Rakkety Tam

33

The broadstream was running so furiously that there was little need of oars, though the Guosim held them ready to fend off their vessels from rocks and to keep the logboats in midstream.

Tam sat in the stern of Togey’s big boat, his paws clenched tight to the gunnels. He gazed about in awe: to his right, high limestone cliffs towered over the waters; to his left, rocks were broken into large chunks, overgrown by trees and vines. He realised they were speeding down an ever-narrowing slope, which concentrated the stream so greatly that little could be heard but the roaring of water. A fine spray enveloped everybeast.

Log a Log Togey sat beside Tam, his eyes narrowing against the rushing spray. The shrew chieftain manoeuvred the tiller skilfully with one paw whilst signalling directions to the other logboats in his wake. They were travelling ahead of the other boats.

Tam glanced back upstream, shouting to Togey, “No sign of Gulo an’ the vermin, mate!”

Togey called back, “Keep yore eyes peeled on that left bank. That’s the route they’ll be followin’.”

Skipper was in the last logboat. He balanced upright, steadying himself on his broad rudder as he peered back upstream. His keen eyes caught movement. Pointing, he roared at the top of his voice, “They’re on the river, comin’ fast this way!”

Tam and Log a Log both turned to look. In their wake, the broad stream resembled a single long and narrowing avenue. In the distance, the big willow trunk was thundering downstream, loaded with vermin. Gulo could be seen standing high amid the roots which formed the prow. The wolverine was gesturing madly as he exhorted his crew to paddle with branches and spears. Tam’s first reaction was one of alarm. The huge tree seemed to be gaining on them, travelling at a very fast pace indeed. Log a Log Togey nudged a nearby shrew. Together they studied the unusual craft racing along in their wake. Then they held a hasty whispered conference, both smiling and nodding.

The Borderer looked enquiringly at the Guosim chieftain. “What’s so funny, mate?”

Togey pointed ahead. There was a turn coming up in the distance where a massive rocky outcrop poked out into the water. He put his mouth close to Tam’s ear. “Wait’ll we round that curve, an’ you’ll see!”

He waved to the other logboats, pointing to the curve and nodding off to the left. They signalled back that they had understood the order. Immediately all the Guosim crews dipped their oars and began paddling strongly with the headlong current. All the logboats shot forward.

Lancejack Wilderry was seated in the prow of the big front boat. He became so exhilarated by the sudden turn of speed on the wild waters that he rose up, roaring, “Eulaliiiiiaaaaa! Let ’er go, chaps!”

A stern old shrew shoved the young hare down, clambering over him to crouch in the very peak of the prow. “Keep yer ’ead down, matey. I gotta watch out fer the Chief’s signals. Stay out o’ me way now!”

The hares in all the boats had drawn their weapons at first, thinking that Gulo and his vermin might overtake them. But when it became obvious that he would not, they put up their arms and clung tight to the gunnels, their ears blowing out straight behind them as the logboats skimmed over the boiling waters. The shrews in the prows of other boats began uncoiling stout ropes with grappling hooks attached. Log a Log and Tam watched as the foebeasts tried to put on more speed. Gulo, lashing about with a long, whippy willow bough, exhorted them to greater efforts.

Togey shouted to Tam above the watery din, “Grab this tiller with me. Now when I call starboard, you push it t’the right with all your might. Got that?”

Tam nodded, repeating the instruction. “Starboard, push to the right!” He set both paws on the tiller, gripping it fiercely.

Suddenly the bend was upon them. Tam felt Log a Log Togey tense. Then the shrew warrior bellowed out his commands, “Starboard! Starboard! Push for yore life!”

Bracing his footpaws against the port bulkhead, Tam pushed until veins stood out upon his neck. Water was dashing into the logboats as shrews in the prows whirled ropes with grapnelled ends and cast them.

A hidden inlet, diguised by overhanging trees, was right around the bend. Tam felt the big logboat shudder as it turned sideways in the melee of water. He caught but a brief glimpse of the rocks on the right, looming up at the stern, before a powerful shock knocked him almost flat.

