CHAPTER THIRTY
"Ahhh! Take a gander at that glorious sight, me hearties, an' tell me true that that ain't th' sweetest thing any landlubber could ever wanna see, yarr harr!"
Lieutenant Custis shot Montybank a dour sideways glance. "Funny, I thought you were an Abbey otter, not a high-seas corsair."
"Guess I should've brought along my Cluny eyepatch," Winokur chortled from the Skipper's other side.
The three of them stood, along with Foremole, Log-a-Log and Pirkko, upon the banks of the River Moss, gazing across the wide, gently-flowing watercourse, its lazy currents rippling and shimmering under the bright springtime sun. Even with their heavy, unwieldy carts slowing their progress along the forest trails, they'd still reached the Moss and rendezvoused with the advance party by mid-afternoon, and now the Redwallers and Guosim bound for the quarry and Gawtrybe bound for Foxguard were all gathered together at this single jumping-off point.
And what a point it was. The broad expanse of the Moss glittered and danced before them like some great rippling serpent, languid and magnificent. Not all of the travellers, however, show the same enthusiasm over this river panorama as Monty and the other otters.
"Your tails are made to be in the water," Custis said to him. "Ours aren't. I just want to be across, and as quickly as may be."
"Burr hurr," Foremole heartily agreed, "oi'd ruther be on one soide or ee other, not in ee muddle. May'aps uz cudd floiy over et, or tunnel doawn below on ee unnersoide of ee gurt watterway?"
"Don't think we'll be flying, unless Lord Urthblood sends a squadron of his tame eagles our way to act as carriers," said Winokur. "And even then, they might find some of us otters a bit much to bear ... although I daresay they'd probably have no trouble carrying a mole, a shrew or even a squirrel."
"Pah!" Log-a-Log spat. "Us Guosim're riverbeasts ev'ry bit as much as you waterdogs! No feathery menace is gonna scoop us up in its scaly talons t' get us where we wanna go, not when we got good stout cargo rafts 'n' logboats t' ply these currents! I'm almost insulted, friend Foremole, that you'd show so liddle faith in our boat-craftin' skills. Trust yer crossin' t' us, an' ye'll not get so much as a wet whisker ner damp diggin' claw!"
"Oi serpintly do 'ope so, zurr Log, an' oi'll 'old ee to et. Uz molers be moighty unfond of ee wet, an' moighy fond of stayen droi, burr hurr!"
Custis was clearly impatient to be off. "Well, are we going to stand here all day, flapping our jaws and playing sightseer, or are we going to get going?"
The otters and moles regarded the squirrel lieutenant with mild surprise. "We just busted our rudders draggin' loaded carts through the thick o' Mossflower Wood, with nary a break," Monty reminded him. "I'da thunk ye'd be wantin' to rest up 'ere 'til th' morrow, give yore squirrels a chance to regain their oomph."
"Oh, we'll get our rest in, don't you worry. We'll be sitting on our tails all during the crossings, And, as you've pointed out, there aren't enough rafts to take us and our carts all across in a single trip. That means there'll always be some of us sitting on one bank or the other, waiting for the rest of us."
Although he could never have known it, Custis had just invoked the exact same tactical logic employed by Lord Urthfist and the Long Patrol two summer earlier, whilst dealing with a cantankerous ferry shrew named Fitkin during their mad dashes back and forth between Salamandastron and Redwall.
"Hmm. Makes sense, I s'pose. An' it ain't like ye've not got a head start already ... " Monty and the others gazed across the Moss to where some of the Guosim had established a temporary camp; the boatbuilding teams, knowing to expect the quarry-bound expedition and the remainder of the Gawtrybe sometime during the second half of this day, had ferried some of their numbers to the opposite banks in anticipation of the larger group's arrival. A few of the squirrel archers sat amongst them; between the Gawtrybe's shafts and Guosim slingstones and blades, no foebeast was likely to trouble the encampments on either side of the river.
Custis craned his head back; here on the banks where the forest canopy opened up - even moreso now with the recent felling of many trees for the making of the rivercraft - the clear blue dome of sky was clearly visible, along with the rearing tower of Foxguard, now much closer than it had appeared from any point within Redwall, and the first any of the travellers had glimpsed of it since leaving the Abbey. "There's too much daylight left to waste it idling here. We may even be able to get all of our carts across before the light fails. And most of the Gawtrybe as well. Now that we're getting well into spring, evening's taking its time arriving, a little later each day."
