The Legend of Luke

Cardo had regained his color, as had the rest of them. "Why do you say that, cap'n, er, sorry, Luke?"

"Well, look at it this way. Seascum hate the cold stormy seas as much as we do, so it stands to sense they'd sail to warmer waters. I've a feelin' the farther south we sail the more chance we have o' meetin' up with Vilu Daskar."

Dulam spoke up as he headed for the door. "Great idea. I'm with ye, Luke. But after three days sick I'm feelin' much better, 'cept that I'm famished. Let's break out some vittles an' get a decent feed inside us!"

Dulam's suggestion was welcomed wholeheartedly. The crew were much happier now they were in calmer climes with a plan of action worked out.

A full moon beamed down on the Sayna as she drifted south on calm seas. Luke let Denno, a fat jolly mouse, take the tiller.

"Let her sail easy, Denno, just keep your eyes open and check the tiller from swingin' wide in another direction. I can tell by the smoke comin' from our galley there's some serious cookin' goin' on. Better take a peek, eh?"

Denno shook his head, chuckling. "You'll probly get chased away. There's more cooks in that galley than y'could shake a stick at, an' that Cardo's the worst of all. Thinks 'e's cap'n o' the stewpot!"

Lantern light and steam came from the open galley window. Out on the darkened deck, Luke shook with suppressed laughter as he watched the antics of his crew. They bustled and bumped into one another, each trying to advise or outdo the other with tips on cooking expertise.

"Not too much o' that dried barley, Vurg, go easy."

"Oh, rubbish, my ole mum always put plenty o' barley in every thin' she cooked!"

"Aye, I thought yore mum's fruitcake tasted a bit funny."

"Well it didn't stop you scoffin' it, y'great lard bucket!"

"Lard bucket yoreself, mate. Hoi, Dulam, where are you goin' with the salt? Ship's stew needs lots of salt!"

"How d'you know? 'Tis the first time you've been on a ship. Put any more salt in that stew an' we'll drink the water barrels dry afore mornin'."

"Aye aye there, chop those carrots smaller, mate!"

"Gerrout, I like big cobs o' carrot!"

"So that means we've all got to 'ave great lumps o' carrot?"

"Huh, won't 'urt you. Hey, 'tis my turn to stir. Gimme that ladle."

"I'll give ye it on yore nose, see 'ow y'like that!"

A large cauldron of stew was carried into the big cabin, where Luke had set out beakers of ale and an oatcake by each place. Doing his utmost to keep a straight face, he tried sniffing appreciatively. "Mmm, that smells good. What is it, Cardo?"

A heated debate broke out over the cauldron's contents.

"I call it Cardo's Carrot Seastew!"

"Ho, do you now, well I calls it Vurg's Veggible Delight!"

"I did all the work, so 'tis goin' t'be called Coil's Combination Concoction!"

"No it ain't, it's Dulam's Delicious Shipstew!"

Luke banged the mess table with the serving ladle. "Enough! I won't have mutiny aboard my ship over a pot o' grub. I'll name the stew. Put it down here!"

They watched as Luke ladled a portion into his bowl. Blowing on a spoonful he sampled it gingerly, with his crew looking on anxiously. Bravely, Luke chewed at the stew, his face expressionless. He put down the spoon and took a deep draught of ale.

They all spoke the word at once. "Well?"

Luke picked something from between his teeth and looked at it quizzically before returning his verdict.

"I think it should be called crunchy barley, half-cooked carrot lump, far too salty 'otwater stew. So if you'll excuse me, I'll just stick to oatcake an' ale for tonight's meal, mates. Eat up, an' see how you lot like it!"

Luke wandered out on deck with his frugal meal. "I'll take the tiller for a while, mate. You go an' get somethin' to eat."

Denno immediately stopped gazing at the peaceful moonflaked waves and relinquished his watch. "Certainly smelled great when they carried it to the cabin, Luke. Thankee, mate. I'll enjoy some o' that stew."

Luke smiled wryly. "Oh aye, I'm sure you will!"

Soft pastel-hued skies heralded the dawn. A mouse named Cordle dozed at the tiller, a canteen of water held loosely in his paw. Coll came to relieve him, sipping from a beaker.

"Huh, fine one you are, sleepin' on watch. Good job Luke never caught ye or he'd 'ave whacked yore tail off!"

Cordle blinked sleepily and took a quick swig of water. "Leastways while I'm sleepin' I'm not drinkin'. I tell ye, Coll, I never drank so much water in all me life!"

"Aye, no more o' that blinkin' stew fer me, mate. You could've stood a spoon up in the salt that went into it! If we capture any Sea Rogues, I reckon we should feed it to 'em, that'd teach 'em a lesson." But Cordle was not listeninghe was staring eagerly out to sea. "What's up, Cordle?"

"Look, land! I'm sure of it. That's land of some sort dead ahead. Laaaaand hoooooooo!"

Instantly the ship came alive. The mousecrew tumbled from their bunks and staggered out on deck, rubbing sleep from their eyes as they followed the outstretched paw of Cordle.

"It's land! Land!"

"Dead ahead, Luke. Cordle's spotted land!"

Luke climbed to the bowsprit and viewed the dark blot on the horizon. "Aye, 'tis land sure enough, an island by the look of it. Take in the bow an' mainsails, Coll, an' steer north. We'll sail in nice'n'easy 'round the other side of that island. No sense in chargin' at it full sail. Right, mates, I want you all armed an' alert. Cordle, Denno, Dulam, stay with the ship an' guard it close. The rest of you'll come ashore with me. Make no noise, tread careful an' follow my lead. There's no tellin' what we might meet!"

The Sayna dropped anchor in a sheltered inlet on the island's west side at early noontide. It was sunny, silent and windless. Luke inspected the high rocks surrounding the cove. Seabirds nested in the crags beneath a jumble of trees and vegetation growing on the clifftops. Climbing over the ship's side, the shore party waded through clear sunwarmed shallows to a narrow strip of sandy beach.

Vurg gripped his spear tight, whispering to Luke, "I don't like it, mate. 'Tis far too quietplace gives me the creeps. I feel like somebeast's watchin' us!"

Luke drew a scimitar he had chosen from the former crew's weaponry. He pointed it at a strange sight, a flight of steps carved into the cliffs. "I wonder who took the trouble t'do that? Looks as if they've been there a long time. Let's take a look."

In single file they climbed the smooth, well-carved steps, which, though narrow, were easily negotiable. They ascended in several zigzag shapes to the cliff top. From above, the Sayna looked very small in the cove below. Cardo uprooted something from the ground which he wiped on his tunic before beginning to eat it.

"Mmm, young onion. Wonder how that got here?"

A loud, frightening cry rang out from the trees.

"Oohoohoohaaaaaarrrrreeeeeegharr!"

The hair on Cardo's nape stood straight up, and he dropped the onion. "What'n the name o' frogs was that?"

Luke and Vurg began creeping forward, gesturing to the rest not to follow them. "Stay here. We'll go an' take a look." Crouching low, they made their way into the thickets.

A small bird whistled somewhere, but other than that the only sound the two mice heard was their own foot-paws rustling through the ferns. After a while Luke straightened up. "Well, whatever it was, there's neither sight nor sound of it now, matey."

Vurg uncrouched and something bumped lightly against the back of his head. He turned cautiously. "Hoho, pears, a whole treeful of 'em!"

It was a pear tree, laden with fine ripe fruit.

Vurg picked one, squeezed it gently, nodded approvingly, then took a huge bite. "Mmm shlumphh! Sweet'n'juicy, mate, wunnerful!"

Luke reached for a pear, grinning at his friend's juice-wetted face. "Ole greedyguts, are you eatin' that pear or takin' a bath in it?"

Fffffssssst. . . Splack!

A thick piece of wood with a metal point at either end whipped out of nowhere and thudded deep into the tree trunk between them both. It was followed by a loud booming voice echoing out of the stillness of the trees.

"Seascum! Touch not my food. Go from this place or Werragoola will tear you limb from limb and devour you!"

Luke threw his pear to the ground. "Do as I say, Vurg. Drop your pear an' let's get back t'the crew. Don't argue!"

Vurg was not about to disagree. He dropped the half-eaten pear as if it were a poisonous reptile and followed Luke back the way they had come. When he figured they were both out of sight, Luke dropped down behind a fallen tree.

Vurg was still wide-eyed and trembling. "Did ye hear that voice, matey? It must've come from a beast ten times bigger'n a badger!"

"You lay low here 'til I get back. Give me your spear." Before Vurg had a chance to argue, Luke plucked the spear from his paws and was gone.

Bellying down, Luke crawled back to the pear tree. Then he lay still, checking the area keenly, eyes darting back and forth as he searched the trees for any sign of movement. Satisfied he was not being watched, Luke picked up his fallen pear and stuck it on the point of Vurg's spear. Acting speedily, he flung the spear, butt end first, into a thick bush, where the pear on the spearpoint remained clearly visible, sticking out of the leaves. Next Luke gave the pear tree a good shake, calling out aloud, "Hah! These must be the pears the cap'n tole us about!" Then he wriggled off into the shrubbery with his teeth clamped tight around the scimitar, and lay still, watching.

Suddenly another metal-tipped wooden club struck the pear from the speartip and a mad, booming voice howled angrily, "You did not heed my warning! Now Werragoola says you must die! Yakkahakkaheeeyhooooo!"

A wild, ragged figure hurtled across the tiny clearing and flung itself into the bush, undoubtedly hoping to come to grips with whomever was holding the spear. Luke was after it in a flash. The beast was immediately at a disadvantage, trapped with its bottom sticking out of the bush. The sturdy mouse dealt the target a tidy whack with the flat of his blade and shouted sternly, "Come out o' there, ye savage!"

The reply came back after an agonized gasp. "Haharr! Stabbed me from the rear, eh, seascum? You pirates are all the same. Just wait'H I get out of here!"

Luke gave the bottom another whack with his blade-flat. "Mayhap thisll help ye, Wellaguller, or whatever y'call yoreself. Here, have another taste o' my blade!" He laid on another stinging blow and the beast almost somersaulted out of the bush in a cloud of leaves and broken twigs.

"Owowowouch! Typical vermin pirate type, wot! Can't slay a chap without jolly well torturin' him t'death first. Oooh! My posterior's aflippin'flame, y'great lout!"

It was a hare, garbed ridiculously in rags, seashells and strands of vegetation, its face stained purple with berry juice. Luke watched it cautiously as he put up his sword.

"I'm no seascum. My name's Luke an' I'm a chieftain from far across the seas."

The hare stood up, rubbing his tail area ruefully. "Oh I see, and that gives you the blinkin' right to land up here an' whale the tar out of chaps' bottoms with your sword. Huh, prob'ly why you had to leave the place you came fromeverybeast got fed up with you wallopin' all an' sundry 'round the nether regions with swords an' whatnot, so they banished you from the blinkin' land. Say then, scurvy cad, beaten up any other poor creatures t'day, wot wot? Speak up, sah."

Luke was astonished at the nerve of the hare. "Hold on a tick, flop-ears! First you go terrifyin' my crew with your howlin' an' wailin', then you try to kill me by flingin' those funny-lookin' spears of yours, an' then you got the brass neck to complain when you get caught at it. Just who d'ye think you are?"

Puffing out his narrow chest, the hare clapped a paw to his stomach and bowed curtly. "Who do I think I am, sah? I am smoke on the wind, a creature of many resources! To the vermin inhabiting this island I am Werragoola the purple-faced terror. In a far more elegant life than this I was known as Beauclair Fethringsol Cosfortingham. Fondly referred to as just Beau by m'family, friends an' dear old nanny, wot!"

Vurg stole cautiously up, brandishing a stick. "Ah, there y'are, Luke. But who's this creature?"

Luke made the introductions. "This is the one who was doin' all the shoutin' an' throwin' weapons at us. Vurg, meet Beau."

The hare regarded Vurg's outstretched paw suspiciously. "Vurg, eh? Sounds a right murderous vermin name if ever I heard one. Chap looks shifty, too. D'y'know, I'm not totally convinced that you two aren't Sea Rogues."

Luke sighed impatiently. "Well we're not standin' 'round all day just to convince ye. Come on, Vurg, let's round up the crew an' get back aboard the ship. We're wastin' time here."

They had only gone a few paces when Beau leaped in front of them with a broad grin pasted on his purpled features.

"You're mice, silly old me, wot? Mice aren't seascum, they're good chaps like m'self. Have y'really got a ship, Admiral Luke? Are y'sailin' away from this confounded isle? Take me with you, sirs, I beg of you. I'll even provision your vessel with the food I grow here. You won't be sorry. Old salty Beau they call me on shipboard, can turn m'paw to anythin' nautical. Hoist me mains'l, loose those anchors, take a turn 'round the riggin' an' boggle me bilges, wot wot! I can spout that sort o' rot all season..."

Luke could not help smiling at the lanky excited creature. "Keep that up, Beau, an' we'll make ye swim behind the ship to give us a bit o' peace. You say you've got provisions?"

"Provisions, grub, rations, scoff, vittles, tucker, you name it, Luke m'mouse, an' I've got it!"

Luke was forced to place a paw across Beau's mouth. "Enough, mate. You can sail with us, but on two conditions. Cut the cackle an' show us to the provisions!"

Chapter 22

The crew of the Sayna spent the rest of the afternoon gathering produce which Beau had grown. They carried pears, apples, wild grapes, mushrooms, carrots and all manner of fresh food back to the ship. Luke was wondering whether he would regret his decision, because the hare never once stopped chattering.

"Heave ho, me hearties, that's the ticket, wot wot! I say there, what a jolly little ship, absolutely tiptop! Far nicer than the great red monstrosity that delivered me here, by the left, I should say so!"

They were filling pails from a lively trickle of fresh water running down the cliff face to the shore. Forming a chain, the crew passed it aboard, where it was emptied into the casks to top up the Sayna's water supply. Beau was chattering on as he shoved another pail beneath the running water.

"Oh yes, this's the stuff t'put fur on y'tail, wot! Good fresh water, sweet an' clean, drink it m'self, y'know, mornin' noon an' night. Feel those muscles, see how my eyes sparkle, have y'ever seen teeth as white as mine, wot!"

Luke pulled him to one side. "Beau, did you say a great red ship brought you here?"

"Indeed it did, sah, filthy great thing, name o' the Goreleech."

Luke's paw tightened like a vice over Beau's. "Tell me everything you know about the red ship!"

Beau rubbed his paw and looked quizzically at Luke. "Of course, old chap, no need to crush a fellow's paw. It all started some seasons ago when yours truly got the jolly old urge to go seafarin'. Shipped out on a small merchant craft, tradin' 'round the coast, y'know. Good crew, couple o' shrews, some hedgehogs an' a mouse or two. We were doin' quite well, until one night our ship was lyin' at anchor an' we were all in our hammocks snorin'. Well, the Goreleech sailed up an' took us by surprise, rammed our little boat with its great iron spike, sunk us like a stone, wot.

Sea Rogues everywhere, slew most of the crew, took the remainder captive. I'll never forget the captain of the red ship, a stoat, Vilu Daskar, cruel murderin' villain! I spent two seasons chained to an oar in the red ship's middle decks, starved, whipped, kicked an' beaten. Still got the scars if y'd like to see 'em. I was the only beast out of my old crew left alive after a while. Then I fell sick, too weak'n'thin to be of further use at the oar. Vilu Daskar had me thrown overboard. Prob'ly thought I was about t'die, so the fish an' the tides could finish me. Hah! But I came off stern stock. My old nanny could have told him that I was a Cosfortingham, an' we don't die too easily, y'know. I was washed up here an' this has been my home ever since. Island's full o' vermin, though, searats an' such, deserters, runaways an' some who've been maroonedevil lot. The rogues would've skinned an' scoffed me, but I've spent my seasons here livin' in secret, growin' my own tucker an' fightin' 'em from the shadows'n'tree cover. That's when I became Werragoola Purpleface, regular one-hare army, wot!"

