, take a loop south an' straight back to the Abbey. I've left that big otter chappie Flagg a notehe'll know what t' do. Don't forget nowwhatever happens, keep the bally slaves goin' full speed an' get 'em back to Redwall posthaste, wot!"
Rufe Brush clapped Clary on the back. "Got it. Keep the slaves goin' till we're safe back home, right? But what about you three?"
Thyme tested his bowstring. "Don't worry about us, laddie buck. We'll be right as rain, won't we, Rosie?"
"What, oh er, rather! Get the little thingummies back to the wotsit and leave the rest to us. Tickety-boo an' all that!"
Clary glanced at the noon sky. "Time to go, troops!"
Rufe, Tom and Treerose shook paws with the three
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hares. Clary sent them off. "Get round the back of the camp an' wait for my signal."
"Righto. Goodbye an' good luck, Thyme."
"Toodle-pip, old scout. Chin up."
Treerose waved. "Goodbye, Rosie. See you back at the Abbey."
Rosie nodded. "'Course you will, pretty one. On
your way now,"
When the squirrels had gone, Colonel Clary
inspected his patrol.
"Very smart, top marks, good turnout, wot!"
Thyme brushed his moustache one last time. "No excuse for sloppiness, my old pa always said."
They nocked shafts onto their bowstrings and strode off toward the searat camp, talking softly to each other.
"Make me proud of you now, troops."
"Goes without sayin', Clary. We'll give Rawnblade somethin' to talk about while we're at it, wot!"
"I say, Clary. Is it all right if I laugh 'n' hoot a bit once the show gets under way?"
"Permission granted, Rosie old gel. You chuckle as
much as y'like."
oo
The searats were milling about the fires, shoving and pushing as they tried to get cooking space. There had been no fish or meat taken, as a result of Oak Tom's activities in the area. However, they had found a good supply of wild pears and apples, and plentiful dandelion roots. Now they cooked the fruits, telling each other that there would be good hunting tomorrow when the birds and fish returned.
The oarslaves sat miserably in their long wooden cage. It was exceptionally strong, being made from thick green branches lashed together with rope. The young creatures gazed longingly out at their captors, knowing the only food they would receive was the waste and scraps after the rats had glutted themselves.
Pakatugg pushed his face against the wooden bars.
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He had grown thin and gaunt in captivity, suffering the kicks and curses of searats. He bitterly regretted tracking the Darkqueen in quest of plunder. Now he sat staring through his prison at the woodlands beyond, thinking of his secret den far away, the cool green light from the shading trees, the mossy rocks and trickling stream . . .
Quite suddenly Pakatugg saw the three hares of the long patrol! They were striding grim-faced through the searat camp, making for the captives in the cage, fully armed with lance and dagger, each with a shaft drawn tautly on a longbow. The squirrel watched them silently, his eyes wide with disbelief. The hares ignored the noisy crew of searats as they marched purposefully forward.
The rat called Fleawirt was first to see them as he turned from the fire. "Hey! Where d'yer think yer go "
Wordlessly Thyme turned and slew him, the heavy oak arrow knocking the startled searat back fully three paces. Pandemonium broke out. Before the rats could grasp what was going on, another two fell, pierced by shafts from Clary and Rosie. As swiftly as they loosed the arrows, the long patrol had fresh ones stretched upon their bowstrings.
"Get them!" Greypatch bellowed, drawing his sword. "Don't just stand there, kill 'em!"
Shaking the numbness of surprise from him, one called Shoreclaw plucked his spear from the ground and raised it. He was so close that Clary's arrow passed through him and wounded another standing behind. Rosie dodged a spear as the trio quickened their pace. She sent her arrow zinging into the snarling face of Kybo, cutting off the scream that issued from his mouth. Now the hares sent out the blood-chilling war cry of Salamandastron; it rang out above the clamor.
"Eulaliaaaaaaa!!!"
They arrived at the cage, still sending arrows from