Chapter VII
The meal was finally finished, though Varc could still be heard in the mess slopping down the remains of the fish stew, so everybeast went back up on deck. The ship quested over waves with an ease that could not be matched. It responded well to any touch of the tiller and the sails billowed as the wind blew on.
Imaldu sniffed the seaspray deeply, enjoying the salt smell that was carried along with it. Ever since he had started on sailing with Krewdy, he had grown to like the sea even more. He was still not overly fond of the heights he had to climb when travelling up rope ladders to the mast, but it was tolerable.
"'Ey, Imaldu! How're ye enjoyin' our ship?" Tyreck called down to him from the rope ladders.
"It's quite nice, thankee sir!" the badger called back.
"None of the sir! Me name's Tyreck and that's final!" the mouse shouted back.
Imaldu nodded his immense head in understanding to the seafaring mouse. It wouldn't do to upset him.
"Ain't this a beauty, Imaldu? Best craft I've seen in seasons!" Krewdy stated as he came up behind the badger.
"Aye, it is good. It's so peaceful here, I feel like I could stay forever," Imaldu replied dreamily.
Krewdy snorted. "Well, you won't be sayin' that if the wind 'n' rain starts to roll out 'ere, does sumethin' terrible. The last one I was in two of our Goufs died, swept overboard and away down the briny," he wiped something from his eye after he finished.
Now it was Imaldu's turn to snort. "Getting all emotional on us, Krewdy? An' I thought shrews were hardy beasts."
"Well, we are!" Krewdy objected. "I was just wipin' some salt water that flew into me eye on the wind."
The shrew wouldn't give up without a fight, especially for his dignity. Imaldu figured this was the way with all shrews, hence their argumentative nature. He shrugged. "Whatever you say, mate."
Krewdy glanced at Imaldu suspiciously, an eyebrow raised. "Are ye mockin' me?"
"No, no. I wouldn't dream of it," the badger replied, trying to contain his laughter. He could tell the shrew was just itching for a fight.
As noon approached a small land mass appeared slightly to the north. Curious, Imaldu called up to Tyreck in the crow's nest. "Are we heading to that island, or are we sailing past it?"
Glancing down at him, Tyreck answered in a dismal tone. "No, never. Creatures far too ruthless and despicable live there. Ain't fit for a young beast to see."
"Vermin?"
"Aye, mate. Scores of the blaggards. Mutineers and cutthroats mostly."
Imaldu nodded his great striped head and strode the ship's deck, though he was still getting used to the pitch and swell of the waves. As far as he could tell, there were not many badgers who would be crazy enough to travel in a ship. This thought helped cheer him, remembering his uncle Boar, who had sailed to find new land seasons ago.
Walking to the brass railings around the ship, the young badger watched the island as it began to disappear. Wait! There was something there. It- no, it was gone now. Squinting, Imaldu watched the distant shoreline. A small creature hopped and danced about on the sands, trying everything to be noticed by the vessel. It's efforts obviously failing, the beast dragged a chunk of driftwood into the sea and paddled frantically over.
Shouting at the top of his voice, Imaldu roared his message to the crew. "Ahoy, everybeast to the stern! Some creature out there's comin' in!"
Krewdy was the first to arrive. "What is it? Somebeast out there? Wonder what it is? D'you think it's vermin?" the shrew spouted his questions in a surprisingly short amount of time. When Imaldu did not answer, the Gouf beast looked over to his friend. His paw was pointing to the open water. Following the outstretched claw, Krewdy noticed the driftwood chunk.
"What is it, mates?" Tyreck asked as he rushed over to the duo.
"Somebeasts in the water out there, Tyreck. What should he do?"
"I say we leave the blighter there, you said yourself Tyreck that no bally decent creatures live there," Varc cut in before the mouse could reply.
"An' what makes you think I couldn't've been wrong about that, longears? We never went there because you were too scared," Tyreck flicked the hare's ear with a paw.
"Not true, sah!" Varc's ears turned red in his indignation. "I didn't want to go to that bally island over there because you told us a rumour about it!"
"But you're still scared!" the mouse shot back, the petty argument was heating up, and a fight would soon follow if nothing was done.
"Shut your faces, both of you!" Imaldu bellowed, his temper aroused. "Or didn't you know? There's a creature out there, in the ocean, mind you, who needs our help!" the badger accentuated the last few words for effect.