Luke smiled in admiration at the brave hare. "You did well, Beau. Tell me, have you ever sighted Vilu Daskar's vessel again?"

"Rather. Passed here three moons ago, put in for water an' sailed off bound south. I hid on the clifftops an' watched the red ship come an' go. D'you know, your ship's the first decent craft with honest crew I've ever seen put in here. Jolly lucky for me I'd say, wot wot!"

Screeching war cries cut the conversation short, and Beau hurled himself at Luke, knocking him to one side. A rough, sharp spear buried itself in the sand where Luke had stood a moment before. Down the steps in the cliff face, a huge mob of ragged vermin were dashing toward the Sayna's crew.

The Warrior mouse acted swiftly. Grabbing the spear, he ran forward, shaking it to feel the balance. From halfway between the tideline and the stairs he made a mighty throw. A searat, slightly ahead of the rest, took the spear through his middle and toppled over screaming. Those behind could not stop their mad charge and stumbled over the slain rat. Luke's roar snapped the crew out of their shock.

"Back to the ship at the double!"

The vermin who had tripped on their fallen comrade did not have far to fall. They sprawled in the sand momentarily, then scrambled up and gave chase after the mice.

Weapons drawn, Luke, Vurg and Beau stood in the shallows, hurrying the crew past them. "Get aboard quick, mates, loose all sails an' up anchor!"

Cordle, Denno and Dulam helped the first few over the side and set to, turning the windlass to haul up the anchor.

Wild with their desire to capture a ship, vermin thundered recklessly into the water. Luke swung back and forth with his sword, slaying and wounding wherever he struck. Vurg hit out with his spear and Beau went at them, a club in each paw. "Yaaah! Back, back, ye scum!"

Other vermin were coming in from both sides now, to cut the trio off from their vessel. Aboard the Sayna, Coll and some others went to work. Hanging over the stern, they whizzed arrows and slingstones at the mob in the shallows. It was Cardo who saved the day, though. Grabbing an ax, he chopped the rear anchor free of its rope, then, heaving until he had pulled a fair length from the windlass, the resourceful mouse cast the thick line into the sea. "Grab ahold, mates, we'll haul ye aboard!"

Luke held off the closest foes while Beau seized the rope and knotted it into a wide loop, which he threw over Vurg and Luke with one wide cast, then ducked inside to join them. Bound together within the noose of anchor rope, they struck out at the surrounding attackers, with Vurg bellowing back to the ship, "Heave away, mates, fast as y'like!"

Billowing sails caught the wind, whipping the Sayna out to sea. Every available crewmouse bent his back at the windlass spokes, making it fly around. Luke smashed a spearhead with a swipe of his swordblade, but before he could strike at its owner, his footpaws left the seabed and he was swept away backward with Vurg and Beau pressed either side of him. Even spraying sea water sloshing at his mouth could not silence the hare.

"Fare thee well, vermin, glub glub! G'bye, chaps, gluggle!

With the Sayna's outward momentum and the windlass winding them in, they soon outdistanced the maddened vermin. Vurg felt his back bump hard against the ship's side as Beau hooted, "Steady on, chaps, glub! We ain't the blinkin' enemy. Gluggle ug! D'ye mind lettin' us live a trifle longer! Pshaw! This seawater tastes jolly foul, wot!"

Willing paws pulled them aboard, and Luke wriggled free of the rope. They stood astern, watching the island recede as the enraged mob fought among themselves in the shallows. Luke put aside his blade and took off his sopping tunic.

"How did we do, Cardo? Everybeast safe?"

"Aye, they're all alive, mate, one or two wounds. I took a slingstone right across the paw meself!"

Vurg inspected the cut on his friend's paw. "Nasty! Is that the paw you use t'cook with?"

Cardo smiled cheerfully. "No."

Vurg gave a disappointed sigh. "Wot a pity!"

The crew laughed heartily at the indignant Cardo.

Beau looked from one to another, unable to fathom the joke. "What's so funny? Is the blighter an awful cook?"

This caused further laughter and more indignation from Cardo. "Take no notice of 'em, Beau. They're all lousy cooks. You'll be sorry you signed aboard this ship, mate, 'specially when y'taste the grub. It's dreadful. Even the fishes throw the scraps back aboard!"

Immediately the hare cast off his raggy garb and began wrapping a length of canvas around his waist like an apron. "Lucky you found me then, chaps. Aboard my old ship I was voted the choicest chef to be chosen from all chief chefs!"

Coll nudged the hare. "Bet you couldn't say that again?"

Beau dismissed him with an airy twiddle of both ears. "Couldn't I though, hah? I was the cheese chosen chief of all choosers, no, wait a tick, I was choked by a chosen chief chook, no, that ain't right..."

Luke interrupted him. "If y'can cook, then stow the blather an' get t'the galley. Cardo, you can be Beau's assistant. Denno, attend the wounded, you were always good at healin'. Coll, you take the tiller. Keep that westerin' sun at your right shoulderwe're followin' the red ship south. The rest of you trim the sails an' see she moves along steady!"

Beau turned out to be an excellent cook. That night he served the crew of the Sayna a meal to gladden their hearts. Being a hare, he cooked victuals in generous portions, so there was more than enough for all.

"Right ho, I know this'll be wasted on you famine-faced chaps, but here's tonight's menu, wot. Starters, cheese an' onion turnovers, with my own flaky pastry, followed by shrimp an' mushroom bake in a parsley an' turnip sauce. For afters there's a pear an' plum pudden. To drink, mint an' dandelion tea or some rather good cider I found in your ship's stores. Hold hard a moment there, don't touch a bally crumb 'til I've said grace, you savages!"

Luke lowered his eyes, admonishing the crew. "He's right. No need to get sloppy an' bad-mannered 'cos we're not at home. Carry on, Beau."

The hare intoned the grace at tremendous speed.

"Fate'n'fortunes smile on us,

An' of this crew take care,

But let no greedy robber try,

To guzzle up my share!"

Before anybeast could raise an eye or pick up a spoon, the hare was tucking in as if there were no tomorrow.

Vurg passed the turnovers to Luke. "Our cook can certainly shift the vittles, mate!"

Luke sniffed the hot turnovers appreciatively. "Beau can do wot he likes, long as he keeps servin' up meals as good as this 'un!"

"Aye. Better put some aside for Cordlehe's on tiller watch."

The Sayna plowed steadily south on fair seas under a waning moon. Weary after the day's exertions, her crew lay down to rest, though food seemed to have the opposite effect on the garrulous cook. Beau quoted endless rhymes, danced and sang ceaselessly, now that he was not alone but in the company of friends. Luke sent him on deck to guard the tiller, and he did a double watch, serenading the sea and the night skies. Dulam wadded his cloak about both ears, complaining bitterly. "A good cook he may be, but a tuneful singer he ain't. Sounds like somebeast attackin' a plank wid a rusty saw out there. Hoi, give yore gob a rest, will ye, Beau!"

But insults and pleas had no effect on the off-key warbler.

"Oooooh flunky dee an' a rum tumtum,

The good ship Flinkydogg,

Set sail with a crew o' fishes,

An' fat ole cap'n frog.

Oooooh doodle dey make way make way,

The frog said to the fishes,

'All fins on deck an' use yore tails,

To wash these dirty dishes!'

Oooooh skiddle deedoo, a fig for you,

The fishcrew boldly cried,

'Just chuck 'em in the ocean,

They'll be washed up by the tide!'

'Tis mutiny oh woe is me,

The frog did croak so sad,

'If I'd a crew o' boiler crabs,

They'd not be'ave so bad!'

'Twas after dark, a passin' shark,

Heard what was goin' on,

So for his tea, impartially,

He ate up everyone.

Oooooh goodness me hoho heehee,

The shark smiled, 'Lackaday,

I can't abide a feckless frog,

Nor fish who won't obey!'"

Beau neatly dodged an apple core flung at him from the cabin. His ears stood up indignantly. "Rotten bounders, fancy chuckin' missiles at a chap who's doin' his level best to sing y'to sleep, ungrateful cads!"

He was answered by an irate bellow. "Y'great lanky lollop-eared breezebarrel. Shuttup!"

Beau lay back on the deck, tending the tiller with a long footpaw.

“ A wink's as good as a nod t'me, old lad. If y'don't appreciate good music then I'll withdraw the privilege of my melodious meanderings. But I'll finish this little ditty first. Stay calm, there's only another forty-six verses to go.

Chapter 23

In the following weeks the Sayna covered many sea leagues. They were well out of the cold latitudes and the weather became almost tropical, with constant sunshine beating down out of clear blue skies. But Luke was getting edgy and frustrated. There had been no sign of the red ship, which could be anywhere in the trackless wastes of ocean they were searching. Between them, he and Denno began drawing up a chart, from the northern shores to the isle where Beau had lived and onward. Luke was disappointed that there were no other landfalls to act as route markers.

"We're sailin' blind, mate. At least if we sighted land there might be some news of the red ship, but all we've seen for ages now is nothing but sea on every horizon."

Denno put aside his quill pen, nodding agreement. "Aye, we could do with takin' on some fresh water, too, an' the supplies are runnin' low. That hare must think his one job in life is dishin' up mountains o' vittles to the crew. Lookit the stomach I've put on!"

Luke, however, was not about to criticize his cook. "You leave ole Beau out o' this, Denno. That hare can do no wrong as far as I'm concerned, mate. I never tasted such wonderful food in all my seasons."

But Denno's words proved prophetic. It was on the afternoon of the following day that Vurg scraped bottom of one water cask with the dipper.

"If'n we don't sight land soon then I reckon we're in trouble, matey. Water's all but finished!"

Beau emerged from his galley swinging a ladle. "No water? Well, we'll have t'make do with cider an' whatnot. Cardo, what's the jolly old position on drinks other than water? You're my assistant seacook."

There was a rattling and scuttling from the galley, then Cardo popped a mournful face around the door. "Down t'the dregs, Beau, down t'the very dregs!"

The irrepressible Beau began climbing the rope ladder of the center mast. "Well, no use standin' 'round with a face like a squashed apple, comrade o' mine. Just have t'scan the bloomin' horizon for land, wot wot!"

Cardo cast a withering glance up at Beau. "Oh, just like that?"

The hare was now clinging to the mainmast top, one paw shading his eyes as he gazed eagerly all around. "Well of course just like that, y'silly fat mouse. Hello there, chaps, is that a smudge way out to the south-west? Land ho! Or at least I'll bet it's somethin' jolly close to land. Hah, well done that hare! Mention in dispatches, maybe jot down a line o' praise or two in the ship's log at the very least!"

Luke shoved Denno playfully. "Y'see, matey, told you I wouldn't have a word said against ole Beau! Cordle, set a course sou'west. If that's land, we might make it before tomorrow mornin'."

Tacking against the prevailing breezes, the Sayna lay off the island three hours before dawn. A huge cone, of what Luke took to be an extinct volcano, reared dark and forbidding against the night sky. Though it was difficult to see much in the darkness, Beau noted that there were forests of trees growing on the slopes and a shoreline of kinds. Luke spoke his thoughts to the hare as he sized up the situation.

"We'd best stay offshore until 'tis lightthere might be reefs 'twixt here an' the beach. Don't see any signs o' life ashore, but we'd best not chance anythin' until daylight. You go an' get a bit o' shuteye with the crew, Beau, I'll call ye when 'tis light."

"Wouldn't think of it, old lad. You and I shall stand watch together, 'til the ravenwinged shades of night are flown and earth is reborn in fiery sunlight to day!"

Luke leaned on the taffrail, eyes searching the shoreline. "Well said, Beau, very poetic, mate."

The talkative hare perked up. "Thank ye kindly, Luke. I'm rather glad you appreciate poetry. Here's a modest effort I composed m'self, to while away the hours back on my island. 'A mole and a duck went strolling one day'"

Luke's strong paws clamped around Beau's jaws, holding his mouth tight shut. "Either be quiet or go t'sleep. If you don't I'll put ye to sleep with a belayin' pin!"

As dawn broke, Luke roused the crew, and they sailed cautiously in toward the shore. Now the island could be viewed clearly. The beach was dark bluey-black volcanic sand. A thin plume of white smoke drifted lazily from the top of the rock cone which dominated the place, denoting that the volcano was not altogether extinct. Purple and scarlet flowers bloomed thick in the foothills, and many of the trees had huge spear-shaped leaves. It was an exotic scene, though the total silence made it rather sinister. As Vurg watched the Sayna's prow nose into the sandy shallows, he conveyed his misgivings to Luke.

"I'm gettin' that same feelin' I had last time we came to an islandI don't like it, matey. Too quiet for a place that looks so fertile. There's got to be some sort o' creatures livin' here!"

Luke pointed to the shore. "You're right, Vurg. See there? Slightly above the tideline? What d'you make o' that?"

Beau elbowed his way to the prow. "A great pile o' fruit! The creatures must be jolly friendly leavin' a gift like that for us."

Luke frowned. "Too friendly, perhaps. Let's not be too hasty. There's something about this little offering that doesn't ring true."

But Beau was already leaping the side. "C'mon, you chaps! I'll be food taster. My stomach's as steady as a jolly old rock, wot wot."

Before Luke could stop them, most of the crew had followed the hare, bounding overboard into the shallows and splashing ashore toward the heap of luscious fruit piled on the beach. Vurg chuckled as the hare picked a grape, tossed it and caught it deftly in his mouth. He waited a few seconds and then waved a large bunch of wild grapes at the ship. "Still standin', me hearties. Delicious! C'mon, everyone, tuck in!"

Luke and Vurg watched as they all pounced hungrily on the mysterious gift. "Ahoy, Beau," called Vurg. "Bring some back for us."

"Right y'are, Vurg. I say, chuck the empty casks overboard an' we'll see if we can find a stream to fill 'em from."

Being the only two left on board, Vurg and Luke rolled all the casks out and tipped them over the side. Vurg tied the tiller in position so the ship would not drift.

"I was wrong, Luke. This island seems quite friendly now. P'raps Beau was right, an' whoever left the fruit out doesn't mean us any harm. Mayhap they'll show themselves before the day's out."

A stream of freshwater actually flowed across the shore, not far from the heap of fruit. Dulam and Cardo filled the casks and got them back to the ship. Luke rigged a rope through the mainsail's top block, and between them he and Vurg hoisted the casks of water aboard. Dulam and Cardo waded back to join their friends ashore.

Luke called after them. "Make the most of it. Tell the crew I want them back on deck by sunset. We sail at first tide tomorrow."

Luke was busy stowing the casks in the galley when Vurg shouted urgently from out on deck. "Onshore, mate. Come an' see!" He left what he was doing and hurried out.

Some of the crew were lying down amid the fruit, some were sitting aimlessly nearby, while one or two of the remainder were staggering oddly about. All appeared to have slack grins on their faces. Luke yelled, "Ahoy, Coll, Dulam, Beau, what's the matter, mates?"

Dulam collapsed on the sand, Coll fell on top of him, only Beau remained standing. The hare gave a faint giggle, tried to wave, then his legs gave out and he sat down awkwardly, staring at the ship, smiling foolishly.

Luke smote the taffrail. "That fruit, I should've known it. C'mon, Vurg!"

But Vurg was pointing to where the foothills met the shore. "Wait, those bushes are movin'!"

Halfway over the side, Luke checked himself. He could scarcely believe his eyes. The entire hillside had come to life. Literally hundreds of bushes were moving across the shore in a massive screen of foliage. On instinct he leaped back aboard and dragged Vurg down flat.

A veritable hail of missiles struck the boat: arrows, javelins, spears and stones. Drums began pounding aloud and an eerie wailing rose from the bushes, followed by another salvo of missiles. Luke grabbed a long boathook.

"Get your spear, Vurg. Pole her off into deeper water."

