To blow all me apples away!”
He’d gnash his teeth about shaded wheat,
At the sign of a cloud in the skies,
An’ the very sight o’ cloudless sunlight,
Would bring tears to both his eyes.
He’d simmer’n’boil, as he pawed the soil,
An’ got himself worried an’ fussed,
“Lookit that sunlight, ’tis far too bright,
’Twill turn all me soil to dust!”
Oh botheration trouble an’ toil,
Life don’t get peaceful or calmer,
If I’d gone to sea, a sailor I’d be,
Instead of an ole mouse farmer.’
The crew were all laughing heartily when Cardo said, ‘What’s so funny? We were all farmers once.’
The laughter died on their lips. Luke patted Cardo. ‘Aye, yore right there, mate. Farmers we were, fightin’ the weather an’ seasons to put food on the table. We didn’t have much, but we were happy with our wives an’ families until Vilu Daskar an’ his red ship showed up. Now we’re seamice, rovers, fightin’ evil an’ ill fortune. Though I tell you this: one day, when ’tis all over, we’ll return home an’ pick up the threads of our old lives again.’
Outside the elements increased their fury. Thunder reverberated overhead, rain lashed the heaving seas and flaming webs of chain lightning threatened to rip the darkened skies with their ferocity. The crew of the Sayna, without guard or watch on the galeswept decks, allowed sleep to close their weary eyes.
Most of the night the storm prevailed. Three hours before dawn a strong warm wind blew up from the south. Driving the tempest before it like a rumbling cattle herd, it hurtled on northward. Peace and calm was restored to the seas in its wake. Humidity returned, bringing with it a dense foggy bank, which hung over the Twin Islands and their channel like a pall.
The Goreleech put out to sea, then Vilu Daskar ordered her turned about, a league out, to face the channel. An hour before dawn he gave the command.
‘Bullflay, tell your drummer to beat out full speed. Don’t spare the whips. I want this ship to run up that channel as if hellhounds were chasing it. Stand ready, my scurvy Sea Rogues, there’s slaves to be taken!’
* * *
29
VURG WOKE WITH a raging thirst. He got up quietly, so as not to disturb his sleeping crewmates, and picked his way through the darkened cabin to the door. It was foggy on deck, silent and damp. Vurg padded to the galley, dipped a ladle into the water barrel and drank deeply. A second measure of water he tipped over his head to waken himself properly. He was about to start lighting the galley fire from last night’s glowing embers, so that Cardo would have a good fire to cook breakfast, when he heard the sounds.
It was like a steady drumbeat and a deep swishing noise which grew louder by the moment. The noises seemed to be coming from somewhere further up the channel. Vurg made his way to the forepeak. Leaning out, he strained his eyes against the blanket of milky white mist. The sounds increased in volume, and the Sayna began to bob gently up and down on some kind of swell. That was when the world turned red!
Towering over him like an immense leviathan, the Goreleech came thundering down upon the ship Sayna. Vurg was flung high into the air, and landed hard on a rock in the shallows, swallowed by the merciful blackness of unconsciousness. A horrendous rending of ship’s timbers rent the air as the Goreleech ploughed into the Sayna, ripping the entire starboard side out from stem to stern. Masts fell before the wicked iron spike on the red ship’s prow, snapping off like dried twigs. Vilu Daskar roared with evil joy at the sound of screaming crewbeasts in shock.
Half stunned, Luke splashed about in the water. He grabbed a floating object for support. It was Cardo. The dead cook’s eyes stared unseeingly into his until Cardo sank slowly beneath the channel. Luke came to life then. Bellowing like a creature possessed, he seized a rope trailing from the red ship’s side and began hauling himself, paw over paw, up the Goreleech’s massive hull. Soaked, bruised and weaponless, the Warrior climbed with the speed of fury, grappling his way over carved galleries, swarming over the heavy seawet mats of rope fenders.
Vilu Daskar was just turning to shout further orders to his vermin crew when Luke came storming over the gallery rail. He was upon the pirate stoat like a wolf, grabbing him round the neck. Both beasts crashed to the deck, Luke’s eyes filled with bloodlight as he throttled his mortal enemy. Vilu Daskar could do nothing against the Warrior’s furious strength. He saw crewbeasts dashing to his aid and managed a panicked gurgle. Akkla swung a belaying pin, once, twice, thrice, to the back of Luke’s unprotected skull. Another two crashing blows laid the Warrior mouse low, and Vilu slipped from his faltering grasp. Vermin crewbeasts rushed the stoat captain to his cabin, where he lay on a table, making a croaking sound as they forced warmed wine between his lips. He reeled off the table, nursing his neck with a silken cloth.
