A/N: AlexFalTalon, Yeah Swallowtail is a biiiiiiiiiiiit of an innuendo, and I won't lie it was a deliberate one, but naming aside, yes Klis has a crush. Soon he will be oh so hopelessly besotted. I don't think that's a spoiler mind- the writing on the wall all points towards it.

Waycaster, That tidbit about pirates hugging the coast iiiis historically accurate and came up in the editting phase. I decided to forgo on the historical accuracy, however, and will use good ole-fashioned vermin stupidity as an excuse. Which leads to our good old-fashioned stupid vermin protagonist and Swallowtail who is up to *something*

Pyrah, hello, welcome, thank you for your review. Nice name by the way, I'll be sure to read your story when it's up! (I er- assume it's not up already?) Sharpfur, eh? Good ole Sharpie... just don't let him hear you calling him cute. He'll throw such a fuss about how he's supposed to be looking vile and villainous and like he could rob you dry in half a heartbeat. And he'll look cute doing it and get really riled up when someone points that out to him. I do have a lot of 'claws' don't I? Well I have a decent amount of faces too! Flayface, Bloodface, Scarface- Splitfang (introduced later here) was originally gonna be called Fangface... vermin names are fun indeed.

Now without further ado...

It was with unnecessarily hard footfalls that Scarface entered his cabin. He still had bits of sardine sticking to his fur like glue, and was in such a foul mood that little wisps of smoke were coming out of his nostrils (these were actually deformed whiskers). He threw open the door and slammed it shut behind him so that the hinges screamed and the wood shook violently. The stoat would have launched into a violent and aggressive tirade (and would have probably broken something- he always felt better after breaking something) had he been alone. But it was with an irritable growl that he found Clogg sitting on his chair, scratching something down on a piece of parchment.

"What do yew want?" Scarface demanded, glaring down at the squiggles he had no hope of understanding. He had always thought that the ability to write was pathetic and wimpy and that only a ninny surrounded themselves with books. Clogg's the biggest ninny there is, the massive stoat thought, having never met the Recorder of Redwall Abbey.

"I'm keeping a record of the stores," Clogg replied calmly, without looking up from his work. "There are so many of us now that it's very important we share food between ships. Some lost more supplies than others y'see, an' some ships lost most of their crew to hear the first mates tell it."

"What has this got te do with me?"

"Yer first mate told me yew lost half yer crew but that the only supplies yew lost were a pair of seaweed grog barrels." Only now did the one-eyed rat lower his quill and turn his gaze upwards. "Which means yew ought te be sharin' yer stores with the other ships."

"Never!" Scarface snarled. Like all the other captains, he loathed all the other captains. He swung a meaty fist through the air. "I ain't sharin' with anybeast an' yew can't make me!"

Clogg had been receiving similar reactions all morning. Toothclaw had thrown the skeleton of a swordfish at him, vowing to 'burn all the vittles black before I gives it te that Clawtail'. Clawtail for his part swore to eat all of his supplies before sharing with anybeast. Poisonblade had readily agreed to sharing and made a big show of organizing barrels of supplies, but Clogg had seen her tip something into a glass of wine she had later tried to make him drink. He had tossed it aside irritably, and informed her that he was short one eye, not blind.

Now he stood up and glared at Scarface. "Ye'll do as yer told if ye know what's good fer yew. Ye've got enough beasts te keep sailin' with us, but not enough te run away with yer cargo an' not nearly enough te put up a fight if one of the other captains decides they want yer ship."

Scarface sneered and did an unflattering impression of Clogg, before spitting on the rat's parchment. "I'll fight anybeast what tries te board me ship."

"Yer own crew would run ye across the barnacles before anybeast tried te board ye," Clogg wiped the spittle away and rolled up the parchment. Tucking it in his belt, the rat strolled past the fuming stoat. "Yer first mate told me about yer booty chest's fake bottom. Makes ye wonder what the rest of the crew would think if they knew ye were holdin' out on 'em, eh?"