"Aye, that's true 'nuff," Monty agreed. "And we oughta be able t' get our cart across too well 'fore sundown. Glad we only brought one!"
"Ours take priority," Custis said with a stiff, prim authority. "We're expected at Foxguard. You've got all season to open your quarry, and the season after that too, if need be."
The squirrel's commanding and dismissive tone rankled Montybank. "Hey, now wait there just a shake, matey - " the otter Skipper started to object, but Winokur, ever vigilant for any opportunity to play peacemaker, quickly interceded.
"No need for heated words or arguments over resources here, friends! In case you've both forgotten, we Redwallers have a ferry barge of our own, and it's more than big enough to carry our cart, and a few of us besides! So we'll just lay claim to what's ours, and that will still leave enough of the big log rafts the advance party lashed together to get all the Gawtrybe carts across in just a trip or two!"
"Yes, well, I suppose that would work," Custis grudgingly conceded, although his tone suggested that he would have liked nothing better than to commandeer the Abbey raft for his tribe's use as well. However, even the pushy, businesslike squirrel officer realized that this would hardly sit well with his Redwall allies, and that even here in the wilds of Mossflower far outside the Abbey walls, his authority among these creatures had its limits.
"Wink makes sense, as always," Log-a-Log readily concurred. "We didn't spend days out here ahead of you stragglers sittin' on our tails! We got plenny o' craft prepared - enuff t' get ev'ry squirrel here an' yer loads ferried 'crost by nightfall, with daylight t' spare!"
"Very well," Custis said, apparently mollified. "I'll hold you to that. So, what are we waiting for? Let's get started."
In no time at all, the Guosim and the Abbey otters had the four ferry rafts lined up along the bank, their nearer edges tucked securely into the mud to allow for easy loading of the wagons. The three barges recently made by the boatbuilding team dwarfed the Redwallers' old raft at nearly twice the size; nevertheless, it was decided, just to be on the safe side, that only a single Gawtrybe cart would be taken on each raft during each crossing, which would necessitate two sets of trips. Custis held his tongue and refrained from voicing any further impatience over this, since this arrangement would also allow quite a few of his squirrels to cross along with each cart.
Monty and Winokur decided to join the Abbey cart on its crossing, along with several of their fellow otters. Each of them was given a long pole and instructed by the Guosim to take up positions along the edges of the simple craft, while Foremole huddled in the middle practically under the cart, as far from the water as the limited deck space allowed.
"Good thing we got lots o' strappin' otters 'ere now t' help punt us across!" Log-a-Log said with a hearty guffaw. "Saves us shrews from overstrainin' ourselves, harrharr!"
Monty studied the poles they'd been given. "Hey, Log matey, there's no paddle on any o' these! We can't punt our way clear to the other side - river's too deep in its middle!"
"Ahhaha! Don'tcha think we're waterbeasts enuff ourselves t' realize that? This ain't our first time on th' Moss - an' we got it all worked out, ye'll see!"
As the quartet of rafts prepared to push off, their passengers and crews saw the Guosim lower four of their newly-wrought logboats into the water beside them, and Monty soon saw what Log-a-Log had in mind. Using their punting poles, the Redwall otters and the Gawtrybe squirrels quickly had their ferries away from the bank and out into the main currents, and at first they had no trouble pushing against the riverbed to propel their craft. But as they neared the deeper middle of the Moss, they encountered precisely the dilemma Monty had predicted, their poles too short to reach the bottom.
"Too bad Log-a-Log didn't have time t' fashion steering rudders fer these floatin' platforms," the otter Skipper lamented. "If'n we had 'em, we coulda just angled 'em right to cut across these currents an' - ooof!"
While Monty had stood ruminating on the shrew chieftain's lack of foresight, one of the logboats butted prow-on against the stern of their Abbey raft with a jarring clunk. Monty turned to see Log-a-Log waving to him from the midst of the smaller vessel, a cocky grin on his face.
"Ahoy there, Skip matey! Adrift an' astray, are we? Well, just lay up yer puntin' poles fer a spell, an' let shrewpower take over!"