‘Dirr . . . we . . . sinkam?’
Bullflay stared at Akkla. ‘Wot did ’e say?’
The ferret turned to Vilu. ‘Don’t try to talk, sire, yore throat’s damaged. Aye, we sunk ’er all right. Crew’s just draggin’ aboard any mice that are still livin’.’
Still clutching the silken cloth about his neck, Daskar staggered out on deck. Bullflay waddled ahead of him, drawing a cutlass and straddling the limp form of Luke. ‘This’s the one who strangled yer, lord. Let’s see if’n I kin take off ’is ’ead wid one swipe!’
Vilu kicked the slavemaster, sending him sprawling. ‘Gggghaaa, I wan’ ’im alive. Hhhhraaaggghh!’
The pirate stoat tottered unsteadily back to his cabin. When the door slammed, Fleabitt whispered to Grigg, ‘Talks awful funny, don’t ’e?’
‘So would you if’n you’d been near throttled ter death,’ Grigg whispered back. ‘Better not let ’im ’ear y’say that ’e talks funny, or you won’t ’ave a tongue t’talk wid at all, matey!’
Dulam was chained to deckrings like the others of the Sayna’s crew who had survived the ramming. He dabbed gently at the back of Luke’s head with his wet tunic, but it was some considerable time before the Warrior began to stir and show signs of coming round. On his other side, Denno pressed Luke gently back to the deck. ‘Lie still, mate. You should be dead by rights, the poundin’ yore head took back there. I saw it as I was hauled aboard.’
Luke lay still, eyes closed, head throbbing unmercifully. ‘What about our crew?’
He felt Denno’s tears drip on to his paw as he said, ‘There’s only us three left, Luke: you, me’n’Dulam.’
Luke felt numb. He could hear his own voice echoing in his ears. ‘I saw Cardo, but Coll and Cordle and the others . . . Vurg! Where’s Vurg?’
A seaboot thumped cruelly into his side. Bosun Parug stood over them, grinning.
‘Fishbait the lot of ’em. Bit of a mistake, us ’ittin’ yore ship so ’ard. Shoulda just sneaked up an’ burned it, then we would’ve caught ye one by one as y’dived inna water.’ He kicked Luke once more, obviously enjoying himself. ‘Huh, three mis-rubble prisoners. ’Twas ’ardly worth it. Three mice! Hah! May’s well call it two, ’cos cap’n Vilu’s got special plans fer you, bucko. I never knew a beast laid paws on Vilu Daskar an’ lived t’see the sun go down. I’d ’ate t’be you, mouse. Death’ll come as a mercy to ye when the cap’n’s finished wid yer!’
But Luke was hardly listening. He was consumed with grief and guilt over his slain crew. Mentally he told himself that this was the second time he had lost dear ones by leaving them unguarded. It did not matter what happened to him now, though there was one thing he longed for ere death claimed him. One chance, just one opportunity to slay Vilu Daskar!
Twin Islands lay bright and still in the afternoon sunlight. The fog had gone; so had Vilu Daskar and the Goreleech. Slowly Vurg became aware of a tickling sensation on his face. A tiny hermit crab, burdened by a periwinkle shell, was dragging itself across his cheek. He brushed it aside and sat up, wincing. From jaw to ear his cheek was purpl
e and swollen. Finding a pawful of cool wet kelp he bathed it gingerly as memory flooded back. The Sayna, her crew, Luke, the red ship looming out of the fog!
Vurg leaped up. Sloshing through the shallows, he climbed up on his ship’s wrecked hull, looking desperately this way and that. Far off out to sea, sailing north by east, he saw the Goreleech ploughing the main. Scrambling down into the wreckage, Vurg ignored the splitting ache in his face and head and shouted aloud, ‘Luke! Cordle! Denno! Ahoy, mates, anybeast aboard? Coll! Dulam! Where are you?’
Ripping away broken spars and dragging damp canvas out of his way, Vurg forced an entrance to the shattered main cabin. Coll was there, pierced through by a splintered bulkhead spar, his body swaying gently in waist-deep seawater. Yelling in horror Vurg fled the cabin, flinging himself from the wrecked vessel on to the shore. Cardo was the second one he found, lodged underwater beneath the prow.
