Rakkety Tam

8

Two ermine who had been left behind to repair the big ship upon the rocks watched Rakkety Tam and Doogy Plumm advancing through the dusk. In the ship’s bow, the vermin hid, peering through the hole which had been smashed through the hull on its waterline. It was not difficult to see the two squirrels, since they were both carrying lighted torches. Neither of the ermine knew anything about ship repairing, but they were forced to comply, knowing that disobedience to their savage leader meant instant death. From the gloom of their hiding place, they watched the squirrels move closer.

Drawing his sickle-curved sword, the more hefty of the two ermine licked the blade, grinning wickedly. His companion, a tall, thin beast, whispered a warning. “Don’t slay ’em straight off. They lives on the coast ’ere prob’ly. Two like those’d be bound t’know about pluggin’ the ’ole in this craft an’ makin”er seaworthy.”

The hefty one sniggered. “Aye, mate, good idea. Why should we do all the toil? Let these oafs fix the ship first, then we’ll skin ’em, nice’n’slow. I claim the liddle fat ’un. ’Tis long seasons since I tasted a fine plump squirrel.”

His companion nodded his head. “Right, I’ll take the other. Huh, wonder wot those two idiots are doin’, wanderin’ round the shore at this hour?”

Eyes shining with anticipation, the hefty ermine murmured, “Who cares? Nice of ’em t’bring fire along. We won’t need t’put flint to steel’n’tinder to make a roastin’ fire.”

Moving closer to the edge of the hole in the ship’s hull, he whispered to his partner, “Let’s go an’ welcome ’em!”

As Tam and Doogy reached the ship, the two ermine sidled out onto the rocks with drawn swords. Doogy’s paw dropped to the basket hilt of his claymore. “Weel now, will ye lookit, we’ve got company!”

Tam slid the dirk behind his shield, hiding it from view. He raised his voice, addressing the vermin cheerily. “A good evenin’ to ye, sirs. Is this your vessel? Dearie me, in a bit of a mess, ain’t it?”

The hefty ermine swaggered forward. Tossing his sword in the air, he caught it skilfully. “Aye, she’s got a hole in the bows, as ye can see. But it ain’t nothin’ that you two bumpkins can’t fix up fer us, is it?”

Doogy smiled disarmingly. Ignoring the ermine, he addressed Tam. “Will ye no’ listen tae that saucy auld windbag! He thinks we’re ship repairers!”

Tam wedged his torch between two rocks. “He’s certainly a hardfaced rogue, Doogy. He called us bumpkins. I think we’ll have to repair his manners.”

The thin ermine brandished his sword, snarling, “Shut yore mouths an’ surrender those weapons. D’ye know who yore talkin’ to? We’re two warriors who serve Gulo the Savage. Do as yore told an’ we might let ye live!”

Doogy stuck his torch alongside Tam’s. “Och, ye great string o’ seaweed, ah dinna care who yore Chieftain is. Nobeast talks tae Wild Doogy Plumm like that!”

Without further ado, a fight to the death commenced. The thin one swung his blade at Doogy’s head, but the little Highlander moved with a speed which belied his girth. Leaping forward, he swung his claymore in a single, mighty arc. It smashed the blade from the vermin’s paw, following through across his throat and despatching him with a single blow. The hefty one closed with Tam, trying to spike him from overhead with a downward sweep of the curved blade. Tam whipped his shield up over his head, deflecting the blow. In the same instant, Tam’s dirk took the shocked vermin through the heart in an upward thrust.

Showing no great concern, Doogy enquired as he cleaned his blade, “Did he do any damage tae yore buckler, Tam?”

After inspecting the shield’s centre boss, Tam shrugged. “Only a wee dent. This old shield’s taken enough of them in its time. Let’s search the ship in case there’s any more foebeasts lurkin’ about.”

Climbing through the rift in the hull, they held up their torches and gazed around. Doogy pulled a face, covering his nose with his tail. “Land’s sakes, Tam, the smell in here’s enough tae knock a body flat! Ah wonder who Gulo the Savage is—yon vermin spoke his name as though we ought tae know him.”