Scarface stopped mid-snarl, and glowered silently at Clogg's retreating back. He was momentarily tempted to draw his cutlass and charge the rat- but thought better of it. Instead Scarface decided he would take out his residual anger on a pirate captain's usual punching dummy- his first mate.

Splitfang had visibly been punished, both by Scarface and by the higher powers, in every possible way. He was a small, runty fox with a pair of broken fangs that protruded from his upper jaw. His tail was bent in several places, his dirty pelt had empty patches, his claws were crooked, and his whiskers were different lengths. On top of all this he was almost always squinting and spoke with a lisp. Between his flea-bitten and moth-eathen ears sat a floppy hat.

At present Splitfang was busy dividing barrels, something which Clogg had no doubt ordered him to do.

The nerve o' that rat! thought Scarface. Orderin' me crew about like their 'is own!

"What are ye doin'!?" barked the enraged stoat.

"Organithing the thupplies," the fox replied, matter-of-factedly, fixing his captain with a squint. "We're thuppothed te be sharin' with the other crewth an' I don't want them gettin' any more theaweed grog or pickled herring then they're thupposed to." Now that Scarface's furious face was level with his own, Splitfang leaned in and whispered. "I thtashed thome of 'em bithcuits, all hidden-like tho that only uth an' I can have 'em."

"What sort of biscuits?" Scarface whispered back, his anger momentarily forgotten.

"Cuthtard creamth," Splitfang grinned.

The stoat's rage returned with great force. "It's yew that likes them abominable sweet-things!" Scarface snarled, his paw clamping down over a stunned-looking Splitfang's neck. "It's the barnacles for yew Fang!"

"N-no! Pleathe! N-not the barncaleth!"

"Yer about ter be keelhauled," the stoat grinned cruelly. "If yer back's not ripped te shreds it might teach ye somethin' about keepin' yer mouth shut. OI! Yew lot, tie up this son of a traitor's skull an' prepare te chuck him overboard!"

Splitfang squirmed in his captain's grip, but there was no escape. Several burly crew members stomped over, threw the fox to the ground and began binding him with salt-hardened ropes. The Bloody Gull's first mate struggled of course, but there was not much he could do against the combined might of his former underlings.

"Let this be a lesson te ye all!" Scarface began, once Splitfang was gagged and unable to whimper. "Splitfang here was hoardin' custard creams- we lost good mates in that storm, good vittles too, an' all he does is make sure he's got his infernal biscuits safe an' sound."

There was a vast array of booing and jeering, for Splitfang was not a very popular pirate (and this might have explained away some of his dishevelled appearance).

"If I catch any of ye doin' what he done- hoardin' vittles in a time of need- it's the barnacles for the lot of yew, ye hear? No exceptions! Not even the first mate can get away with it! We're all on th' same ship y'hear me?"

"Aye!" roared the crew.

"Avast!" cried Scarface, for dramatic effect. "Lower him- let the sorry fox stare inter his doom! Then we'll keelhauls 'im at sundown!"

Splitfang begged into his ropes, but as one the pirates ignored his plea. Scarface plucked the floppy hat from atop the fox's head, and tossed it to the nearest pair of vermin. "C'mon yew two, in me cabin. Yer first mates now!"

Scarface stomped over to his cabin and tore the door open, glanced over his shoulder and realized that the two vermin were fighting over the floppy hat.

"Cap'n gave it ter me!" snarled one.

"No! Yew snatched it from the air before it landed on me 'ead!" snapped the other.

With an irritated growl Scarface stomped over to them, lifted the pair by the scruffs of their necks and hauled them into his cabin.

"Say heller te the sharks fur me Splitfang!"

"Kiss yer cabin goodbye mucker!"

With a final hearty jeer the pirates lifted the unfortunate former first mate onto their shoulders and flung him over the side of the ship. Screaming through the ropes, Splitfang came to a halt barely an inch above the water. There he lay swaying, to await his grizzly fate.

"I've had it with Clogg!" Scarface snarled, now chomping down on custard creams in the comfort of his favourite chair. His new first mates, at present sharing a hat too large for their heads, shuddered from the intensity of his rage. "Stupid rat lost us all our supplies an' now he wants mine! What did I tell ye? He couldn't steer his ship through a single storm! I bet he was hidin' under his blanket, scared of all the lightning!"

