Rakkety Tam

36

It was late afternoon on the day following the continuous drizzle. During the night, the rain had ceased altogether. Dawn rose brilliantly over a small camp in southeast Mossflower. Doogy Plumm, Yoofus Lightpaw and his wife Didjety, together with the little tortoise Rockbottom, had spent a passably comfortable night. In a worn old sandstone formation they had come across amidst the trees, they had made a small shelter by laying boughs and ferns over an undercut ledge. Bright sunlight reflected in each dewdrop hanging from bush and bough. Somewhere nearby, two finches were cheeping, and a mistle thrush warbling. Rising sunrays shafted through the foliage.

But it was not the plop of dewdrops or the charming birdsong which wakened the sturdy Highlander—it was Yoofus. Unable to sleep, and in an effort to stir his wife into providing breakfast from the sack which now served as her pillow, the water vole began singing and tapping a footpaw against the great drum. Boom baboom babumpitty bumpetty boom!

“Sure there was an ould vole called Dumplety Tim,

now wasn’t he just the grand feller.

He wore britches of scarlet, a scarf snowy white,

an’ a tailcoat with buttons of yeller.

He could dance a fine jig in his high-buckled boots,

he could quaff off a flagon of scrumpy,

he wore a great feather of green in his hat,

an’ his stummick was round, fat an’ lumpy.

Ah rumplety bumplety Dumplety Tim,

he could charm all the ladies around.

He was merry’n’cheery an’ never grew weary,

the smile on his face never frowned.

Such a nice darlin’ creature in every fine feature,

you’d hear any ould biddy remark,

‘He’s oh so polite an’ from mornin”til night,

he can sing like a silver-tongued lark.’

Ah rumplety bumplety dumplety . . . Yowwwccch!”

Yoofus was knocked sideways as the loaded foodsack clouted him over the head. Didjety, who had thrown it, stood over him, paws akimbo.

“Now will ye hush that rambunctious din! Yore frightenin’ all the frogs in the neighbourhood with that racket!”

Yoofus massaged his ear ruefully. “But I thought ye were fond of me singin’!”

Doogy unwrapped the cloak from around his head. “Singin’ ye call it? Och, ’tis more like somebeast killin’ a duck with a mallet! Thief is the right title for ye. Ah’ve been robbed o’ mah sleep with all that drumbangin’ an’ caterwaulin’!”

The incorrigible Yoofus gave him a wink and a grin. He began rummaging in the foodsack. “Ah, but Mister Plumm, me ould darlin’, ye wouldn’t want to be sleepin’ such a sunny mornin’ away now, would ye? Sure a day like this gives a beastie like meself a roarin’ appetite. Let’s see wot we’ve got fer brekkist.”

Didjety snatched the foodsack from him. “I’m in charge of the rations around here! Stir yore stumps now, an’ find me some firewood.”

Thrusting her head into the sack, the volewife investigated its contents, then called to her husband, “Don’t bother yoreself with the firewood. There’s nothin’ in here but a few crusts an’ me cookin’ pan an’ kettle.”

The volethief’s jaw dropped. “Ye mean t’tell me we’re out o’ vittles?”

Didjety’s paws poked through a big hole in the bottom of the sack. “Indeed we are, an’ here’s the reason why!”

Her husband’s normally cheerful face was the picture of misery. “We’ll starve t’death completely, so we will!”

The volewife glared at Doogy and Yoofus. “All the more reason for you two witless wanderers to find the Abbey o’ Redwall then, isn’t it?”

Yoofus pointed the paw at Doogy. “ ’Twas him that got us lost, not me!”

The Highlander defended himself indignantly. “Och, ye wee fibber! Who was it wanted us tae turn left at that three-topped oak last night, instead o’ right as I suggested, eh?”

Yoofus looked shocked. “Startin’ that, are we? Then who suggested we turn west by the stream yesterday mornin’? Tell me that, ye great fluffy-tailed fraud!”

He dodged behind the drum as Doogy came after him angrily. “Ah never said west. Ah was all for carryin’ on north!”

Yoofus hooted. “North? Sure ye wouldn’t know north from the nutnose on yore face. I was the one who said to go north. I may be a thief, but I ain’t a liar like some I could mention!”

Doogy was outraged. “Who are ye callin’ a liar? Ah’ll punch yore fat head intae the middle o’ next season—aye, an’ send yore fat wee bottom after it!”

Boooooommmm! Didjety struck the drum hard with her cooking pan. “Silence, the pair of ye! This is gettin’ us nowhere. Any more arguin’ an’ I’ll settle it with this pan over both yore thick skulls, d’ye hear me?”

They both sulked about like two Dibbuns being sent to bed.

“Och, ’twas yore husband that started it, marm!”

“Ooh, did ye hear that, Didjety? He’s tryin t’put the blame on me now!”