Scurrying forward, they pushed the vessel into the ebb tide, grunting with exertion as they pressed hard against their poles. An arrow thwacked into Vurg's shoulder, and Luke ignored a deep javelin graze across his cheek.

"Push, Vurg, let's give it all we've got, mate!"

The Sayna's keel scraped free of the sand. Luke dashed recklessly astern and slashed the rope which held the tiller rigid. Wheeling sideways, the Sayna caught the tide. Luke flattened himself as another rain of death peppered the ship, then she was bow out, sailing free. Arrows, sticking up from the deck timbers as if from a pincushion, snapped against Luke's footpaws as he dashed back to Vurg's side.

Wincing, the brave mouse tugged the shaft from his shoulder. "Lucky that arrow's flight was near spent an' my tunic's a good thick 'un. I'm not bad hurt, Luke, what about you?"

Luke pawed blood from the cut on his cheek. "Only a scratch, mate, I'll live. Whoever they are, 'tis plain they can't shoot straight. Great seasons, look!"

Vurg stared in amazement at the diminishing shoreline. Silent and deserted the beach lay, as if nobeast had ever been there. All that remained was a pile of squashed fruit. Vurg turned in bewilderment to his friend. "Where've they gone? Denno, Cordle, Beau, the whole crew are gone. What do we do now?"

Grim faced, Luke gazed at the shoreline, his warrior blood pounding furiously as he strove to control himself. "Let's make sail, it'll look as if we're runnin' away. We'll wait 'til dark, Vurg. Then we'll go back an' get 'em!"

Drums pounded everywhere. At first, Cardo thought they were inside his skull, causing the massive headache that woke him. However, he saw that they were all too real when he opened his eyes. It was a scene that turned his blood to ice water, though strangely, everything was wrong side up. Like the rest of his crewmates, he had been bound tight and slung lengthways on a stout pole, so that his head hung down. The poles had been hoisted up on ropes, close to the ceiling of a big cave, with a fire burning at its center. Rock ledges had been carved around the cave walls in tiers, and these were crowded with hundreds of small fierce ratlike rodents, unlike any Cardo had ever seen. They were covered with intricate patterns of red, orange and white dyes, with clattering seashells affixed to ears, paws and tails.

At the rear of the cave were two massive drums, atop of which forty or fifty of the rodents performed a stamping dance. The sound boomed and banged relentlessly, increased fourfold as it echoed around the cave's interior. Crouching by the fire was a figure far larger than the rest, obviously a female weasel, draped from ears to tail with long necklaces and bracelets made from painted crab claws. Her face was daubed thick with white clay, black charcoal lines accentuating the features.

Beau was hanging alongside Cardo. He opened his eyes, looked around, then squinched his ears flat peevishly and called downward to the rodents, "Put a flippin' bung in it, you chaps, wot! Those drums are makin' my old noggin throb dreadfully. I say there, you! Yes you, marm, tell these blighters t'desist. Hmph! Rank bad manners t'go thumpin' drums like that when a body's feelin' out o' sorts. Now pack it jolly well in!"

As if by magic, complete silence fell. The remainder of the crew had awakened, and Beau winked at them knowingly. "Voice of command an' discipline, that's the thing t'give the blinkin' troops, wot wot!"

The weasel sprang upright. Grabbing a long wand ornamented with dried sea urchins, she shook it, pointing first at the captives, then to somewhere at the back of the cave between the two drums, and finally making a long sweeping gesture at the crammed masses of rodents.

"Rabbatooma! Slarissssssss! Ya Aggoreema!"

This seemed to drive the rodents into a frenzy. They laughed savagely, howling back at their leader, "Ya Marrahagga! Slarissssssss! Ko, Slarissssssss!"

Coll strained his head over toward Beau. "Huh, 'ope you ain't said the wrong thing, mate."

The hare was quite indignant. "Wrong thing, laddie? Me? I should say not. Tact an' diplomacy are the pawmark of us Cosfortinghams. Hang on a tick, I'll have a word with that vermin lady, see what the position is as regards loosin' us from our bonds, wot. Now then, my good villainess, d'you think y'could spare a few of those runty types to unbind me'n'my stalwart comrades? Sort of save us hangin' around, pardon the pun."

Ignoring the hare's request, the weasel crouched and began making mysterious weaving patterns upon the cave floor with her wand. The small ratlike creatures pointed at the captives and chanted aloud, "Ko Slarissssss Rabbatooma! Slarissssss eeeeeeyoh!"

Denno shook a droplet of perspiration from his nose-tip. "Phew! I'm roasted!"

Dulam closed his eyes, as if trying to block out his thoughts. "Quiet, mate. That could be a bad choice o' words. They might be flesh eaters."

Now the rodents who had been dancing on the drumheads deserted their posts, swiftly scrambling onto the ledges alongside the rest. Casting something into the fire, the weasel caused the flames to burn green. Then she went to the drums and began tapping her wand alternately against the side of each one, calling out in a sibilant voice, "Slarissssss Slarisssssss Slarisssssssssss!"

Ever the optimist, Beau suggested brightly, "D'y'know, I'm not familiar with their lingo, but I'll wager Slariss is some sort o' greeting, like how d'ye do, or good evenin', chaps. P'raps I'd better return the compliment, show some manners, wot. I say, marm, Slariss t'you, too. Slarissssssssssss. Howzat?"

From a hidden opening behind the two drums Slariss emerged.

Beau's mouth went suddenly dry with feareven he was not ready for this. The snake's head was bright green and huge. It slid slowly out in a seemingly never-ending ripple of sleek coils. As if searching, its flickering tongue quested in and out restlessly, eyes glittering in the firelight, twin diamonds of primitive evil. Lazily the green and black chevroned coils formed into several loops, one atop the other, with the flat reptilian head resting at their peak. Standing at the other side of the fire, the weasel poked the tip of her long wand in the flames until it was glowing. Not one creature in the cave made a sound or moved a muscle. The snake was hunting, seeking a victim. The crew hung motionless, stiff with terror. Beau was not aware of the glowing wand's end approaching behind his head. Suddenly the weasel touched it against the tip of his long right ear.

"Yowchowoop!" He shook his head.

"Slarisssssss!"

Not a paw's length away, the snake swayed its head, mouth open, fangs bared dangerously, hissing its challenge. The hare found himself staring into the reptile's eyes. Frozen with nameless dread, he hung there helpless.

Chapter 24

The night was humid, still warm from the day's sun. The Sayna came back to the island on the floodtide, showing no sail. Luke and Vurg dropped anchor offshore.

Vurg was muttering to himself as they went over the side. "Can't tell if'n anybeast's watchin' us. I 'ope none spotted us comin' in. Suppose they did, though? Mebbe one of us should've stayed behind as guard on board."

Luke chuckled dryly. "I thought o' that meself, mate, but it'll take the two of us to rescue our crew. Besides, if we get caught, too, then what use is a ship to us? Stow your chunnerin', Vurg, y'gettin' to sound more like an ole mousewife every day."

They stole up the deserted beach, using any rocks they found as cover. Closer to the foothills, Vurg held up a paw. "Sssh, lissen, can you hear anythin'?"

Luke stood quite still and listened closely. "Thought it was the waves at first, but it sounds like some sort o' chantdrums, too. Aye, that's the sound o' drums!"

Vurg pointed to the foothills, slightly to the right of them. "Comin' from there, matey. I'm sure 'tis!"

Sword and spear at the ready, they pressed on into the foliage stretching uphill before them. The sounds of drums and chanting grew louder, closer. Luke whispered, "Stay there, mate. I'll go an' take a peek."

The cave entrance was a short winding tunnel. Luke sized up the lay of the land, then beckoned to Vurg. They crouched behind a bush at one side of the entrance while Luke explained his plan.

"See that round boulder, just uphill there? D'you reckon we could shift it between us, Vurg?"

"Aye, at least we'll give it a try, mate!"

"Good, but first we need to dig a bit of a hole here."

"Where, right here in the entrance to the tunnel?"

"That's right. Ground's pretty soft, we'll use our weapons."

Between them they scraped out a shallow depression in the tunnel's mouth. Luke searched about until he found a sizable chunk of rock, which he placed to one side of the hole, tamping it down firmly.

"Right, now let's move that boulder."

It was a large round stone, but it moved slowly when Luke set his back against it and Vurg used his spearbutt as a lever. Luke fought for control as they rolled it down toward the entrance.

"Whoa, go easy now, mate, easy does it, just a touch more. There, that should do it!"

The boulder was checked from rolling into the hole at the cave entrance by the rock Luke had placed there, which now served as a wedge to hold the boulder back.

Luke drew his sword, then paused. "Those drums've stopped. Come on, somethin' must be goin' on in there. Be careful not t'make any noise, matey."

The friends crept through the tunnel and, keeping to the shadowed walls, entered the main cave, hardly able to believe their eyes at what they saw. Sinister green firelight flickered over the massed faces of the rodents packed on the ledges, all staring fascinated at one thing. The great snake! The reptile's thick neck was quivering as, rearing back and hissing coldly, it prepared to strike at Beau.

Luke sprang into immediate action. Grabbing Vurg's spear, he hopskipped forward a pace and hurled the hefty weapon with all the force he could muster.

Speechless with horror, Beau saw the reptile's mouth open wide, revealing sharp deadly fangs as it struck forward at his unprotected face. Then, like a lightning bolt, the spear went smashing into the gaping mouth, driving half its length out through the back of the neck column. Thrashing wildly in its death throes, the snake fell back to the floor, its powerful body flailing like an immense bullwhip, battering rodents from the lower ledges and scattering the fire into a cascade of flying sparks and embers.

The weasel scarcely had time to turn before Luke was upon her, ramming the vermin leader flat against the rock wall, his swordblade at her throat. "One move an' yore dead meat, scum!" the Warrior roared into her painted face.

Though the weasel could not understand Luke's language, the message was clear. The only part of her which moved was her throat, as she gulped against the swordblade.

" 'Tis Luke, mates. We're saved!"

A ragged cheer rang out from the crew. Below them the dead snake was still causing great damage. Rodents were flung high, smashed against the cave walls, crushed and beaten senseless by the writhing coils of the monster. It seemed like an eternity before the reptile's body went limp and still. However, a great number of the rodents had escaped serious injury, huddling together on the highest cave ledges. Several of them now grabbed weapons and advanced on Luke and Vurg, screeching savagely.

"Marrahagga lagor Rabbatooma! Lagor!"

Vurg swiftly freed his spear from the snake's carcass and joined Luke, pressing his spearpoint at the weasel's heart. Luke kept the sword at her throat as he growled, "Tell 'em to back off an' cut my crew loose!" He nodded to the bound figures hanging on their poles from the cave ceiling. "My crew. Cut 'em down afore I cut you down. Now!"

The weasel raised a paw slowly and pointed at the crew. "Rabbatooma, lagor, Ko!"

One rodent, obviously some kind of minor chieftain, bowed curtly to the weasel. "Ya Marrahagga!" Turning sullenly to the rest he indicated the prisoners. "Lagor Rabbatooma."

Beau had recovered from his shock and rediscovered speech.

"I should jolly well say so, you foul little fiends. You heard him. Let us Rabbatoomas go, this very instant!"

The rodents obeyed. Swinging out on ropes, they perched on the poles and sawed through the crews' bonds with their daggers. With shouts of relief and pain, Beau and the Sayna's crewmice fell to the dusty cave floor, where they lay groaning.

Cardo whimpered as he tried to rise. "Paws've gone numb with bein' tied tight for so long!"

Luke's reply was brusque. "We can't linger here, mates. Crawl out on your bellies, move yourselves. That's an order!"

Luke and Vurg were still menacing the weasel as the crew hauled themselves out in a sorry complaining bunch.

"Ow ow, I got pins'n'needles in all me paws!"

"My pore head's achin' fit to split, mate!"

"Look, that rodent slashed m'tail when he cut the ropes!"

"Huh, you should complain. My backfur's all scorched from hangin' over that blazin' fire!"

Luke kicked the last one's tail lightly. "Mebbe next time you'll wait my orders afore dashin' ashore to stuff drugged fruit down yore faces!"

When the crew were gone, Luke spun the weasel around and held the blade across her throat from behind.

"Keep an eye on those savages, Vurg. Stick 'em if'n they get too close. Right, weasel, we're backin' out of here nice'n'easy. Don't move or yore a dead 'un!"

As they retreated, the rodents followed them, crying, "Lagor Marrahagga!"

Luke was beginning to understand what they said. "Don't fret, buckoes, we'll let go of yore Marrahagga as soon as we're out o' this stinkin' place. Now back off!"

They negotiated the short, winding tunnel. Waiting outside, the crew were massaging life back into numbed paws. Luke guided the weasel around the shallow pit they had dug, and the rodents had just reached its edge when he nodded to Vurg. "Knock that wedge aside, sharpish!"

Vurg hit the piece of rock a sharp tap with his spear-butt, moving it aside. The boulder rolled forward half a turn and landed in the shallow hole with a bump. It blocked the tunnel entrance off completely and muffled the squeaks of rage sounding from behind it.

Vurg leaned on his spear, grinning. "A good tight fit, I'd say, mate!"

Luke ordered his crew to get back aboard the Sayna, while he and Vurg took the weasel and forced her to sit next to the pile of squashed fruit. With his swordpoint Luke drew a picture of the Goreleech in the sand, then he transferred the point back to the weasel's throat.

"Marrahagga see red ship sail by here? Red ship, big one?"

The weasel watched Luke's face as he repeated the question several times over. Carefully she drew three circles in the sand, with squiggly lines radiating from them and an arrow pointing south. While Vurg squinted at the drawing, the weasel tapped Luke's sketch of the ship thrice.

Luke understood. "Three suns, that's three days," he explained to his bemused friend. "She says the red ship sailed by here three days back, bound south."

Vurg dusted his paws off in a businesslike manner. "That means we ain't far behind her, mate. Better get under way. What do we do about this 'un, Luke?"

The weasel looked unhappily at the Warrior. Touching the swordblade with a paw, she tried to shake her head. A mischievous smile crept over Luke's face, and he thrust a big squashed plum at the weasel's mouth. "Eat!" She shut her lips tight in revulsion. Luke swung his blade aloft as if to slay her with one blow. "Marrahagga eat! Eat!"

The weasel gobbled the fruit with great alacrity.

Vurg giggled like a mousebabe and selected a bruised pear. "Cummon, Marryhaggit, try some more o' yore own medicine!"

The weasel was forced to down two more plums and a peach. She sat unhappily, juice dribbling down her chin.

Vurg turned to Luke, full of mock sympathy. "Dearie me, she don't look too 'appy, mate. D'ye think she's still hungry?"

Luke passed the weasel a half-eaten apple that one of his crew had sampled earlier on. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about ole Marrahagga, mate, she'll cheer up soon. Come on, let's get goin'."

When they looked back, the weasel had picked up a piece of fruit and was about to hurl it at them. She swayed, dropped the fruit and sat down with a bump, a silly grin plastered on her painted face.

Vurg waved to her. "G'bye, ole Marryhaggit, 'tis nice to see we're leavin' you happy. I can't abide sad farewells!"

Luke waved, too. "Aye, an' take care of that headache you'll have tomorrow!"

As the Sayna left the island in her wake, the crew sat sipping hot tea of a herbal remedy brewed by Denno. Cardo, voted spokesmouse by his crewmates, addressed the Warrior.

"Luke, we're sorry we raced ashore an' ate that fruit. 'Twas silly of us. But we'd like to offer a hearty vote of thanks to you for savin' our lives. Yore a true warrior!"

Luke held up his paws to silence the cheers. "Aye, I saved you because I was able to, mates. Pity I wasn't there when the red ship hit the northlands shore. Every night an' day I think of my son Martin back there, growin' up without a mother to care for him, nor a father, with me off here chasin' the red ship. But we'll catch her, I swear we will. An' I'll make the name Vilu Daskar just a dirty memory in the minds of honest beasts!"

