Shekra's report to Captain Ironhook, Day twenty-two of our Intrepid Voyage.
Betrayal! Betrayal! Betrayed us!
Captain Ironhook, the common feeling amongst the crew is that we cannot tolerate the desertion, betrayal and prisoner escape that occurred yesterday. It was carried out by our former Boatswain and Official Duty Officer of the Watch (From five to seven bells first dogwatch), the weasel named Jeremiah "Jiboree" Spinnaker, and our former… useless blob, the stoat named Crumdun (I checked the records, that is his real name).
Blood, my captain. Weasel blood! Stoat blood! The crew of the Greenshroud is a proud and warlike company, and we cannot allow our reputations to be soiled by these traitors! There are certain rules when it comes to back-stabbing, captain, and they didn't even fill out a safety form for that stunt with the rope.
I recommend we send out our fastest beasts to track them down. I doubt they'll stay together very long. Jiboree with no doubt realise that the fat one and the hogmaid are slowing him down. He's strong and fast, he will be the hardest to track if we give him long enough of a headstart. The other two should be easy to hunt.
Once the traitors are back on board, we can see them hang from the highest yardarm our good captain can provide. Their bodies should make interesting decorations for when we reach Redwall. The sight of two traitor's corpses swinging gently in the breeze will surely ruin the appetites of our enemies for combat. And just ruin their appetites, too.
Shekra's report to Captain Smileymask, day fffffortyfiftysomething of our international voyeurage.
Oh my captain! How the light of the moon dances in your eyes. How it shines off your hook as you brush my tail with it. Careful, actually, I don't need a tail shave. I feel all bubbly and lightheaded which means too much rum. Hah. Never enough rum! More rum, till it's all gone.
I am writing to deeply, respectfully and fluffily offer my deepest apologetics, condolences and hysterical giggling about the fact our search party failed to locate the miscreants. It's been a fortnight, and Jiboree, Crumdun and Posy have disappeared into the forest. I take full responsibility for advising you to pursue them instead of going to the abbey.
Please don't cut off my head, because then you won't have a seer or a healer, and I won't be able to drink all the lovely bubbly stuff that you keep filling my mug with. You do that a lot, captain. Don't think I haven't noticed, I'm not as think as you drunk I am. But I don't mind because secretly I'm scared you're the only friend I have on board, so I keep drinking to make you happy. Everybeast else thinks I'm nuts.
I'm not going to send you this letter, captain. But it felt good writing that down. Got to find more drink. No sense saving it. There'll be rooms full of ale at Redwall…