The shrew in the prow had thrown his rope, its grapnels thunking into the body of an ancient pine. Guosim shrews threw themselves upon the ropes, hauling madly. Logboats heeled almost onto their sides as the bounding current pounded them. Then they righted. Ropes thrummed tautly, and the boats were hauled swiftly into the tree-covered inlet.

Tam found himself soaked to the fur and gasping for breath, still gripping the tiller.

Log a Log Togey patted the warrior squirrel’s back, complimenting him. “We’ll make a streambeast of ye yet, Tam. Well done, mate!”

Then the Guosim leader turned his attention to the other boats. “All craft in now? Oars shipped an’ boats well hid?”

Skipper, whose logboat was the last to be hauled in, gave Togey a wave. “All craft in an’ tied up tight, Chief!”

One of the hares whispered to Threeshrew, “Rather neat, wot! D’you chaps do this often?”

Looking grim, she responded, “Nobeast ever tried it afore, we’re the first to do it. I thought we was all deadbeasts for a while back there.”

The young hare’s ears stood up rigid. “Good grief, y’might have told us ’twas your first time!”

Tam could not help but smile. “Would it have made any difference?”

Skipper murmured to Togey, “They should be here soon. Wot if’n they sees us as they pass by?”

The shrew chieftain shrugged. “Wouldn’t make any difference if we stuck our tongues out at ’em an’ sang rude songs, mate. They wouldn’t be able to stop. That tree’s headed for a waterfall so steep you can ’ardly see the bottom. Though if’n ye did, ye wouldn’t like it—the bottom of those falls is nothin’ but a big heap o’ rocks stickin’ up. Mark my words, Skip—Gulo an’ his scummy crew are all deadbeasts!”

As it happened, Gulo did not spot the hidden cove as the big willow trunk shot by. He was too busy lashing about at his vermin and yelling out over the din of wild water, “Faster! More speed! Keep going, ye idle fools!”

With nobeast to steer or otherwise control it, the huge bulk of the fallen tree continued to hurtle through the water as it went with the currents. Veering in to the right, the massive treetrunk eventually struck the enormous outcrop of rock, directly on the bend. Were it not for his powerful claws, which he had latched into the trunk after releasing his willow whip, Gulo would have died on impact.

Then disaster struck the tree, the shock of the collision turning it end to end. And it carried on—turning and turning and turning. . . . The wolverine and his terrified crew clung to the log, lost in a whirling chaos of water and rock, the sky revolving above them.

When Tam and Togey last caught sight of them, the vermin were gripping tight aboard the spinning log, screaming and yelling as it swept out of sight around the bend.

Log a Log Togey relaxed his hold on the tiller. “There’s about six more bends afore they reach the big waterfall. When they hit the bottom, there won’t be enough left of ’em to scrape up in a basket!”

Tam looked stunned, but he responded to the shrew’s remark. “Good riddance to bad rubbish, mate!”

Leaving the logboats securely moored to trees, they clambered ashore over the rocks. Guosim cooks found a convenient spot among the conifers to set up camp. There a fire was built, water fetched from the stream and wet garments set out to dry. Everybeast took their ease, weary after their ordeal on the wild waters, which could still be heard thundering along in the background.

Tam sat with Skipper and Togey, watching the westering sun setting distant trees into silhouettes tinged with purple and gold. The trio were silent, each with his own thoughts, until the shrew chieftain stroked his beard reflectively.

“Well, mates, a good end to a long, hard day, eh?”

Tam began slowly honing the blade of his dirk against a rock. “Aye, ’twas that, though I’ll wager Gulo the Savage had an even harder day on his journey to Hellgates. I never kept my vow to slay him, though.”

Skipper flicked drops of water from his rudder. “Ye ought to bless fate for that, Tam. We should thank Mother Nature for takin’ care o’ that one. I don’t think any ten beasts could’ve faced a monster like Gulo in combat. That ’un was a mad slayer an’ a flesh eater. Yore a warrior, Tam, but I don’t think you’d have stood a chance agin a beast like Gulo the Savage.”