The crew went off to their sleeping places as the ship sailed south in the soft warm night, each with their own memories of family lost or left behind. Luke stood in the prow, keeping watch, lost in thoughts of Martin's small figure on the strand, waving his father's old battlesword. He stared forlornly at the gentle bow wave dispersing into the calm dark sea.

"Someday I'll come back and find you waiting for me, son.

Chapter 25

On an island many leagues to the south, black smoke billowed above the crackling flames of what had once been a peaceful community of squirrels. Vermin, armed to the fangs, roamed in bands through the forestlands, slaying anybeast who dared to oppose them. Screams rent the air, whips cracked as pitiless rogues rounded up those left alive. Bound neck and paw into a straggling line, the bewildered captives were dragged out of the sheltering trees, into the dunes above the tideline. Akkla, the ferret mate, sniggered evilly, watching the prisoners' horror as they glimpsed their home to be: the red ship Goreleech, riding at anchor in the sea offshore.

"Move yerselves, me beauties, we'll soon find yer a snug liddle berth aboard the pretty red boat!"

Vilu Daskar sat on the beach, chin on the bone handle of his scimitar, pensively watching while Parug, his bosun, forced the terrified squirrels to kneel and bow their heads before the master of the red ship. Vilu stayed silent until the pitiful heap of provisions and plunder was piled in front of him. Lazily the stoat's eyes flicked over the crewbeasts standing around the pile.

"Is this the best you could do?"

One, a burly weasel called Rippjaw, shrugged. "Dat's all we be findin', cap'n!"

Vilu stood slowly, his eyes fixed on a necklace of yellow beads, which Rippjaw sported about his neck.

"So, where did you get that trinket, my illiterate friend?"

Rippjaw glanced down at the necklace with his good eye. "Oh, diss. I take 'im offa deadbeast, cap'n."

Vilu's scimitar made a noise like an angry wasp as he slew the weasel with one powerful stroke of the sharp blade. With a look of bored disdain, he flicked the necklace from Rippjaw's severed neck onto the pile.

"Must I keep reminding you addlebrained fools that all loot belongs to me? You do not steal from Vilu Daskar." He turned to the prisoners, as if noticing them for the first time. "Hmm, you're a pretty wretched lot. No mind, though, you'll soon learn to pull an oareither that or die. Well, lost your tongues? Nobeast got anything to say?"

An ancient squirrel, silver-gray with uncounted seasons, raised his bound paws and pointed at Vilu. "The one that follows upon the wave, will steer you one day to your grave!"

The stoat could not explain the shudder that ran through him, but it was gone in an instant. He dismissed it, observing to Akkla, who stood awaiting orders, "I make it a rule never to take notice of threats by those I've conquered. If any of them were true, I'd have been dead long ago. Take that dithering old relic and the rest of his tribe aboard the Goreleech and chain them on deck."

The captives were being moved off when wild commotion broke out at the woodland fringe. More than a score of crewbeasts fought wildly to control a single squirrel. Vilu leaped nimbly onto a grass-topped dune, viewing the scene with evident enjoyment. Noosed ropes held the maddened squirrel by her paws, neck, tail and waist. The vermin dug their footpaws into the sand, hauling on the lines to keep them taut and prevent her attacking them. She was a huge sinewy creature, with unusually black shining fur that glistened in the sunlight. Though wounded and scarred in several places, she heaved and bucked against the ropes, sending vermin sprawling, baring strong white teeth at them.

Stopping safely out of reach on his perch, Vilu smiled. "Whoa! What have we here, a real fighter?"

The searat Grigg, his paws cut and burning from rope friction, reported in a strained voice, "This'n's killed four crew single-pawed, cap'n. 'Tis like tryin' to 'old a pack o' sharks at bay!"

Vilu leaped down from the dune. "Hold her tight, now!" Advancing on the bound squirrel, he soon had his scimitar tip under her chin, forcing her head back.

"Be still now. I am Vilu Daskar and I could kill you with a flick of my blade. Be still!"

Snorting for breath against the noose around her neck, the squirrel fixed her blazing eyes on the stoat, hatred and loathing ringing fearlessly in her harsh voice.

"I know who you are, scumface. Let's see you put down that blade an' loose me. I'm Ranguvar Foeseeker an' I could rip you t'bits without need of a weapon to do the job!"

Vilu pressed his bladepoint harder, causing a drop of blood to stand out against the jet black fur.

"Ranguvar Foeseeker, eh? Hearken then, you're in no position to throw out challenges, and I've no intention of fighting you. I don't do battle with my slaves."

Ranguvar tried to push her chin further onto the blade. "Coward! Then slay me an' be quick about it!"

Vilu withdrew his scimitar, shaking his head. "Never thought I'd live to see the day, a berserk female squirrel! No no, my friend, I'm not going to slay you. What a waste that would be. With mad strength like that you could do the work of a score of oar slaves alone. A few seasons of Bullflay's whip and short rations will humble you. Down on the bottom deck, front row. The seaspray day and night should cool you down a bit. Take her away!"

"You won't break me, dirtbrain," Ranguvar yelled as she was being dragged off. "Don't close your eyes to sleep while Ranguvar Foeseeker is aboard your cursed ship!"

Vilu Daskar picked up a pawful of dry sand and watched the breeze carry it away, remarking to Grigg, "Huh, insults and threats, they're like sand in the wind to me, Grigg: here one moment, gone and forgotten the next."

Minus the use of oars, using only her sails, the red ship coursed south. Bullflay, the chief slave driver, and his assistants unchained all the galley slaves and herded them up on the trireme's high maindeck. The Goreleech's new squirrel captives were shocked by the sight of the oar-wielders. Starved to emaciation, hollow-eyed and ragged, barely alive in some cases, the wretched slaves blinked against the bright afternoon. Bullflay cracked his long sharkskin whip low, pulling several of the slaves flat as it curled around their footpaws.

"On yer knees, ye worthless fishbait, don't yer see the cap'n's present?"

Ranguvar had been chained and covered with a weighted cargo net, through which she watched the scene.

A huge balk of timber had been attached to a rope reeved through a block halfway up the mainmast. Vilu stuck his scimitar into the mainmast at shoulder height.

"I've brought you thirty-six new oarbeasts, Bullflay. How many do you need?"

The big fat weasel saluted with his fearsome whip. "I'll take every one you got, cap'n Vilu!"

The pirate stoat signaled for some refreshment and a seat. Hurriedly four crew members brought his chair, a flagon of his favorite damson wine and a grilled fish. Seated comfortably, he picked delicately at the fish and sipped wine from a crystal goblet, watched by the hungry slaves. Wiping his lips on a silken kerchief, he nodded briefly to his chief slave driver.

Bullflay grabbed the rope which had been reeved through the block and hauled on it until the balk of timber was hoisted level with the scimitar sticking from the mast. "Haul the wood this high, or else!" He let the balk drop to the deck. The weary oarslaves stood in line for their turn to haul up the balk. Then he picked up his whip and cracked it over the new arrivals. "Come on, you lot, get below. We'll get yer chained up to an oar nice an' tidy like. Hahaharr!"

Getting the black squirrel Ranguvar below was an awesome task. Keeping her bundled in the cargo net, a score of vermin dragged her through the decks until she was at the front seat of the vessel's bottom level. Eight of the Sea Rogues suffered wounds and injuries, but they finally got the berserker chained alone to a long thick oar handle. Ranguvar sat relatively quiet. She waited until the other oarslaves were brought down and shackled into place at the sweeps. She questioned one, a tired old otter, who looked as if he had seen many seasons slaving.

"What was all that about up on deck, the timber an' the rope? Why did you have to haul it up, all of you?"

The otter blinked back a tear from his craggy face. "Didn't yer know, mate? Vilu Daskar an' Bullflay got to 'ave their bit o' fun. Thirty-six new oarslaves means they got to get rid of thirty-six old 'uns, so they finds the sickest'n'weakest by makin' us hoist the log."

"What happens to those who can't haul the log?" Ranguvar could not stop herself asking.

The otter's husky voice shook as he explained. "That's when the real sport starts, mate. They sails the red ship out 'til land's too far away for a fit beast to swim back to it, then they runs out a plank. Vilu gives the pore creatures their freedom, tells 'em they're free to swim back t'shore an' forces 'em t'walk the plank."

Ranguvar's fur stood up on the nape of her neck. "Do any ever make it, friend?"

"What d'you think? You saw the state of some o' those slaves. If'n the big fishes don't get 'em, the sea does."

Ranguvar turned and murmured softly, "Well at least you survived it. What's yore name?"

Bowing his head until it touched the oar, the otter replied, "Norgle's my name. My father's name was Drenner. He used to sit where yore sittin' now, that's his oars yore chained to. My ole dad was one of those who couldn't haul the log."

Slaaaash! Crack!

"Shaddup, yer scurvy bilge swabs!"

Slavemaster Bullflay swaggered up to his rail, directly in front of Ranguvar. He wielded the whip at Norgle, but the black squirrel sat up straight and took the blow. A big skinny rat positioned himself alongside Bullflay. Picking up a drumstick, he stood ready at the big drum which was used to keep the oarslaves pulling in time with each other.

Bullflay winked at him, nodding toward Ranguvar. "See that, Fleabitt? Cap'n Vilu said this squirrel's a real tough 'un. We'll 'ave ter pay 'er some special attention, won't we?"

Fleabitt's narrow frame shook with unconcealed glee. "Special attention, right, chief. We'll learn 'er!"

Ranguvar's piercing stare raked the rat scornfully. "What could I learn from you, cocklebrain?"

Craaack!

Bullflay's whip struck her. Ranguvar transferred her dead stare to him without even blinking.

"Is that the best you can do, barrelbelly?"

Choking with rage, the burly weasel flogged away at his new oarslave, using all his strength. When he finished, his stomach was heaving in and out, and both his paws were shaking violently with the exertion.

"You . . . you dare talk ter Slavemaster Bullflay like that! I'll flay yer to dollrags!"

Ranguvar, who had ducked her head to protect her face, raised her eyes. There was death dancing in them as she growled at Bullflay, "You big useless lump o' mud, one day I'll kill yer with my bare paws, even if'n I have to bite through these chains to get at yer. Remember that, weasel!"

Bullflay could not bring himself to answer or raise his whip again. Ranguvar's eyes had frightened him. He strode off down the walkway, laying left and right with his whip at the other oarslaves.

"Silence there, quiet! An' be ready ter row when my drum starts to beat, if you want t'keep fur on yore backs!"

Two hours after daybreak next morning, a searat called down from his watch in the crow's nest, "Away to the north, a sail, cap'n, a sail!"

Vilu Daskar leaned out over the stern of the Goreleech, shading his eyes, peering hard at the faraway smudge.

"Sail? Are you sure? What kind of craft is she?"

"Too far off t'tell, cap'n sir, but 'tis a sail fer sure!"

Akkla kept the tiller steady, awaiting Vilu's order.

Striding the afterdeck, the pirate stoat stroked the yellowed bone handle of his scimitar pensively. "Hmm, a sail, eh? How far off are the Twin Islands, Akkla?"

"We could make 'em by tomorrow midday wid all sail an' full speed on the oars, cap'n."

His eyes still fixed on the far-off object, Vilu replied, "Too fast, we'd lose her. No ship can keep up with mine under full sail and oars. Take her to half sail and tell Bullflay to set the rowers a steady beat. We'll let her keep us in sight, and that way we'll land at Twin Islands tomorrow night. Set your tiller south and a point west."

The red ship sailed off on her new course, with the whips cracking on all three decks below. Oars rose and fell, pulling the Goreleech through the waves. The fresh captives groaned miserably as they bent their backs under the lash.

Chapter 26

Vurg snuggled deeper in his hammock. Morning sunlight streamed through the cabin window, and he tried to ignore it, closing both eyes tight, but he could not close his ears to the raucous duet which the cook and his assistant were yelling from the galley. Other crewmice were already awake, hurling objects at the galley door, haranguing the singers within.

"You'll turn the grub sour wid that noise!"

"Aye, belt up, you two, stop that awful racket!"

"I thought somebeast was tryin' to squash a dozen frogs!"

But Beau and his assistant Cardo were in full cry and not about to give up for mere threats and insults.

"Ho wot d'you give to a saucy crew,

Stew! Stew! Stew!

Wot's better than a bowl o' stew?

Why a bowl o' stew or two!

We fries the varnish off the mast,

Then adds some ole rope ends,

An' the cap'n's boots all boiled up slow,

Good flavor to it lends.

So scoff it up 'tis good for you,

Stew! Stew! Stew!

Made with a drop o' lantern oil,

An' a barnacle or two,

Some fine sail threads an' fishes' heads,

Then roast the cook's ole socks,

An' add to that some o' the fat,

They use to grease the locks!

Ho stew, stew luvverly stew,

No skilly'n'duff or brown burr goo,

Just swallow the lumps that you can't chew,

An' fill a plate for yore worst mate,

Then sit an' watch him temptin' fate,

With face so green an' nose all blue,

Stew! Stew! Steeeeeeeeeeewwww!"

Luke was guiding the tiller, smiling as he listened to the crew voicing their doubts about breakfast.

"D'you think they really mean it, Cordle?"

"I don't know, mate. Mebbe they're just jokin'."

"But they wouldn't use lantern oil an' lock grease, would they, Vurg?"

Vurg winked at Luke as he answered Denno, who was prone to bouts of seasickness at the slightest thing. "Who knows, mate? Ole Beau's a great 'un for playin' pranks an' I remember that salty stew Cardo made when we first set sail. Wot d'you think, Luke?"

The Warrior was hard put to keep a straight face. "No, Vurg, I don't think Beau an' Cardo'd do that to our vittles, though I couldn't find my seaboots this mornin'."

The cook and his assistant staggered out of the galley, bearing between them a steaming cauldron. Denno's usually ruddy face took on an unhealthy pallor. "Urgh! I ain't eatin' none o' that stuff!"

Grinning wickedly, Beau dipped a beaker into the cauldron. "Wot? After all the blinkin' trouble we went to preparin' this delicious stew? Now see here, Denno m'laddo, I'm goin' to see you eat this, even if I have t'feed it t'you m'self. It'll put the jolly old roses back in your cheeks. Now open your mouth wide, old chap!"

"Yaaaah! I'm too young t'die!"

The crew of the Sayna shook with laughter as Beau chased Denno round the deck with the beaker of stew.

"Oh, c'mon, you great big silly, stan' still an' open wide!"

"Gerraway from me, you lop-eared poisoner! Help, somebeast stop 'im! Do somethin', you rotten lot!"

Beau pursued Denno from stem to stern, stew slopping from the beaker as he coaxed and cajoled. "Never grow up strong an' handsome like me if you don't eat all your blinkin' brekky up, wot wot?"

Denno scrambled up the mainmast for the crow's nest, with Beau scaling the rope ladder close behind him. When he reached the topmost point, Denno suddenly yelled, "Sail, I see a sail!"

Beau grabbed his footpaw, chortling. "No excuses now, laddie buck. I'll pour it down your ear if you don't hold still!"

Luke's sharp command caused the hare to release the crewmouse.

"Beau, let him be! Are you sure it's a sail, Denno?"

"Aye, Luke, I saw it a moment ago, but it's gone now!"

Beau let the beaker drop and clambered swiftly up alongside Denno, his keen eyes following the mouse's paw.

"Over there it was, south, mebbe a touch west!"

The hare concentrated his gaze upon the horizon for a while, then he climbed down to the deck and made his report to Luke.

"There was somethin' out there, but bad weather's risin' from the sou'westsea's gone quite choppy an' the clouds are lowerin'. Mayhap 'twas a shipcouldn't really tell."