Vurg sat on the warm sand, his head in both paws, sobbing uncontrollably. He was alone, all the friends he had sailed with from the northlands shore gone, slain or taken captive aboard the hated red ship.
Sometime towards evening he fell asleep, stretched out above the tideline, numb with grief and aching all over. How long he lay there Vurg had no way of knowing, other than that it was dark when he opened his eyes. But that was not what had wakened him. Somebeast was close by. Vurg did not move. He lay, fully alert now, with his eyes half open, scanning the area around him. He heard noises, a damp scraping sound, coming from behind the Sayna’s smashed stern.
Vurg rose until he was on all fours, carefully, silently, making his way to the water’s edge. Gritting his teeth with satisfaction he found a broken spearhead, with half the shaft still attached. Wading quietly into the water, he made his way along the Sayna’s hull to the stem. He saw a dark shape on the beach, scraping away at the sand with a chunk of flat wood. Gripping the broken spear tightly, Vurg sneaked up from behind and flung himself upon the creature, yelling as he locked a paw about its neck, ‘Yaah! You filthy murderin’ sum, I’ll kill ye stone dead!’
However, killing the creature was not so easy. It lashed out with long hind legs, batted Vurg hard with the chunk of wood, doubled up and sent him sailing over its head. Like a flash his adversary was upon him, forcing his face down into the sand.
A familiar voice rang in Vurg’s ears. ‘I say, steady on there, old lad, wot wot!’
Vurg managed to push his head up and shout, ‘Beau, it’s me, Vurg!’
The hare rolled off him, pulling him upright and dusting sand away from his face.
‘Well bless m’paws, so it is. Why didn’t y’say so, instead of pouncin’ on a chap like that? Didn’t hurt you, did I?’
Vurg could not help himself. He hugged Beau and kissed both his cheeks soundly, weeping unashamedly.
‘Oh, Beau, Beau, I thought you were drowned long ago!’
The hare managed to extricate himself from the tearful crewmouse and held him off with both paws. ‘Well, if I wasn’t drowned then I soon would be with you jolly well cryin’ an’ weepin’ all over me, wot!’
Vurg stood staring stupidly at Beau. ‘Then you weren’t drowned when you fell overboard?’
Beau could not resist striking a noble pose. ‘Drowned, me laddie? Pish tush an’ fiddledy wotsit! Us Fethringsol Cosfortinghams don’t sink that easily, just ’cos some confounded storm chucked me in the briny, an’ not for the first time let me remark. Well, says I to m’self, let blinkin’ Ma Nature use other fools as fish food, not me, sir! So I struck out for the old terra firma, an’ stap me vitals if I didn’t land up at Twin Islands. Had t’live on the far isle, of course – pesky little insects on this one would eat a body alive if you let ’em, wot.’
Immensely cheered by the fact that he was no longer alone, Vurg smiled and clasped his friend’s paw firmly. ‘But you’re alive, that’s the main thing!’
The irrepressible hare winked fondly at Vurg. ‘Pretty much alive, apart from havin’ me paw squashed by some hulkin’ great mouse. Righto, companion o’ mine, come on. We’ll cross the channel on to my island an’ have a bite to eat whilst we swap yarns. Howzat suit you, ole mousechap?’
Vurg released Beau’s paw and turned away. ‘There’s something I’ve got to do first. My shipmates . . .’
Beau sniffed. One of his long ears flopped down to wipe an eye before he answered, ‘Say no more, friend. I buried them m’self while you were sleepin’. Just finished the job when you sneaked up an’ tried playin’ piggyback with me, wot! Don’t fret, old fellow, I’ve put the Sayna’s crew t’rest in the shadow of their own ship.’
Together they waded into the channel. However, Vurg still had a question to ask. ‘Was the whole crew slain, Beau?’
‘Sadly most of ’em were, Vurg, though I never found Luke or wotsisname an’ the other chap, er, Dulam an’ Denno, that’s ’em. Which means they were certainly taken for slaves aboard that foul vessel Goreleech. So, all in all there’s four of the old gang left, five countin’ yours truly. Hang tight to my paw now, gets rather deep here. We’ll have to jolly well swim for it, wot wot. Chin up an’ strike out!’
When they reached the far island it was quite a climb to Beau’s den. He had made it over the far side of the hill, facing out to the open sea. Because of this, Beau had not known about either the Goreleech or the Sayna until it was too late. But, as Vurg realised, there was little he could have done anyway against the red ship’s crew.