The Borderer tested the edge of his blade. “We’ll never know now, will we?”

Sensing the challenge in Tam’s voice, Log a Log Togey changed the direction of the conversation. “Makes no difference now, mates. Ole Gulo’s out the way, an’ yore headed back to Redwall.”

Tam nodded. “First thing in the morning, an’ we’ll have to step out sharp. The Abbey’s probably under attack by half a hundred vermin—remember, Gulo split his forces.”

Skipper looked grim. “Yore right there. I ’ope our friends aren’t in any difficulties, I’d hate to think ole Humble or my young Brookflow was in any trouble. I expect you feel the same way about Sister Armel. Eh, Tam?”

The warrior looked surprised. “I hope they’re all safe an’ well, Skip. Why should I be particularly worried about the Sister?”

The otter chieftain chuckled. “Hah, you ain’t foolin’ anybeast, Rakkety Tam MacBurl. Everybeast noticed the way you two was gazin’ at each other an’ whisperin’ together!”

Suddenly Tam was lost for words. He was saved by the arrival of Lancejack Wilderry. “I say, you chaps, are you goin’ to sit there chunnerin’ away all blinkin’ evenin’, or d’you want some scoff?”

It was Guosim tradition that, whilst on campaign, the Log a Log was served first. Out of deference to the shrews, the Long Patrol hares observed this rule. Gathered around the spread the cooks had set out for them, both groups eagerly awaited Togey’s arrival, which would signal that it was time to dig into the feast. Upon his appearance, however, the shrew chieftain first had a few words to say.

“Comrades, this is a fine meal laid out for us. I want ye to enjoy it an’ give thanks for livin’ through today. Not just us Guosim, but you hares, too. We lost some fine friends today, good shrews an’ gallant hares. Our victory was gained, but at a price. So I want ye to give a moment’s silence an’ think of the ones who ain’t with us t’share these good vittles.”

In the silence that followed, the Guosim thought of their mates who had been lost whilst freeing the broadstream of the fallen willow. Many wept openly. The Long Patrol hares kept a stiff upper lip, but it was hard: they all had memories of gallant Corporal Butty Wopscutt, who had given his life for his friends. Tam thought of Butty, too; he had been very fond of the jolly corporal. At the same time, he could not help thinking of Doogy. Where was the little Highlander? Was he safe and well? Then his mind wandered to other things. His feelings for Sister Armel were just as Skipper had expressed them. Tam smiled to himself as he reflected on what an unlikely match they made—the warrior and the gentle healer!

The reverie was broken when a shrewcook held out a plate of stew, some rough bread and a beaker of shrewbeer to Tam. “Here y’are, matey. Get that lot inside o’ ye!”

As night fell over the waters and the woodlands, they did what warriors always did after a long hard day—ate well, drank heartily, told tales and, especially popular with the young hares of the Long Patrol, sang songs. One Merriscut Fieldbud, a haremaid with a trilling voice, entertained them with a barrack room monologue.

“Well pish an’ tush an”pon my word,

I am the Primrose Warrior.

The day I joined the Long Patrol,

no maid was ever sorrier.

They woke me up at break o’ dawn,

and sent me off to war,

before I’d had a chance to bathe,

or dust each dainty paw.

I went away to fight the foe,

with comrades rude an’ rough.

They’d never seen a perfume spray,

much less a powder puff.

With not a drop of daisy balm,

or any rosehip lotion,

I marched along, a dreadful sight,

my ears shook with emotion.

Then soon we faced the enemy,

an’ it was my firm belief,

between that awful scruffy lot,

was not one handkerchief!

What were their mothers thinking of?

Not one had washed his face.

I mentioned to my Officer,

they looked a real disgrace!

All filled with indignation then,

I charged them single-pawed,

with boudoir mirror for a shield,

and parasol for sword.

I curled their ears and brushed their teeth,

and wiped their runny noses,

then sprayed on toilet water,

until they smelt like roses.

