Consternation reigned on the streambank where the Witherspyk raft was still stuck in the shallows. Though it was not that which was causing the hullabaloo, but the fact that Jiddle, Jinty and Flib were missing. As troupe leader, Oakheart did his best to avoid panic amongst the family. He reasoned, "No use getting upset, my friends. This isn't the first time those two young scamps have wandered off.
85
Calm down, I beg you. Let's partake of breakfast before we take any drastic action. Agreed?"
His wife, Dymphnia, hugged baby Dubdub to her. The loss of any family member, whether trivial or temporary, was always of concern to her. She glared at her husband.
"How can you think of sitting there stuffing down food, when our dear little twins are lost? Shame on you, Oakie!"
"Shame a you Oakie!" Dudbdub echoed.
Buckler interrupted. "No, marm, the shame is on us, Diggs an' I. We should never have allowed a young shrew like Flib to guard your young uns. Leave it to us, eh, mate?"
Diggs declared stoutly, "Indeed, we're the very chaps for the blinkin' job, m'dear. We'll find your infants without delay. Aye, an' that Flib, too, wot, wot! There's a young madam that's in for a severe tail kickin' when we jolly well catch up with her!"
A gruff cry rang out from the stream. "Ahoy the raft, mateys. Guosim comin' aboard!"
They poured out of the blockhouse to see a half-dozen shrew logboats heaving to the rail. Each was crewed by ten Guosim, small spiky-furred shrews wearing kilts, broad-buckled belts, short rapiers and multicoloured headbands. From the largest of the vessels, a grey-whiskered but fit-looking shrew hopped aboard the raft.
Making his boat fast with a headrope, he thrust his paw at the troupe leader. "Well, burst me britches if'n it ain't ole Witherspyk. How are ye, Oakie? Fat an' well, I 'ope?"
Oakheart shook the proffered paw. "Log a Log Jango Bigboat, as I live'n'breathe. What are you doing in these waters, sirrah?"
Jango got right to the point. "Searchin' for three lost young uns. Ye haven't come across any lost Guosim, have ye?"
Dymphnia interrupted, "Indeed we haven't--we're looking for three of our own!"
86
Diggs corrected her. "Two actually, marm. Young Flib was with Buck an' I, wot?"
Jango set his jaw grimly. "Flib, is she a shrewmaid?"
Buckler answered, "Aye, sir, that she is."
The Shrew Chieftain nodded. "Well, let me tell ye, 'er name ain't Flib--she made that up. She was named Petunia Rosebud by me'n' her ma."
Diggs stifled a snigger. "Petunia Rosebud? No wonder she bally well changed it, wot."
Jango shot him an icy stare. "Been nothin' but trouble since the day she was born, that un. Well, now she's gone missin'. Aye, an' so has her younger sister Midda an' the babe, Borti. He's only a liddle mite, ain't 'e, Furm?"
Jango's wife, Furm, wiped an eye on the back of her paw. "Ain't seen two seasons o' daylight yet, pore tiny sprig! But at least Borti's with Midda--she's got a grain o' sense about 'er. Not like that other rascal wot calls 'erself Flib. Huh, Flibberty Jibbet's wot I'd call 'er!"
Dymphnia Oakheart passed Furm a handkerchief from her sleeve. "Dry those eyes now, dearie. That won't get our young uns found. You come inside with me an' we'll share a pot o' hot mint tea. As for searchin' after the missin' ones, wot d'ye suggest, Mister Buckler?"
The young hare bowed gallantly. "I think we'd be best joinin' forces, marm. That way we can cover more ground. That's if Log a Log Jango is agreeable to the idea."
The Shrew Chieftain hitched up his wide belt. "Aye, 'tis a good plan. We'll scour the banks from offshore--you concentrate on the last place the young hogs were seen. We'll meet up back 'ere at midday. Be sure to sound an alarm if'n ye find any thin'."
Rambuculus shot into the blockhouse, then reappeared brandishing a battered old bugle. "Right y'are, Loggo. Would ye like me to give ye a blast now, just t'see how it sounds?"
Oakheart seized his son firmly by the ear. "I'll give you a blast ye won't soon forget, if you start blowin' on that con
87
founded instrument. Right, form up, troupe, and let's get to work. Buckler, would you and Diggs take the lead?"
It was midmorning when Buckler led the Witherspyk group out of the trees onto the streambank some fair distance down from the stranded raft. Diggs checked upstream.
"I say, Buck, here comes the jolly old shrew fleet, wot."
Jango and his logboats came drifting slowly down on the unhurried current. He halted his craft by holding on to the branch of an overhanging willow.
"We've had no luck up that ways, have ye found any-thin' yet--a sign of either shrews or hogs?"
Buckler explained, "We found tracks leading away from where they slept. Couldn't be sure, though, might've been rats an' other vermin. Pawprints o' the little uns had been trampled over, an' no sign of Flib. We trailed 'em to here, but they fade out on the bankside."
One of Jango's scouts examined the faint prints. The Shrew Chieftain watched him closely. "Wot d'ye think, Sniffy?"
Sniffy the Tracker made his report. "Buckler's right, Chief. Somebeast's been here. Hard to tell, though--they've covered their trail well. They've gone into the water, stickin' close t'the shallows, as far as I kin see."
Diggs tossed a pebble into the stream. "Point is, which flippin' way have the blighters gone? ProbTy downstream, but they might've gone upstream just to fool any pursuers, wot!"
Jango scratched his grey whiskers. "Couldn't have gone upstream or we'd have spotted 'em before we got to the raft. I think downstream's the best bet. Wot's yore verdic', Oakie?"
Oakheart stared downstream to where the water ran out into open country before it looped back into woodland. "A plausible thought, sirrah. Actually, that's the route we were planning on taking today. Bound for Redwall, y'see. Er, that's before we had a turn of ill fortune and went
88
aground. Purely through no fault of my own, I assure you, Streamlass is jammed tight on the rocks."
Jango signalled his logboats to dock on the bank. "Hmm, I'm havin' a few thoughts on this situation. Tell ye wot. Jump aboard an' let's git back to yore raft, Oakie. I'll have a word with the wives. But lissen, all of ye--don't make any mention of vermin tracks in front of the ladies. Y'know 'ow that sort o' thing upsets 'em. Leave the rest t'me."
Furm and Dymphnia were questioning them even before they had boarded the raft.
"Was there any sign o' my liddle twins--did ye see them?"
"Did ye pick up Midda an' Borti's trail? Wot about Flib?"
Diggs was at his courteous best. "Patience, ladies. There was no sign of any young uns, but that's all t'the bloomin' good, really. Now, Log a Log Jango has a proposition to discuss with you. By the way, marms, is there any chance of a jolly old bite or two? We'll eat on the bank while the Guosim crew refloat your craft, wot, wot?"
Whilst the shrews made the raft streamworthy again, the rest sat on the bank lunching on mushroom pasties and celery soup.
Jango explained his scheme. "Now, we don't know if the little uns are lost or just roamed off someplace, like young uns do now'n'then. Any lost creatures in this neighbourhood always ends up at the same place, Redwall Abbey, right?"
Furm agreed. "Aye, that's right enough. The Abbey always welcomes lostbeasts, especially young uns. But suppose they're not there, wot then?"
Oakheart spoke encouragingly. "Then what better place to enquire than Redwall? Have they not got more knowledge of this area than anybeast? Why, 'pon me spikes, I'll wager Abbess Marjoram will be ready and more than willing to assist us!"
Buckler took the initiative, silencing any doubts by
89
declaring stoutly, "Then there's no more t'be said, friends. Next stop Redwall, I say. Agreed?"