On the morning that Alan and the Watership Owsla were ready to embark on their journey, everyone came to see them off. As the seating on their new aircraft would be limited, it was decided that the expedition would consist of 14 select persons: Alan, Derek, Hotdog, Sam, Hazel, Fiver, Bigwig, Holly, Silver, Hawkbit, Dandelion, Strawberry, and Pipkin. As an afterthought, they also decided to include Campion, who, despite his injuries, was back on his feet already, his burning desire to avenge his people having sped up his recovery.
Alan had wanted to include Josie in this mission too, so they could have a physician handy out on the field. Unfortunately, that was impossible, as she still had her patients to worry about. Sandwort and Little Threar needed constant medical care, which only a human could provide. The expedition would have to make do with basic first-aid skills. Then, Violet stepped forward.
"Let me come with you, Hazel-rah," she pleaded with her Chief Rabbit, "I know enough about healing herbs to treat any injury you might encounter." Although it was taboo to include a doe on such a dangerous mission, meant strictly for Owsla veterans only, Violet's knowledge of healing herbs was invaluable. She was one of the few does who'd worked closely with Josie all these years, perfecting her skills as a healer by combining human medicine with her own. Hazel figured it was high time they broke their ancient taboos and recognised their does as the equals of bucks.
"Very well, Violet. You may come with us," he said, smiling at the former Sandleford doe, "We'll be glad to have you." Violet's face brightened with joy. Bigwig and a couple of others frowned in obvious disapproval at Hazel's decision, but didn't object. However, there was another volunteer nobody was keen on letting tag along.
"I want to come too," said Bluebell, also stepping forward, "Those scumbags murdered my children and I have a duty to avenge them! This is my fight too!" However, this time, Hazel would not be swayed.
"I'm afraid I can't permit that, Bluebell," he said, as sympathetically as he could, "You are in no condition for active Owsla duty. I'm sorry, but you'll have to remain behind. Besides, you and Hyzenthlay will be in charge of the warren while we're gone..." Bluebell was indignant.
"This is outrageous!" he protested angrily, "I'm an Owsla rabbit and my place is out on the battlefield with the rest of my comrades!" He turned to Alan, hoping he might back him up. But the man only shook his head.
"I'm sorry, old chap, but Hazel's right," he said, "If you have another seizure and Josie isn't around, it could be your last. There is no shame is being sick and it's certainly not worth getting yourself killed just to make a point!" Bluebell wanted to push the matter further, but Bigwig, who hadn't the patience for wasting time arguing, cut him off.
"You heard your Chief Rabbit, Bluebell!" he barked, "You're barred from this expedition on health grounds and that's an order! I will not have you being a burden to us or jeopardising this mission because of your condition!" Bluebell finally gave in and scurried away. But he hadn't had his final say yet...
Before departing, the Watershippers took some time to perform one final solemn duty: give their friends who had been killed in the siege a decent burial. All of the bodies had been recovered from Crowley's camp and brought back to Watership Down, to be buried on home ground. All twenty victims, including Silverweed and Blackavar, were added to the cemetery, alongside Boxwood, Haystack, Acorn, Buckthorn, Speedwell, Nildrohein and Major McEwen.
"My heart has joined the Thousand, because my friends stopped running today!" the Watershippers chanted in unison, committing the souls of their departed friends and families to eternal rest - rest that could only be found if the murderers who had killed them were found and punished.
"On my honour, I make this oath," announced Bigwig, "I will not rest until each and every one of our friends who died needlessly at the hands of those thugs has been avenged. Their deaths shall not go unanswered!"
"I once promised to lead my people to freedom," said Campion, "Woundwort, realizing he couldn't revert them to his own evil ways again, in his spite, killed them all in cold blood, to punish me. But I scorn his punishment! With my last breath, I will continue to fight until I have sent that murderer back to the Shadowlands, where he belongs!" Beside him, Nyreem, the only other Vleflain survivor, couldn't help but feel a deep sense of awe for Campion. Her thoughts went to Riltha, Leaozen and all her other friends who'd been killed for nothing. She prayed with all her heart that Frith would watch over Campion and his human friends on their journey.