They ran away in swift retreat,

that rabble so unseemly.

My General then promoted me,

for beating them so cleanly.

So when you see me on parade,

you chaps must all salute.

I’m called the Primrose Major now, and

Isn’t that a hoot?”

Everybeast laughed and applauded, especially the shrews.

Log a Log Togey remarked to the lancejack, “Hohoho, that ’un’s a pretty liddle maid, ain’t she?”

Wilderry nodded. “She is indeed, sah, but don’t be fooled. Merriscut is hard as steel, an’ death with a lance. She’s what y’d call a perilous beauty, wot!”

Togey observed drily, “All these young ’uns are perilous, both shrews an’ hares. ’Tis the life we chose.” He turned to Skipper. “Well, matey, wot d’ye reckon to Guosim stew, eh?”

The burly otter was into his third bowl. “Ho, very tasty, very nice! But ain’t you buckoes never ’eard of hotroot pepper?”

Togey pulled a wry face. “Aye, but that stuff’s a bit too warm for Guosim stummicks. No doubt ye’ll soon be slurpin’ it down when ye get t’the Abbey. They prob’ly got lots of hotroot pepper there.”

The otter chieftain gazed fondly into the fire. “They do indeed, mate. Good ole Redwall, I can’t wait for dawn when we begin the march to my Abbey!”

Dawn came soon enough, sooner than some expected, who were looking forward to a late sleep. The camp came abustle with hastily taken breakfast.

Log a Log Togey briefed Tam and Skipper. “I’m takin’ my crews back off t’the logboats. Got some business t’see to, mates. Redwall’s about a couple o’ days good marchin’ from here. I’ll leave ye Oneshrew an’ Twoshrew. They’ll guide ye back to the Abbey.”

After they had said their good-byes, Tam found that, in the absence of Corporal Butty Wopscutt, he was left to give the orders. The Borderer did so with practised ease. Soon his bark was echoing round the camp.

“Come on now, me lucky lads’n’lassies, time to march for Redwall! Fall in the Long Patrol. Lancejack an’ Fieldbud, front’n’centre! Right markers, fall in! Tenshun! Look to your dressin’, yew sloppy lot of fiddle-pawed, wobble-lugged excuses for hares! Silence in the ranks there! By the left! Quick march! Hup two, hup two, hup two. . . .” The column strode off briskly through the morning woodlands.

One of the young hares murmured to his companion, “Strewth! Did ye hear Mister MacBurl then? I thought it was ole Sarge Wonwill for a blinkin’ moment!”

His friend replied, “Sounded jolly well like him, wot! Nearly brought a tear to me flippin’ eye, thinkin’ about Sarge Wonwill, grumpy ole gravel-gutted beast. I miss him.”

“I’ll bring a tear to yore eye, laddie buck!” The young hare cut his eyes sideways to see Tam marching on the other side of him. The Borderer looked every inch the sergeant major, with his dirk tucked horizontally like a swagger stick.

He scowled ferociously at the talkers. “I’ll bring so many tears to both your eyes you’ll think yore marchin’ underwater! Now straighten those shoulders, move those paws an’ shut those mouths! No gossipin’ in the ranks, d’ye hear me?”

Both hares tucked their chins in and bawled simultaneously, “Yes, sah! No gossipin’ in the ranks, sah!”

Tam fell back a pace or two, smiling to himself. Skipper caught up with him, nodding his admiration. “That sounded good, mate! Where’d ye learn to give orders like that? ’Twas just like a proper roughneck officer.”

Tam shrugged. “Oh, here’n there . . . y’know, Skip. For the past few seasons, I’ve been in the service of a fool Squirrelking. You sort of pick it up as y’go along.”

Midafternoon, the shrewscouts reported back. Oneshrew and her sister had nothing urgent to convey—the route was clear, and they had picked out a spot for an early evening stopover.

