“Tell him wot?”
They both turned to see Razzid bearing down on them. Mowlag gulped nervously, stumbling over his words. “Grudder’s on, I mean the rudder’s gone . . . sir.”
The Wearat tested the tiller before peering over the stern. “Gone? ’Ow could a rudder just go—where is it now, eh?”
“There ’tis, just off the port bow, Cap’n!” A searat called Dirgo stood on the midship rail, pointing. “Somebeast’s pushin’ it away—a riverdog, I think ’tis!”
As if to absolve himself, Mowlag jumped up alongside Dirgo, shielding his eyes with a paw as he sighted the rudder being pushed away through the watermeadow by Swiffo. “That ain’t no waterdog, it’s a wavedog!”
Razzid thundered amidships, dealing Mowlag a smack with the haft of his trident, which sent him overboard. “I don’t care wot sorta beast it is—stop it makin’ off with my rudder. Go on!”
He turned on the crew. “Get some bows’n’arrers. See if’n ye can’t get ’im afore Mowlag does. Look sharp now!”
Swiffo was forced to abandon the rudder as arrows began raining down on the watermeadow. He dived, swimming sleekly off underwater. Having no aquatic skills whatsoever, Mowlag was forced into an awkward dog paddle.
Shekra threw him one end of a long heaving line. “Tie this to the rudder so as we can pull it aboard. Grip it in yore mouth. Go on, you can do it!”
Mowlag spluttered, spitting out water and pondweed as he gasped, “I don’t know if I kin make it!”
Razzid called out a callous reply. “Either get that rudder or drown, ’cos ye ain’t comin’ back t’the ship without it!”
Swiffo surfaced, wading through the shallows to where his friends were waiting. Dandy and Posy helped him to the bank.
Swiffo shrugged ruefully. “I nearly made it. Still, it’ll take’em some time to get their rudder back in place. The ship’s too far off for us to do anythin’ at the moment.”
Log a Log Dandy clenched his paws, growling, “If only I had just one good logboat an’ a Guosim crew, I’d soon do somethin’ about it, on me oath I would!”
Tibbro climbed up into the low branches of a grey willow. “I think they’ve got a rope around the rudder. I can see ’em pullin’ it back to their ship. How long d’ye think it’ll take’em to fix it, Swiffo?”
The young sea otter shook his head. “Not long, matey. The rudder only slots through an iron pin. I took that out an’ flung it away. Soon as they get another they’ll be on their way back to the river.”
Uggo gnawed on some wild ramsons that he had dug up. “No sense in us makin’ a move ’til they do, I suppose.”
One of the shrews, a tough-looking beast called Frabb, fanned a paw across his nose to avoid the rancid odour of wild garlic coming from Uggo’s mouth. “Phwaw! If’n yew don’t stop chewin’ that stuff, I’ll chuck ye in the water, mate!”
Old Drogbuk took the stalks from Uggo and munched on them avidly. “Huh, yore a picknickerty sort fer a Guosim warrior. Nowt wrong wid ramsons, they’re good for ye—’ere, try some.”
Everybeast moved further down the bank, distancing themselves from Uggo and Drogbuk.
Mowlag and Jiboree clung to the stern, following their captain’s directions.
“Hold the rudder in place. Up a bit, now a touch port. That’s it—keep it still now, right there.”
He confiscated the spear that a nearby ferret was holding. Hefting the weapon, Razzid admired it. “Ain’t often ye see a full metal spear. ’Tis a nice piece.”
The ferret gazed anxiously at his prized spear. “Aye, Cap’n, ’tis solid bronze. Belonged to me ole father.”
With a final remark, the Wearat turned his back on the ferret: “It’ll make a good rudder pin.”
He leaned over the stern, tapping both Mowlag and Jiboree on the head with the bronze spearbutt. “Dolts, I told ye to hold the rudder steady. Now lift up a bit. Right, press inward. . . . There!”
He slotted the spear haft neatly into place.
“Shekra, try the tiller, wave it back’n’forth.”
