"Wouldn't think of it, old lad. You and I shall stand watch together, 'til the ravenwinged shades of night are flown and earth is reborn in fiery sunlight to day!"
Luke leaned on the taffrail, eyes searching the shoreline. "Well said, Beau, very poetic, mate."
The talkative hare perked up. "Thank ye kindly, Luke. I'm rather glad you appreciate poetry. Here's a modest effort I composed m'self, to while away the hours back on my island. 'A mole and a duck went strolling one day'"
Luke's strong paws clamped around Beau's jaws, holding his mouth tight shut. "Either be quiet or go t'sleep. If you don't I'll put ye to sleep with a belayin' pin!"
As dawn broke, Luke roused the crew, and they sailed cautiously in toward the shore. Now the island could be viewed clearly. The beach was dark bluey-black volcanic sand. A thin plume of white smoke drifted lazily from the top of the rock cone which dominated the place, denoting that the volcano was not altogether extinct. Purple and scarlet flowers bloomed thick in the foothills, and many of the trees had huge spear-shaped leaves. It was an exotic scene, though the total silence made it rather sinister. As Vurg watched the Sayna's prow nose into the sandy shallows, he conveyed his misgivings to Luke.
"I'm gettin' that same feelin' I had last time we came to an islandI don't like it, matey. Too quiet for a place that looks so fertile. There's got to be some sort o' creatures livin' here!"
Luke pointed to the shore. "You're right, Vurg. See there? Slightly above the tideline? What d'you make o' that?"
Beau elbowed his way to the prow. "A great pile o' fruit! The creatures must be jolly friendly leavin' a gift like that for us."
Luke frowned. "Too friendly, perhaps. Let's not be too hasty. There's something about this little offering that doesn't ring true."
But Beau was already leaping the side. "C'mon, you chaps! I'll be food taster. My stomach's as steady as a jolly old rock, wot wot."
Before Luke could stop them, most of the crew had followed the hare, bounding overboard into the shallows and splashing ashore toward the heap of luscious fruit piled on the beach. Vurg chuckled as the hare picked a grape, tossed it and caught it deftly in his mouth. He waited a few seconds and then waved a large bunch of wild grapes at the ship. "Still standin', me hearties. Delicious! C'mon, everyone, tuck in!"
Luke and Vurg watched as they all pounced hungrily on the mysterious gift. "Ahoy, Beau," called Vurg. "Bring some back for us."
"Right y'are, Vurg. I say, chuck the empty casks overboard an' we'll see if we can find a stream to fill 'em from."
Being the only two left on board, Vurg and Luke rolled all the casks out and tipped them over the side. Vurg tied the tiller in position so the ship would not drift.
"I was wrong, Luke. This island seems quite friendly now. P'raps Beau was right, an' whoever left the fruit out doesn't mean us any harm. Mayhap they'll show themselves before the day's out."
A stream of freshwater actually flowed across the shore, not far from the heap of fruit. Dulam and Cardo filled the casks and got them back to the ship. Luke rigged a rope through the mainsail's top block, and between them he and Vurg hoisted the casks of water aboard. Dulam and Cardo waded back to join their friends ashore.
Luke called after them. "Make the most of it. Tell the crew I want them back on deck by sunset. We sail at first tide tomorrow."
Luke was busy stowing the casks in the galley when Vurg shouted urgently from out on deck. "Onshore, mate. Come an' see!" He left what he was doing and hurried out.
Some of the crew were lying down amid the fruit, some were sitting aimlessly nearby, while one or two of the remainder were staggering oddly about. All appeared to have slack grins on their faces. Luke yelled, "Ahoy, Coll, Dulam, Beau, what's the matter, mates?"
Dulam collapsed on the sand, Coll fell on top of him, only Beau remained standing. The hare gave a faint giggle, tried to wave, then his legs gave out and he sat down awkwardly, staring at the ship, smiling foolishly.
Luke smote the taffrail. "That fruit, I should've known it. C'mon, Vurg!"
But Vurg was pointing to where the foothills met the shore. "Wait, those bushes are movin'!"
Halfway over the side, Luke checked himself. He could scarcely believe his eyes. The entire hillside had come to life. Literally hundreds of bushes were moving across the shore in a massive screen of foliage. On instinct he leaped back aboard and dragged Vurg down flat.
A veritable hail of missiles struck the boat: arrows, javelins, spears and stones. Drums began pounding aloud and an eerie wailing rose from the bushes, followed by another salvo of missiles. Luke grabbed a long boathook.
"Get your spear, Vurg. Pole her off into deeper water."
Scurrying forward, they pushed the vessel into the ebb tide, grunting with exertion as they pressed hard against their poles. An arrow thwacked into Vurg's shoulder, and Luke ignored a deep javelin graze across his cheek.
"Push, Vurg, let's give it all we've got, mate!"
The Sayna's keel scraped free of the sand. Luke dashed recklessly astern and slashed the rope which held the tiller rigid. Wheeling sideways, the Sayna caught the tide. Luke flattened himself as another rain of death peppered the ship, then she was bow out, sailing free. Arrows, sticking up from the deck timbers as if from a pincushion, snapped against Luke's footpaws as he dashed back to Vurg's side.
Wincing, the brave mouse tugged the shaft from his shoulder. "Lucky that arrow's flight was near spent an' my tunic's a good thick 'un. I'm not bad hurt, Luke, what about you?"
Luke pawed blood from the cut on his cheek. "Only a scratch, mate, I'll live. Whoever they are, 'tis plain they can't shoot straight. Great seasons, look!"
Vurg stared in amazement at the diminishing shoreline. Silent and deserted the beach lay, as if nobeast had ever been there. All that remained was a pile of squashed fruit. Vurg turned in bewilderment to his friend. "Where've they gone? Denno, Cordle, Beau, the whole crew are gone. What do we do now?"
Grim faced, Luke gazed at the shoreline, his warrior blood pounding furiously as he strove to control himself. "Let's make sail, it'll look as if we're runnin' away. We'll wait 'til dark, Vurg. Then we'll go back an' get 'em!"
Drums pounded everywhere. At first, Cardo thought they were inside his skull, causing the massive headache that woke him. However, he saw that they were all too real when he opened his eyes. It was a scene that turned his blood to ice water, though strangely, everything was wrong side up. Like the rest of his crewmates, he had been bound tight and slung lengthways on a stout pole, so that his head hung down. The poles had been hoisted up on ropes, close to the ceiling of a big cave, with a fire burning at its center. Rock ledges had been carved around the cave walls in tiers, and these were crowded with hundreds of small fierce ratlike rodents, unlike any Cardo had ever seen. They were covered with intricate patterns of red, orange and white dyes, with clattering seashells affixed to ears, paws and tails.
At the rear of the cave were two massive drums, atop of which forty or fifty of the rodents performed a stamping dance. The sound boomed and banged relentlessly, increased fourfold as it echoed around the cave's interior. Crouching by the fire was a figure far larger than the rest, obviously a female weasel, draped from ears to tail with long necklaces and bracelets made from painted crab claws. Her face was daubed thick with white clay, black charcoal lines accentuating the features.
Beau was hanging alongside Cardo. He opened his eyes, looked around, then squinched his ears flat peevishly and called downward to the rodents, "Put a flippin' bung in it, you chaps, wot! Those drums are makin' my old noggin throb dreadfully. I say there, you! Yes you, marm, tell these blighters t'desist. Hmph! Rank bad manners t'go thumpin' drums like that when a body's feelin' out o' sorts. Now pack it jolly well in!"