For the next few minutes, the shrew logboat, driven by ten pairs of strong sure paws, acted as a tugboat, pushing the Abbey raft through the main currents at the center of the river and toward the swirling eddies near the opposite shore. The Redwallers seized this opportunity to follow their shrew allies' advice and lay down their poles, resting their thick tails against the smooth worn wood of their simple craft.
"Ah, that feels good on these old nautical bones!" Monty exulted as he sat on the raft's edge, dangling his footpaws into the water while the Guosim did all the work for the moment. "Those overachievin' squirrels might not have cared a whit whether they got to take a breather on this trek, but this Abbey otter knows enuff t' welcome a liddle downtime after a jaunt through the thick woods like that!"
Winokur lowered himself onto the raft alongside his mentor from his pre-Order days, but refrained from dabbling any of his body parts overboard out of deference to his habit and the scribe's materials in his satchel. Gazing at the sky and feeling the sun on his fur and the river breeze in his whiskers, he said, "I can't help but be reminded of the last time we took this ferry of ours - you, me, Foremole ... and Vanessa too."
This did more to somber up Monty than the cold flow washing past his webbed toes. "Aye, I know whatcher mean, Wink. Our pore ol' Abbess left on that journey one way, an' came back an entirely diff'rent mousie. It's true, a cruise on th' Moss'll never hold th' same meanin' fer any of us after that. But hey, that's cause fer lookin' up as well! No two voyages could both have as sad an outcome as that one, so that bodes well for us now!"
Winokur grinned in admiration of his Skipper's optimistic cheek. "I like that thinking! And besides, it's that very same Vanessa who kept insisting that this 'Greenpup' of hers make this journey. Can't wish for a heartier endorsement than that, can you?"
Monty shook his head. "I know one mouse who's prob'ly wishin' she'd insisted he be off as well, just so that'd get him away from her. Pore Nessa - th' way she's been actin' lately especially. What're we gonna do with 'er?"
Winokur gave a resigned shrug inside his robes. "We leave it to fate, just like we have been. She'll get better or she won't, in her own time and in her own way. And we'll deal with the situation as best we can, just like the Redwallers we are."
Log-a-Log's crew had no trouble at all driving the Abbeybeasts' ferry forward, and soon the waters beneath them grew shallow enough that they were all back on their paws with poles at the ready, helping to stoke their way along with solid pushes against the riverbed. The other three logboat crews did not have things quite so easy; it was all they could do to push along the larger rafts built for the Gawtrybe carts. The Redwallers were fully landed and disembarked upon the far bank before the rest of their modest fleet was even two-thirds of the way across. By the time all four barges were securely stationed upon the riverbank mud, the shrews in the three logtugs wasted no time in piling out of their own beached craft to collapse on the grassy meadow above.
"Glad ... there's only ... one more trip ... t 'go ... after this," one of the recumbent shrews panted.
"Aw, Klugo, stop bein' a pansy!" Log-a-Log playfully chided. "You been tryin' t' win first prize fer bellyahcin' ever since you tapped yer paw at Redwall!"
"That weren't no mere tappin', Chief," Klugo protested. "T'were more like a right proper paw-mashin'! Sent me to the Infirmary, an' ev'rything! 'Sides, th' raft we was pushin' was twice th' size o' yers, an' twice as loaded too!"
Custis chipped in before Log-a-Log could castigate his exhausted shrews further. "My own squirrels will need a rest too before we can attempt another crossing. That poling took a lot out of them."
Monty couldn't resist taking a jab at Custis. "What, yore strong an' sturdy Gawtrybe, allers havin' t' be where they gotta get to, quick as may be, needin' a rest? These lugs o' mine must've got river mud in 'em!"
The squirrel lieutenant glowered at Montybank. "Yes, well, the muscles we use for racing through the treetops and pulling carts must be different than the ones needed for punting. Never doubt Gawtrybe strength or resolve, my friend. However, um ... that being said ... "
Monty leaned down toward Custis, paws on his knees, knowing what was coming and relishing it far more than he had any right to. "Eh, what's that, 'tenant?" he prompted with an impish grin.
"I don't suppose we could impose upon you to help us with our second crossing? It can't be denied that otters are far more suited to this kind of work than we are."
"Why, shore thing, matey!" Monty beamed. "We'd be more'n happy t' help out a fellow goodbeast in need, an' put our brawn t' work gettin' yore brushtails an' yore carts across t' this side! Wouldn't dream o' lettin' you down, now would we, Wink?"