"An' the thunder," said Dungear, a frightened-looking weasel who scratched at the scarred remains of his nominative ear.

"Aye," agreed Mudfoot, an equally frightened-looking weasel with a peg leg. "That was pretty scary."

Scarface harrumphed and crossed his burly arms over his chest. Normally beasts like Dungear and Mudfoot would not have gone anywhere near his cabin, being as low ranking as they were. But it was true, Scarface had lost a lot of his crew and needed to replace them quickly. The pair in front of him seemed competent and had scars; which, in vermin eyes, was a sign of experience. "Well I ain't scared of lightning or thunder. I ain't a- a darn barnacle! An' look at the rest of these beasts! Everybeast's blindly followin' that buffoon of a ferret! Marick-son or not that imbecile ain't worthy of lickin' my boots, let alone leadin' anything! Why! I bet he was curled up with Clogg all sissy-like when we was fighting the winds!"

"Aye, under the blanket an' everything," Dungear, who had been curled up under his blanket for the majority of the thunderstorm, agreed.

"Right pair of landlubbers they are," said Mudfoot, who had been curled up next to Dungear.

"And the worst is that giant waste of vittles Prince Bork! Who does he think he is? Stupid pile of fur an' blubber, I bet he can't even swim! An' we're supposed te listen te him?"

"'Ey, Mudfoot don' know 'ow ter swim, neither."

"I've only gots one leg!" Mudfoot protested. "An' if I falls overboard I'd rather drown quickly than swim until I drowns! Or until some squid gets me."

"No squid'd want ye Mudfoot," Dungear patted his fellow weasel on the back, consolingly. "An' it's fine. I can't swim neither."

"It's idjits like yew that are the reason a beast like the Princess can do whatever he wants!" Scarface snapped.

"He is a big creature." The pair of weasels nodded knowingly, making the floppy hat flop up and down.

"So am I," Scarface fumed. "Yet nobeast treats me like a proper Captain. No, it's Clogg and his kits what are in charge! The next storm we'll hit will sink a dozen ships yew mark me words. We've gots te do something fast, before we all drown!"

"But what can we do?" Dungear whined, tugging at his good ear.

For some reason it was Mudfoot who decided he ought to answer the question. "I dunno… Clogg's captain… maybe we ought ter ask him?"

"No!" Scarface grabbed the pair of weasels and bashed their incredibly thick skulls together. "Yew fools, can't ye see that Clogg is useless? We need a new captain!"

"Oooooh!"

"Right!" Dungear and Mudfoot cooed, the physical harm having done the trick.

"We sees it now Chief Cap'n Scarface." Dungear winked.

"Finally," Scarface breathed, his chest puffed out with pride. "Some recognition!"

"Ye want Toothclaw in charge!" Mudfoot clapped his paws excitedly.

The stoat's face contorted with rage. "No! Not that shark-eatin' maniac! We need somebeast bigger. Stronger. Better at leadership."

"The Dreaded?" Dungear gasped and shook his head frantically from side to side. "Cap'n no! He'd be horrible in charge!"

"Don't be daft," Mudfoot said, giving his fellow weasel a derisive snort. "Cap'n's obviously talkin' about that One-Eye."

"But the wildcat ain't got common sense!" Dungear retorted. "An' the only other beast with exactly one eye is Clogg and he just said he's not a good Cap'n, an' what's the point of havin' a new Cap'n if Clogg's still in charge."

"I'll be the new Captain!" Scarface exploded, having watched the two debate candidates long enough. A vein was bulging and pulsing on his forehead- visible despite his thick fur. Red-faced and snarling he went on. "I'm big. I'm strong. I'm smart. I'm definitely not afraid of somethin' like lightning! I wouldn't lose supplies te a pesky storm. I'd give us all gold an' plunder aplenty instead of stew an' biscuits! If I were in charge the only thing ye'd have te worry about drownin' in is booty!"

Despite the somewhat poor choice of words, the weasels let out a hearty cheer.