Primrose stood sobbing beside her parents, watching her sisters being lowered into the ground. She thought back to how they used to tease each other growing up. She even thought of the times she'd pride herself about being the eldest, inspiring them to look up to her as a leader, not unlike Sandwort, even bullying them into submission if they were at odds with her - something she now bitterly regretted. How she wished they could have had more time together, watch them find mates, have families of their own... Noticing her distress, Stonecrop moved to nuzzle her reassuringly.
Hawkbit too couldn't hold back his tears as he took one last look at Nelthilta's mangled but still beautiful face, before the earth from the humans' shovels covered her forever. Like Primrose, he too felt deep regret - and anger - that he hadn't tried harder to get his grip together and ask her to be his mate. Despite their mutual attraction for one another, they'd spend most of their time bickering. Now, she was gone, along with Hawkbit's chance for a future with her. Strawberry, who shared his misfortune after losing Nildrohein years earlier, tried to comfort him. But Hawkbit snapped at him to leave him alone and stormed off.
Once the funerals were over, the expeditionaries gathered up their gear and prepared to depart for Derek's laboratory in Efrafa, where their new ride was ready and waiting. Derek and Hotdog were already there, getting everything ready. It was time to say their goodbyes.
Josie hugged Alan tight and kissed him, "You make sure you come back safely, Alan. I don't want to end up being the last human being on earth." Alan kissed her back, "I'll be back, Josie; both me and Lucy will be coming back. I swear it!"
Primrose approached her father and lovingly nuzzled him on the cheek, "Good luck, parli. Please take care!" She turned to Alan, "You too, Uncle Alan." The man smiled reassuringly, patting Primrose between the ears.
"Always do, little niece."
Sam tearfully hugged Stonecrop goodbye. "You be good while I'm gone, and listen to what Hyzenthlay tells you."
"Mother, you don't have to go..." protested Stonecrop, but Sam hushed him up.
"You're a grown rabbit now, Stonecrop," she said with a proud smile, "It's time to start making your own path in life. And don't you go playing macho with Primrose, you hear?" Stonecrop blushed scarlet.
Fiver approached Josie, making her promise to look after Little Threar, still comatose, and in the event that he never returned, to let him know who his parents were, if he ever awoke. Holly, at least, was able to speak to his own son directly, to say goodbye. He and Clover were down in the Honeycomb, in the burrow where the wounded lay.
Sandwort, although still in critical condition and in a lot of pain, was conscious enough to wish his father good luck and profoundly apologizing for always been such a troublesome son to him. If there was any good that had come out of his terrible experience, it was a change of heart.
"The fault's more mine that yours, Sandwort," said Holly remorsefully, "I was never there for you, or your siblings. I'm so sorry." True, as Hazel's ambassador in Vleflain, his duties kept him away from home a lot, always leaving Clover in charge of their children. And now, with three of his children dead and the eldest wounded, probably mortally, he was been called off to war. By the time he returned, Sandwort would have most likely succumbed to his injuries. This was more than he could take.
"I'll tell Hazel-rah I'm not going," he finally said. He couldn't leave Clover to watch their son die alone, "I don't care if Bigwig charges me with dereliction of duty; I'm not leaving you now, not like this..." But Sandwort shook his head.
"No, parli, you must go," he muttered, his voice coarse and scratchy from pain, "They need you." Holly was under the impression that Sandwort, thinking he was dying, only wanted him to go, so that he wouldn't have to watch him succumb.
"Frith damn me, if I'm going to abandon my own son to...!" But what Sandwort said next caught him completely by surprise.
"You need to bring Lucy back," he said, almost pleadingly. With great effort, he turned to look his father directly in the eye, "Please, bring her back for me!"
"Hazel and the others need you, my love," Clover put in. Although she hated to part with her mate at a time like this, the thought of Pimpernel, Melsa and Crowla, now lying in the cemetery, filled her with a burning anger directed towards Crowley's mercenaries, "You have to punish those brutes who massacred our children before they can destroy another family!"
