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ask questions, just do as I say like your life depended on it. This is urgent!"
The badger caught the tone and look in her friend's eyes. She nodded wisely and hurried to do his bidding.
oo
The sun was nearly up. Mist hung low on the path and flatlands as Graypatch halted his bedraggled column of oarslaves at the main gate of Redwall Abbey. Glancing up, he was slightly taken aback to see a line of grim looking Abbey dwellers staring down at him from the threshold of the high walls. Fixing a friendly smile on his face, the searat Captain called out a greeting.
"Good mornin' to yer, sirs. Whew! It's goin' to be another scorchin' summer's day again. I wonder, could I have a word with whoever's in charge of this marvel-ous place?"
Abbot Bernard kept his tone polite. "I am the Father Abbot of Redwall Abbey. What can I do for you, my son?"
Down in the ditch, Kybo jostled Ringtail and sniggered. "Did ye hear that, mateyhis son! Now we know what Graypatch's daddy looks like. Heehee!"
Ringtail silenced him with a smart slap. "Stow yer noise, fool. Be quiet an' listen."
Graypatch touched the dagger hidden behind on his belt, "Ah well, what better creature to ask for help than the Father Abbot himself. As y'can see, sir, we're poor wretched seafarers who lost our ship in a great storm. We've been adrift fer nigh on half a season now, wand-erin' round woodland an' plain like birds without wings, an' we're sore in need of a bit o' food an' water. Have ye any vittles to spare?"
The Abbot nodded. "Tell my friends what you need." He stepped back, letting Flagg and Rufe Brush come forward.
Graypatch allowed himself a smile; they were halfway home. "Good day to you, sirs. We need water an' bread, nothin' more. Oh, I know we look rough an'
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dirty, but we're all honest creatures. You've nothin' t' fear from us ..."
Flagg smiled back. "How many d'you have with you,
cully?"
The searat Captain shrugged. "Only what y'see here, matey. If you was to open yer doors we could come in an' rest awhile, save you the trouble of bringin' supplies out to us. I've never been inside an Abbey."
Rufe Brush gripped his javelin tight as he murmured, "No, and you're not likely to get inside this one."
Flagg continued smiling. "What about that gang hidden in the ditch?"
Graypatch waved toward the mist-shrouded ditch, a look of injured innocence on his villainous face. "Ditch? Gang? What d'yer mean, shipmate?"
Flagg fitted a pebble to his sling. "I'll show you . . . shipmate!"
The stone zinged down, plowing a furrow through the ground mist.
"Yowhoooo!"
Bigfang's head appeared out of the white shroud. He was clutching his nose, which was bleeding like a tap.
Ringtail's voice rang out. "Get down an' shuttup, yer big oaf!"
Rufe Brush leaped to the battlements, his javelin poised. "This is for you if you don't shift yourself fast, searat!"
Graypatch took the warning seriously. He dashed across the path and leaped over the ditch, landing on the flatlands beyond.
"Come on, mates. Out o' that ditch an' show 'em who we are!"
The crew scrabbled out of the ditch to stand on the flatlands at their Captain's side. He took his sword from Frink and waved it.
"I'm Graypatch, Master of the Darkqueen, and this is my crew. Haharr, bet you country bumpkins never clapped eyes on the likes of us. We can fight an' slay
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just like we do all over the high seas, so listen to me now, you woodland clods. Surrender, or I'll bring this place down round your ears. You know nothin' of warfare an' we're all covered with the scars of many a battle, d'ye hear me?"
Young Cockleburr, Friar Alder's kitchen assistant, could stand no more. His fighting spirit was roused. Using his apron strings as a sling, he launched a small rock-hard turnip at Graypatch.
"Bubbling brothpans! Take that, you simmering sea-scum!"
It struck Graypatch hard in his one good eye. The searat Captain fell back, completely blinded, blackness interspersed with bursting colored stars filling his vision.
Ringtail quickly picked him up, supporting him as he shouted at the woodlanders on the walls, "That's it, you've done it now. This is war!"
Driving the oarslaves in front of them, the searats retreated back up the path to the shelter of Mossflower. The Redwallers laughed and cheered, congratulating each other on their brave stand.
Cockleburr was delirious, he patted Flagg heartily. "Galloping gravyjugs, we showed them, didn't we!"
Foremole waddled up, his normally merry face creased with worry. "Hurr, may'aps 'ee did, but 'twere only luck, maisters. Them'ns is searat spawn, gurt warriors an' wicked cruel slayers. Ho urr, you marken moi words, they vermints'll be back, doant doubt et."
The cheering died away.
Simeon spoke up. "Foremole is right. We're not warriors, though we have the might and safety of these walls in our favor. We must take extra care in the coming days, post lookouts, stay within the Abbey and its grounds, and be constantly on guard against tricks. From what I could hear, this Graypatch sounds to me like a very cunning beast."
The Abbot turned to Flagg and Rufe Brush. "I leave
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you in charge of all arrangements. Unfortunately I am no use at all when it comes to matters of war. Both of you have my complete confidence. You are brave beasts, and I trust your judgment. What do you say, Mellus?"
The badger shook her great head, halfway between maternal instincts and righteous rage. "Did you see those poor slaves? Some of them weren't much more than Dibbuns. Can't we do anything about them? They looked so thin and wretched; we must help them somehow."
Flagg placed a gentle paw on Mellus. "I know how y'feel, marm. I think every creature here would love to give the sorry little things some aid. But you must understand we have to defend the Abbey, we're all needed here. What good would it do those slaves if Redwall fell into the claws of Graypatch and his crew?"
Saxtus had stayed silent in the background throughout the whole incident, but now he felt the time had come for him to speak.
"Mother Mellus, I have never experienced war in my life. I do not think I will like it. However, if it is war, then Redwall Abbey comes first, before slaves, or even ourselves. Perhaps if we defeat these searats then we can think of rescuing others. Meanwhile our Abbey is our main concern."
Flagg shrugged. "Hard words, Saxtus mate. But
you're right, of course."
oo
Inland the mist had vanished with the advent of a hot summer morn. Tempers were also running hot in the woodland camp of the Darkqueeri's crew. Graypatch sat back in the shade with a leaf poultice held against his throbbing eye. The injury had resulted in temporary blindness with his eye swelled shut. The searat Captain dearly wished he could lay claws upon Bigfang for yelping out aloud and giving the game away, but knowing he was at the mercy of his own savage crew, he
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had to wralk a diplomatic tightrope. Graypatch tried to make light of the encounter.
"Yah, what are they, eh? A bunch of root crunchers. We could take 'em with one claw. Stupid mob of straw-suckers, what do they know of fightin' an' killin', eh?"
Kybo tried disguising his voice so the Captain could not identify him. "Strawsuckers, matey? Huh, they still sent us packin'. We should've did like Bigfang said and rushed the place soon as we arrived here."