Kroova explained the reason for his strange behaviour. See those rocks stickin’ up out of the sea yonder? Well, I tell ye, 1 was worried too, until I spotted’em. Then I knew: This is a great big reef! Look be’ind you, see where the water goes from light to dark blue? That’s the edge.
I fig-gered if’n we could sail’er out o’ the deep an’ onto this ledge, we could not only wade ashore, but I could save ole Stopdog by runniner onto the reef. If the tide takes a good long ebb around’ere, there’s a chance we can tow’er ashore an’ beach’er for repairs. Come on, mateys,’tis only a brisk wade to dry land!
Making the headrope fast to a small rock poking out of the water, Kroova ensured that their boat would not be swept away. Side by side, they waded wearily forward. The beach looked to be sandy, though strewn with outcrops of rock. The water was now about waist height.
Scarum’s mood had changed, and he was feeling happy One thing about bein’ a jolly old shipwrecked seabeast, it works up a good appetite, wot. Right chaps, when we get ashore I’m in charge of the foragin’ party.
Though I warn you, I’m a pretty stern commandin’ type, so you’d best find loads of scoff, or you’ll have me to deal with!
Sagax glanced back over his shoulder. The Stopdog’smasts could be seen sticking up at a tilt out of the waves. Suddenly a sinister triangular fin appeared, passing the sunken craft, heading their way.
Shark! Quick, charge for the shore, shark!
However, charging through waist-deep seas would be slow and difficult.
Kroova slapped their backs.
Get ahead, mates, move yoreselves! It’s comin’ after us! Turning away from them, the sea otter plunged into the waves and swam straight for the big fish.
Without looking back, Sagax and Scarum plunged ahead, the going getting better as the water ran shallower. With tiny ripplets splashing round their paws, the pair made it onto the firm wet sands.
Scarum sat down, badly frightened and shaking. Sagax threw himself next to him, panting heavily as he stared around. Where’s Kroo... Oh, great blood’n’vinegar, look out there!
Kroova was at waist depth, with the shark circling him. The sea otter had hold of something. He tugged it this way and that, sometimes tugging it sharply, which seemed to send the great seabeast in another direction.
Seawater, pounded creamy white by the struggle, leaped high about Kroova and the shark.
Scarum gnawed at his whiskers in anguish at the dangerous spectacle.
Oh my fat aunt, it’s followin’ him in!
Then Sagax saw what Kroova had hold of. No, he’s towing it! That’s a ropeÑit’s stuck to the shark somehow. He’s playing it as if he were fishing!
They both jumped up, yelling and bawling.
Don’t let it get you, mate, stay clear!
Watch the blighter, old lad, he’s got better teeth than me!
Rolling and thrashing, the shark showed its huge pale underbelly. They saw its wicked round eye and rows of curved, razorlike teeth. It made a dive at Kroova. The sea otter leaped the opposite way and hauled the rope hard, forcing his adversary to flounder off in another direction.
All the time the two were getting closer to the shore.
Now the shark’s body was sticking up out of the water. It would not give up, though it was beginning to roll and flop slightly. Suddenly Kroova whipped the rope deftly round a nub of rock and raced to the safety of dry land.
The two friends helped him ashore, where he sat blowing and heaving awhile before turning to Scarum with a comical grin on his tough face.
That there shark’s an ole pal o’ yores, messmate. See the rope ‘angin’
out its mouth? That’s the one you caught it on. The villain’s still got yore ‘ook stuck in its mouth!
Scarum stared in amazement at the fish, which, now that it could stretch the rope by pulling against it, was biting through the fibres.
Good grief, so it is. The hare began shouting at the shark. Hi there, old lad! Remember me, the chap you took for a boat ride? Hoho, missed me again, didn’t you? Silly great blighter, that’ll teach you t’mess with fearless seafarers. Go on, be off with you, fishface!
At that moment the rope snapped and the shark wallowed awkwardly out to deep water again, still towing a small tail of rope from its mouth.
Scarum flung several pebbles after it. Call back anytime if y’want more of the same, wot!
Arrh, weel now, sorr, ye must be awful brave beasts!
They turned to see a little hogmaid standing watching them. She had her headspikes tipped with flowers and wore a clean tunic of green woven linen with a flowery patterned pinafore over it.
Scarum put on a courageous, carefree face. All part of the job, pretty miss. We’re shark hunters really, chase the old sea monsters hither an’ thither, wot. Not a bally shark in the seas won’t turn tail an’
run at the mention of us. So then, me spiked beauty, where d’you live?
Completely friendly, the little hogmaid took Scarum’s paw. If yore honour’ll come wid me, I’ll be showin’ ye.
The hare nodded at his companions to follow. Making an elegant leg at the little hogmaid, he allowed her to lead him off to some dunelands backing the shore.
It’ll be a pleasure, m’gel. I’ll go with anybeast who looks as plump an’ jolly well fed as you. Your family got plenty of grub, have they?
Hawhaw, lead on, little charmer!
A hogwife appeared on the dunetops, waving a ladle as she called to the little hogmaid, Is that yourself, Fridilo Migooch? An’ wot’ve ye been told about wand’rin’ off alone? Tis a ladle I should be takin’
to yer tailspikes. Ah shure an’ where in the name o’ fleas did ye find those three raggity ould tramps?
Scarum murmured to Kroova, Raggedy ould tramps, I say! Bit much, isn’t it, wot wot?
The sea otter winked at him. Leave this t’me, mate. He bounded up the dune and smiled disarmingly at the hog-wife.
Pleasant day to ye, inarm. We’re pore shipwrecked creatures who found yore liddle ‘un lost, so we was just bringiner back ‘ome to ye.
The hogwife waved her ladle at Fridilo. That’n lost? Arrh, ‘way with ye, she’s no more lost than a dumplin’ in a soup pot. So now, ‘tis yoreself an’ those other two a-fetchin’ the babe home. At least yore not pirates.
Ye look fair famished, all of ye. I’m thinkin’ ye’d best come t’the tenty an’ take an’ ould gobfull.
Scarum was beside her in a bound, holding the little one in his paws, grinning bravely as he was prickled by her. My dear lady, I take it that you mean we’re invited to dinner. May I express the hope that it tastes as good as you look, beautiful creature, wot!
A half-smile appeared on the hogwife’s homely features. Away with ye, y’great silver-tongued ould hooligan, I’m not yer dear lady. I’m Mammee Migooch, so I am!
The tentys, as Mammee called them, were great sand-coloured tents of hessian weave, almost invisible among the dunes. They were the home of the roving Migooch tribe, nomad hogs who wandered the coastline.
There were roughly a hundred of them, all shapes and sizes, cheerful creatures who lived from day to day without any thought for the morrow.
The travellers stood to one side as Fridilo related the shark incident with lots of comical dancing and rapid baby talk. When she was done, a fat old male, wearing a tattered straw hat and a soupstained smock, shook Kroova’s paw heartily.
Arrh, antis yoreself the great shark wrestler? I raise me hat t’ye, sorr, I do indeed. Cumarnee Migooch is proud t’be shakin’ the paw that shook a shark!