Tam bent to examine a locker, which proved to be empty. “That’s the one Driltig mentioned. He’ll be their leader, the beast who goes around eatin’ other creatures. He’s the lad we’ll have to meet up with if we’re to get Araltum’s banner back.”

Grimacing with distaste, Doogy turned over some mouldy seabird feathers and fishbones with his bladepoint. “Aye, well mind ye speak tae him politely. Ach, there’s nae much of any use here, Tam. Let’s be rid o’ this stinkin’ hulk!”

Exiting the ship, they heaved the slain ermine carcases through the holed bow, tossing the lighted torches in after them. Night was fully fallen as Tam and Doogy watched flames and smoke rising. Fire shot up the rigging and through the sails like a hungry beast, sending sparks crackling into the dark sky. Using the light, Tam cast about until he found pawprints.

“They must’ve doubled back this way after raiding the groves. There’s a whole army here, headin’ off north along the shore. Well, Doogy, do we follow ’em now or leave it until dawn?”

Sitting down on some dry sand, Doogy held up his paws to the blaze. “ ’Tis a shame tae be wastin’ sich a braw fire, Tam. Let’s take a wee bite o’ supper an’ sleep here, where ’tis warm an’ upwind o’ the sparks, eh?”

Supper was merely a few apples and some cheese, which they stuck on the points of their swords, toasting them in the glowing prow timbers.

Having eaten, Doogy wrapped his cloak about him, grunting contentedly. “Mercy me, aren’t we livin’ the life o’ kings, Tam. A braw fire in the hearth, a floor o’ sand, a roof o’ sky an’ toasted apples’n’cheese—what more could ye ask for, eh?”

Tam wiped melted cheese from his swordtip, imitating his friend’s thick Highland brogue. “Och, yer easy pleased, mah wee Doogy. We’ve no’ got a pretty maid tae sing us tae sleep!”

Doogy gathered a swathe of his cloak about his face like a headscarf. He began twittering in what he fondly imagined was a maidenly voice. “Och, ye saucy great beastie! Dinna fret, ah’ll sing ye a wee lullaby!”

Tam groaned in mock despair. “Spare me that, Doogy. Ye look like a boiled pudden, an’ ye sound like a toad trapped under a rock!”

He lay back and tried to sleep whilst his friend serenaded him in a gruff bass voice which bore no resemblance to any young maid’s.

“Oh a beetle maid sat in a glade,

an’ she lamented sadly,

‘Mah love’s gone off tae fight the bees,

ah’m feared that he’ll fare badly.

Those bumbly bees are fierce wee things,

wi’ stripey shirts an’ wee small wings.

Their bottoms carry nasty stings,

they’re feisty aye an’ buzzy!’

Och, mah Berty Beetle looked so stern,

he didnae think ’twas funny,

when ah said that ah’d no’ kiss him,

’til he brought me some honey.

He took his club from off the shelf,

an’ said tae me so gravely,

‘Ah’ll fetch ye honey back the noo,’

an’ he marched off right bravely.

’Twas some lang time ’ere he returned,

mah poor love injured sorely.

Ah spread him wi’ some liniment,

an’ listened tae his story.

Alas, poor me tae love a fool.

Did naebeast tell this fellow,

those bees that don’t wear fuzzy shirts,

are wasps striped black an’ yellow?

Wi’ a hey an’ a hoe an’ a lacky doodle don,

midst all this shameful fuss.

’Tis not just birds who live in trees,

an’ not just bees that buzz!”

Tam was snoring before Doogy finished his ballad. The sturdy Highland squirrel glanced huffily at his companion. “Well, thank ye for those sounds of appreciation. Ah’ll bid ye a guid night, an’ hope that some sparks get blown onto yore unfeelin’ tail!”

Scraping sand together into a pillow shape, Doogy laid down his head, allowing slumber to soothe his injured dignity.

Two hours before dawn, both the friends were sound asleep, wrapped in their cloaks and warmed by the glowing embers not far away. Neither had time to wake, or even stir, when dark shapes pounced on them, swiftly cudgelling them senseless. Tam and Doogy were bundled up in their cloaks and lashed onto long spearpoles, then hurried off north along the beach.