Scarface grinned, his vein beginning to throb down. "But before we can do any of that we have te get rid of the others..."

There was many a furtive glance at this point, as the vermin made sure nobeast was listening in on them.

"We should cook the wolverine," Dungear suggested with a suppressed giggle.

"Have him return all the rations he stole!" Mudfoot cackled, rubbing his paws together.

"Tear off his pelt and give it ter Longclaw!"

"Then kill him too coz Scarface would be a better King too."

"And we'd be good advisors!"

"Of course," said Scarface, imagining himself in full regal regalia and liking what he saw. "A king needs servants."

"Clogg can be a servant!" Mudfoot suggested.

"No." Scarface darkened. "Clogg dies, and so do the other Captains. My rule must be uncontested. They can feed the fishes for all I care."

"Or the sharks!"

"Or the krakens! Krakens are hungry too!"

"What about Marick's son? Sharks, or krakens?"

Scarface paused for thought. "Maybe I'll keep him. Hit him when I'm angry an' stuff- ye know I'm always angry. Every Captain needs somebeast to lick his boots… but we're goin' too fast. First we get rid of them, then we kill them… Clogg, Toothclaw, Bork, Marick's brat, the Dreaded-"

"I am so very disappointed that I am not higher on that list!" The cabin door creaked open and in strolled the Manywhiskers. "Y-you put the Dreaded before me?" The feline placed a spotted paw on his chest. "That hurts me, that really does."

"It's him!" cried Dungear, suddenly very pale.

"It's the Manywhispers!" Mudfoot clarified, his eyes bulging. The floppy hat fell from their heads.

"Mudfoot, Dungear, fine weather today, isn't it?" The diminutive wildcat smiled at them.

"He even knows our names!" the weasels squeaked in unison, huddling together in fear.

"What do yew want?" Scarface barked, hoping that the cat hadn't heard anything important. He towered over the striped and spotted feline, yet the Manywhiskers did not seem at all intimidated by the shadow cast over him.

Placing a paw on his chin, he 'hmmmmed' loudly. "I can't seem to recall… what was it again? Something about rations? No, no, that wasn't it…"

Scarface brought a meaty fist into the Manywhisker's line of sight. "Maybe another scar or two might jog yer memory."

"Oh no need for that," the wildcat pushed the fist aside and withdrew a long pawkerchief from his sleeves. "I merely heard you had an unfortunate run-in with somebeast's stew and came to offer you my own, very fine, silken stew-scrubber."

Scarface, who's back was still crusted in the dried-up remains of Klis' rations, gave the Manywhiskers a hard shove. Glowering down at the feline he made it all too clear that a stew-scrubber was the last thing he wanted.

"Tsk, no manners!" The Manywhispers was back on his feetpaw quickly enough. "Such a shame. I was just trying to lend a paw." He raised a paw to his face, selected a whisker, and began to twirl it around his claw. "Looks like I have no choice now, but to inform dear Cloggo that the three of you are plotting against him."

Scarface did not flinch, Dungear and Mudfoot let out a pair of whimpers.

"I do wonder what he'll do to you. Maybe he'll be merciful. We just lost some good sailors, it would be a shame to lose any more… but I don't think Clogg can afford it. There's already talk that he's growing weaker and if somebeast more competent than yew starts getting similar ideas… No, no. He'll definetly have you executed. Fed to the sharks, or dragged through the water until you drown. Or maybe he'll just hang you from the crow's nest and be done with it. I think I've started to rub off on him, y'know? Cloggo can be quite unpredictable sometimes."

By now Dungear and Mudfoot had begun wailing. The pair of weasels dropped to the ground, the paws clamped together as if in prayer. "Mercy! Please! Don't 'ang us!"

"Oh it won't be me hanging you." The Manywhispers assured. "It'd be Clogg."

"B-but we didn't do nothin'!" Mudfoot sobbed.

"We'll do anything ye wants!" Dungear promised, and at once the pair were offering their services to the feline.

"W-we'll pull the barnacles off yer ship."

"We'll scrub the decks with our tails!"

"W-We'll iron yer sails!"