At last, Holly stood up. Clover was right. Right now, his place was out there with the rest of his Owsla comrades. One of their own was in danger and it was their duty to save her, no matter what it took. They had to destroy that enemy who sought to destroy them! Looking at his family one last time, he spoke again.
"I promise you both I will return alive," he said, and, to himself, he promised that if he made it back alive, he would never leave his family again. If need be, he'd dedicate the rest of his life to reconcile with his son, just like he should have done long ago. Giving Clover one last loving nuzzling, he turned to hurry out.
"Parli, wait," Sandwort suddenly called him back, "I need to speak to Stonecrop. Ask him to come here - and not to bring Primrose." Holly nodded and hurried out, where Bigwig was calling the Owsla to order.
A bewildered Stonecrop arrived shortly thereafter, wondering what on earth Sandwort, who, not so long ago, had made his life a living hell, wanted to speak to him about. The two rabbits stared at each other in silence for a few minutes. Then, Sandwort turned to his mother, gesturing at her to leave them alone for a moment. Getting the hint, Clover obliged and left the burrow, giving them some privacy.
Stonecrop looked at Sandwort. The sight of his arch nemesis' ghastly injuries from his impalement made him cringe. In a way he felt sorry for Sandwort; despite everything he'd done to him, he didn't deserve this. Nobody did. Finally, he spoke.
"So, what do you want from me?"
"I have to talk to you. It's about Primrose," said Sandwort, gritting his teeth in pain. Even talking was painful, requiring a lot of effort on his part. Stonecrop frowned suspiciously; was Sandwort using his injuries to gain his sympathy, so he could help him patch things up between him and Primrose? Not that it was likely to happen in a million years!
"Look, if you have something to say to her, it might be best if you told her yourself. Don't get me involved in this...!"
"She won't speak to me," said Sandwort sadly, "That's why I want you to tell her this: I'm terribly sorry for nearly getting her killed, that day on the Great Marsh. Also, I'm sorry for the way I've treated you. Lucy was right; it was shameful and cruel, and I have no excuse."
Stonecrop hesitated, unsure of how to take the apology. Even if Sandwort was sincere, he'd sure taken long enough to get his grip together and he wasn't about to accept it at face value. Understanding was one thing, forgiveness was another. But what Sandwort said next, shocked him.
"If I die, I want you both to know, you have my blessing."
Stonecrop was absolutely stunned. After all this time, was Sandwort finally accepting that he could never have Primrose and letting go of his jealousy? Although it was unlikely that they'd ever call themselves friends, it was a good first step at reconciliation. He nodded gratefully.
"I'll tell Primrose what you said," he promised him, "I'm sure she'll forgive you eventually." Despite his pain, Sandwort felt touched.
Leaving the burrow, Stonecrop found Primrose waiting for him, close to tears. Curious to find out what Sandwort had wanted to talk to Stonecrop about, she'd been eavesdropping outside and overheard everything.
"That was a very noble thing you did," she said, lovingly nuzzling him, "I don't know if I could ever forgive him."
"I think you should Primrose," Stonecrop urged her, "When I chose to forgive you, not only was I finally free of my anger, but it was the best decision I'd ever made. Now, I couldn't imagine life without you." Primrose responded by nuzzling him again.
"Neither can I, my love..."
The Watershippers' expedition was ready to depart. Alan finished loading all the supplies and equipment he'd managed to scavenge from the ruins of their compound into the trailer of the motortrike and then the rabbits piled in.
"Good luck, Hazel-rah!"
Hyzenthlay, Stonecrop, Primrose, Clover, Nyreem and Josie watched with heavy hearts as their friends and families left Watership Down. Soon, they would be embarking on a journey that would take them out of the Meadows of Fenlo, beyond the Great Water, to unknown places that no rabbit had ever seen before. They prayed to Frith with all their might that He watch over them and bring them back safely.
The motortrike ride didn't take long and pretty soon the expeditionaries were outside the ruins of Buxton Hall, where Derek's latest masterpiece stood ready and waiting. Alan's mouth dropped open in amazement.
"You've got to be bloody kidding me!"