The vixen obeyed dutifully. Razzid smiled.
“Good as new. Better, in fact—bronze don’t rust in water! Git aboard, you two, an’ get the sails rigged. We can’t lie about here forever!”
Having unsuccessfully tried to halt Greenshroud’s progress, Swiffo sat on the margin of the watermeadow with Posy and the small band of Guosim. The resourceful shrews had put together a makeshift snack from whatever they could forage from the locality. Uggo and Drogbuk were temporarily banned from the company, owing to the fact they were still munching on the malodorous ramsons. Posy was nibbling on some mushrooms and young dandelion buds. When she noticed that the shrew Chieftain was not wearing his famed Dandy Clogs, she commented on this.
“What happened to your nice shoes, Dandy?”
The Log a Log answered tersely, “They weren’t shoes, missy. They was proper Dandy Clogs, the sort champion dancers wears. I don’t know wot ’appened to ’em for certain, an’ I ain’t too bothered about it. Wot grieves me is the loss of so many of my mates.” His jaw tightened, and his voice shook as he spoke. “All them good Guosim warriors, ambushed, murdered, by those vermin scum. Well, I’ll even the score, I tell ye. We won’t rest ’til we can dance on their graves, every last mother’s son o’ the cowardly butchers!”
Uggo came wandering along the bank with some information. “Could see the green ship from where me’n the old un was. Looks like she’s movin’ off agin. Thought ye should know.”
Jumping upright, Dandy scattered food left and right. He seized a Guosim rapier he had found. “Movin’ off, is it? I’ll show ’em there’s noplace they can go without me on their tails. Come on, mates!”
“Hah, do ye think that’s the right way t’go about it, me bold bucko? Ye’ll end up chasin’ yore own tails!”
Drogbuk had ambled up. He stood shaking his head at Dandy. “T’aint the way I’d do it.”
The Guosim Log a Log brushed by Drogbuk, almost knocking him over. “Out o’ me way, ole rattlespikes!”
Swiffo held up his paw, halting the shrews. “Wait, let’s see wot the old un would do. Go on, mate, speak yore piece!”
One of the shrews, Banktail, muttered scornfully, “Huh, I wouldn’t pay no ’eed t’that ole grogsnout.”
Drogbuk drew himself up, eyeing Banktail haughtily. “Now, you lissen t’me, young blabbermouth. I’m a diff’rent’og now. Aye, I’ve sworn never to drink grog ever agin. So I’m thinkin’ clearer now, an’ I thinks I’ve got a lot more seasons’ wisdom about me than anybeast ’ere.”
Dandy swished his rapier impatiently. “Well, out with it, Granpa, let’s ’ear some o’ this wisdom.”
The ancient hedgehog gestured toward the vermin ship. “That’ll reach the River Moss long afore you do, ’cos it don’t’ave t’go round the long way, skirtin’ this watermeadow like us. Besides, if’n ye do catch it up, wot are ye goin’ t’do, eh?”
Dandy swiped at the grass with his blade. “We’re goin’ t’slay ’em, that’s wot!”
Drogbuk chuckled drily. “Brave words, friend, but the vermin outnumber ye about a score to one. Oh, I’ll grant ye could pick one or two off, like I’ve seen ye do. But these are corsairs’n’searats. They ain’t led by a stoopid beast. If’n the mood took yon Wearat, he’d track ye down an’ finish ye one by one.”
Dobble, the Guosim scout, called impatiently, “You ain’t told us yore plan yet, old un!”
Drogbuk snapped back at him, “Then give me a blinkin’ chance, fatmouth! Lissen now, we know the vermin are goin’ to try an’ conquer Redwall. So, if’n we can get there afore ’em, we can warn those Redwallers an’ be ready for the foebeasts when they arrive.”
Swiffo could not help cutting in eagerly. “He’s right, y’know! In a stone fortress, backed up by the Redwall beasts, we’d stand a much better chance o’ winnin’ agin the vermin. Wot d’ye say, Dandy?”