The Manywhisekrs sighed dramatically. "If only I had a ship… your offers are so very tempting. But alas, I simply must inform Clogg." The wildcat turned away, his eyes carefully fixed on Scarface's shadow.

Mudfoot and Dungear's blubbering increased in pitch and volume and their offerings grew even more outrageous.

"We'll do yer laundry!"

"Give yew our rations!"

"T-trim yer whiskers!"

"Cowards!" Scarface roared. "Yer scared of him? Grrr, I'll show ye lily-livered landlubbers how I deal with snitches." In one swift motion Scarface had drawn his cutlass. He sprung over the wailing vermin and sprinted out onto the deck where the Manywhiskers stood. Scarface raised his blade high, yet the Manywhiskers merely flicked his wrist. Something small and silvery whizzed through the air.

Scarface's battle cry turned to a gurgle as it died in his throat and a sudden spasm of pain brought him to his knees. His cutlass clattered to the deck, unused, as his paws scrambled to the handle sticking out of his throat.

The Manywhiskers smiled patronisingly down at the terrified stoat, and placed a paw on his shoulder. "Be careful when plotting, or you'll, ah... choke on your aspirations."

Scarface's eye's widened in horror. He could not breathe and there was blood rushing, thick and fast, from around the knife. With a strangled, pitiful noise he fell to the side.

Dungear and Mudfoot stared from the floor of the cabin, their eyes wide and their faces pale.

Dusting his paws off, the Manywhiskers turned to address the weasels. "Clean up this mess, why don't you?" he commanded in a tone that suggested it was a suggestion. He pointed at the dying stoat's throat. "And remember to clean my knife before you give it back to me. Hellgates knows I hate the look of blood."

"So ye have no idea where Whimper is?" a disgruntled Clogg asked Bork.

"None," the wolverine prince confirmed. "He was here before but then Scarface got all angry and started making a scene, so Whimper threw his stew at him. Then, because everybeast was distracted I took extra rations!" Bork beamed and puffed up with pride. Clogg frowned at the wolverine's swollen gut, but said nothing lest he find his own rations (or himself) adding to it. It was always better safe than sorry with wolverines.

The vermin crews seemed to agree with this philosophy and kept their silence as best they could while throwing the Prince the most filthy looks they could muster.

"That's all well and good Bork," many a glare found their ways towards Clogg. "But ye were supposed te be keepin' an eye on Whimper."

Bork deflated, a little bit. "Well he can't have gone far…" The wolverine scanned the corsairs currently scrubbing the deck in search of Klis. A moment later Bork's eyes brightened and for a moment Clogg was convinced Whimper had been found.

But the name Bork shouted was not Whimper's, nor was it Klis'. "It's Choptail!" the wolverine cheered, pointing a claw at a rather flabby ferret amidst the beasts scrubbing the deck.

"Who?" Clogg ventured to ask, his face in his paws.

"He used to be in charge of the kitchens but then one day he disappeared. I thought father had him cooked."

"What?" Clogg asked, incredulous.

Bork shrugged. "He always said he'd do that."

"No! I mean what is one of your father's old cooks doing on my ship?"

Choptail could feel the eyes on him, he could hear the one-eyed rat saying something and he knew the discussion was about him. Beads of sweat began to leak from him, and despite the great fear that shackled him, the ferret continued to swab at the deck.

Bork shrugged again. "Maybe he's hiding from father?"

Clogg snorted and crossed his paws over his chest. "So he's a stowaway then… You!" he barked, pointing at Choptail. "Get up here!"

With slow, worried and heavy motions Choptail stood up, fiddled with the dirty remains of his old apron and dragged himself forwards, his head bowed low. I'm going to die, I'm going to die… He might have considered running but there was only so much ship to run in and frankly, he didn't know how to swim. And as usual i-it's all Bork's fault! The wolverine prince had been the bane of the kitchens for as long as Choptail could remember, and now it seemed Bork would also be responsible for his death…

"So yer a cook, eh? Funny, I don't remember havin' more than one. Stowed away, did ye?" Clogg circled the shaking vermin, aware that everybeast on deck was watching eagerly. "Too scared te talk, tsk, tsk, tsk. What a waste of rations." He gave Choptail's prominent tummy a not-so-gentle prod. "A large one at that… Normally ye'd hang but we lost a few beasts already. Maybe we should be glad of the extra paw… Then again the crew seems mighty bored. Maybe I ought ter let them decide yer fate." Clogg leaned in and whispered into the terrified Choptail's ear. "A lot of 'em are lookin' at yew like a nice pot of stew."