Luke came to a decision speedily. "Vurg, steer her over that waysouth goin' west. Coll, Dulam, Cordle, pile on all sails. Beau, get the food to my cabin, an' the rest of you, make sure everythin' is battened down tight. Looks like we're in for a storm."

When the orders had been carried out, the crew gathered in Luke's cabin to share the meal. Contrary to Denno's belief, the stew was delicious. Beau was quite huffy that anybeast should think it otherwise.

"Phuff! Never cooked rubbish or wasted good food in all m'life, wot. Vegetable stew, sah, with lots of carrot, dandelion root, leeks, dried mushrooms, onions, taters an' my own special barley'n'oat dumplin's. Puts fur on the chest, a glint in the eye an' a splendid spring t'the paw. Stuff t'give the crew, eh, Luke?"

The Warrior cleaned his bowl with a chunk of bread. "It certainly is, mate. D'you think we should allow Denno a second helpin'?"

Denno licked his spoon sheepishly. "Not my fault. The way they were singin' that song, well, I thought..."

Beau kindly ladled him another portion. "Thought, laddie? Y'know what the shortsighted vole thought. Listen an' I'll tell you.

"A shortsighted vole climbed out of his hole,

His glasses he'd lost, I fear,

Some blossom petals in the breeze,

Fell on his head, oh dear!

I thought 'twas summer but winter's come,

'Tis snow!' that vole did shout.

I think I'd better go and warn

The creatures hereabout!'

He bellowed 'round the woodland wide,

'I think 'tis going to freeze!'

He shooed some sparrows from a nest,

'Back to your hive, you bees!'

And squinting dimly at the ground,

He lectured tufts of grass,

'All hedgehogs now should be indoors,

'Til wintertide does pass!'

'Go join your family 'round the fire,

Don't sit there all alone,

'Tis no fit weather for a mole,'

He scolded at a stone.

'And as for you,' he told a bush,

'You badgers aren't too smart,

I thought you'd be the first to know,

When winter's due to start!'

So gather 'round and listen all,

My moral's clear and true,

I think 'tis best to stop and think,

When thoughts occur to you!"

As Beau finished his poem, the ship gave a lurch. Luke saved the stew cauldron as it slid by and laid it safe on the deck, wedging it 'twixt the table and his chair.

"Don't panic, crew, it's the bad weather. Sit tight an' wait it out in comfortthere's little else we can do. I'm goin' out on deck. Vurg, you come with me. We'll take tiller watch two at a time until the storm passes. When you go out there, use ropes an' tie yoreselves to that tiller. I don't want any crew washed overboard."

The little ship began to sway crazily as mounting waves buffeted her, up and down, side to side. Luke gritted his teeth as he and Vurg strove to hold the tiller on course. Spray lashed both mice until, despite their heavy cloaks, they were saturated. A high-pitched whine, like that of a stricken beast, rose above the storm's din. It was the wind, playing on the tightened rigging ropes as if they were the strings of some instrument. Pawing saltwater from his eyes, Vurg glanced anxiously up at them.

"If we don't slack off some sail, this gale might rip us t'pieces, Luke. Can't we take her t'half canvas?"

The Warrior stared straight ahead into the onslaught. " 'Tain't possible, Vurg. I couldn't risk the crew's life by sendin' 'em up into the riggin' to shorten sail. Also, I'm near certain 'twas the red ship that Denno an' Beau sighted. I don't figger on losin' her. We're bound to follow!"

Beau and Cardo struggled back to the galley across the seesawing deck, bearing the empty stew cauldron between them. Coinciding with the boom of thunder overhead, the galley door slammed open wide. A flash of white lightning illuminated the scene as they were both swept inside by a wave crashing over the ship. Smoke wreathed them as the galley stove was extinguished into a hissing mess by the water. The seacook staggered inside, yelling to his assistant, "Lock all y'can in the cupboardskeep the blinkin' vittles dry. I'm goin' to fetch a rope and secure those water casks before they start rollin' about!"

No sooner was Beau out on deck again than a crackling bolt of chain lightning struck the Sayna 's foremast. Like a dry twig the stout timber split, sending the long lower jib swinging like a scythe. Vurg saw the danger and shouted, "Beau, look out, mate!"

As Beau turned, the jib caught him a mighty clout in the midriff, hurling him ears over tail into the sea.

Luke was already on the move. Releasing the tiller, he quickly tied the stern line about his waist and plunged in after Beau, with Vurg bawling above the melee, "All paws on deck! Hare overboard! All paws on deck!"

Down, down went the Warrior, into a world of boiling confusion, with the roar of storm and sea ringing in his ears. Luke felt his progress checked as the line pulled tight and immediately began striking upward, his eyes searching the racing bubbling surface for signs of the hare. Air started escaping his nostrils and mouth as he fought his way bravely to the wavetops. Gasping for breath, he surfaced in a deep green valley, then the maddened seas crashed down upon him. Next moment he was swung up high on the crest of a huge roller. Luke took the opportunity to scan swiftly about for Beau. Below him he could see the stern of the ship, but no other sign of life upon the watery wilderness. Then he was dropped into another deep trough, only to be swept aloft again. About his middle, the line tightened painfully as he was pulled along in the ship's wake, spitting seawater, paws flailing, searching constantly for Beau, despite his own predicament.

Vurg called out to the crew, "Haul Luke in, mates, afore the line snaps an' he drowns. Beau's gone, can't do nothin' about that. Haul in there!"

Willing paws heaved on the line. Luke felt himself pulled through the buffeting waves and relaxed, half stunned and too helpless to resist. Vurg was waiting with a dry cloak and a beaker of elderberry wine, and Cardo helped to carry Luke to his cabin.

The Warrior coughed and spluttered as the wine revived him. He sat up, shaking his head.

"It was too wild t'see anythin' out there. No sign of Beau?"

Cardo was weeping uncontrollably. "None at all. That ole hare was my best matey, an' the finest cook afloat. The sea's a cruel beast, cruel!"

Luke passed the remainder of the wine to him. "Drink this, now, Cardo. 'Tis a terrible thing, poor Beau. But we must concentrate on keeping this ship afloat or we'll all finish up on the seabed if'n this storm keeps up."

He was interrupted by joyous shouts from out on deck as the ship gave a mighty shudder and stopped rolling.

"The wind's turned. We're saved, mates!"

Wrapping the cloak about him, Luke hurried from the cabin.

Evening was streaking the skies westward, and to the east the thunder boomed dully, with a sporadic bolt of lightning far off. Vurg scratched his head in amazement. The wind was still blowing, but strong and warm, flattening the sea with its power. The Sayna was shuddering lightly, her damaged rigging thrumming as she responded to Dulam's touch on the tiller and sped southwest.

Relief among the crew was evident. Coll laughed. "Hahaha! Quickest thing y'ever did see, Luke. One moment we're near sinkin' in a storm, then swift as a flash the wind turns east an' suddenly veers west. We're saved!"

Dusk was creeping in. Luke's cloak fluttered straight out behind him as he stood, with the crew, looking back over the stern at the distant area where Beau had been lost. Cardo had composed a short verse.

"Our friend was taken by the sea,

He rests now, who knows where,

A good an' gen'rous beast he was,

A brave an' cheerful hare.

We've got no flow'rs or blossoms,

To cast out on the deep,

No stone will ever mark the spot,

Where he sank down to sleep.

Beau Fethringsol Cosfortingham,

Sweet as long summer days,

Your memory lies in our hearts,

You'll be our mate, always!"

The crew stood in silence, heads bowed, tears falling onto the deck. Everybeast had loved the hare dearly.

Luke took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. "Cordle, take first watch aloft, keep yore eyes peeled for the red ship. Coll, your turn at the tiller. Right now, while me'n'Cardo put the galley straight an' piece together a meal, the rest of you get rope an' pitch, bind that mast as best you can, then take in all sails. She's runnin' fast enough in this sea. In future storms I don't want to see anybeast out on deck without havin' a lifeline attached to 'em. 'Twas a terrible thing that happened to Beau, but I know he'd want it to serve as a lesson to us all."

The sun's fiery orb sank below the westering horizon, and the Sayna sped smoothly into the night. A splash announced that the shattered jib had been jettisoned overboard. Luke stood at the galley fire, which he had rekindled, longing to hear just one merry chuckle from Beau, but knowing it was not possible. They would have to sail onward without their friend the hare.

Chapter 27

Vilu Daskar was used to freak weather in tropical waters. When the storm struck, he ordered his oarslaves put to work. With no sails to aid them, they were forced to row double time as the drums pounded out and whips cracked. Daskar himself took the wheel, tacking the Goreleech skillfully on a direct westerly course. As the tempest began slackening, he swung the vessel due east, came around the far side of the Twin Islands and anchored a safe distance offshore, behind the easternmost of the two massive hills.

Savoring the night air, Vilu sat out on deck, sating his appetite on a plate of baked fish and a flagon of nettle beer. Akkla the ferret hovered nearby, watching the stoat pick his teeth with a fishbone. Vilu dabbed at his mouth with a silken kerchief and stood up. Akkla gazed anxiously at the remains of the meal, hoping Vilu had finished.

"Had anything to eat yet, Akkla?"

Edging eagerly near the barrelhead table, the ferret bowed cringingly. "No chance ter eat durin' that storm, cap'n."

Vilu held out a paw, as if inviting Akkla to finish the meal, then clouted the ferret's face sharply, knocking him to the deck. "Go and get your own food, famine-face!"

From below decks there was a bellowing roar which mounted to a screech, quickly followed by the thudding of paws up the companionway. Bullflay, the weasel slavemaster, assisted by some of his cronies, stumbled out onto the deck. He was pressing a wadded rag to stanch the blood from one side of his head.

Vilu could see he was in great pain. "Hmm, nasty injury. How did you come by that, Bullflay?"

The weasel's toadies took up the tale with relish.

"'Twas the black squirrel, sire!"

"Aye, the berserk female. Tore master Bullflay's ear off, sire, with 'er teeth!"

"She'd 'ave 'ad 'is other ear if'n we 'adn't rescued 'im, sire. Madder'n a shark that 'un is!"

"No use floggin' 'er, sire, two whips master Bullflay's broke on 'er. Two!"

Vilu sat back, a smile hovering across his eyes. "So, and what would you have me do with this berserk warrior, Bullflay my friend?"

The weasel's flabby jowls quivered with rage. "I wants yer t'let me kill 'er, sire, tie rocks to 'er neck'n'paws an' slide 'er into the water nice'n'slow. Let the other oarslaves watch 'er drown bit by bit!"

Vilu nodded under standingly. "You'd like that, eh, Bullflay?"

A drop of blood spattered the deck as the slavemaster nodded. "Aye, sire, I'd like it fine after wot she did t'me!"

Vilu dallied with the bone handle of his scimitar. "I've no doubt you would, but I'm captain aboard this ship, not you. I decide who lives or dies and that squirrel is not ready for death yet. Cut her food and water for a few days. That should do the trick."

Bullflay was about to protest when he saw a dangerous glint in Vilu's eyes. He saluted sullenly. "As y'say, sire."

Vilu smiled sweetly, perilously. "Precisely, my lard-bellied friend. As I say!" He beckoned to Akkla, who was still crouching on the deck, holding his face where he had been struck.

"Stop slobbering about down there. Get up! Take four crew and go ashore. Climb that hill, and mount a lookout for the ship that was following us. Report to me when you sight it. I'll lay an acorn to an apple that they'll do like any other vessel does when they come to Twin Islands. Parug, do you know what they'll do?"

The searat bosun shook his head. "No, sire."

Vilu closed one eye and squinted toward the channel separating both islands. "They'll sail straight up the middle of there, always do. We'll be waiting for them when they emerge from the channel mouth and meet them head on with our spike, eh, Parug?"

A quiver of evil joy shook the bosun. "Stick 'em like a gnat on a pin, sire!"

Vilu filled a beaker with nettle beer, passing it to Parug. "Like a gnat on a pin. What a quaint turn of phrase!"

Far below on the bottom deck of the trireme, Norgle the otter sat on the second row, staring in admiration at the back of Ranguvar, sitting alone on the front bench. Lash-marks scored and quartered the black squirrel's back, where Bullflay had done his best to flog her into submission. He had failedevery slave chained to an oar throughout the length and breadth of the Goreleech knew it. It brought fresh life and the spark of defiance into the hearts of even the oldest and most timid. Norgle heard the heavy pawstep of Bullflay descending and murmured softly to Ranguvar. "'Tis Bullflay, matey. Get yoreself ready for the worst. Like as not he'll slay ye for bitin' off his ear."

The black squirrel's eyes glowed with fierce battle light. "Hah! Not before I've bitten his other one off!"

"Silence down 'ere. One more peep an' I'll flay yore backs t'the bone, y'bilge scrapin's!"

A hush fell as Bullflay's whip cracked aloud. Still holding the rag to his ear, he strode up and stood by the drum. Raising the whip high, he glared at Ranguvar. "An' you'll be the first t'git flayed, squirrel!"

The eyes of Ranguvar bored into her hated enemy. "An' you'll be the first to die, lardbucket!"

Bullflay quailed under the berserk stare of Ranguvar. He let the whip fall and strode off, muttering, "We'll see 'ow bold yer are after a couple o' days without vittles or water. That'll cure you!"

However, when food was served up to the oarslaves, even though it was only a crust, one bowl of thin gruel and a cup of water, everybeast saved a small portion. When the oardecks were quiet, the food was passed from paw to paw until it reached the captive berserker.

Mid-morning of the following day saw Dulam, whose watch it was at the topmast, bellowing, "Laaaaaaand hooooooooo!"

Luke joined him at the lookout point. The high, humped hills of Twin Islands stood out fresh and green in the warm sunlight. He patted Dulam's back.

"Well done, mate. You'll get an extra portion at lunch for bein' the first to spot land!"

Dulam sighed mournfully. Luke was a warrior, not a cook. "An' will I have to eat it, too?"

Luke tweaked his friend's ear playfully. "There's gratitude for ye, after me slavin' over a hot galley stove since dawn, makin' skilly'n'duff for ye."

Dulam sighed wistfully. "My ole mum used t'make the best skilly'n'duff on the northland coast."

Luke chuckled as he climbed out of the rigging. "Well, I ain't yore ole mum. Mayhap we should've brought her along, Dulam."

"Aye, mayhap we will next time. She's as good with a ladle as you are with a sword. Dear ole mum, yore liddle Martin used to come 'round to our cave for her apple pies. Sweet apples, golden crust, steamin' hot, dusted with spices an' warm arrowroot sauce poured over 'em. I can taste 'em right now."

Luke helped Dulam down to the deck. "Well, let's hope she's still feeding my son, make him grow up big'n'strong. Now will you stop natterin' on about those pies, 'tis turnin' me off my own cookin'!"

"Huh, that wouldn't be hard to do!" Vurg remarked in passing.

Luke heard him. "What was that you said, Vurg?"

"I said the sky's far up'n'blue, mate!"

Luke glanced upward, remarking quietly to Vurg, "There's far worse cooks aboard than me."

Vurg cupped a paw to his ear. "What?"

The Warrior winked slyly at his friend. "I said, the sky's as blue as the sea."

Afternoon shadows were starting to lengthen as the Sayna lay offshore of the Twin Islands. Luke called up to the topmost watch, "Any sign of the red ship?"

Cardo shielded his eyes. "None at all, Luke!"

Vurg leaned against the tiller. "So what now, mate?"

Luke studied the Twin Islands carefully before replying.

"No good chasin' out into unknown waters with the Sayna in a bad state. No tellin' what might become of us. I think we should sail her into that channel which separates the two islands, 'tis calm an' sheltered in there. We could make the Sayna shipshape again, fix the mast properly, make a new jib an' sew up those torn sails. Sort of put everythin' to rights afore we set sail again, eh, Vurg?"

"Aye, sounds sensible, but what about the red ship, Luke?"