Floating before them on mooring lines was the most ridiculously jury-rigged contraption, which could be mistaken for an airship. So this rickety thing, fashioned out of parts and sections of all the aircraft that had passed through the time warp back in 2012, which the colonists had at their disposal, was the fruit of three years worth of labour?
The crew cabin, or gondola as it was known in the old days, was contrived out of the stripped central fuselage of their old Twin Otter. Derek had already used the wings, engine, rudder and undercarriage for his first, wasted homemade aircraft, but saved the main fuselage for something bigger.
Holding the fuselage aloft with a net of rigging made from sturdy cables of old winches was the envelope of their hot-air balloon, which Derek had modified to run on hydrogen gas, rather than hot air, increasing the lift enough so that it could carry the entire fuselage, which housed the airship's flight controls, power source and the crew's living quarters. Mounted on a bracket under the fuselage was the undamaged electric engine salvaged from Sam's glider, refitted with a new, larger prop, to propel the airship. A cruciform rudder and horizontal stabilizer assembly fashioned out of control surface components salvaged from the convicts' plane wreckage mounted on the tail-cone would provide attitude control.
"Isn't she a beauty?" said Derek, looking with great pride at the marvel he'd created literally out of junk and with only rudimentary tools, "Behold the prototype of a new generation of lighter-than-air, renewable-energy-driven aircraft. A perfect combination of old and modern technology, if I may say so myself." Alan felt a strong urge to shoot Derek in the kneecaps - and then shoot that pile of junk he'd cobbled together and put it out of its misery.
"This heap of junk is our ride?!" he shouted, "I asked you for a new plane and you give me a blimp? You're out of your mind if you think anybody will be climbing onto this floating hydrogen bomb!" Derek looked hurt.
"She performs much better in the air than she looks, Al," he said, defending his creation, "She's quiet, stealthy and completely independent of fuel. We can remain aloft for weeks, circumnavigate the globe if he have to, no problem." Alan however was far from convinced; especially the idea of flying in a ship filled with highly flammable hydrogen gas.
"Doesn't the phrase 'Hindenburg disaster' ring any bells?"
"A minor risk considering," said Derek, who had thought of that dangerous contingency during construction and taken all necessary precautions he knew how, "The balloon canvas has been checked inch by inch for leaks and tested with countless high-pressure inflation tests. The lining has also been reinforced with an additional layer of non-conducting insulation and a series of bleed-valves which will allow us to safely release the hydrogen in any emergency. We even have a grounding cable fitted in case of lightning strikes. My baby isn't blowing up."
"I think it's brilliant," said Sam, who couldn't help but marvel Derek's handiwork. There didn't seem to be anything their engineer couldn't build. Despite his reservations, Alan realised they didn't have much choice. They could either take Derek's flimsy airship and hope it didn't blow up, or they could swim across the Channel.
"Well, I suppose we'll have to make do with what we have."
"We should have a name for her," said Hotdog, stepping forward with an old beer bottle filled with soapy water for the christening of their vessel. "Something that will strike fear in the heart of the enemy. How about Juggernaut?"
"Stuff your chest-puff, macho names," said Derek with disgust, "This beauty needs a proper, dignified name, befitting a vessel that is about to make history. How about Icarus?" Alan thought they might as well name the blimp Titanic.
"I've got an idea," said Sam, who'd been consulting Alan's copy of Watership Down, which she'd brought along, "Why not name her after a great leader, who first undertook the same journey we're about to embark on? I propose we name her after El-ahrairah!" The idea won with immediate approval.
"To the El-ahrairah One!" they all cheered, as Hotdog smashed the bottle of foam on the nose of the airship. "Long may she fly in the skies, alongside the spirit of our Prince!" After a brief ceremony, the festivities were over. It was departure time. Or would have been, if it weren't for the unexpected arrival of someone they thought they'd never see again.
"Blackberry!"
They all turned to stare at the black-tipped-eared buck, who'd deserted Watership Down in anger and grief, blaming Alan for the deaths of his family. The Watership Owsla glared at Blackberry, yesterday's incident still fresh on their minds.