The flabby ferret whimpered, and instinctively grabbed his tail in his paws.

On the opposite end of the deck, Clogg's first mate shook her head at the scene. "He's gonna let him live," the dark-furred rat spat. Besides her Fleaback grunted and nodded, putting on the air of somebeast very wise that clashed viciously with his dirty grey fur and golden teeth.

"Looks like yew were right Darkhide… Cap'n has gone soft."

"Oh this again! When was th' last time Clogg killed a stowaway, eh?" Scringewhiskers snapped, punching Fleaback none-too-lightly on the shoulder. "Just coz he's not as kill-happy as the pair of ye- for Hellgates' sake he flayed a beast not so long ago!"

"A slave," Darkhide pointed out, icily. "Nobeast that matters."

Of course Clogg knew better than to trust a pack of savage pirates with that decision. Far too many were far too sadistic for their own good. But it was only fair, and pirate tradition, to frighten the stowaway. Clogg continued to circle Choptail like a shark, until at last there came the predictable outcome. The ferret threw himself at Clogg's feet and began to blubber and beg.

"I-I was j-just tryin' te get away L-Longclaw would've k-k-killed me."

"An' now I have te do it," Clogg yawned, inwardly rolling his one good eye. If he had a pearl for every time he'd had to put up with somebeast's begging…

"No! No please! Y-ye don't have te do it!" Choptail sobbed into the deck and Clogg rolled his eye all the harder. "I-I could be useful- I c-can scrub things an'-an' do what ye tells me te- an'- please don't kill me!"

"Pwease don't kiw me," Scringewhiskers mocked, throwing his swab aside and running over to give the whimpering ferret's flabby behind a kick. "Mewcy! Mewcy! Look at 'im, mates! He's been eatin' more than Bork!"

The rest of the crew joined in the jeering soon after, and a few of the more daring ones rushed forth to give Choptail a few more kicks in the backside. This, naturally, only increased the volume of his begging.

"That's enough!" Bork snarled, stepping over the former cook and brushing aside his attackers. "Choptail can cook better than anybeast on this ship so nobeast gets te kill him! An' if somebeast has te die it should be whoever made that disgustin' stew!"

"That disgustin' stew yew didn't let none of us eat!" Fleaback, shouted from across the deck.

"I was saving ye all from indigestion," Bork retorted, turning his nose up at the accusation.

Before anybeast else could say anything, Clogg called for silence. "Oi, that's enough now. Nobeast needs te die. Of course, Choptail must be punished for stowin' away- an' as much as we all love a good execution I have an idea I think ye'll all like more. All of ye get the rest of the day off- put down yer swabs, go take a nap… or stay an' watch the show…" Clogg smiled sinisterly and gave Choptail a kick. "Get on yer stumps if ye wanna live."

Still sniffling, Choptail pushed himself to his feet.

"Yew can swab the whole deck," Clogg grinned, pointing downwards at the ship.

Choptail breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

"With Bork of course."

The flabby ferret whined.

The young wolverine rounded on the rat, paws akimbo. "What did I do?"

Clogg did not flinch. "Well for one, ye stole everybeast's rations, an' for another ye lost track of Whimper." The rat smiled. "But I'm not punishin' yew Bork. Yer the punishment." He motioned for the wolverine to lean in, and whispered into Bork's large ear. Slowly, but surely, the prince's face split into a grin and Bork began to giggle.

Choptail stepped backwards, not daring to imagine what horrors were in store for him, but Scringewhiskers held him down firmly and grinned. "Yer not goin' anywhere lard-bum!"

"Yer majesty! Choptail missed a spot!"