Tam dismissed them, then called out to his hares, “Listen up now, you bedraggled, bewildered beauties! Our scouts have found an early evenin’ layover spot. D’ye want to stop there, or march on until dark an’ see if we can make Redwall Abbey in record time?”

A roar of well-drilled voices came back at him. “March on, sah, march on!”

Skipper surprised Tam by bellowing out, “March on it is, ye lollopin’ lilies! Keep up the pace there! I want to get to Redwall afore I grow old an’ need a stick. Step lively there!”

The otter chieftain winked at Tam. “How d’ye think I did?”

Tam saluted his friend. “Well done, Skip. Yore a born Sergeant Major! We’ll share the commands from here to Redwall.”

Skipper beamed like a morning sunrise. “Righto, Sergeant!” They camped that night at another spot the shrewscouts had chosen further on. It was dark, and the marchers were weary. Tam and his company bathed their paws in a small brook. After a short snack of haversack rations, they curled up in a shaded glade and fell asleep immediately.

Skipper was awake shortly after daybreak. He roused the hares like a true regimental sergeant. “Come on, my liddle beauties, up on yore dainty paws now! Right, who’d like a luvverly brekkist o’ fresh salad, ’ot scones an’ some blackberry tarts?”

A gullible young hare stretched and yawned. “Oh, I say, sah, that’d just fit the bill nicely!”

The otter chieftain gave him a jaundiced eye, roaring at the unfortunate in a voice like thunder, “Well, you ain’t goin’ t’get nothin’ like that ’ere, laddie buck! Grab an apple an’ some water, then up on yore hunkers an’ get fell in for marchin’! Yew lollop-eared, bottle-nosed, misbegotten muddlers! Move, or I’ll ’ave yore guts for garters an’ yore tails for tea!”

Tam winked at the otter’s verbosity. “I like that one, Skip! Misbegotten muddlers . . . I must remember that. How far to the Abbey now, I wonder?”

Skipper studied the woodlands ahead. “Not too far now, mate. I’m startin’ to recognise a few landmarks. Oneshrew an’ Twoshrew are good liddle maids, they’re trackin’ well. If’n we make fast time, I reckon we’ll reach the Abbey early tomorrow morn.”

They marched on through the day, making only one brief halt in the early noontide. Just before dusk they stopped at a place the two Guosim sisters had chosen for the night’s rest. It was situated on a streambank.

Skipper nodded with satisfaction. “Well, root me rudder, mate! D’ye reckernise this place?”

Tam dabbled his paws in the cooling waters. “Everywhere’s beginnin’ to look the same t’me, Skip. I’m a Borderer, not a Woodlander. Where are we?”

The otter pointed slightly downstream. “Round about there, that’s where wotsisname, the pesky liddle vole robber, hid yore sword an’ the flag. Let’s see!” He dived like an arrow into the water and streaked away beneath the surface.

Not having heard Skipper’s conversation with Tam, the hares watched him in awe. Two of the most opinionated in the group exchanged comments.

“Strewth! Must have some blinkin’ energy, wot? Marchin’ since dawn, then goin’ off for a jolly old swim like that!”

“Indeed, you wouldn’t catch me doin’ that, old lad. Dabble the paws a bit, that’s my style. Where’s the Skipper gone, sah?”

Tam lay back on the bank, closing his eyes. “Wait an’ see.”

They had not long to wait. Shortly thereafter, Skipper bounded up onto the bank and tossed a long, wrapped bundle to Tam. “Found these in a hole on the other bank, right where that rascal stowed ’em awhile back!”

Tam unwrapped the wet banner of Squirrelking Araltum from about his claymore. He wielded the blade fondly. “My thanks to ye, Skip. You’ve done me a great favour!”

Skipper shook himself like a dog, spraying some young hares with water. “My pleasure, Tam. The sun’ll dry yore flag out tomorrow. Ye can polish yore sword up, an’ the followin morn y’can march into the Abbey—double-bladed, wavin’ the flag an’ singin’ yore ’ead off!”

Tam looked thoughtful. “Maybe, Skip. That’s if Redwall hasn’t been taken by the vermin!”