“Aye, well that’s where the blame belongs, mah friend.”

“Oh no it doesn’t!”

“Och yes it does!”

Bonk! Bonk! Didjety once again wielded the pan as Yoofus and Doogy both stood, rubbing their heads. “I warned ye! Now let’s pack up an’ get goin’. I’ll lead the way. You two follow, I’ll find Redwall for ye.”

Yoofus touched his head gingerly. “But, me luv, ye’ve never been to Redwall Abbey afore!”

The volewife squared her shoulders decisively. “Maybe not, but I can’t make much more of a mess findin’ it than you two bright sparks. Come on, quick march!”

They crawled out of the little shelter, and Doogy shrugged. “Quick march sure enough, marm, but which way?”

Didjety placed her pan on the ground and spun it. She nodded at the direction the panhandle was pointing. “This way!”

Then she looked at Rockbottom. The little tortoise nodded his agreement.

Though they had to ford a shallow stream and skirt some patches of marshland, the going was fairly smooth. Wherever possible, the volewife kept to what looked like obvious paths betwixt the tall trees. Doogy followed behind her, rolling the great drum along, whilst Yoofus trudged in the rear.

The volethief began grumbling and muttering to the tortoise who was strapped to his back. “Sure I thought you’d have taken my side o’ things back there agin those two, but ye never supported me cause by a nod or a wink, did ye? Now look where it’s got us! We’ll wind up at the back of noplace like this. I’m tellin’ ye, me liddle stony friend, my Didjety’s a darlin’ creature, but she couldn’t find the floor if she fell on it. See, I told ye, she’s had to halt.”

Yoofus approached his wife triumphantly, nodding and smirking. “Sure, an’ why’ve ye stopped, me ould duckodill? Lost, are ye?”

Didjety looked up from the watercress she was gathering from the side of a tiny brook. “Does it look like I’m lost, ye great omardorm? Go an’ gather some firewood an’ I’ll make us somethin’ to eat. Mister Plumm, will you gather those wild mushrooms an’ pick some of that ransom? Not too much, though, it can taste a bit strong in a soup.”

Upon the mention of food, Yoofus hurriedly began gathering dead twigs and dried grass. “Soup! Will ye lissen to her? Mister Plumm, sir, don’t ye wish ye had a grand liddle wife like me?”

When it came to cooking, the volewife certainly knew what she was doing. Toasting the crusts of oatcake over the fire, she crumbled them into her cooking pan, which she had filled half full with brookwater. Borrowing Doogy’s dirk, she chopped her ingredients into the pan—a touch of the wild garlic known as ransom, a few dozen of the white mushrooms, lots of watercress, some dandelion roots, charlock pods, wild radish, hedge mustard, sweet woodruff petals and a good pinch of the rock salt which she always carried in her apron pocket. Yoofus and Doogy sat by the brook, sniffing appreciatively at the savoury aroma emanating from the bubbling pan over the fire.

The Highlander winked at the volethief as he fashioned some scoops from a piece of bark. “Yore a braw lucky beast, mah friend, havin’ a wee wifey who can make a meal out o’ nothin’. That soup smells bonny!”

Yoofus smiled. “An’ she can sing, too. Lissen!”

The Highlander pushed him playfully. “Aye, an’ ah ken she sings far better than ye do!”

Didjety stirred away at the thickening soup, singing in a clear, sweet tone.

“Now me mammy once said, don’t ye live all alone,

keep yore bits an’ small pieces together,

for one day you’ll need them to furnish yore home,

’neath a roof warm an’ safe from the weather.

For of all the fine places a heart’s ever known,

sure there’s none that I love like me dear little home.

Then go find ye someone who will care for ye good,

to sit quiet by yore side at the fire,

an’ if he treats ye decent as you hoped he would,

you’ll have all that your heart can desire.

For of all the fine places a heart’s ever known,

sure there’s none that I love like me dear little home.

Let the wind howl outside an’ the rain batter down,

with the hearth snug an’ cosy indoors,

no Queen in a palace who wears a gold crown,

knows a life full and happy as yours.

For of all the fine places a heart’s ever known,

sure there’s none that I love like me dear little home.”

Yoofus smiled fondly. “How would ye like a grand sweet wife like that now, Doogy Plumm?”

The Highlander rubbed his head thoughtfully. “Aye, she could slay all mah enemies by beltin”em o’er their skulls wi’ that cookpan o’ hers.”

The soup was thick and delicious. They shared it equally, with a small portion set aside to cool for Rockbottom.

Doogy watched the little creature as Didjety fed him from a folded dockleaf. “D’ye reckon he’ll ever talk one day?”

The volewife giggled. “Sure if he ever does, ’twill be only to ask wot’s for dessert! Won’t it, me little darlin’?”