The den was a small cave halfway down the big hill. Beau had made it comfortable and foraged around the island to provide food. Kindling a fire he put dandelion tea on to brew and produced a meal with his own gatherings and a few things they had managed to salvage from the Sayna’s galley.
Warming himself by the fire, Vurg allowed Beau to inspect his wounds.
‘Hmm, that’s a rather attractive shade of purple on your face there, old thing. Have t’make a compound, take out the pain an’ swellin’. Cheer up, Vurg, you’ll be as good as new in a day or two, my old nautical matey!’
Vurg heaved a sigh and gazed out to sea. ‘What do we do then, Beau?’
The hare sliced himself a wedge of fruitcake from the Sayna’s stores, adding it to his plate of island salad. ‘What do we do then? Why, we sit here an’ chunner whilst we grow old together, like two proper desert isle hermits, m’friend. Huh, an’ if y’think that you’re a nincompoop! Do? I’ll tell you what we’re goin’ t’do, laddie buck. Make a boat from the wreckage of our ship Sayna an’ sail after the red ship. Rescue our friends an’ if we get half a bally chance we’re goin’ to put paid to that evil blaggard who calls himself a captain. Disgrace to the blinkin’ rank. Right?’
Vurg locked paws with his friend. ‘Right, Beau. And the sooner we get started the better, mate!’
* * *
30
THE CREW OF Vilu Daskar had a special name for the Goreleech’s bottom deck: the Death Pit. After two days chained to an oar down there, Luke knew the place was aptly named. In hot weather it was airless and foul; when seas were rough it was awash with stinking bilgewater. Wretched slaves, chained in pairs at each oar, port and starboard, lived and died there under the lash of Bullflay, the fat sadistic slavemaster, and Fleabitt the drummer, his cruel assistant. Both these creatures delighted in tormenting the helpless oarslaves, withholding drinking water, taunting the sick and generally enjoying the misery they heaped without mercy on their helpless victims.
Luke found himself up at the for’ard end, pulling an oar alone, singled out for special treatment under Bullflay’s watchful eye. Before chaining his paws to the oar, Parug shackled the new slave’s footpaws to a long running chain, stapled at intervals to the deck. The searat bosun pointed out the reason for this.
‘Just in case the oar snaps an’ you thinks yore loose to escape, well you ain’t. This ’ere chain joins youse all to the ship. If it sinks, you go t’the bottom with ’er!’
If Luke turned his head slightly right, he could see Dulam and Denno, manacled to an oar on the
other side of the aisle, about three rows back.
Bullflay’s whip cracked, its tip catching Luke’s ear. ‘Git yore eyes front, mouse, or I’ll flick ’em out with this whip. Yore down ’ere t’row, not look at the scenery!’ He strode off down the centre aisle, laying about him. ‘Bend yer backs, lazy scum, put some energy into it, cummon!’
Fortunately a strong breeze sprang up later in the day. Fleabitt stopped drumming and gave the order to ship oars. A pannikin of brackish water and a hard rye crust was issued to each slave. Bullflay and Fleabitt went up on deck, to eat in the fresh air. Luke tugged at his pawchains, calling across to his neighbour, ‘Do they often leave us alone like this?’
Norgle the otter, seated behind on the right, answered, ‘Huh, where are we goin’ to run to, matey, or are we fit enough t’bite through these chains?’
Another voice growled, ‘I’ll find a way to break ’em someday!’
Luke could not help himself staring across at the creature who had spoken. Directly opposite, chained singly to an oar, just as Luke was, sat a ferocious black squirrel. Everything about her, from the scars to the savage glowing eyes, bespoke the fact that here was a warrior. He felt an immediate kinship with the dangerous beast. She spoke again.
‘Look around. All these poor creatures are defeated, because they are slaves, in chains. But Vilu Daskar could not chain the heart, mind, or blood of Ranguvar Foeseeker. Aye, I’ll bite through these chains one day, then I’ll slay Vilu Daskar, Bullflay, Fleabitt an’ as many of ’em as I can, until they bring me down an’ slay me!’
Luke stretched his paw until the chains cut into him. ‘I am Luke the Warrior and I swear on the memory of my dead wife Sayna that we will break these shackles together, Ranguvar Foeseeker. I will stand beside you when the time comes, and we will take many with us before we fall!’
Ranguvar stretched her paw across to Luke. Where the chains cut the flesh, blood mingled from both creatures’ wounds.