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 vise 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 marooned—evil 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 seawater 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 shoulder—we’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.

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 Cordle—he’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.

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.”