The tortoise seemed to smile and nod his head. The Highlander was still curious about Rockbottom, though Yoofus and Didjety did not seem bothered at all.

Doogy stroked the little fellow’s head with his paw, enquiring further, “Ah wonder, has he ever ventured out o’ yon shell?”

The volethief replied, straight-faced, “He doesn’t like anybeast seein’ him wearin’ only his nightie. I saw him once, but he ran back into the shell.”

Doogy looked as if he believed Yoofus for a moment, then realised the water vole was joshing him. “Ye wee fibber!”

Yoofus looked innocent. “No I’m not!”

Doogy retorted, “An’ I say ye are!”

Didjety raised the empty cooking pan. “Here now, let’s have no more of that. Let’s be on our way.”

They continued the journey, Yoofus and Doogy lagging behind slightly, whispering to each other.

The Highlander shook his head. “Ah wonder if Tam an’ the Patrol made it back tae the Abbey.”

Yoofus watched his wife’s back as she plodded on with dogged determination. “Sure we’ll never know, mate. We’ll be wanderin’ this land until we’ve both got long grey beards an’ walkin’ sticks.”

Doogy nodded agreement; his confidence in their pathfinder was at a very low ebb. “Ah thought when we set out this mornin’ that yore wee wifey had some idea o’ the route tae go.”

Yoofus hitched Rockbottom up in his harness. “Mark my words, ould Doogy Plumm, we’re well lost. I don’t know wot possessed me t’let her lead the way. My Didjety’s never been much further than her own doorstep.”

A hill appeared ahead of them. Didjety hurried forward, ascending the steep slope. Yoofus stared up at her before commenting, “Didn’t we go up this hill yesterday? The pore creature’s demented, she’s dashin’ about like a madbeast now. Look!”

The volewife had reached the hilltop. She was dancing up and down, pointing frantically and shouting, “There it is! Redwaaaaaalllll!”

After a hasty scramble, Yoofus and Doogy joined her on the summit. The Highlander shaded a paw over his eyes. There in the distance he could see the south side of the Abbey.

The volethief cut a jig. Grabbing his wife, he hugged and kissed her, crying jubilantly, “Hahahaha! I knew ye’d find it, me own darlin’ sugarplum! Ye’d take us t’Redwall ye said, an’ sure enough ye did! Wasn’t I just sayin’ to Doogy here, if’n anybeast can get us to that Abbey, then my Didjety’s the one t’do it?”

Doogy sat down upon the great drum, nodding readily. He did not have the heart to speak the truth. “Och, he’s had nothin’ but the bonniest things tae say about ye, marm. An’ who am I tae doubt yore husband’s word?”

The Highlander looked at Rockbottom, who shook his little head and retreated into his shell.

Didjety was slightly flustered by the lavish praise being heaped upon her. But, being the practical volewife, she was quick to recover. “I thank ye both for yore faith in me. Now, we’d best get marchin’. Sure we don’t want t’be late for supper tonight.”

With renewed vigour, they stepped out toward their goal. The great drum trundled easily alongside Doogy, who controlled it like a hoop, with a stout twig. To keep their spirits up he sang an old marching song he recalled from his Highland days.

“Set mah plate an’ mah tankard on the table,

an’ watch out for me comin’ home tonight.

Keep mah supper in the oven if yore able,

an’ in the window place a welcome light.

Tramp tramp tramp! Hear what the Sergeant said,

tonight ah’ll be sleepin’ in mah own wee bed!

No more layin”neath the stars in the heather,

no more eatin’ what the greasy cook has burned,

no more toilin’ through the cold’n’rainy weather,

once tae mah bonny home ah have returned.

Tramp tramp tramp! Hear what the Sergeant said,

tonight ah’ll be sleepin’ in mah own wee bed!”

On the “tramp tramp” bits, Doogy hit the drum with his twig. He could not recall any more of the verses, so he sang it twice again, with Yoofus and Didjety joining in on the chorus with gusto. After a while, Yoofus began eyeing the drum. Doogy could tell he was planning to steal it—by one means or the other.

The volethief grinned cheerily at him. “Ah, sure ye must be gettin’ tired an’ weary of luggin’ an’ pushin’ that useless ould drum along. Why don’t ye let me take charge of the clumsy thing for a bit?”

Doogy left Yoofus in no doubt that he was on to him. “Ah’ll thank ye tae keep yore thievin’ eyes off’n this drum. Ye ken ’tis the property o’ Redwall Abbey, an’ that’s where I aim tae deliver it, all in good order. As tae what becomes o’ yore goodwife’s wee pet Rockbottom, well, the Abbot should be the one tae decide that!”

Didjety looked quite concerned. “But I couldn’t be without dear liddle Rockbottom, he’s me own darlin’ pet. D’ye think the Abbot will want to keep him, Mister Plumm?” She sobbed visibly and wiped her eyes upon her pinafore.

