hold yer peace!
That night they all slept in Roobee’s tent, leaving the disgraced Scarum to himself.
Dawn came misty, with a light drizzle that would give way to brighter weather in the course of the day. Scarum slowly sat up, clutching his stomach, alone in the deserted tent.
Ooooh, me poor old turn. I say, you chaps, just leave me here to die, would you? Tell my ma that the last words her sufferin’ son spoke were’no breakfast this mornin’ for me!’
He groped around in the grey half-light and groaned. Cor, sufferin’
icecakes! What sort of a bally good mornin’ is this, wot? A faithful pal lyin’ here with his head bangin’ an’ his tummy bustin’, and not a flamin’ beast around to comfort him. Rotters, I s’pose they’re all out fixin’ that blinkin’ boat, thoughtless lot o’ bounders!
Staggering out of the tent, he spotted a firelight shining through the walls of Roobee’s dwelling. Hah, now that’s more the ticket, wot. A jolly good fire to sit by whilst some good-natured hogwife fetches a chap a drop or two of herbal tea to bring him round. Splendid!
Entering the tent, Scarum got quite the reverse of what he had been expecting. It was a makeshift court, with Mi-gooch hogs sitting solemn-faced and silent. Cumarnee seemed to be presiding, with Sagax and Kroova standing stiffly either side of him. Scarum gave them a feeble smile, but received only stern glares.
Er, haha, I say, wot. Bit gloomy this mornin’, ain’t it?
The tribe leader’s voice lanced into his aching head. Be it known to all the hogs of Migooch that this creature stands accused of idleness, slacking, la/iness, vittle robbery and damage to pies, cakes, salads and other sundry eatables. What has the accused to say in his defence?
Clutching his stomach, Scarum stammered and waffled. Er, wot, er, steady on, chaps, can’t blame a young hare for havin’ a measly snack, especially a shipwrecked type.
Cumarnee stamped his footpaw down hard. Silence! He approached the hare, pointing accusingly at him.
Babes had to go hungry to their beds because of you! Hogwives were left weeping over their spoiled supplies because of you! Workers who had laboured hard all day, repairing your vessel, were left starving because of you! 1 want a show of paws. Do we find this hare guilty?
Every paw in the tent shot up, and there was a loud shout. Guilty!
Pleadingly, Scarum looked toward his two cold-eyed friends. Sagax, Kroova, my faithful old messmates, can’tyou put in a jolly good word or two for a chum, wot wot? The young badger shook his head. Sorry, it’s not up to us. The Migooch tribe’s laws have been broken; you must answer to them. The only advice I can give is, stand up straight like a Salamandastron hare and take the medicine Cumarnee dishes out to you.
Scarum tried to straighten up, but his aching stomach kept him half bent. His ears drooped limply. He looked mournfully at Cumarnee and spoke in a hoarse whisper. Sentence me t’be slain, sah, it’ll put me out of my misery. Tell me dear old ma an’ pa that it was my stomach which caused all the trouble, not me!
Cumarnee shook his head resolutely. Death? Hoho, me fine buckoe, that’d be too easy. Your punishmentll be to serve the Migooches as a slave for ten seasons, no, better make that twenty!
Several hogs nodded. Aye, twenty, that’s about right for the tumble ould glutton, twenty good long seasons!
Scarum’s face was the picture of shock and misery. Twenty blinkin’
seasons, that’s a bit jolly much, wot? I’ll be on a perishin’ walkin’
stick, old’n’grey by the time twenty confounded seasons have passed.
O mercy!
However, the stern, righteous faces of the Migooch tribe dashed any of the hare’s hopes for leniency.
The Stopdog bobbed at anchor, repaired and provisioned, straining at her bowline as high tide swelled, like a dog eager to be unleashed.
Followed by all of the Migooch hogs, Sagax and Kroova waded out to the ketch. The pair climbed aboard and made ready to sail.
Cumarnee and Mammee exchanged paw shakes with them. May the wind be at yer back an’ the sun not in yer eyes!
Thankee, marm, an’ our thanks for loadin’ us up with yore fine vittles.
We’ll think of ye when we’re eatinem!
Sagax saw Scarum standing dejectedly nearby, ears drooping, tears dropping from his cheeks to mingle with the salt water. Cumarnee shook the young badger’s paw, passing him a secret wink.
Weel now, me buckoe, I’m hopin’ ye find Redwall. Good fortune attend ye on yer voyage!
Sagax made sure Scarum was not watching as he returned the Migooch Chieftain’s wink. My thanks to you, sir. I’m just sorry that our visit was ruined by that hare’s unforgivable behaviour. I trust you’ll make him serve every day of his sentence and work him hard!
Cumarnee stroked his headspikes pensively. Ah now, I was meanin’ to mention that to ye. Twenty seasons is a long time t’be feedin’ some ould gluttonfaced rabbit. Would ye not think of takin’ him back to do his penance aboard the Stopdog, afore he eats us out o’ spikes ‘n’home?
Sagax shook his head firmly. No sir, a glutton’s a glutton no matter where he is, on land or sea. He’ll never repent.
Scarum knelt. With the water lapping his chin and his paws clasped beseechingly, he moaned aloud to his two friends, I’ll change me ways, I’ll be good! Only take me aboard! I’ll do all the work, scoff’11 scarcely pass my lips, you’ll see! Don’t leave me here for twenty seasons with these spiky savages, oh, er, I mean dear little hoggybeasts. Sagax, Kroova, dear old jolly old faithful old pals, I’ll do any bally thing for you, just take me aboard!
Sagax looked doubtfully at Kroova. What d’you think?
The sea otter tapped his rudder up and down. Hmm, ain’t much of a catch, is he?
As he was talking, Kroova was untying the bowrope from its rock mooring.
But I wouldn’t feel right, inflictin’ Scarum on our good’edgehog friends for twenty seasons. Oh well, I s’pose we’ll’ave to put up with’im. Come on, you lopeared excuse for a messmate, git aboard!
With a bound, Scarum landed on the Stopdog’s deck, playing his new role as beast of all work. Now, sit back an’ put y’paws up, you chaps, leave this t’me. I’ll see to the wotsits an’ unfurl the hoojimacallits an’
till the turnerÑI mean turn the tiller, wot wot wot!
With a twinkle in his eye, Cumarnee called out as he and his hogs waved goodbye, Now, go easy on those pore sharks, an’ don’t slay too many!
Evening sun reddened over a placid sea as the three travelers continued their course northward. By this time Scarum had taken on a change of mood.
Huh, are you two blighters goin’ t’sit there forever with your paws up? Lazy bounders, a chap needs help around here. What d’ye think I am, a one-hare crew? Sagax, why don’t you take the tiller, an’ Kroova can manage those ropes an’ sails. I’ll make the supper. Ah, supper, what a jolly nice thought. All’s I’ve had to eat was a snack last night.
Flamin’ famine-faced hogs, wot? That Mammee gave me a whack on the paw with a ladle when I mentioned brekkers this mornin’, flippin’ spiky old tyrant!
Sagax reached out with a powerful paw and grabbed Scarum by the scruff of the neck. He had him half overboard in a trice. One more word and I’ll make you swim back to serve your twenty seasons with those spiky old tyrants!
Kroova smiled wryly, shaking his head. Ole Scarum don’t change much, does’e?
Sagax was also smiling as he whispered in Kroova’s ear. I wouldn’t want him to, would you? This would be a dull, boring trip with a well-behaved hare for company.