"Well we ain't in a fit condition to chase her right now. We'll have to make up two days when we're sailin' again. Strange though, Vurg, I've got a funny feelin' that red ship isn't too far off somewhere. Hmm, mayhap 'tis just a fancy an' it'll pass. Right, head 'er in there, mates. We'll make fast to the east channel bank about halfway along."

Later that evening Akkla tapped nervously at Vilu Daskar's splendidly carved cabin door.

Vilu put aside the charts he and Parug were studying. "Come!" the pirate stoat's voice called imperiously.

Akkla entered respectfully and made his report.

"Sire, 'tis like you said: toward evenin' a ship sailed into the channel an' put in 'alfway up on the east side."

Vilu could not resist a triumphant smirk at Parug. "Just as I predicted." He turned back to Akkla. "What manner of vessel is it?"

"Like an ole Corsair barque, cap'n, but ain't no Corsairs aboard of 'er, they're all mice, tough-lookin' beasts. She took some storm damage, sireI think they've put in there for repairs."

Parug drew his cutlass and licked the blade. "It's dark outside, cap'n. We could come stormin' up the channel like an 'awk onto a wren, jus' when they're least expectin' us!"

Vilu shook his head despairingly at the searat bosun. "No no, my impulsive friend, why wreck a ship that's in need of repair? Leave the mice awhile, let them work and sweat fixing up their craft, get it all good and seaworthy again. Then we'll swoop on them and sink it. Let them see a'l their efforts destroyed. Much more subtle, don't you think?"

Parug thought for a moment, then his features creased into an evil gap-toothed cackle. "Haharrhahaharr! Yore a bad 'un all right, cap'n!"

Vilu adopted a modest expression. "Oh, I do my best to be the worst. Akkla, what was the name of this ship?"

"I don't know letters, sire, but Fleabitt does, an' 'e said 'twas called the Sayna, I think. Aye, that's the name, Sayna!

To both Sea Rogues' surprise, their captain poured wine for himself and them. Akkla and Parug sipped appreciatively at their goblets. Vilu Daskar's wine was the best.

Vilu himself merely wet his lips as he mused, "Hmm, Sayna. What do you think, my friends, 'twould have been Sayna to give Twin Islands a miss?"

Akkla and the bosun stared at him in dumb silence. Vilu put aside his wine and sighed.

"That's called a play on words, you bumpkins. Saner, Sayna, 'twas a pun, don't you see?"

The pair stood in slack-jawed silence, trying to understand what their captain had said. He turned his back, dismissing the slow-witted crewbeasts. "Dimwitted idiots, get out of my sight before I lose patience with your thick-skulled ignorance. Begone!"

Akkla and Parug set their goblets down gingerly, not daring to finish the wine, and hurried from the cabin. Vilu's former good humor had deserted him. He detested being surrounded by stupid witless vermin.

Slouching in his chair, he began to focus his mind upon the Sayna and her crew. Why would a vessel of such small size be pursuing a ship as huge as the Goreleech? What possible harm could a score or so of mice inflict upon Vilu Daskar, terror of the seas? They must be totally insane, or recklessly brave. Well, one way or another, he would soon find out. Hah! And so would they, the fools!

Vilu left his cabin and strolled out on deck, almost colliding with a searat called Drobna. His claws dug viciously into the rat's cheek, drawing the frightened rodent close. Vilu smiled disarmingly at him. "Tell me, what chance does a minnow stand if it chases a shark?"

Drobna's cheek was pulled awkwardly on one side, and spittle trickled from his lips as he blabbered out a reply. "Nuh ... nuh ... none, sire, minnow agin a shark's got no 'ope!"

Vilu released him, patting Drobna's cheek tenderly. "Well said, my friend, well said. Even a moron like you can solve a simple problem now and then."

He strode on up the gently swaying deck, leaving Drobna rubbing a stinging cheek, completely baffled.

Chapter 28

Luke was already up, having taken last watch of the night. The Sayna lay moored on the east bank of the canallike channel running between Twin Islands. Luke leaned on the starboard rail, watching the day break still and humid, with leaden overcast skies. Cardo came out of the main cabin, bearing an old shield that he used as a tray. On it was a beaker of hot mint and dandelion tea, accompanied by a warm scone spread with stiff comb honey.

He winked at Luke. "Mornin', mate. Here, get that down you. I was up awhile before dawn, so I tried me paw at bakin' scones."

Luke seated himself on a coil of rope, sipping gratefully at the hot tea and nibbling gingerly at the scone. He surveyed the islands' two massive hills, which looked silent and oppressive with the heavy gray sky cloaking their summits in mist.

"Hmm, wouldn't surprise me if'n we had a spot o' rain today, Cardo. Well, this scone tastes good, matey. Where'd you learn to bake stuff like this?"

Cardo stared down the channel to the open sea beyond. " 'Twas a recipe Beau taught me. I miss that ole hare. He was a good friend t'me."

Luke put a paw around Cardo's shoulder. "Aye, so do I. Strange, but we never know the true value of friends'n'family 'til they ain't with us anymore. Come on, matey, buck up. I can hear our crew wakin'. Mopin' about won't help us. Best t'keep ourselves busy, eh?"

The crew of the Sayna had nothing but praise for Cardo's good cooking, and it cheered him greatly. After breakfast Luke reviewed their position and gave orders.

"Cardo, see if y'can cook up a lunch t'show us that breakfast wasn't just a flash in the pan. Cordle, pick a couple o' good patchers to help you repair the sails. Coll, Denno and Dulam, I want you to strip down the mainmast an' bind it round tight with strong greased line. Tl at willow never broke, it only cracked. 'Twill be good as new once it's bound an' tightened proper. Vurg, get yore weapons an' come with me. We're goin' up that big hill yonder. Let's see if we can find a decent piece o' wood to fashion a new jib from. Right, off t'work now, crew, an' keep yore wits about you an' both eyes open. 'Tis strange territory."

The hill turned out to be a complete disappointment. There were no proper trees with trunks and stout limbs growing there. Luke snorted in disgust as he swiped with his sword at one of the tall feathery bushes which grew in profusion on the slopes. Vurg picked up the branch his friend had lopped off and inspected it.

"Huh, too thin an' brittle. Wouldn't even make decent firewood. Won't find a decent jib spar growin' 'ereabouts."

Luke peered uphill into the warm humid mist. "Looks pretty much the same all over, Vurg. Why don't we go back down an' try searchin' the channel edges for a good piece of driftwood? Might've been some timber washed up there. Vurg? What's the matter, mate?"

Vurg was rubbing his paws together furiously and flapping them as if he were trying to fly. "Yukk! Some kind o' filthy insects. Must've come off those bushes. Look, they're all over me paws!"

Luke pushed his companion forward, urging him downhill. "Well don't stand there flappin' y'paws, mate, let's get to the channel. Good salt water'll wash 'em off!"

Further uphill than the two mice had ventured, Vilu Daskar's spy patrol lay among the bushes. They watched Luke and Vurg hurry off down to the water. Ringpatch, the ferret in charge of the group, said, "If they'd reached the 'illtop they'd 'ave seen the Goreleech anchored below on the other side. Good job they never."

"Yah, they woulda never got past us," a small searat called Willag scoffed airily. "There wuz only two of 'em. We'd 'ave chopped 'em up fer sure!"

Ringpatch eyed him contemptuously. "Huh, what d'you know about it, spindleshanks? Those two mice looked like warriors to me. I wonder why they turned back an' ran off?"

"Said it was some kind o' insects, least that's wot I thought I 'eard one of 'em say," replied one of the patrol vermin.

"Huh, insects," Willag sneered. "They can't 'ave been much as warriors if'n they ran from insects!"

Suddenly, one of the patrol leaped upright, hitting himself left and right with both paws and dancing wildly. "Yaaaagh! Insec's! I'm covered in 'em! Yeegh!"

Tiny moist brown slugs from the surrounding bushes were all over the patrol, writhing and crawling, sticking to any patch of fur they came in contact with. The vermin thrashed about in the bushes, beating at themselves.

"Yuuurk! Gerrem offa me, I can't stand insec's!"

"Uuugh! Filthy slimy liddle worms!"

"Yowch! They sting, too. Owowow!"

"Sputt! One got in me mouth. Oooogh!"

Ringpatch dashed off uphill. "Patrol, retreat. Let's get out 6' here afore they eats us alive!"

Stumbling and crashing through the bushes, they retreated over the summit, driven by the sticky slugs to seek a saltwater bath.

Vurg had just finished scouring his paws in the channel shallows when he cocked an ear upward. "Listen, did you hear something? Like a kind of high-pitched squealin' noise? Came from up near the hilltop there."

Luke stood still, cupping both paws about his ears. "Aye, I heard it, mate, though I couldn't imagine anythin' but insects wantin' to live on this forsaken place. Prob'ly some seabirds, feedin' off those horrible grubs."

Vurg dried his paws in the coarse grass. "Well let's 'ope they eat 'em all. I detest squigglies!"

It was noon by the time they got back to the ship. Denno was atop the mast, binding the last bit tight with greased line, and he saw them approaching.

"Aiioy, crew, looks like Luke'n'Vurg found us a jib sp-\r\" Willing paws helped the pair carry a long stout L'mb of some unidentifiable wood aboard the vessel.

Coll inspected it, nodding his approval. "Tough oily-lookin' wood. Let's strip the bark off an' measure it agin the broken jib for size."

It proved an ideal replacement for the old spar. By midday they had it fixed. Rigging and fresh-patched sails were hauled, and Luke paced the deck, checking all was shipshape.

"Good as new the ole tub looks, mates. I'm famished. What happened to that lunch Cardo was supposed t'be cookin'?"

Cardo popped his head around the galley door. "Go an' seat yoreselves in the cabin. 'Tis about ready."

The Sayna's cook had triumphed again. Cardo had used most of the dried fruit to make a hefty steamed pudding, covered with a sauce made of pureed plums and arrowroot, and there were beakers of old amber cider to drink with it. Luke voted the meal so delicious that he proposed Cardo be made Ship's Cook for life. Ladle clutched to his chest, Cardo bowed proudly as the crew applauded.

"Hoho, good ole Cardo. More power to yore paw, mate!"

"Any second 'elpings there, cooky me darlin'?"

"Aye, an' keep them scones comin' for brekkist every day!"

"Wot's for supper tonight, matey, any thin' tasty?"

Knowing he had a new-found power to wield, Cardo laid the law down to them, shaking his ladle officiously. "So I'm Ship's Cook now, eh? Then cook it is! But I ain't washin' dishes an' scourin' pots'n'pans, so there!"

To appease his touchy cook, Luke sided with Cardo. "Agreed! From now on everybeast washes their own dishes. We'll take turns with the pots'n'pans. I'll do first duty!"

A splatter of heavy drops pattering on the bulkheads announced the arrival of rain. Vurg opened the cabin door and slid his plate and beaker out onto the deck. "I vote that the rain washes our dishes tonight, buckoes!"

Soon, raindrops could be heard pinging merrily off the crew's dishes scattered across the deck. Through the open door Luke watched a distant lightning flash, and he heard the far-off rumble of thunder.

"Looks like we're in for heavy weather, mates. Best batten down an' lay up in this channel 'til it's over."

Rain continued into the late evening, but the crew were snug and dry in the cabin, glad of the respite from sailing. Cardo sat apart from the rest, his face gloomy.

Vurg tweaked the cook's ear. "C'mon, wot's up now, y'great misery guts?"

Cardo shrugged. "Don't know, Vurg, just got a bad feelin' an' I can't explain it. Somethin' seems wrong."

Denno nudged Vurg, pulling a wry face at the unhappy cook. "Oh dearie me, just like the ole farm mouse, nothin's right."

Coll winked at him. "Which farm mouse was that, matey?"

Denno began tapping a beat on the tabletop.

"There was an ole farm mouse, lived in an ole

farmhouse,

Who always thought of a reason,

To rant an' complain, again an' again,

Whatever the weather or season.

If rain came down, he'd scowl an' frown,

Shake a paw at the sky an' say,

'Rains like these are good for the peas,

But they ain't much use for me hay!'

Then if wind came along, he'd change his song,

Cryin' out 'Oh woe lackaday,

'Tis all I need, a wind indeed,

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!"

Chapter 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 farther 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 plowed 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 around 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 around. 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 purple 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 plowing 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 onto 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 toward 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 stern. 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' scum, 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 coursepesky 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 onto my island an' have a bite to eat while 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 realized, 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 while 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!"

Chapter 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 center 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 cup 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 paw chains, calling across to his neighbor, "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.

"We will do it together, Luke. I have waited long for another warrior to come to the red ship. You are here now!"

Gazing into the fearless dark eyes of Ranguvar, Luke had no doubt that they could accomplish anything together. Murmurings came from all around the bottom deck. Denno spoke for everybeast as he called out, "We'll be with you, to the death!"

Luke smiled grimly. "Good! But we need a plan."

By next morning Vilu Daskar had regained his voice, though he still kept the dark bruises on his neck covered with a white silken scarf. Accompanied by Parug and Akkla, he descended to the lower deck and paid Luke a visit. The stoat captain held the scarf end to his nose as the vile reek of the Death Pit assailed his nostrils. Luke kept his eyes down as Daskar addressed him.

"So, mouse, why does a creature in a small ship follow my Goreleech? Surely you must have known you had no chance against the red ship. Why did you do it?"

Luke made no reply. The blade of Vilu's bone-handled scimitar slid along Luke's neck and lifted his chin until he was looking into the stoat's eyes. Still he did not speak. Daskar raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Speak or I'll slit your gizzard. Why were you following me?" Though the sharp blade was pressing on his neck, Luke closed his eyes and held the silence. "I warn you, mouse, talk, or you're a deadbeast!" To add weight to the threat, Vilu swung the blade high over Luke's head, bracing himself for the strike.

"No, wait! Don't kill our cap'n. I'll tell ye, sire!"

All eyes turned on Denno, who was waving his paws agitatedly. "Please spare the cap'n, please, sire. I'll tell you all!"

Vilu strode over to Denno, chuckling. "Loyalty to one's captain, a wonderful thing. I wish that my crew of sea scrapings showed that faith in me. But then they wouldn't be Sea Rogues, would they? So, loyal mouse, save your captain's life. Tell me why your silly little tub was pursuing the mighty Goreleech?"

Denno's face was a picture of simple honesty as he explained, "Do you recall the northland shore, sire? We followed you from there to avenge our families."

Vilu's paw tapped the bone scimitar handle pensively. "Northland shore, hmmm. Ah yes, I remember now. Bunch of mice, fools, burning a fire like a signal beacon on the beach. Aye, they were all either too young, too old, or too weak to make oarslaves of. We slew them for fun and ate their food. Oh dear, were they your families? Well, never mind, they provided a bit of amusement for my crew. By the way, where were you and all the able-bodied ones while this was going on, eh? Probably hiding somewhere to save your own skins, I shouldn't wonder."

Seated next to Denno, Dulam's fetters clanked as he struggled to rise, tears streaming down his cheeks. "That's a lie! If we'd've been there, we would have fought you murderers down to the last beast!"

Vilu smiled condescendingly. "But instead you chose to go off and gather daisies."

Dulam's whole body was shaking with rage. "No we never!" he blurted out. "We were up the coast by the tall rocks, keepin' lookout while Luke and the others buried our tre"

"Shut yore mouth, idiot!" Luke shouted.

Vilu turned to Parug and Akkla, smiling triumphantly. "Unchain these two and their captain. Bring them to my cabin."

As they unshackled Luke, he glanced across to Ranguvar and winked. The plan was beginning to work.

The three mice were hustled roughly into Vilu Daskar's cabin, where they were lined up in front of an ornate table. Lounging behind it in a magnificent carved chair, Vilu watched as his servants laid out wine, baked fish, preserved fruits and bread, fresh from the ovens. He picked at the feast, while Luke and his friends stood dull-eyed and hungry, trying to ignore the wonderful food. Akkla, Parug and Bullflay stood by awaiting orders.