"What do you want, Blackberry?" asked Bigwig crossly, "You're no longer welcome here!" Blackberry lowered his head in shame, steadily refusing to even look at them.
"I...I want to come with you," he stammered, obviously feeling very uncomfortable having to face his friends, "I...I've had a change of heart..."
"Oh, a change of heart, is it?" asked Holly coolly, "And you think that excuses all the things you said to Alan?"
"Not to mention, you tried to kill your own Chief Rabbit!" added Bigwig with a snarl, "Don't think we've forgotten that so soon!"
"I was so...wrong," mumbled Blackberry, now looking close to tears, overwhelmed with shame at the memory. After fleeing Watership Down the other day, no sooner had his anger subsided than it had dawned on him what he had done. He wanted desperately to go back to Watership Down, to apologise, but his pride held him back. After all, how could he dare show his face around there again? Finally, he'd given in and made his way to Efrafa, where he knew his friends would be embarking on their journey. And, by the looks of it, they weren't interested in letting him join them. He turned to look at Hazel.
"Please, Hazel-rah, let me come with you," he begged, "I'll accept whatever punishment you see fit to give me, but, please don't take away my right to avenge Thethuthinnang and our children. I have no other purpose left to live for!" Hazel, although sympathising, studied Blackberry long and hard.
"I have no intention of punishing you, Blackberry," he said, "However, if you want to come with us, then you must have something to say to Alan."
It took a while for Blackberry to muster the courage to even make eye contact with the man. Although Alan hadn't said a word so far, his lips were pursed and his eyes cold. Blackberry being an arrogant arse he could forgive without a second thought, but his remark about wishing that Lucy, currently held hostage, ended up executed too? No bloody way!
"Alan, I'm sorry for all the things I said," said Blackberry, keeping his head lowered in remorse, "I should have listened to you when you warned us there was danger, and I had absolutely no right to accuse you. But, most of all, I'd like to apologize for what I said about Lucy. She's as much family to me as she is to everyone here and I certainly don't want her to die at the hands of those murdering thugs. That's why I'm here now, to help you get her back and to punish those who took her. Can you ever forgive me?" Alan stared at Blackberry for a moment.
"If you're coming with us, Blackberry, then get onboard with the others," he finally said, "Derek, pre-flight check! We're already behind schedule. All right, everybody aboard!"
The rabbits mounted the gangplank and climbed onboard the airship in an orderly manner, while the humans loaded their gear and provisions. In the cockpit, Derek and Hotdog got to work on their checklist, powering up and checking all systems.
The interior of the cabin was divided into three main sections: the cockpit, living quarters, which housed the bunks, lavatory and a small galley, and the engineering section in the rear, which housed the batteries and alternators that powered the airship. In addition, an observation deck had been added on the roof of the cabin, accessible by ladder through the emergency escape hatch.
The former passenger seating area had undergone a thorough transformation. All of the seats had been removed and replaced with a pair of bunks fashioned from hammocks hanging from the cabin monorail on either side of the cabin, where two of the four humans could sleep, while the other two were on duty, as well as some comfortable rugs on the floor for the rabbits to snug up. A cubicle housed the broom-closet-sized lavatory, while another housed the galley - a small sink, fed from a drinking-tank mounted on an overhead rack, some meal-trays and mugs and a shelf of rations in jars. Due to power and weight limitations, they couldn't afford the luxury of an oven, so all onboard meals would have to be eaten cold.
The cockpit, in its own rights, was a marvel of ingenuity. The original digital navigation display screens, which relied mostly on satellites and ground beacons to work, now useless, had been substituted with banks of more standardized, manual instruments. Many of them, Alan noticed, had been cannibalised from their Cessna, the convicts' plane, the Twin Otter and even the HAB. Others, Derek had manufactured himself.
The limited availability of technology in this future world forced Derek to convert his new aircraft to be piloted using older means of flying, from the pre-digital age. The co-pilot's seat had been substituted for an old-fashioned flight navigator's desk, for chart-plotting; behind the pilots' seats was the flight engineer's station - a bank of numerous gauges, switches and indicators that monitored the status of every onboard system. That would be Derek's post on this journey, while Hotdog and Alan would be assigned the posts of pilot and navigator respectively. Sam would be in charge of the cabin, tending to the rabbits' needs during the flight.
