The two shrewboats that served as outriggers to the longboat were loaded with supplies; Martin had made space in the starboard one for Bladeribb, their searat captive. The searat stared sullenly at Plogg as the latter climbed across to the far logboat. The shrew rummaged through the ration packs before calling back to Clecky, "There's not many apples left!"
Grath glared across at Bladeribb. "Have you been sneakin' across at night an' stealin' apples?''
Martin patted Grath's broad back. "No, he's been right there all along, I've kept my eye on him. Clecky, you haven't been pinching the odd half-dozen apples, have you?''
The hare's ears stood up with indignation. "Er, d'you mind belayin' that statement, ol' seamouse, I haven't touched a single apple. Hmph! Bally cheek of some crewbeasts. Take a proper look over there, I'm sure you'll find heaps of jolly ol' apples rollin' about somewheres, wot!"
Plogg began turning the packs over and checking them. Suddenly he gave a shout of alarm as he rolled back a crumpled canvas cover. Drawing his sword, Martin leapt aboard the log-boat, only to find Plogg wrestling with a kicking, screaming Viola bankvole.
Martin caught her sharply by the ear. "What in the name of thunder are you doing here, miss? I told you to go back to the Abbey. You could have been drowned or injured or ... or... How did you manage to stow away on this logboat, and what happened to Jesak and Teno?"
Viola wriggled free of the warrior's grasp and skipped nimbly over to the longboat, where she hid behind Clecky, shouting, "I gave them the slip and doubled back and stole aboard while you were all drinking and naming the boat. I wasn't drowned or injured, see! Told you I was going to help rescue Father Abbot, didn't I! Well, what're you going t'do now? You can't turn back or throw me overboard!"
Grath Longfletch grinned and winked at the volemaid. "Yore right there, young 'un. My, yore a peppery one an' no mistake. Looks like we're stuck with you."
Clecky looked over his shoulder, viewing the stowaway sternly. "You're lucky we aren't searats or those corsair bods, m'gel, or we'd have chucked you overboard to the fishes just t'save feedin' you, wot!"
Martin shook his head in despair as he gazed at the defiant volemaid. "Think of the distress you've caused Mother Auma and all your friends back at the Abbey. They probably think you're still a prisoner aboard that ship with the Abbot. If you'd gone back to Redwall as I told you, it would have saved a load of worry for every beast who cares what happens to you, miss!"
The sudden realization of what she had done caused tears to flood down Viola's cheeks, and she hung her head in shame.
Martin could not bear to see a young creature so unhappy. He patted the volemaid's head gently. "There, there, now, don't cry. Your motives were good and I know you were only trying to help. Welcome aboard, Viola. Come on, smile, and we'll try to make the best of it."
They dined on toasted cheese and hot shrewbread, half an apple apiece and some oat and barley cordial. Martin carried a plateful across to Bladeribb; the searat was quite comfortable, wrapped in a cloak and a blanket.
The warrior once again questioned his captive. "Could that have been the vessel Waveworm that Welko sighted earlier? Are we on the right course?"
The searat grabbed his plate of food, nodding. "Aye, that'll be "er. You'll be sailin' into wintry seas now, cold an' dangerous, fog an' ice. If'n we gets through it you'll prob'ly sight 'er agin in the good weather. She'll be 'eaded due west toward the settin' sun, like I told yer."
Martin caught the searat's paw as he was about to eat. "Play me false just once, Bladeribb, and I'll slay you. Is that clear? Steer us true if you want to stay alive."
The searat shrugged. "I'm bound t'die sooner or later, if not by your paw, then it'll either be Lask Frildur or Ublaz Mad Eyes for allowin' meself t'be taken captive."
Chapter 32
Viola got on famously with Plogg and Welko, the sons of Log a Log. As night began setting over the deep, the small crew wrapped an old sailcloth around themselves and sat in a circle with Clecky's little fire at the center to keep out the intensifying cold.
The lanky hare sang a song to keep their spirits up.
"Of all the creatures in the land,
The sea or in the air,
Not one of 'em is half so grand,
Or noble as a hare.
A hare can jump, a hare can run,
He don't live down a hole,
In fact a hare's a lot more fun
Than almost any mole.
A hare's courageous and so brave,
Good-mannered and quite courtly,
Sometimes he's serious and grave,
But never fat, just portly.
He never puts a footpaw wrong,
His disposition's sunny,
With ears so elegant and long,
Not stubby like a bunny.
So sing his praises everywhere,
This creature bold, with charm to spare,
The one thing better than a hare,
Is two hares, that's a pair!"
Clecky helped himself to a piece of toasted cheese. "I'd take a bow, but I don't want to rock the jolly old boat, wot?"
Grath nodded in mock admiration. “Yore far too modest for words, matey."
The hare nodded agreement as he gobbled the cheese down. "Hmm, shy an' retirin' too, though it's more a bally virtue than a fault to a chap like me, y'know."
Grath snatched the last piece of cheese before Clecky could lay paw to it. "Well said, matey, yore just the shy retirin' type we've been lookin' for to keep first watch. Wake me in an hour's time."
The little craft with its outriggers sailed through the night towards the fogbank with Clecky's mutterings echoing faintly across the still waters.
"Hmph! Good job I'm polite an' withdrawn too, not like these otter types, brash common wallahs. Still, what can one expect of a creature with funny little ears an' a tail like a bally plank."
The night was pitch black and wreathed in thick damp fog when Grath shook Martin to take third watch. "Come on, matey, time for yore watch. Here's a beaker of oat'n'barley water I heated up on the fire. Wake Plogg for his watch when you've done yores."
Martin thanked the otter and moved up into the bow of the longboat. Crouching, he snuggled into his cloak, sipping gratefully at the hot drink as he kept watch. However, it was only the damp bitter cold that kept him awake. All that was visible, even to the keenest eye, was a solid wall of whitish gray fog. How long he crouched there Martin did not know. Strange shapes loomed up out of the mists, only to vaporize and vanish. Martin knew they were all from his imagination; one after another the specters appeared before his wearying eyes: dragons, great fish, corsair galleys, at one point he actually thought he saw Redwall Abbey. Shaking himself and rubbing his eyes, he tried hard to stay awake and keep a sense of normality in a world of wraithlike apparitions, swirling and roiling like patterns in watery milk. He watched as a towering mountain of ice loomed large directly in front of the longboat. Another trick his mind was playing on him, he thought, blinking furiously ... Or was it?
Crrrrunch!
Suddenly the Warriormouse was wrenched to his senses by the danger.
"All paws for'ard!" Martin yelled.
Freezing icy seawater poured into the longboat; it sizzled and hissed as it drowned Clecky's small fire. Grath grabbed Viola as she dived towards the bow to join Clecky and the two shrews. There was a tearing, rending noise followed by an agonized scream, which was cut short in a whoosh of water. Grath scrambled back along the cracking planks of the disintegrating longboat to investigate. She was immediately back, yelling, “Overboard, every beast abandon the boat!''
Leaping over the side into the freezing water, they were amazed to find that it was no more than a thin stream. They found themselves standing paw-deep on top of solid ice. Only Grath could explain the phenomenon.