The ship was silent for what seemed and age, then Tyreck yelled to the crew, "Our badger friend's right, mates! We shouldn't be arguin' 'mongst ourselves whilst there's somebeast in the briny, waitin' for rescue."
The mouse's words were almost a signal to everybeast aboard the Fish Shack. Four climbed down the rope ladder to Krewdy's vessel, and paddled out to the drowning animal. Six rushed to the kitchens to make a meal for the possibly starving beast, and the remainder pulled up one of the main sails to slow the progress of the ship.
It seemed that the small rescue boat had just left when it returned with a skinny, half-drowned vole with wide, tearful eyes, his smile seemed larger than his face could allow. As he was brought aboard, he shivered but spoke. "Oh, thank you ever so much! I thought I was to die on that horrid island of vermin."
Tyreck elbowed Varc. "See, what'd I tell ya, mate?"
The old hogwife stepped forward with a beaker of barley and carrot broth for the stranger. Another beast wrapped a blanket around his soaking shoulders. The vole closed his eyes contentedly as he sipped gratefully on the soup. "Mmm... thank you, friends. This is delicous."
"Aw, t'weren't nothin'," the hogwife replied and grinned at the compliment. It wasn't everyday a half-starved vole came aboard to enjoy some cooking, after all.
"Tell us, mate. What's your name and how'd you end up on that island?" Tyreck asked as the vole finished off the steaming soup in one swift gulp.
"I am called Jirthked. I'm not sure how I ended up there, though. Perhaps it was from a slave vessel, 'tis too hazy to recall," Jirthked replied, wrapping the moistened cloak tighter about his small frame. He let the conversation wash over him, finally among friendly beasts at last.
Hiikol breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He wouldn't have to deal with any of those rowdy Dibbuns today, they were all out berry-picking. Even if they weren't the squirrel would've been too hot to do anything.
The summer heat affected everybeast in the Abbey, but it was far worse for him, though. His black fur collected the sun's heat close to his body, which made him very uncomfortable. But such was the life of a black squirrel. At least he wasn't the only squirrel who had to suffer in the heat.
He sat beneath the shade of a weeping willow by the pond, watching his younger brother frolic about in the pond shallows.
"Wee! Looka me, bruvva! I a fishy!" Trugwell called to his brother with evident joy.
"Aye, that you are Trugwell. Jus' don't go too deep or the bigger fishies will wanna play a game of "tag-and-you're-dinner".
Completely unaware of what his brother even meant by that, the baby charcoal-coloured squirrel leaped and pranced about in the shallows of the Abbey pond. It was a good day to be alive.
Zrunduul was in high good humour that day. His horde had made no complaints on their marching, and Hardsquint was finally gone. The black fox had never really cared for the creature in his horde, but he decided to keep the weasel as a later example of insubordinate creatures among the horde who must be dealt with. And, now that he was "resting" in the old clearing, Zrunduul had no more need to worry of the stupid weasel. At least that was one last beast to deal with.
'I wonder if there's any others of my horde who need a long rest?' he thought evilly to himself.
Frul was struggling at the back of the horde. She was hard pressed just to keep the stragglers of the group beside her. But, even this did not stop her from staying silent about her perdicament. Captain Zrunduul might need her as a seer, but levelled as a hordebeast, the old rat was unable to compare with hundreds of fighters. Besides, the black fox's hasty decisions might lead to her undoing. There was no telling what he could order his vermin to do if the mood struck him.
The black fox looked back with barely a shift of his head, and seeing Frul, he nodded undetectably at two of his cronies who travelled directly behind him. He knew the old rat would give out eventually, so he had properly prepared for it.
The two stoats he had nodded to, their names Grubswipe and Hullsweep, filtered through the horde, stopping to let the others pass around them. Five or so minutes later the last straggler passed and Frul approached from their rear. The duo parted and, as the rat passed between them, they hoisted her up by her arms, so her footclaws where dangling off of the ground. The seer did not approve of the gesture, but she did not want to end up like Hardsquint. Frul hung like a tattered rag in the strong claws of the hordebeasts, knowing it was for the better.
Yep, another chapter up, I'm so happy! I might get up to chapter ten by Christmas, maybe farther... but that's getting too far ahead of myself. Well, I hope you like this chapter, remember, I'm looking for all manner of help (but no flames) and thumbs up.
Don't forget to check out my newly revised "Chapter 1" of this story.
Zealak Silverdirk