Crikulus, who was seated nearby, brightened up. Of course, that’s when we’ll return to search the area!
Memm helped herself to an extra-large slice of seedcake. Huh, wouldn’t be me, old lad, indeed not. Trampin’ all over Mossflower hopin’ t’find some old ruin, wot!
Curdle supped tea noisily. But yore fergettin’ the pawring those Dibbuns found. I’ll wager there’s treasure aplenty t’be found at Brock’all.
That’s somethin’ worth goin’ t’look for, ain’t it?
The Abbot had been listening to the conversation. Folding both paws into his wide sleeves, he leaned back against a pear tree and let the sun warm his old whiskers. Perhaps next time you could take the Dibbuns along with you. Armed with blackberry cream tarts. I wager there’s not a crow alive wouldn’t turn tail at the sight of that.
Foremole shook his head gravely. You’m roight thurr, zurr!
11
Dawn was scarce an hour old when Sagax was wakened by an enormous belch and the sound of Scarum’s voice.
Whoops, I say,’scuse me!
The noise woke Kroova also, and being closest, he dived upon the gluttonous hare, who was in the process of raiding their food supplies.
Sagax helped the sea otter to restrain Scarum, managing to get him in a headlock, whilst Kroova grabbed the hare’s paws and shook them roughly.
Leggo those vittles, ye longeared bandit. We thought you was seasick an’ had sore teeth!
As Scarum strained to reach his mouth with a honeyed oatcake, Kroova knocked it from his grasp. The ever-hungry hare protested volubly.
Gerroff me, you rotters. Can’t y’see I’m jolly well well again? Ain’t a chap allowed t’make a recovery with some bally dignity, wot? Release my starvin’ young body, I say!
Sagax kicked the ration packs out of Scarum’s reach, then he and Kroova got the culprit down and sat on him. The young badger looked at the slack knapsacks with horror.
You thieving flopeared foodbag, don’t tell me you’ve eaten all those vittles while we were asleep?
Scarum became quite moody and self-righteous. Serves y’right for laughin’ at me. I mean, what’s a chap t’do, eh? I made a flippin’
miraculous recovery, no thanks to you two, snorin’ an’ wheezin’, there, after stuffin’ yourselves with skilly’n’duff. So I came t’the conclusion that I’d have to put m’self on the road to recovery with just a measly nibble or two, so there!
Kroova was aghast at the amount of food the hare had bolted. Measly nibble or two, d’ye say? Y’great lollopin’ grub swiper, you’ve near eaten us out o’keel an’ cabin!
Scarum stared up at them pleadingly. I say, messmates, d’you mind not sittin’ on me? It’s makin’ me feel quite ill again, wot.
They released him. Kroova went back and unlashed the tiller, taking up his position as steersbeast. Sagax repacked scraps of food into the depleted packs while Scarum sat in the bow, sulking as his badger friend tried remonstrating with him.
Really, Scarum, you make me ashamed to be in your company. Fancy sitting up half the night stuffing yourself with the ship’s supplies. You’re not the only creature aboard, there’s me and Kroova, too, you know.
Well, what have you got to say for yourself, eh?
The hare nibbled crumbs from his paws moodily. Huh, don’t know what you two’re gettin’ y’selves in such a blue funk about. There must be absolutely loads of scoff an’ scads o’ vittles over that way.
He gestured to starboard. Kroova looked perplexed. Where?
Scarum pointed again, explaining his logic. Over there, of course!
That’s where the land’s supposed t’be, ain’t it? You jolly well said so when y’took a look at that map. Matter o’ fact, you were the chap who said he knew exactly where we were. So, if there’s land over that way, there must be scoff of some kind. Huh, even a duffer could figure that out, wot wot!
Sagax exchanged glances with the sea otter and shrugged. He’s right, of course. We’re not in any great hurry. Why don’t we sail over that way and take a look, no harm done?
Kroova shaded his eyes, peering at the watery horizon. I never said I knowed exactly where we were, I’m just makin’ a rough guess. But the coast is to our starboard side. I’m game to take a chance if’n you are, mates.
Scarum immediately began spouting nautical nonsense. Belay then, me hearties, an’ all that sort o’ bilge scuttle. Lower your jolly old main wotsits an’ turn that thingeeyo handle. Trim up those sail doodlemidads an’ set course for dry land an’ boatloads o’ scoff, wot!
After an hour of heading due east, they were rewarded by the sight of a thin grey strip on the horizon. Sagax was first to see it. You were right, Kroova, looks like land to me. Do you have any idea what part of the coast it is?
Studying the chart, the otter shook his head. Don’t see any hills stickin’ up, or clear landmarks. Could be anywheres, but like you say, mate,’tis land!
After a deal of tacking against an outgoing tide, they felt the Stopdog’s keel scrape sand. It was early noon. Sagax leaped over, landing waist deep in the sea. Throwing the bowrope over his shoulder, he began pulling the vessel closer to shore. Kroova jumped in to assist him, but Scarum went aft and sat playing with the tiller.
No need for three of us t’get our paws soakin’ wet, wot? You chaps are doin’ a splendid job there. I’ll stay back here an’ keep the jolly old mast straight.
Kroova smiled as he called back. ’T’aint a mast, that’s a tiller, antwill look after itself. Now git yore paws wet, sea water’s good for’em!
Scarum’s reply was punctuated by a snort of derision. An’ get eaten by some hungry shark? Tchah, sah, my parents didn’t rear this charmin’
creature to have him end up as a fish’s dinner. Indeed not! He waited until they were level with the beach before making a sprightly hop onto the sand, pulling a face. Yukk! Pretty damp around here, ain’t it? Have t’watch I don’t catch a chill. Righty ho, lead on, shore-party chaps!
Kroova found a broken spar of driftwood on the tide-line. Taking a sea-smoothed boulder, he drove the wood deep into the sand on the lee side of the tideline and tied the rope to it. That should’old’er’til we return. Right, let’s take the lay o’ the land an’ see wot’s wot!
They had landed on a broad beach of grey sand, dotted with areas of shingle. Beyond that lay a shallow rise to scrubby grassland, steepening to flat-topped dunes scattered with small gnarled trees. Kroova had armed himself with the old cutlass they found on board. Scarum had the dagger tucked in the back of his belt, while Sagax held the old unstrung bow like a staff. He pointed up to the dunes with it and began trudging through the sand. That could be a likely place. Come on.
They came across meagre bits of food, some wild onions, sweet young dandelion roots and a patch of drop-water parsley. Sagax took charge of it before Scarum could start stuffing himself. The young badger stowed it in one of the knapsacks, which he had emptied and fetched along.
The hare pouted a bit. Fresh vegetation’s supposed t’be good for scurvy.
We should chew on a bit of that stuff after our voyage, wot!
Kroova whacked him lightly with his rudder. Y’ain’t been long enough at sea t’smell salty, let alone git scurvy.
There was not much else edible to be found. Although one of the trees was a hazel, the nuts were still green and solid. Nonetheless Sagax began picking the biggest ones.
Anything’s better than nothing. We might find some way of cooking these up that’ll make’em taste all right. Where’s that nuisance Scarum got to, can you see him?