The three stoats had gnawed through the ropes that bound their footpaws together. They sat in the thick woodlands, far from the spot where they had met up with the Red-wallers. Vanquished and humiliated, their mood was far from happy.
Wicky, the self-appointed leader of the trio, flung the rope scraps viciously into the bushes. He curled his lip scornfully at the other two. Hah, youse two was a lot of ‘elp. That shrew ‘ad me down, took me by surprise, ‘e did. Kligger, why didn’t yew grab yore ‘atchet an’
chop ‘im? An yew, Burgogg, fancy lettin’ a h’otter bust yer spear in arf like that. Idjits!
Kligger bared his uneven teeth at Wicky, snarling, Will ye lissen to
‘im?’E jus’ stood there an let the liddle shrew take the sword outta
‘is paws. I was too far away from me ‘atchet, I ‘ad four shrews’ rapiers at me throat. Huh, I didn’t notice yew goin’ for ‘em wid yore sword!
Burgogg picked rope strands from his teeth with a filthy claw. Didyer see the size of that h’otter? I didn’t stan’ a chance. That spear belonged to me old granpa. The shaft was strong as an oak, but ‘e busted it like a twig!
Wicky kicked out at him. Next time you lets a h’otter break your spear, I’ll bust you like a twig!
Burgogg spat at him, but missed. Huh, yew an’ who else, scringenose?
Jus’ try an’ put a paw near me!
Wicky stood up and cast about for a stick. Scringenose, is it? Right, I’ll show yew, barrelbum, toadbelly, plinky-paws!
Burgogg looked hugely offended. Ooh, didyer ‘ear that, ‘e called me plinkypaws. I’ll fetch a coggy lump on yore ‘ead, soon as I finds a good rock!
Kligger rose in disgust. Why don’t youse two give yer gobs a rest. We won’t git our bellies filled by callin’ each other daft names. I ain’t
‘ad vittles fer two days now. Let’s search around fer roots an’ things to eat.
Burgogg clapped a paw to his nose. Phwaw, wot’s that stink?
Wicky caught a waft of the foul odour and blanched. Pew! Yew’d better find a stream an’ gerra bath, yew greasy-eared wibble!
Burgogg looked quizzically at Wicky. Wot’s a wibble?
Wicky spotted something hanging from a tree behind Burgogg and pushed past him, remarking scathingly, I dunno, but if there was a wibble, I bet it’d smell jus’ like yew. An’ you ain’t gettin’ one o’ these!
He gathered up the two cloaks and two lanterns that had belonged to Malbun and Crikulus.
Burgogg’s face fell. Give us one o’ those cloaks. I ain’t got a warm cloak.
Wicky poked out his tongue like a naughty vermin babe. Ho no, yew ain’t gittin’ nothin’. I’ll give one o’ these cloaks an’ a lanting to Kligger, that’ll teach yer t’call me a scringenose. Hoi, Klig, ‘ere’s some booty fer ye!
The odour grew more powerful as he looked around, calling, Kligger, mate, where are yer, ‘ave yew found some vittles? I’ll trade ye, vittles fer a lovely cloak an’ a lanting!
Kligger had found a door, partly open, in the trunk of a great spreading oak. Though the smell was overpowering, he could not resist opening the door fully to see what lay inside.
Wicky and Burgogg heard his scream cut the quiet woodland air like a knife. Aaaaarrrreeeeegh! They dashed toward the sound and saw Kligger as he was dragged into the tunnel beneath the oak. They also saw the thing that had him.
No sound issued from their fear-clamped mouths. Eyes bulging with terror, both stoats stood petrified for a moment. Then the overpowering stench of the thing hit both stoats like a solid wall moving forward. They took to theirpaws and fled, running twice as fast as Malbun and Criku-lus had run.
A short while thereafter, the sounds of Wicky and Bur-gogg had receded into the distance as they tore through the woodlands running due north.
Around the area of the spreading oak, all was silent in the sunlit summer noon. Two cloaks and two lanterns lay forgotten on the ground amid the musty, bittersweet odour.
18
At first the water coming in through the Stopdog’s prow was no more than a healthy trickle. But the flow increased as she sat lower in the sea. Kroova, Scarum and Sagax bailed until they were weary. Then they saw the wind had changed and was blowing away from the shore, which was still a good distance off. Little time was left for tacking, so they furled the sails. Kroova took the bowrope around his shoulders and dived into the waves, towing the Stopdog toward land as his two shipmates, backsore and paw weary, continued bailing.
Scarum’s voice was shaky. I say, hope we make it to dry land, wot. Not too good at the old swimmin’ lark, y’know. The jolly old parents raised a hare, not a flippin’ fish, wot!
Sagax watched Kroova regretfully. There’s the only proper swimmer amongst us, mate. Oh, I can manage what they call a doggie paddle, but I’d hate to have to swim any distance. Land still looks pretty far off.
What in the name of fur’n’feathers are you doing, eating at a time like this?
Despite his woeful demeanour, Scarum was packing down food as though he were facing a famine. Mmff, gr-rmmfff! Eatin’ me fill before all this scoff gets ruined by bally seawater, old lad. Grrrmmmffchomp! No use leavin’ it for the fishesÑwaste not want not, y’know. Scrmmff!
Sagax sent a chunk of laverbread spinning from the hare’s paw. If you can’t swim and you stuff yourself, you’ll go right to the bottom with that weight of food in your stomach. Now, leave that food alone and bail!
Scarum stared guiltily at his midriff. You’re right, of course, never thought of that. Oh, what a confounded, absolutely rotten predicament: not bein’ able to swim on an empty tummy or drownin’ on a full one.
Oh, rats’n’fid-dlesticks an’ beastly bad luck, wot!
Kroova could really feel the drag nowÑthey actually were sinking. But the worthy sea otter laboured on until he heard Sagax calling, Kroova, we’re nearly under, we’d best abandon ship!
Judging the distance and trusting to his knowledge, Kroova shouted back to his distressed friends, Just a bit more. Sling the water out, keep’er head up. I ain’t goin’ to lose me dear old Stopdog just’cos of a leak.
Get t’work, mates, I’ll tell ye when to jump for it!
Water was pouring in as fast as Sagax and Scarum were bailing it out.
From a distance the scene would have looked like a badger and a hare standing on the surface of the sea, throwing water about. Sagax could see Scarum beginning to flag badly The hare had started bailing like a madbeast, but the gruelling toll was wearing him down.
Then the waves splashed in over the rails, swamping the ketch completely as the Stopdog sank.
Away, crew! Abandon ship, me’earties!
At the sound of Kroova’s call they both leaped into the sea. Scarum let out an almighty spluttering yell. Floundering wildly, he grabbed at Sagax. The young badger was about to shout for Kroova to come and help them when his footpaws touched bottom.
The sea otter floated on his back, still holding the rope and laughing at them. Sucking up a mouthful of seawater, he squirted it at his bewildered friends. Haharrharr! We made it, mateys, we made it!
Sagax and Scarum were standing with the water at chest height in the shallow seas offshore. Forgetting his former panic, Scarum waded toward Kroova, berating him.
You! Y’great barnacle-ruddered, slipskinned, splay-pawed bounder!
Allowin’ a chap t’think he was drownin’. Not very funny, I’d say, wot.
No sah, not the least bit droll!
Sagax splashed water in the hare’s face and chuckled. He saved us, didn’t he? What more d’you want? Ahoy, mate, why did you wait so long before you told us to abandon ship? You had me a bit worried there!