Bork nodded excitedy and dunked a soaking wet and defeated-looking Choptail into a wide-rimmed barrel of sea water. He withdrew him again a moment later, and squashing him against the floor, scrubbed vigorously. He was cheered and encouraged from all sides by the vermin removed from duty, who suddenly seemed to care very much about how well-swabbed the deck was.

For his part, Choptail could only whimper as he was shoved this way and that way across the rough wooden floor. "There are far nicer ways of killing beasts…" he groaned to himself, before once more being dunked into the barrel.

"Ingenious Cloggo," the Manywhiskers praised, appearing at the rat captain's side. "You keep the riff-raff entertained so that they forget their misery, punish Bork for the ration-stealing, punish Choptail for stowing away on your ship and clean up your deck all in one, simple move!" The cat applauded, and wiped non-existent tears from his eyes. "I'm so proud Clogg, I've finally begun to rub off on you!"

"No! No ye have not! The only rubbin' yew've ever done is rub me the wrong way!" Clogg snapped, his good mood having vanished- as it so often did when the Manywhispers was present. "What do ye want?"

"Well, I thought I'd let you know that Scarface choked on something funny."

There was a pause, wherein Clogg scowled and debated whether or not he wanted to know more. "...And did yew have anythin' te do with this choking?"

The Manywhispers glanced about furtively. "He was talking all sorts of mutinous things and it sounded like..." he leaned in conspiratorially and beckoned Clogg over. Grudgingly, the one-eyed rat leaned to the side, the better to lend his ear to the Manywhiskers. "He was going to kill you. So I put a knife in his throat."

Clogg opened his mouth but said nothing, once again at a loss for words.

"No needs to say anything Cloggo." The feline reached forwards and caught the rat's tongue between his claws. "Cat's got your tongue, happens to everybeast."

Clogg made to snap at the wildcat's fingers, but the Manywhisper's withdrew his paw swiftly so in the end all that was bitten was his own tongue.

"Oh and I'm a captain now."

Clogg once more found his voice, and choked out a "What!?"

"Well you know the way things are. You kill the old captain, everybeast's in a rush to make you the new one." The wildcat shrugged. "Besides, Scarface was always pushing his weight around like being the biggest beast at sea is something to be proud of, I doubt we'll miss him. Oh and I have much more time for scheming now."

"You already spend all your time scheming!" Clogg snapped irritably.

"And you should be thankful for it! Imagine if Scarface had gone through with his plan- what would have become of you!"

"I'd have killed him myself!"

"But that'd be less fun!" The Manywhispers protested.

Captain Trammun Clogg buried his face in his paws.

"Oh and I know where your ferret is. Our mutual friend, that is."

Clogg looked up and found a telescope being offered to him. Snatching it as savagely as he could, the rat brought it to his eye. The wildcat tilted it upwards and there was Klis, giggling up in the crow's nest with a familiar-looking jill.

Clogg lowered the telescope and thrust it back towards the Manywhispers. "Why is it that yew feel the need te stick yer whiskers into everything?"

"It's fun!" the Manywhiskers replied, turning the telescope towards the ferret pair. "Ah young love, am I right Clogg?"

With a final growl, the rat stomped away, leaving the Manywhiskers to twirl his whiskers in amusement. "I thought you might do that..."

"It's not so bad bein' up here," Klis mused, watching the waves below lap at the side of the ships. "Bit weird though, isn't it? Not bein' able to see the land."

"Yew get used to it," Swallowtail murmured besides him. The limited space on the crow's nest gave Klis very few escape strategies, and in truth he had long since stopped trying to maintain personal space. It was warmer being together after all, and somehow the wind was less strong too. "Haven't been to sea much have yew Klis?"

"I-it's me first time," the ferret admitted, going pink around the ears. "I was always 'round the sea mind, in Longclaw's palace an' stuff but… well I suppose there was the journey to Longclaw's palace but that was when I was very young an' I don't really remember it," he scratched at an ear and Swallowtail knew he was deciding whether or not to share some personal secret. Klis was a rather expressive ferret.

"Youngsters don't remember most things," she soothed.