Doogy patted the volewife’s paw comfortingly. “From wot ah’ve seen of Abbot Humble, he’s a kindly auld beastie. He’d no steal yore pet from ye, marm. Ah’ll have a word wi’ him mahself.”

Didjety smiled gratefully. “My thanks to ye, Mister Plumm. Yore a darlin’, soft-hearted creature yoreself, to think of me the way ye do.”

Doogy’s bushy tail rose in an arc over his head and dropped down to cover his face, a sure sign of embarrassment in any squirrel. “Och, away with ye, Missus Lightpaw. Ah only do it ’cos ah’m so powerful fond o’ yore sausage rolls!”

The long day was drawing to a pleasant close as the weary travellers emerged from South Mossflower woodlands. Across the grassy commonland in front of them, Redwall Abbey rose majestically, all dusty pink and shadowed by the day’s last sunlight. The water voles were walking slightly in front of Doogy, who was still rolling the drum along.

As a born warrior, Doogy had always possessed an inbred sense of danger. As they broke through the trees onto the grassland, the squirrel warrior’s neck fur began prickling. The crack of paw upon twig caused him to whirl around, grabbing at his claymore hilt. He saw six vermin stalking through the undergrowth in an attempt to encircle him and his two friends, with Gulo the Savage at their centre.

The Highlander drew his claymore, yelling to the voles, “Run for it, mates. Get intae the Abbey, now!”

Yoofus and Didjety paused a moment, looking puzzled. Then they turned and saw the vermin.

Doogy launched himself at the enemy, roaring, “Run! Run! Ye can do no good here! Hawaaaaay the Braw!”

Yoofus grabbed his wife and hustled her wildly along. One of the vermin broke away from the rest, attempting to cut the water voles off. Doogy whirled, slaying him with a sweep of his claymore and as he did so, the Highlander’s back was turned from the vermin for but a moment. That was all the time Gulo the Savage needed: he quickly grabbed a hefty rock and threw it at the Highlander. The missile made a clunking sound as it bounced off the back of Doogy’s head. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Hauling his wife along, Yoofus ran as he had never run before. Neither of the voles looked back as they sped across the commonland toward the south wallgate.

With Rockbottom bouncing around in his backsling, the volethief threw himself at the wicker gate, panting and roaring, “Attack! Attack! For the love o’ mercy, open the gate!”

Didjety joined him, wailing piteously, “Ah sure we’ll be completely destroyed if y’don’t let us in! Help! Heeeeelp!”

Fortunately, Ulba molewife was taking a group of Dibbuns for an evening stroll around the Abbey pond before packing them off to their beds. Brookflow the ottermaid accompanied them, lest any should fall into the water, a fairly common occurrence when Abbeybabes and ponds come into contact. The little party was skirting the south edge of the water when they heard the voles’ impassioned cries.

Brookflow acted promptly, shouting out a course of action. “Get the little ’uns back to the Abbey, Ulba. I’ll see what’s goin’ on out there. Send some help, just in case!”

The molewife had her paws full trying to keep the Dibbuns from following the ottermaid. “You’m h’infants cumm back yurr with oi. Miz Brooky, be ee vurry careful naow!”

No sooner had Brooky shot the bolts back and cracked open the wicker gate than she spied the voles, dancing up and down in agitation.

“Mister Lightpaw, it’s you! What’s goin’ on out there?”

Yoofus shoved the door fully open and dashed inside, pulling Didjety along behind him. He wiped a paw across his brow. “Sure, an’ who did ye think it was, a frog on a frolic? Quick, bar that gate! ’Tis teemin’ wid vermin out there!”

Before there was time for further discussion, Tam, Skipper and the Long Patrol hares came charging along.

Yoofus relaxed, quickly regaining his composure now that the danger was past. “Well now, Mister MacBurl, aren’t ye the grand ould sight fer me weary eyes! Oh, I don’t think ye’ve met me darlin’ wife. Say hello t’the good creatures, Didjety!”

Tam grabbed the volethief’s paw roughly. “Where’s Doogy Plumm, an’ what’s goin’ on here? Speak!”

Yoofus winced. “Ouch! Leave off crushin’ me paw t’bits an’ I’ll tell ye!”

Tam relaxed his grip. “Hurry up then, an’ make it fast!”

The vermin who had been chasing the voles were about halfway across the commonland when Yoofus and Didjety were admitted to the Abbey and the door slammed shut. Gulo looked down at Doogy’s senseless form. He eyed the great drum, an idea forming in his mind. Signalling the vermin to return, he waited on them, nodding with satisfaction.

The wolverine issued orders. “Get ye this captive an’ yon drum back into the woodlands. Move sharp now, I have a plan!”