Winokur couldn't help but share in his Skipper's mirth. "Why, of course not. That's the Redwall way, after all - granting aid to creatures who need it. And if those creatures happen to be our travel companions, all the better!"
"Shore is a god thing we brought so many strong, stout riverdogs along with us, ain't it?" Monty went on, unable to refrain from rubbing the officious squirrel's snout in it some more. "It'd be a right shame if ye hadta leave half yore company stranded back there on the other bank."
Custis straightened his tunic primly, clearly unamused by his boisterous travel mate. "Oh, nobeast would be stranded. We'd make sure we all got across even if we were on our own, without any otters or shrews to lend us a paw. I simply thought I might ask a friendly favor to ease our labors, but if this is going to be your attitude, we'll settle for only the ridicule-free aid Log-a-Log has willingly provided so far, and do all the poling ourselves."
Monty came around to clap Custis on the shoulder. "'ey, no need fer gettin' yore fur all in a ruff, 'tenant. Just havin' a liddle fun with ye. You just lay back an' let us waterdogs do th' heavy liftin' while you rest yore fair brushes on th' grass 'ere."
"Much appreciated, Skipper," Custis bit off, his tone grudging.
Log-a-Log jumped in to brighten things up with a little shrewish enthusiasm. "Should still be plenny o' time fer at least two more crossin's 'fore sundown. We'll finish up with yer carts on th' next transit, then concentrate on ev'rybeast else. An' once all you Gawtrybe an' Abbeybeasts're across, no reason we shrews can't keep makin' passes by logboat come nightfall. We'll all be sleepin' on this shore t'night, you can count on it, or I ain't Log-a-Log of th' Guosim!"
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Log-a-Log held true to his promise to have the rest of the Gawtrybe carts - and most of the Gawtrybe themselves - safely delivered across the River Moss by sundown. Having the Redwall otters and the Abbey ferry at their disposal helped speed the task, and the longer springtime dusk gave them light to work by even after the red orb of the sinking sun vanished below the treetops to the west.
The change in the weather came quickly. As the Guosim and the otters made their third crossing, getting the rest of the squirrels and many of the remaining shrews over the river, heavy clouds rolled in, and by the time the moon rose in the east, that lunar lantern was completely hidden behind the thickly overcast skies.
"Hmm - gonna get rain fer sure," the shrew chieftain assessed, gauging the clouds overhead. "Mebbe heavy, too. Pity - I was hopin' t' have some moonlight t' work by, while we got th' rest of th' Guosim an' our logboats over here. Good thing we know these waterways enuff t' navigate by dark. Still, we'll see if we can't keep some cookfires goin' t' serve as a beacon for 'em. Otherwise, they''ll be paddlin' blind."
"Guess we couldn't expect perfect weather alla time," Monty observed. "Leastways it saw us through th' forest to th' river, an' mostly across it too. Can't ask fer bright sun ev'ry day an' clear moonlight ev'ry night besides. An' it is springtime, after all, so we'll be gettin' our fair share o' showers this season, unless there's a drought. Reckon we'll just hunker down 'neath our tent tarps fer one soggy even, an' hope it clears up by morn."
Foremole and his crew were less than ecstatic over the prospect of a damp sleep. "Burr hurr, oi doan't be loiken ee wet anymoar when et cumms doawn frum ee skoi than when et cumms frum ee rivver or pond, no zurr. Uz moler's much ruther be keepen our diggen claws droi while uz be asleepen, boi okay uz wudd."
"I suspected you Redwall lot might feel that way," Log-a-Log said with a knowing grin. "Which is why I put a little contingency in place fer just such a possibility. None o' you need stay out with only a fluttery tarp overhead t' keep you dry durin' yer slumbers. If'n you want, you c'n have a nice solid rock roof over yer heads this night!"
Winokur perked up at this, instantly guessing what their shrew ally had in mind. "You mean the quarry? How far is it from here? Will we be able to find our way to it once darkness falls?"
"Well, you can be sure it's not too far, Wink lad, elsewise Lord Urthblood woulda had a major pain luggin' all his stone fer Foxguard from there t' here. I'm half-surprised that badger didn't have a barge channel dug out from th' quarry to th' Moss, but that mighta been too big an undertakin' even fer that ambitious brute, 'specially consid'rin' ev'rything else he had goin' on at th' time. He seemed content with cartin' his stone fer that red tower out from th' mine pit to th' river. The trail they wore in th' land's still clearly visible, all these seasons later. It's almost like Urthblood built us a nice liddle road all our own, leadin' from here straight to where we gotta go!"