For power and propulsion, the airship utilised an array of solar panels, originally brought from the 21st century in the colonists' cargo, mounted on a framework of aluminium rods extending from either side of the fuselage, where the wings used to be, and anchored to the fuselage by guy-lines. These in turn were used to charge a set of batteries up, which would provide light, instruments and power for the electric motor. The solar panels would produce power constantly during the day and the batteries would keep the airship running at night, with plenty of margin to spare.
With all the gear stowed onboard, including enough food and water to last them 10 days, Alan gave the signal to depart. Derek fired up the electric motor. The mooring lines were released and Hotdog trimmed the elevators to full rise angle. At the same time, at the engineer's station, Derek hit the switch that would open the vent valves for the inner balloon that controlled the ascend and descend. Inflating it with compressed air made the airship heavier and caused it to drop; releasing that air, likewise, would lighten the ship and cause it to rise. Simple physics, simple math.
Hotdog carefully monitored his altitude and angle of ascent. Unlike the airplanes he used to fly, the feel of the airship was a whole new experience for him. None of the crew had had any time to train, or do any trial runs; they would simply have to learn to fly and test their airship at the same time as they went along. Alan tried hard not to dwell on the odds. Between an untrained crew, with an untested ship they weren't even sure could fly safely, and with only a hazy idea of their destination, they were certainly pushing their luck.
"How high can this thing go?" he asked Derek.
"She'll float all the way up to the stratosphere if we don't stop her," said Derek, losing his smile, "Only problem is, if we go that high, we'd all be dead from cold and hypoxia before we can take her down again. Normally, I wouldn't take up above 12,000 feet, 15 tops."
Twelve thousand feet was the maximum altitude where terrestrial beings could breathe unaided; any higher, without an oxygen supply, hypoxia would lead to unconsciousness within minutes, followed by death. The airship's cabin wasn't built to be pressurized, although they did have a small supply of oxygen bottles onboard for emergencies. Hopefully, they would never have to use them.
Hotdog levelled them out at their designated cruising altitude of 10,000 feet and Derek shut off the vent valves. Below them stretched the beautiful green lush of the future Earth. To the north, Watership Down could be seen, looking small and insignificant. And, visible in the distance, to the south, was the Atlantic coast. Hotdog set a course straight towards it.
Alan plotted their course on his chart. Their flight plan would take them along the English coast, past what was once Sussex and Kent, before crossing the Strait of Dover into France, where he figured Crowley and his mercenaries were headed. Once they'd pinpointed their path over land, they could follow the bees straight to the honey. If that failed, then they'd go to Plan B.
In his pocket, Alan carried the cryptic message from Drake's journal, according to which, on a clear night, some sign from the heavens would point the way to the Crypts - their one and only lead, which they couldn't make heads or tails of. They sure had a long journey ahead of them!
In the back, the rabbits were making themselves comfortable on the fluffy rugs spread out across the cabin floor for their convenience. Many had their faces pressed against the windows, enjoying the stunning birds' eye view of flying, which only a handful of them had ever experienced before. All except Silver that is, who had a distinct dislike for flying, airsickness quickly gaining a hold of him.
The other one definitely not enjoying the ride was Violet. Her only prior flying experience had been in the talons of an attacking hawk that had snatched her and then dropped her from fifty feet up. That near-death experience, which she'd narrowly survived thanks to Alan, still haunted her to this day. Casting one glance outside, she gasped in terror at the sight of the ground seemingly dropping away from under them.
"Oh, no, we're going to fall!" she cried in terror, "Get me down! I don't want to die! Please get me down!" In her panic, she tried to make a run for the boarding door and the others had to restrain her before she did something that might kill them all.
"Calm down, Violet, nothing's wrong. We're not going to fall," Hazel tried desperately to reassure her. But poor Violet continued to sob, feeling like a trapped animal in an inescapable death-trap. Why had she been so foolish as to come on this accursed expedition?
