Twenty-six views, to one review. Thanks again to Hamlet of Redwall, this time for reviewing chapter 2. I have a 'Beta-Reader', my brother, who reads through each chapter AFTER I post them, so each chapter is usually posted twice or more. Thank you for complementing the song! I actually have a tune for it that I can play on piano. As for Crakenough . . . first of all, I considered adding an accent, but couldn't decide what kind of accent. I have never read Rakkety Tam, so I'm not sure who you're talking about, but if you think it would work, then send me a sample and I'll see what I can do. By the way, considering your comment on Doomwyte, you might want to check out Neither Seek Nor Shun the Fight.

For re-readers who see that the chapters are looking different, I have been editing them thanks to a review by Blackish (and later by Lepidolite Mica), and thought I would add a bit more info while I was at it. Obviously, despite my alterations, it's not perfect, but I'm learning.

Disclaimer: Go one chapter back and read the Author's Notes at the beginning.

2

The many creatures down below had not stopped working while they sang. The morning sun was now fully above the horizon, reflecting off the weapons and other metal objects, casting strange but beautiful light patterns across the deck.

Crakenough watched as the song ended, and the rat with the lute took the ship's wheel from the wildcat. Looking toward Faith, he clarified, "So the G.B. is the Goodbeast Navy. No offense, but that doesn't really tell me anything."

Faith chuckled. "Actually, there is quite a bit more information in that song. But I'll leave the explanation to Admiral Singer. If you wish to travel with us, then you should head down to him. He'll tell you where you need to be." With that, she put her flute away, took up her telescope, and turned toward the bow.

Crakenough turned back toward the deck. How am I supposed to find the admiral? he thought. Spreading his wings, he glided down to the port side railing, setting down beside a small hedgehog who was mopping the deck.

"Excuse me, please," requested the bird, "but would you be so kind as to tell me where to find the admiral?"

The hedgehog looked up from his work, and said cheerfully, "Names not please, tis Legrod, and as for the admiral, it depends on what you want 'im fir."

Crakenough had not expected this response, and it took a moment before he answered, "Well, I was hoping for a bit of information on this group of ships, and I was told tha . . ."

"Admiral's busy, you kin talk to Zerb. He's abaft here." Legrod interrupted, gesturing toward the stern before returning to his task.

The curious bird turned in the direction Legrod had indicated, and saw Thomas and the wildcat conversing with a mole who was wearing a green tunic and an overly large cape which dragged behind him. Taking wing over to them, he asked politely, "Excuse me, sirs, but I was told to speak with one called Zerb. Could you tell me where I might find him?"

To his surprise, and shock, the wildcat reached forth a massive paw, took hold of his leg, and shook it vigorously. "Well, that's me, and who might you be, kind sir?" he exclaimed in a rough voice.

Releasing Crakenough's leg, the cat, apparently Zerb, stepped back and waited for an answer. But the seabird was far to startled to say anything yet, and Thomas, seeing this, interjected for him. "This is Crakenough, of Mechin. He'll be traveling with us until we reach his city, and he is rather curious about the way we do things here. I suspect Faith told him to see you, or possibly Singer, and in asking for him he was directed to you, as is more likely considering . . ."

"Hurr, you'm best stoop afoare you'm tark moi ears off." the mole interrupted. Then, turning to the bird, he said, "Soary bout that, he'm carn be awful tarkitive once in 'ee whoile."

The squirrel chuckled in embarrassment, and apologized to the group. The mole introduced himself as Eshton. Then Zerb stepped forward and remarked, "If your interested in the fleet, then I think I can help you. But first thing's first. If I'm to show you around, then you can't call me Zerb; that's a nickname that's only used when I'm not around, to save time. My full title is First Mate Zerubbabel, but if you can't get your tongue around it then you can call me Opt. We'll start at the lower deck. You coming?"

This last statement was directed toward the other two creatures. They both declined, Eshton saying he had promised to help "Ashy" in the kitchens, and Thomas saying he had to check on "Wullp". So, after biding each other good mornings they split up to their tasks, Crakenough going with Zerubbabel to one of the many hatches holing the deck.

The lower deck had a round floor with a narrow walkway made from boards laid flat along the keel, with a row of benches on either side, and hammocks hanging from the ceiling, or floor, depending on how you look at things. The benches were occupied by all sorts of creatures, from mice to wildcats, voles to toads, with two or three of the same beast or reptile on each bench, so as to keep things even. Opt began to list the names of the rowers, but it wasn't long before Crakenough asked him to stop. There were at least fifty creatures there, and it was impossible for him to remember all of them at once, he said. Opt nodded in agreement.

Next Opt showed Crakenough the main deck. He had seen most of it earlier from his high perch, but had failed to notice a rather peculiar piece of machinery standing at the bow. He asked Opt about it.