Custis narrowed his eyes at Log-a-Log. "And you would know all this, how?"
"Advance scouts, o' course! You think my shrews waited 'til just this morn t' make their first crossin'? We been scopin' out th' lay o' the land fer th' last couple o' days, soon as there was a finished logboat t' float 'em across! Some of 'em have even been to th' quarry already, scoutin' 'round 'n' makin' sure no nasty surprises were waitin' fer us there. Can't guarantee one hunnerd percent that it's serpent-free, but if any of them longbeasts're lurkin' about down in those tunnels, they'll think twice about strikin' out at us when they see our entire force of Guosim descendin' upon 'em, along with half o' Redwall's otters an' most o' their moles too!"
"Hurr, oi serpintly 'ope thurr be no zurrpints thurrabowts," Foremole worried. "Bein' et boi a zurrrpint wudd ruin moi sleep worser'n gettin' wet!"
"Oh, an' fer yer own infermation," Log-a-Log added to Custis, "there's room aplenty there fer yer carts too, if'n you don't want 'em standin' out in th' rain."
"They're well-covered and protected from the elements," the Gawtrybe lieutenant shot back. "We marched all the way from Salamandastron with them, remember? They were packed to withstand all weather."
Log-a-Log shrugged. "Suit yerself, matey. Just thought you an' yer squirrels might wanna keep yerselves an' yer belongin's dry if'n you could. Makes no diff'rence to us if you choose t' stay out in th' rain."
"I'm more concerned about losing travel time," Custis explained. "The shortest, most direct route to Foxguard from where we're standing now is straight along the riverbank. Having to haul our carts all the way to the quarry, and then all the way back here again in the morning, might prove more trouble than it's worth, and would certainly delay us unnecessarily if we never end up getting more than a drizzle or a light shower. Besides, how would we get our carts down into the quarry anyway?"
Log-a-Log's grin widened. "Well, don'tcher think I woulda taken that inta account 'fore mouthin' off any sorta invitation to ya? We got a cart of our own too, y' know. Come along, an' I'll show you exactly what I'm talkin' about. If we shift our tails an' get a move on, we might even make it there 'fore th' worst of any rain hits!"
Monty smirked in the light from the newly-started campfires. "Aw, that shouldn't be a problem fer these busybody bushtails - they're always in a hurry t' get a move on! Hey, 'tenant, will ye be needin' my otters t' help pull yore carts too?"
Custis glared at the otter Skipper without a word, then turned to his Gawtrybe to issue orders for moving their wagons inland.
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A soft, gentle spring rain was falling by the time their nocturnal procession reached the quarry - a destination which proved hard to miss, even in the wet darkness. Not only did the journeybeasts find the overgrown trail imprinted upon the earth by the passage of Urthblood's quarrying carts easy to make out by sight and feel, but Log-a-Log had instructed his advance party ahead to engage in certain preparations as well.
"Hey, what's that glow I see up ahead?" Monty inquired as he marched at the head of the plodding column alongside Winokur, paw to his brow to shield his eyes from the dripping droplets.
"Toldja I got some o' my shrews stationed at th' quarry!" the shrew chieftain boasted. "An' they're gonna give us all a right proper welcome, as ye'll be seein'!"
Nearly all the Gawtrybe had joined this inland exodus, along with over half the Guosim and the entire party from Redwall, which made sense since the Abbeybeasts and their shrew partners had no plans to move on once they arrived at the quarry. The only beasts who'd remained at the Moss were some of the Guosim still involved in the crossing, and a token pawful of Gawtrybe to help guard their now-diminished riverside campsite.
Passing over one final grassy rise, the grass-flattened and rutted trail of the Badger Lord's previous endeavors still providing a clear path for them to follow, the large company drew to a momentary halt as two surprises met their gazes.
The first was that they could actually see at all. Down on the floor of the vast terraced rock basin far below, a number of lanterns and lamps had been lit, illuminating the stark crags and rubble-strewn expanses quite clearly, at least to the travellers' night-accustomed eyes. It was hardly a harsh brilliance to behold, or even sufficient brightness to easily work by, but it served its purpose as far as letting everybeast above and below see their way around without fear of a perilous and possibly lethal misstep.