Vilu dabbed the silken scarf across his lips, weighing the three slaves up carefully. He addressed Denno.

"You, tell me what it is you were hiding up the coast in the tall rocks. But take care. One false word, one little lie, and I will hang both your friend and your captain from the mainmast, where their bodies will stay until they rot and seabirds pick at their bones. But speak truly and I will give you all your freedom, once I have what you hid in the tall rocks. That is your choice. Now speak."

Denno glanced apologetically in Luke's direction, then said, "It was the treasure of our tribe, sire. We had traveled many seasons, guarding it from foebeasts. Havin' chosen the northland shore as our new home, we searched out a safe place to hide it. Among the tall rocks, farther north."

Luke was glaring angrily at Denno. Vilu smiled at the Warrior mouse in mock surprise.

"Now now, don't pull faces at your friend. He's just saved your life and bought your freedom. Let's hear you speak your piece now. Tell us about this treasure, or I'll hang both of these mice in your place and you can watch them dangle!"

An expression of defeat replaced Luke's glare, and he sighed. "Only if you promise to spare our lives and set us free once you have the treasure."

Vilu spread his paws disarmingly. "Akkla, Parug, Bullflay, tell this mouse about my word."

The three vermin nodded vigorously.

"Oh aye, the cap'n never lies!"

"You can rely on that, mouse!"

"I'll take me oath on it!"

Vilu took a sip of wine and dabbed his lips. "See?"

Luke told him what he wanted to hear. " 'Tis a great treasure, plates, chalices, daggers an' swords, all wrought of gold'n'silver, studded with many jewels."

The pirate stoat nodded approvingly. "Just as I thought. Now tell me the exact location. Where did you hide it?"

Luke stared levelly at Vilu Daskar.

"Only three creatures went among the tall rocks to hide that treasure, myself, Vurg and Cardo. I am the only one you left alive out of the three, so only I know the true location. But I am not a fool, Vilu Daskar. I do not trust the word of a murderer, so I will not tell you, no matter what you do to me or my friends. However, I have a proposition for you. Set sail for the northland shore, and when we reach there I will pilot your red ship up the coast and steer you to the spot. That way you will have to keep us alive, at least until you have the treasure. Agreed?"

Bullflay grabbed Luke and raised a belaying pin, but Vilu held up a paw and stopped him.

"Release him, Bullflay. I like this mouse. It will be a change to do business with a creature who has a brain. Good enough. I agree to your proposition, mouse."

Luke could not resist a parting dig at his enemy. "You have no choice but to agree. Dead mice cannot find the treasure for you."

Vilu popped a piece of preserved fruit into his mouth. "How wise of you. Of course I must keep you alive. Meanwhile, days and nights spent in the Death Pit will make you realize how wonderful freedom will be when you eventually gain it. Bullflay, you can be as hard on them as you please, as long as you keep them alive. Go now!"

That night, as Bullflay lay snoring on a heap of old fenders and Fleabitt dozed with his head resting on the drum, Luke winked at his two friends. "Well done, mateys. You played yore parts well!"

Ranguvar Foeseeker whispered across to Luke, "I think I can feel this staple startin' to move!" The black squirrel had wrapped a piece of rag around her pawchains and had been silently heaving and levering for many hours. Only after much strain and effort was the heavy iron staple, which held the running chain that connected all the footpaw shackles to it, beginning to move in the damp solid deck timbers. For the first time since he had been aboard the Goreleech, Luke smiled.

"Keep at it, Ranguvar. Once you've got the staple out, pass it over to me, mate!"

The Goreleech dipped her high bows into the trackless waste of the main, bound north into the night, the red sails bellied to the wind. On she went, like a giant blood-colored bird of ill omen, sated on a cargo of misery.

Vurg was sweating in the sun, prying timbers loose from the wreckage of the Sayna. Beau was sawing away at some sail canvas with a rusty dagger. Beside them on the sand a mishmashed pile of timber and cordage was bound together in the rough shape of a raft.

"I say, old thing," the hare called up to his companion, "we'll need somethin' a bit straighter than that rib plank t'make a blinkin' mast, wot?"

Vurg wiped his brow in exasperation. "Well it's the straightest piece I can find. I'm a farmer, not a boat builder. If'n you can find a better bit o' wood, matey, then yore welcome t'try!"

As he hacked away at the canvas, Beau nicked his ear when the dagger point tore free and shot upward.

"Well keep your fur on there, mousey. I thought the flippin' agreement was that I built the perishin' raft an' you supplied the bally materials. Hold y'temper in the ranks, wot wot, I nearly chopped my ear off there while you were yammerin' on at me like an old frogwife!"

Vurg left off prying loose timbers. Sucking at a splinter in his paw, he climbed down to join Beau.

"Owch! There's so many splinters in me I'd float if'n I fell into the sea, mate. How's our raft comin' along?"

The hare stood paws akimbo, surveying his work. "Oh, splendid, absojollylutely spiffin'! All she needs is a jib boom, spanker, top royal gallants an' mizzen shrouds!"

Vurg peered at him questioningly. "D'you know wot yore talkin' about?"

Beau leaned against the raft. It collapsed. "No, d'you?"

"Yeeeehawhawhaw! Y'ain't figgerin' on goin' ter sea on that thing, are yer, mates? Yukyukyukyuk, worra mess!"

Beau and Vurg were astonished to see a large fat sea lion basking in the channel, watching them. Patting a bulging stomach with both flippers, he snorted a cloud of droplets from his bristling whiskers and chortled heartily.

"Yukyukyukyuk! Looks more like a mad seagull's nest than a raft. Only place you'd go on that termites' brekkist is straight t'the bottom. Yukyukyuk!"

Vurg stood open-mouthed, but Beau recovered his composure smartly, twitching his ears disdainfully at the creature.

"Mad seagull's nest? Termites' breakfast? Have a care there, chubbychops, wot wot! My old auntie used t'say, don't criticize what y'can't do y'self. Pity you never met her!"

Floating flat on his back, the sea lion blew a jet of water onto his stomach and watched it evaporate in the sun. "Aye, more's the pity, flop-ears. I 'ad an ole auntie once, got 'erself et by a shark, cheered my ole uncle up no end. She was a grouchy beast at best o' times."

Beau drew himself up to his full lanky height. "Call me flop-ears once more an' I'll wade out there an' chastise you severely, m'good feller. Name's Beauclair Fethringsol Cosfortingham, Beau f'short. Now, what appellation d'you answer to? Speak up, wot?"

Paddling into the shallows, the sea lion beached himself like a glistening gray rock on the sand. He grinned as he extended a flipper the size of a small table.

"Ain't got a h'allepation. They calls me Bolwag. Pleased t'meet ye, Beau, an' yore liddle mouseymate there."

Vurg shook the proffered flipper. "My name's Vurg!"

Bolwag heaved his bulk farther up, and galumphed around the raft, inspecting it.

"Seen a lot better, an' one or two worse. Not much of a craft t'go chasin' after the red ship, though, is she?"

Vurg looked up curiously at the gigantic sea lion. "How did you know we were goin' after the red ship?"

Bolwag sorted through the mess of timbers with flipper and muzzle, sending planks flying. "Watched it come'n'go fer many a season, Vurg. Saw what happened to your mates. That ole cap'n, Vilu Daskar, he's worse'n any shark, evil beast!"

Beau began picking up the planking. "I say there, Bolwag, d'you mind not chuckin' our raft around like that? Took us long enough t'put it together, wot. Of course we'll be sailin' blind, haven't a bally clue where old Vilu wotsischops has sailed off to."

Bolwag nodded his great head wisely. "I know which way the red ship's bound. Always goes the same course when it leaves 'ere. North'n'west two points to Wood Isle. Takes on water'n'provisions there."

Vurg peered upchannel to the open sea. "Wood Isle? Have you been there, Bolwag? Will you show us the way to this place?"

Bolwag frowned, then his whiskers split into a huge grin. "Suppose I'll 'ave to, matey. Couldn't let a pair o' liddle sardines like you two go twiddlin' 'round alone out there. Beau's ole auntie might never clap eyes on 'im agin, and we can't 'ave that now, can we? But first let's git yore raft built proper'n'seaworthy. You lay out a good crisscross of timbers on a big piece o' canvas. I'll go an' fetch some bladderwrackgrows big in these warm waters. Git t'work, an' I'll be back afore you knows it, mates!"

Neither Beau nor Vurg had the least idea what bladderwrack was. They stretched the biggest canvas sail on the sand and began laying a grid shape of ship's timbers on it. Bolwag returned, though at first it was hard to tell whether it was he, because a huge clump of seaweed surrounded the sea lion's body as he swam, towing it with him. With a powerful heave he flung it ashore.

"Bladderwrack, buckoes. Nothin' like it fer keepin' afloat!"

It was slimy, slippery seaweed, but studded with big inflated air bubbles.

Bolwag winked at them. "Cover those timbers with it, an' lay on more timber atop o' the bladderwrack. I'll go an' get some more."

The process was repeated three more times, after which they cloaked the lot with the sailcloth ends. Under Bolwag's directions, Vurg and Beau laced the canvas casing tight with rope until the sea lion was satisfied with the job. It looked an ungainly bundle.

Vurg bounced up and down on it. "Haha, 'tis springy enough. Will we need a sail, Bolwag?"

"Nah, I'll be either pushin' or pullin' all the way. Well, it don't look like much, me 'earties, but 'tis tight'n'strong an' 'twill get you to Wood Isle without sinkin'."

Afternoon was well advanced when they loaded the last provisions aboard and launched the odd-looking raft into the channel. Bolwag grabbed a trailing line in his mouth and went off like a fish. At first Beau and Vurg clung to one another on the skimming, bobbing raft as it bounced and cavorted across the wavetops. However, after a while they became used to the momentum and sat sharing some bread and cheese. Heading north and west, they sped onward, creating a small bow wave of spray, though it was hard to tell exactly where the raft's bows were located, as it swiveled from side to side. Bolwag kept the sunset in the corner of his left eye as he pulled them effortlessly along.

Beau waxed lyrical at approaching evening. "Does somethin' to a chap, the old sunset, rather jolly, wot. Sky goes the color of meadowcream when y'stir it into a plate of damson pudden, sea's as dark as blackcurrant cordial, an' the sun looks like a rosy apple covered with honey. I say, Vurg old lad, rather poetic, wot wot?"

Vurg hid a smile. "Did you compose that with your stomach?"

Beau grinned. "Yes, it did sound rather gutsy, didn't it! Oh I say, nothin' to ruin a perfect evenin' like a great pack o' sharks. Just look at that lot!"

Vurg saw the ominous fins cutting through the water until they surrounded the raft. Suddenly the whole craft swayed threateningly as Bolwag flopped aboard. Beau threw himself on top of the sea lion, grabbing at his slippery hide with all paws and roaring heroically.

"I've got you, old fellow. They'll have t'deal with me before I'll let 'em get to you. Ahoy an' belay, you slab-sided swabs. Scuttle me bilges an' other nautical terms, show me a shark an' I'll show you a coward! Take one bite out of our raft, just one munch, I dare you! I'll leap into the briny an' give you a sound drubbin'! Hah, y'dealin' with a Cosfortingham now, wot wot!"

Bolwag shrugged his huge bulk, sending Beau toppling into the sea. «The hare yelled out in panic.

"Didn't mean it, only jokin' you chaps, there, there, nice sharky, good sharky. Yowoops!"

One of the big fishes flicked his tail, catching Beau and sending him sailing back onto the raft.

Bolwag chuckled. "Yukyukyukyuk! Don't yer know a bottlenose when y'sees one?"

Beau clung to Bolwag's flipper, shivering. "Keep mum, old chap. Don't go callin' 'em names like bottlenose you'll get 'em mad an' they'll scoff the raft. Nice sharks, good sharks. I say, aren't sharks handsome chaps?"

Bolwag's stomach shook as he laughed. "Yukyukyukyuk! Those aren't sharks, ye great booby. They're pals o' mine, bottlenosed dolphins. They offered t'push awhile an' let me 'ave a rest!"

Vurg smiled at his irrepressible friend. Beau regained his composure quickly in any situation.

"Pish tush, sah, I knew that all along, what d'ye take me for, wot? Sharks indeed. What gave y'that idea?" He leaned over the raft's edge and patted the strange beak-shaped snout of the nearest dolphin, which stuck its permanently smiling face out of the sea as Beau nodded to it. "Ahoy there, you jolly bottlenosed rogue, what d'you mean by impersonatin' a flippin' shark? Wipe that smile off your face an' answer me, laddie!"

The big fish gave an earsplittin' squeak and shot a jet of water into Beau's astonished face. He sat back wiping water from his eyes, remarking to Vurg, "Pity that chap never had an auntie to teach him a few manners, wot. Spittin' seawater into a feller's fizzog, huh, very nice, I don't think!"

Bolwag flapped Beau's ears gently with his huge flipper. "Don't you go talkin' about my pals like that, matey. Kweekum an' his school 'ave been friends o' mine since I was a pup!"

While Bolwag held an unintelligible conversation, which consisted of exchanging varying degrees of squeaks with Kweekum, Beau whispered to Vurg, "Tchah! School indeed. Only school that chap ever attended was the school of spittin'. I'd give him detention or a few whacks of the cane if I was his schoolmaster, wot! Blighter can't even speak without squeakin' like a confounded seagull. I'll bet all the baby bottlenoses are a right shower of yahoos. Still, y'can't expect any better if you're brought up with a name like bottlenose, I suppose, wot wot?"

Over a score of dolphins were around the raft, propelling it along at an alarming rate. Every so often, an extra frisky one would jump out of the sea and leap clear over the raft. Vurg sat awake, excited and astounded by it all. Beau tried to sleep, stuffing a piece of bladderwrack in both ears, muttering to himself, "Fat chance of shuteye a chap's got 'round here. Great lump of a Bolwag, snorin' away like a thousand frogs on concert night, an' those pesky bottlenoses squeakin' like a pile o' rusty gates. Not the sort o' thing a Cosfortingham's used to at all. Indeed not. Good job auntie's not here!"

However, despite the intrusions, Beauclair Fethringsol Cosfortingham was soon adding to the din, snoring uproariously and chunnering on in his dreams through the night watches as the strange craft hurtled toward its destination over the sprawling main.

"Hmm, mm, wot? Pass the salad there, auntie, an' tell the cap'n to stop the boat rockin', will you? Mmm, mm. No thanks, old chap, couldn't touch another bowl of that bladderwrack pudden, foul stuff. Give it to old bottlenose for school lunch, will you? Sharks like that sort o' thing. Mmm mm, wot!"

Chapter 31

Bullflay cracked his whip over the heads of the wretched rowers chained to the decks of the Death Pit.

"Back water an' ship oars, you idle bunch o' land-spawn! Sit still there, not a word or a move, or I'll 'ave the hide off yore backs 'til yer bones shows through!"

Luke heard the anchor splash as he drew his oar inboard. Placing a cheek flat on the oarshaft, he tried looking through the rowing port, but it was a very limited view. Shallow clear water, a white sand beach and just a glimpse of heavily wooded rocks. Norgle the otter, who had his head bent in similar fashion, murmured to Luke, "I always hate makin' landfall. Makes me sick t'me stummick, thinkin' of green growin' things, firm ground under me paws, an' livin' free like I once was."

The otter flinched numbly as the lash descended across his back. Fleabitt the rat stood wielding his own personal whip, sneering at the chained Norgle.

"Then don't think, oarscum. Mister Bullflay told yer not to move or speak, now I'm tellin' yer not to think, see!" He turned as chains rattled nearby. Ranguvar was sitting up straight, her mad eyes boring into the rat.

"Try that on me, ratface. I'm thinkin'aye, thinkin' I'd like to get just one paw 'round your louse-ridden throat. Go on, swing that lash, see if y'can stop me thinkin'!"