"This," Opt began, "is a crossbow. Thomas and Ashleg made it. In fact, each ship has one, and the Reformer has forty. That's what those little doors in the side are for. They're just basic weaponry, really. Here, I'll show you how it works."

With that, he took hold of a small wheel attached to the machine, and began to turn it slowly. As he did so, the taught wire stretching across the crossbow began to pull back. When it reached the back of the machine, Opt inserted a short rod into the wheel to keep it from moving, and let go.

Opt then took up a long wooden javelin with a steel tip. This he placed on the crossbow. "Now," he explained, "when I pull this rod out of the wheel, this javelin will go flying at high speeds though the air in whatever direction the crossbow is pointing. I guess you could call them our siege engines."

Opt then brought his companion over to the forecastle, showing him the rooms used by the families that worked on the ship, and the smaller ones for the single crew beasts. After that, he led Crakenough into the cabin, which turned out to be single large room, with a few closets opening off the sides. "This is the mapping room." Opt told Crakenough proudly.

Crakenough made a quick examination. The room was taken up by a large table, some chairs, and quite a few chests lining the walls. The top of the table had been carved into a 3D representation of the Mainland's eastern and southern shores, as well as a few islands surrounding said shores. Sitting on the map were four small models of ships, which Opt told him was to mark their position.

As Crakenough examined it, Opt explained its origins. "Thomas and Ashy put it together, so as we could figure out the shortest way to someplace easily. It's not finished yet, as you can see by the lack of detail on the western shore and inland. But other than that, it's accurate, to scale, and even adjustable." He said, pointing out a knife hanging on a peg on the back of the door, and gesturing to some places where extra wood had been added to make it larger. Then, noticing a skeptical look on the bird's face, he added, "It's extremely helpful in our line of work."

Crakenough looked up. "Oh, I'm sure it is. But wouldn't it be easier if you simply bought a map from another merchant?"

Opt looked puzzled. "What do you mean, 'another merchant'?"

The bird returned the look. "Well, what other trade could bring together so . . ."

But the rest of his sentence was lost as Opt burst into laughter. "Merchants!" he bellowed. "Merchants! Why of all things! No, my dear friend, we are not! We're . . ."

But before he could say anything more, a loud clanging came from outside and there came to their ears a huge, booming voice that shouted, "Breakfast time!"

Opt immediately forgot what he was going to say, and instead exclaimed, "My, my, already? I didn't realize we had taken that long. We better hurry, or we won't get anything!"

"But what about . . ." Crakenough interjected.

"Oh, don't worry about it." Opt interrupted excitedly. "I'm sure Singer will be happy to explain after breakfast. Come on!"

Opt was very fond of vittles.

Admiral Rat Singer was an unusually large, light brown furred mouse, with hazel eyes and a strong figure. The habit and hat he wore were tokens of friendship from some creatures he had met during his wanderings, before he founded the G.B. Navy. Besides this, there were two twin kilijes slung across his back with leather shoulder straps, with his lute in a specially crafted satchel by his side. He also wore a snake skin belt, which he had made himself, the skin being given to him by Greta. Burned into the belt were the letters FV, though none but himself and Thomas knew what they meant.

Now he stood at the wheel, carefully guiding the Runner on its course to Mechin. There they intended to pick up some of Ashleg's supplies before heading back out to sea. Their quest was far from ended, and the Eastern Sea would not be safe until it was.

Suddenly a loud clanging sound was heard, accompanied by a huge, booming voice shouting "Breakfast time!"

"Reho." Singer chuckled to himself. "Well, better not to keep him waiting. Runner crew to Recreation!" he ordered. He then waited until he heard the splash of the anchor upon the water, and then jammed the wheel into place with a block of wood.

That done he trotted to the stern and waited. Soon, a stone with a rope tied to it swung up to him. Grabbing it before it swung back away from him, he looped it about his right arm and leaped over the railing.

First he fell. Then the rope went taught, and he swung out over the water to the caravel. He quickly undid the rope and swung it back toward the Runner. He then began making his way toward the stern of the Rider.

It wasn't long before he was on the large ship that Crakenough was unable to identify. Other beasts soon followed him, and it wasn't long before the whole of each crew was on board, ready for a meal.

Crakenough could hardly believe that so many creatures could all be on one boat. But when he said so to Zerubbabel, he had been informed that were still more passengers below deck. Everyone slowly streamed into an open hatch, down some stairs, and into what looked to Crakenough like a dining hall. There were at least forty long tables, set in squares. Turning to Opt, he asked, "How many beasts are there exactly, that you need so many tables!" He found he needed to shout to be heard above the hubbub.

"Forty seven tables, to be exact!" Opt shouted back. "As for beasts, we never bothered to count them, and we're always getting more anyway! Don't suppose it will ever matter, though! Not all eat up here, and then there's the guests, so there's another seventy four tables another deck down!"

Crakenough was speechless.

Thanks for reading, and please review! Good afternoon!