"How d'ya like it, fellers?" Log-a-Log asked. "When my scouts got here, they found a bunch o' work lamps Urthblood musta left b'hind from winter afore last. All-weather lanterns too, that'll light in rain or snow, an' enuff oil t' burn fer days! Nice liddle find, don'tcher think?"
"That badger does seem to think of everything," Winokur mused. "He's even considerate enough to leave supplies here for our use, seasons before we knew ourselves that we'd be reopening this quarry!"
"Ayup. Sumpthin' t' be said fer prophetic vision, ain't there?" Log-a-Log motioned them forward. "Well, are we gonna head down, or ain't we?"
This led to the second surprise which had greeted the journeybeasts upon cresting the grassy rise before the quarry: an immense ramp of rock sloping from the worksite floor all the way up to the rim where they stood, a gradual grade of solid stone with a surface smooth enough for wheeled wagons to easily pass up and down it.
"Well stand on moi tunnel!" Foremole declared. "Oi bain't ne'er see'd naught loik et!"
"Highwing mentioned this feature to us," Winokur added, "when we first learned Lord Urthblood had re-opened the quarry and he flew out here to investigate the matter for us. He and the Sparra were the only Redwall creatures who ever visited the quarry while Urthblood's moles were working on it, and even that badger himself had already departed for Salamandastron by the time we became aware of his activities here. I must say, our Sparra leader's descriptions were clearly inadequate to convey the scale of this incline."
"Knew ye'd be impressed!" Log-a-Log laughed. "Way I figger it, woulda took any ordinary work crew th' better part of a season t' pile up a ramp like this, but knowin' that badger, wouldn't be surprised if they got in done in a matter o' days. An' keep in mind this was just a convenience fer speedin' along his task o' movin' th' stone he needed fer buildin' Foxguard, an' not even th' main endeavor here!"
The others shared his awe. "Just when you start to think Urthblood can't surprise you any more," Winokur muttered.
Even Custis stood impressed by the masonry spectacle on display before them. "Indeed. But will it be sufficient to allow our carts to get down there safely?"
"Don't see why not," Log-a-Log said dismissively. "Stone-haulin' carts is what is was designed fer, wasn't it?"
"Yes - for hauling fully-loaded carts up the incline, and empty ones back down again," the Gawtrybe lieutenant pointed out. "We'll be doing just the reverse: pulling laden carts down. And this drizzle may well render that stone slippery underpaw. I can see a nasty accident taking place, if we're not exceedingly careful."
"Burr, ee'm be roight," Foremole readily agreed. "Ee carts moight roll for'ard, an' be too 'eavy furr anybeast pullin' 'em to stop. They'm be runned over an' flatterned!"
"So, we leave the carts up here?" Winokur surmised.
"Nay, no need furr et, Maister Winkker. Uz'll just roll ee carters doawn backsoide furst, one at ee toime, with nobeast en ee way who moight be runned over."
"Good logical mole sense there," Custis concurred. "I can see your quarrying operations here will rest in very capable paws indeed."
"You'm mean diggen claws, doan't ee, gudd zurr?" Foremole corrected with a cheeky, crinkle-eyed smile as he flexed the formidable curved digits of his paws.
They decided to wait with the carts and keep those unwieldy vehicles to the end, allowing all the Guosim and moles and most of the Gawtrybe to file down the long stone ramp first. This they did in good time, the rain not yet making the sloped surface particularly slick or hazardous, as long as everybeast proceeded at a measured pace with careful footfalls. Whatever construction techniques Urthblood and his own moles had employed in the design of this multistory thoroughfare, they served the purpose exceedingly well - to the surprise of nobeast there whatsoever.
Once all the walkers were safely down on the quarry floor, then came the more challenging task of wrangling the heavy carts along the rock slope. Everybeast was kept clear of the ramp's base, held back at a safe distance lest a runaway wagon might come careening down at dangerous speeds. Up above, Montybank oversaw the operation from that end, having four of his otters take firm hold of the hauling hafts of a Gawtrybe cart and maneuver it, cargo bed first, over the lip of the ramp and onto the incline. It took their full brawn and their tightest grip to hold onto the cart during its gradual, painstaking descent, and at one point the left wheel nearly went over the edge of the raised concourse, but in the end the vehicle and its load arrived safely at the bottom of the quarry.