"You see why does don't fit in the Owsla?" said Bigwig, shaking his head in displeasure. He'd been against Violet joining this mission from the start, and now they were saddled with a panic-stricken doe with a fear of flying. And that wasn't their only problem.
"Hey, let me out of here, you buckos!"
At that moment, they were all caught by surprise by a new voice coming from the emergency equipment locker in the back of the cabin. Something was moving in there, trying to claw its way out! Sam yanked it open, revealing none other than...
"Bluebell?!" they all cried in unison. In an unbelievable and reckless in the extreme act of defiance, Bluebell, refusing to be left behind, had followed them, stowing away on the airship. Bigwig was furious.
"You reckless fool!" he bellowed, "I specifically ordered you not to come! What were you thinking?!" Bluebell turned to look sheepishly at Hazel, whose face showed equal displeasure.
"I'm very disappointed in you, Bluebell," he said crossly, "That was an idiotic and totally unnecessary risk, and an Owsla rabbit like you should have known better!"
"I'm only doing my duty, Hazel-rah," Bluebell protested, but his superiors would hear none of it. Bigwig turned to Alan, who had come aft to see what the commotion was all about.
"Turn this thing around at once!" he ordered, "We're taking him and Violet back. I won't have the mission jeopardized by this idiot's recklessness!"
Unfortunately, it was too late to turn back now. They'd nearly reached the coast already and would soon be turning eastward, towards the Strait of Devon. Turning back would mean an hour or two delay, which they couldn't spare. The mercenaries already had a two-day start on them; time was quickly running out for Lucy. Bluebell was stuck with them, whether they liked it or not. But that didn't stop Bigwig from giving him an angry cuff over the ears.
"Ow!"
"Stop it, Bigwig!" cried Violet, rushing to her mate's defence, "He's still an experienced Owsla rabbit and has every right to fight alongside us as anyone else. So stop treating him like a useless liability!"
"You're the one to talk!" smirked Bigwig, "First we're saddled with a scaredy doe who can't stand being up in the air and now a rabbit who can't even manage going on patrol in peacetime without dropping dead, let alone on the battlefield! What more hraka do we need?!" That last remark made both Violet and Bluebell very upset.
"I think that's enough, Bigwig!" snapped Campion, also standing up. One thing he couldn't abide with was someone hurting Violet's feelings. Bigwig might have picked a fight with Campion right there and then, but catching sight of Hazel's warning stare, he sat back down, feeling very bad-tempered.
"Look! I see the Big Water!" called Pipkin excitedly, staring out the window.
The rabbits all gasped in awe at the sight of their first ocean - a sight none of them had ever seen before. The dry land suddenly seemed to end and was replaced by this infinite stretch of blue, as far out as the eye could see. Beyond that, Alan had told them, were hrair other lands, once ruled by Man. What could those lands look like now? Were there more rabbits like them out there? Or humans from the Old World? And if so, were they be friendly or hostile? They would be the first rabbits since the time of El-ahrairah to see the world beyond their homeland!
The humans likewise couldn't help but wonder; what would they find out there? Could any remnants of their old civilization have survived? Could there be more intelligent humans like them still around? Or was it just an abandoned world reclaimed by nature, strewn with the forgotten relics of civilization mankind had left behind? A buzz of excitement broke out among the Watershippers, as the airship left the English coast, setting course for mainland Europe to the east. The adventure of a lifetime had begun!
The only one not joining in the excitement was Alan, still worrying for his daughter. What if they didn't catch up with the kidnappers in time? He knew Woundwort wouldn't hesitate to kill her once Crowley's mercenaries had no further use for her. Perhaps she was already dead...? No, he quickly thought to himself. She's still alive and you're going to find her! He glanced out the windshield, to the empty horizon.
"You just hang in there, Lucy. Dad's coming..."
Author's note: Back again! At last, we're into the Watershippers' journey around the world! It took me a long time to come up with the idea of the colonists building an airship to travel the world. Although I don't know if such a design would work in real life, I try to be as realistic as possible. Enjoy and please review!