Fleabitt wilted under the black squirrel's gaze and fled the bottom deck, following Bullflay without a word.

Vilu Daskar came out of his cabin, the silken scarf still bound around his neck, which was permanently marked from Luke's attack upon him. He cleared his throat painfully and beckoned to the two ferrets, Akkla and Ringpatch. They hurried to his side for orders.

"Break out the neckchains. We need watercask carriers and food gatherers. Choose a party, but only from the top deck. Take enough crew with you, so that you have two to each one slave. We'll lay over here two nights for provisioning. If any slave escapes, you'll answer to me with your lives."

Vilu stood waiting while two searats set up a chair and table on the stern deck. When a canopy had been rigged over the chair and food put on the table, he sat down. "Willag, Grigg, Bullflay, bring the mouse Luke to me."

Luke was freed from his oar shackles and fitted with a neckchain attached to paw manacles. Bullflay raised his whip. "Up on deck, mouse, move yerself!"

Luke smiled contemptuously at the slavemaster. "Bring that whip down on me an' I'll strangle ye with it!"

Bullflay's paw faltered, and he let the whip fall to his side. Sometimes he was not sure who he feared the most, the black squirrel or the Warrior mouse. Luke strode past him, head held high, giving a broad wink to Dulam and Denno as he passed them on his way to the stairs.

Vilu Daskar popped a wild grape into his mouth, chewing it slowly as he looked Luke up and down. "Willag, bring a chair for our guest."

The Warrior dismissed the offer with two words. "I'll stand."

Indicating the roast seabird, fruit and wine, Vilu said, "Suit yourself, Luke. Here, you must be hungry. Have some food and drink. It's goodI'm only served the best."

Though Luke's mouth was watering at the sight of the victuals on the table, he shook his head. "I don't eat food from the table of a murderer."

Vilu shrugged. "Have it your own way. I brought you up here because I want to hear more about this treasure you have hidden. Where did you come by it?"

The reply Vilu received was flat and harsh. "I've told you all, I'll take you to it, there's nothing more to say."

Vilu's bone-handled scimitar was out, its tip under Luke's chin.

"There are many ways to die: quickly, with a single stroke, or slowly, painfully, bit by bit. Now talk!"

Luke's chained paws rose, and he pushed the blade aside. "If I die swift or slow, you will never find the hiding place. Remember, murderer, I am the only beast alive who knows where it is. Kill me or my friends and you will never possess a single piece of my tribe's treasure."

Vilu stuck the bladepoint down into the deck timbers, and the scimitar stood quivering. He nodded and smiled. "You're a strange and reckless creature, Luke, different from the rest. A brave beast like you would go far in my crew, maybe even standing at my side, second in command."

Luke smiled back at him. "Aye, Daskar, then you could make me a real warrior, teach me how to plunder defenseless ones, murder innocent creatures and run away to hide aboard this red ship. You and your Sea Rogues would never stand up to real warriors in combat. Cowards, assassins and the scum of oceans, that's all the captain of the Goreleech and his crew are!"

A burly weasel named Clubface was working nearby and heard Luke's words. Thinking to gain the admiration of Daskar, he drew his dagger and leaped upon the manacled slave, roaring, "Nobeast talks to our cap'n like that an' lives. I'll gut ye!" The weasel was big and strong, but he did not possess Luke's speed. The Warrior mouse's pawchains rapped him hard between his eyes, and Luke grabbed the paw holding the dagger, twisting it inward. Clubface felt himself tripped, and fell backward. Luke slammed his weight down on top of the weasel, falling with him and driving the dagger deep into his attacker's heart. Like a flash, Luke was upright, the dripping blade in his paw, facing the pirate stoat. Daskar laughed aloud, thumping the tabletop with his scimitar handle, applauding.

"Neatly done, Luke, you are a real warrior. Come on now, you've got the dagger, try to kill me!"

Sea Rogues had come running to surround Luke. He relaxed and stood with the blade hanging loosely from one paw. Vilu Daskar stood and bowed slightly. Motioning his crew to stand off, he pointed the scimitar at Luke. "My compliments. You are not only brave, but wise also."

Luke nodded toward the vermin all around him. "The numbers are a bit one-sided, Daskar. I'll slay you one day, but I'll pick the time and place!"

Smiling and shaking his head, the pirate stoat replied, "Well said. I like an enemy who uses his brains. Take him below and chain him back to the oars."

Zzzzipthunk!

Before anybeast could move, Luke had thrown the dagger, embedding it deep in the mast alongside Daskar's head.

"Sometimes a knife can reach further than a sword. Remember that, stoat!"

Luke went down under the press of crewbeasts. Vilu Daskar stood over him, shaking with rage. He raised the sword, holding it trembling over the fearless slave, then, thinking better of his actions, he snarled, "Get him below, out of my sight!"

Sea Rogues hoisted Luke upright and dragged him off, back to the Death Pit of the lower deck.

Bolwag's flipper, damp and heavy, touched Vurg's face, wakening him. The sea lion was back in the water; it was midnight of the second day since leaving Twin Islands. The dolphins were gone.

"Vurg, wake up, liddle friend. Give Beau a shake. Look yonder. Wood Isle an' the red ship!"

Moonbeams danced on the phosphorescent sea. No more than an hour's sailing time away, the Goreleech could be seen, riding at anchor, close to the shore of the island, which looked for all the world like a chunk of forest sticking out of the main.

Beau rubbed his eyes drowsily. "I say, does look jolly pretty in the moonlight, wot!"

Bolwag drifted off from the raft. "Aye, pretty dangerous, too, mate. Well, shipmates, this's where we parts comp'ny. I wouldn't be of much use to ye on land or aboard a vessel. But I got ye here."

Vurg waved at the friendly giant. "So you did, Bolwag, an' our thanks to ye for that. You've done more'n enough for us. Good fortune to you an' those bottlenosesgive 'em our thanks if'n you see 'em again!"

Beau added his farewells to those of his friend. "Toodle-oo and farewell, you old rascal, wot. I'd watch out for sharks if I were you. Remember how they scoffed your ole auntie, bit careless that, keep your eyes peeled, sir. Oh, an' give my regards t'those bottlenose chaps, not bad types really, except for all that pesky spittin' an' squeakin'. G'bye now!"

Bolwag sank beneath the surface and was gone.

Now they were alone, with only their wits to rely on. Lying flat on the raft, they paddled with their paws, discussing the situation, while they were still out of earshot of the Goreleech.

"Well, Beau, we've got this far. What's the next move?"

"Patently obvious, m'dear feller. Got to free our friends from durance vile, wot!"

"Huh, I know that, but we won't get very far jumpin' aboard the Goreleech an' challengin' 'er crew now, will we?"

"Of course not, we'd need at least three of us t'do that. We need a scheme, a plan, an idea, or a combination of all three. C'mon now, Vurg, get the old mousey thinkin' cap on. I'm more a leader than a planner, don't y'know."

As they drew closer to the monstrous red ship, Vurg weighed it up carefully, an idea forming in his mind.

"Beau, d'you see those rope'n'canvas fenders hangin' over the sides to protect the Goreleech from rocks?"

"Indeed I do, whackin' great things they are, too, some of 'em, bigger than our little raft. Why d'you ask?"

"Because I been thinkin', we could be a fender, too!"

"The deuce y'say, an' what good'll that do, pray?"

"Well, I notice that the stern fenders hang a bit low. S'pose we was to cut one loose an' let it float off. Then we ties our own up in its place an' hides there."

Suddenly Beau was thinking along the same lines as Vurg. "Rather! Spiffin' wheeze, wot. From there we could contact the oarslave chaps at night, when nobeast's about!"

"Aye, get word to them we're here. See if we can't pinch a few weapons t'help Luke an' the others!"

"By the left, I'm glad I thought o' that little plan. Don't slack, Vurg, paddle harder. Please. Hmph! It's one thing strainin' m'brain t'think up these plans, but it's a bit much to expect me t'do all the paddlin', old chap!"

"Oh, button up, Beau, y'make more noise than a squeakin' bottlenose!"

"I beg y'pardon, sah! Confounded nerve o' the mouse, wot?"

"Stop natterin' an' keep paddlin'!"

"Pish tush, I could say the same for you, whiskerface!"

"No you couldn't, floppylugs!"

"Yes I could, bottlenose!"

"Bottlenose y'self, gabbyguts!"

Glaring at one another and arguing heatedly, they ran smack into the Goreleech 's stern. Thud!

High up near the afterdeck a window swung open. Poking his head out, a searat, blinking from the cabin lanterns, called, "Ahoy, who's out there? C'mon, show yerself!"

The two friends grasped the bottom of a fender, pulling the raft close in beneath the stern. Huddled together, they held their breath, listening as somebeast joined the searat.

"Aye aye, wot's goin' on 'ere, mate?"

"Thought I 'eard a noise out there. Sounded like two beasts arguin', then summat struck the ship."

A third voice joined the conversation angrily. "Some-thin' will strike you if'n yer don't shut that winder. Can't a beast gerra bit o' rest without bein' blown outer the bunk by draughts from the seas at night!"

The window slammed amid sounds of muffled argument. Both friends gave a quiet sigh of relief. Vurg whispered, "Better wait until later, when they're all asleep. Then we'll see what can be done. What's the funny face for, Beau?"

"Funny face nothin', old lad, I'm blinkin' well famished!"

"Wot, y'mean the vittles are all gone?"

"Exactly, an' the water, too. We'll starve t'death!"

"Don't talk rubbish. You could live off'n yore fat for ages."

"Yukk, urroogh, blaaaah!"

"Don't make so much noise. What're you up to now, Beau?"

"Yurkk, this bally bladderwrack tastes absolutely foul!"

"I ain't surprised, matey. Bet even the sharks turn their noses up at that stuff. Beau, where are ye goin'? Come back!" But Beau was shinning up the stern gallery with the alacrity that only a hungry hare could muster.

"Won't be a tick, old thing. Hold the fort 'til I get back."

A moment later the gluttonous creature had vanished into the darkness. Vurg perched on the raft, nibbling anxiously at his paw, wondering where his friend had gone to. A ferret and a searat were working in the galley. The ferret laid out loaves of hot bread to cool at the open serving hatch, while the rat was occupied chopping up fruit, which he mixed in a bowl with honey.

"Good fresh fruit they got from the island t'day, cullie. Cap'n doesn't go much fer it, but it'll look nice on 'is table fer brekkist."

Sampling a slice of apple, the ferret licked honey from his paws and winked at the rat. "We'll 'ave it fer lunch, after we clears the cap'n's table."

Wiping his paws on a rag, the rat took down a dead pigeon from a hook. "Lend a paw ter pluck this willyer, mate?"

They both bent to the task until the bird was plucked. Shuffling to the cupboard for a roasting spit, the rat stopped, looked at the empty space on the table, just inside the window ledge, and turned angrily on his mate.

"Think yore funny, don't yer? Cummon, put it back!"

"Put wot back? Wot's up, matey?"

"Hah, don't you matey me, y'fat robber. Where's me fruit salad got to? Now give it back 'ere."

"I never touched no fruit sal Hoi! Where's me bread gone? It was laid out there t'cool a moment ago."

"Lissen, slopchops, never mind usin' yore bread as an excuse. I saw yer pinchin' slices of apple outta that fruit salad. I'll chop yer thievin' paws off wid me cleaver!"

"Ho, thief is it? Well you kin explain t'the crew where the bread's gone when there's none fer brekkist, so there!"

"Don't you accuse me o' stealin' yore lousy bread. Take that!" Swinging the dead pigeon, the rat caught the ferret a smack.

"Ooff! That wuz a foul blow. 'Ere, you 'ave some o' this!" The ferret dealt the rat a stinging blow to his rear with a wooden rolling pin, and they fell to fighting in earnest.

Beau watched from his hiding place on the deck, munching on a hot loaf. The sound of approaching paws caused him to slide into the shadows of the galley bulkhead. As he did, a loaf of bread fell to the deck. Fleabitt stopped in passing, noticed the loaf and grabbed it. Gnawing away happily, he went to see what all the noise was about in the galley. Poking his head around the door, he said, "Nice bread this is, mates. 'Ope you got plenny more fer brekkist tomorrer. Likes good bread I does!"

Instantly he was dragged into the galley and set upon by the two cooks, who pounded him mercilessly.

"So yore the one, yer scringin' liddle thief!"

"Owow! Yowch! Murder! 'Elp, they're killin' me!"

The ferret swung his rolling pin with relish. "Kill yer, y'durty grubswiper, I'll murder ye. Take that!"

Brandishing a copper ladle, the rat leaped on the hapless Fleabitt, pounding him severely. "Aye, an' after he's killed an' murdered yer, I'm goin' to slay yer, yew filthy vittle plunderer!"

A sound overhead caused Vurg to look up. Beau's muted whisper came out of the darkness. "Stand by the raft there. Here, catch these!"

Two long hot loaves dropped down on Vurg, then Beau was alongside him, placing a bowl between them both. "Nothin' like fresh fruit salad'n'honey to keep a chap's chin up, wot. Don't hog all the bread, there's a good chap, chuck a loaf over here. Oh, I found a flask an' filled it from the water cask, better than nothin' I suppose, wot wot."

Vurg was glad of the food, though he lectured Beau severely. "Your stomach could've got us both caught and killed. That was a foolish risk you took, Beau. Don't ever do it again!"

The garrulous hare twiddled both his ears carelessly. "Oh, fiddle de dee, mouseymate, what d'you expect a bod t'do, sit here and jolly well starve? Fat chance!"

Vurg could not help smiling at the devil-may-care Beau. "Oh, all right, but be careful. Great seasons, lookit the size of these loaves. There's enough here t'feed most of the crew. Did you have to take so much bread?"

Beau tore off a chunk and dipped it in the honey. "Waste not want not, old bean. Bet Luke an' companyll be glad of fresh bread. Don't imagine they get it too often, wot wot. When we've had a nap, we'll go an' seek 'em out!"

It was still some hours to dawn. Luke sat shackled to his bench, head bent as he slumbered over his oar. Bullflay lay snoring on his makeshift bed. All was quiet amid the smoldering lanterns of the lower deck, save for the odd whimper of some wretched oarslave, dreaming of home and happier times. Ranguvar was dozing, too. She flicked at something tickling her ear. It was a dried stem of bladderwrack. It tickled again, and this time she caught it in her paw, opening her eyes as somebeast whispered, "What ho, old thing, y'don't happen to have a chap down there named Luke, do you? Warrior type like y'self?"

Ranguvar immediately became alert. She looked to the oar port and saw a bewhiskered hare smiling in at her, holding a paw to his lips as a caution to silence. Ranguvar nodded. Pointing across to Luke, she murmured quietly, "Over there, first oar port on t'other side. Who are you?"

"Formal introductions later, friend. Here, chew on this." Completely mystified, but grateful, Ranguvar accepted the big chunk of fresh bread packed with fruit salad. "Don't eat so fast, marm, twenty chews to each mouthful now. Bye bye!" With a wave the hare vanished.

Ranguvar shook Luke awake by waggling the end of his oar. "Ssshhh! You've got a visitor, Luke. Look to your oar port."

Beau peeped in at Luke, his face a mask of mock accusation. "Why aren't you dead, sah?"

Luke shook his head in disbelief. "Why aren't you?"

"Far too hungry to let things like dyin' interfere with my plans, old feller. Vurg's alive, too, y'know. Listen, I can't stop t'chat. Here's some food, share it about. Be back tomorrow night, keep y'chin up. I'll see what I can do about bringin' somethin' to deal with those chains. Meanwhile, sit tight an' smile, the rescue party's arrived at last, wot!"

When Beau was gone, Luke and Ranguvar took the hare's advice. They sat tight and smiled, sleep forgotten, now that the first bright rays of hope had started to glimmer.

Chapter 32