"We could use a beast or two in front of each cart to help guide them," Custis remarked. "If that had gone over the side just now, we would have lost the cart, and maybe much of its contents as well."
Monty immediately vetoed the idea. "Too dangerous, matey, as you said yoreself earlier. Anybeast in front o' those weighty wheelbarges would get smashed if my otters lost their grip. Better a smashed cart than a smashed squirrel, otter or shrew, eh?"
"I suppose."
"O' course you do. Right then, next team up an' at 'em! Don't let that first foursome show you up! Let's see ye make as good a job of it as they did!"
After the third Gawtrybe cart was wheeled down to the quarry floor without incident, the first otter team climbed the slope to take their next turn at the wagon hafts, adequately rested up from their initial labors. A couple more trips after that left only the smaller Abbey cart, although its heavy load of Foremole's stoneworking tools would not make it any great deal easier to handle than the Northlanders' conveyances. Monty himself took his place at the pull-bars, eager to be down with his fellow Redwallers now that this arduous task was nearly at an end.
"See ya down there, matey," he said to Custis as he and his otters started their final descent. "Right ho, me buckos, heave to an' keep yore grips fast! This one's ours so let's make shore we land 'er in a safe port nice an' easy!"
Things went smoothly for the first half of the short journey. Monty was surprised by how much work it took to back a cart down such a long slope, and what a toll this battle against gravity exerted on the muscles. Still, he fancied that he and his companions had the matter well in paw, until his opposite Overholt, her grasp on the haft made slick by the rain-dampened wood, lost her grip for just a moment. Her partner on that side of the cart, Bayoon, suddenly feeling the entire weight of their share of the burden tugging against his paws alone, relaxed his own grip on the cart stave for just a heartbeat before recovering from his startlement ... but that tiny lapse was all it took for everything to go awry.
"Hey, secure that over there!" Monty snapped, feeling his side of the cart yawing toward the side precipice of the ramp.
"Got it!" Overholt called back, re-establishing a firm grasp on the haft.
But they didn't have it. Inertia and momentum had fully asserted themselves during the narrow window of opportunity afforded them, and now the cart was skewed off course to one side, with no room for correction along the limited confines of the ramp's path. The otters had regained their joint grip on the cart, but now that wagon was aimed just slightly toward the edge, and with Monty's team expending their total energy just to hold the vehicle to a manageable pace, they had nothing left to spare for realigning their trajectory.
Since the ramp passed over a series of terraced levels, no kind of sheer drop fell away on either side all the way to the quarry floor. This proved scant consolation when the otters felt and heard the sickening grind of the leading wheel crunching over the side of the elevated pathway, throwing the entire cart off-kilter as the axle scraped against the rock, and then the creaking groan of the vehicle tipping over in a way it was never meant to, followed by the crash smashing wood and spilled tools clattering all over the rockface. Realizing there would be no salvaging their wayward burden, Monty and his helpers were left no choice but to release their hold and let the cart go over the edge if they didn't want to be pulled over along with it.
"Oh, bollocks!" the otter Skipper swore, eliciting looks from the others, who weren't accustomed to hearing such language from their normally-jovial chieftain. Overholt and Bayoon, for their part, stood chagrined in the rain, so mortified by their mishandling of this assignment that they'd have gladly melted into the cracks in the rock underpaw if they could have.
"We're sorry, Skip, but we just couldn't - "
"Save yore 'pologies," Monty cut Overholt off. "What's done is done, an' there's no doin' it over. Let's get down to the others an' see what Foremole wants done about salvagin' this shambles."
Before they could take a step in that direction, they found themselves joined by Custis, who'd bounded down the slope far more rapidly than any non-squirrel could have achieved safely under these conditions. "Is everybeast all right?" he panted.
"Oh, we're just fine," Montybank bit off. "Downright peachy as a peach in high summer ... an' our pore Abbey cart is downright down fer th' count, as ye may've noticed."
"Kind of hard not to." Custis allowed himself a slight smirk. "Although I do appreciate you waiting to smash a cart until after ours were all safely down."
Now it was Monty's turn to glare at the taunting squirrel. In an uncharacteristically foul temper, he stamped down the ramp, waving for the others to follow. "C'mon, mates. Let's go see how we can get this straightened out an' made shipshape again, if may be."