"Y-yeah…" Klis agreed, and then he blurted out. "I remember bein' alone."

"Most crews don't have the time fer kids, orphan or not."

Klis swivelled round to face her. "H-how d'ye know I'm an orphan?"

Swallowtail narrowed her eyes. "Mad-Eye Marick an' Slit-Eye the Slit-Throat died in battle. Every vermin knows they was murdered by them Redwall mice."

"Oh," said Klis, who had not been thinking of Whimper's parents, and had instead been thinking of his own. At least, the one he could remember. "Y-yeah, sorry I'm a bit-"

"It ain't easy, talkin' of the dead," Swallowtail twisted her tail around his own, an encouraging gesture.

"Yeah," Klis agreed. "Let's talk about somethin' else… say Swallow, ye know an awful lot 'bout me but I-I don't know much about yew at all. How comes ye were here t'day anyways? Weren't ye supposed te be on the Dreaded's ship?"

The jill froze, having not expected this sort of question. The many-whiskered form of the Manywhispers swam before her eyes.

"It would be greatly beneficial to my plans," he said, rubbing his paws in a sinister sort of fashion. "To have somebeast close to Marick's son."

"I was er- reassigned."

"By the Dreaded?"

"A-aye. Yes, that's it. The er- Dreaded sent me te make sure them rations were bein' shared properly."

"I do wonder," growled Clogg, who's one-eyed face now emerged from the over the top of the crow's nest. "What that has got te do with a climb up the crow's nest." The rat clambered in, making the already limited space even smaller. His one, good, accusatory eye darted from one to the other until Klis admitted in a small voice.

"She was sharin' her rations with me."

Clogg crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled patronizingly. It was a dangerous sort of smile, the kind that told somebeast they were in for a thrashing. "Really? An' what happened te yer own?"

Klis swallowed audibly, and let the truth cascade out of him. "I-I-I threw 'em at Scarface, coz he was tryin' te push me around an' everybeast else was sort of cheerin' him on an' I had the stew an' I didn't want ter eat it- coz it looked awful, didn't it?- an' I chucked it at him- it was a good shot, got him right on the head an' everythin'!" Clogg looked unimpressed and Klis deflated a little now. "B-but then he came back 'round an' I think he was goin' te kill me- it looked like he was gonna kill me- but then Swallowtail here came an' sort of chased him off- an' well I figured he'd be back at some point so it'd be good te be in the company of somebeast who could make him go away, wouldn't it?"

Clogg scowled in response and spoke through gritted teeth. "Well that's different then. Thank yew Miss Swallowtail, fur keepin' Whimper here out of trouble... Ye have my eternal gratitude," (and here his teeth seemed to grind together with enough force to crush a walnut). "Now Whimper, why don't ye come down… now… into my cabin. There are some things I would like te discuss with ye. Alone." The more he spoke the more gritted his teeth became.

The burly ferret dared not refuse and with nary a glance at Swallowtail, he found that the rigging was much easier to climb with an angry rat chasing you down it.

"What did I tell ye about bein' alone with her?" Clogg demanded a short while later in the relative comfort of the rat captain's cabin. Even Klis knew that this was one of the rat captain's rhetorical questions. A question that, if answered, would only fan the flames of rage that now burned within Clogg. "She could have killed yew! Thrown ye into the sea, stabbed yew an' blamed the lookout- what do ye have te say for yerself!?"

"She saved me," Klis squeaked, nose to nose with the infuriated rodent. "F-from th-that Scarface."

Clogg snarled and began pacing around his room, then suddenly he stopped. "Of course she did! Don't ye see? She doesn't want te kill yew-"

"B-but ye just said-"

"She's seducin' yew an' yer lettin' her do it!" Clogg howled, picking up a book and menatlly debating whether or not it was too valuable to be thrown across the room. "She's a-a-a scarlet jill! She's bein' payed te pretend te love yew!"

"Th-that's not true."

"It is true! An' I know exactly who's behind all this an' I can't do anything to him!" Clogg hurled the book across the room. "He always does this!" the rat began to rant. "Ever since I knew him, ever since we was small, always going around an' messing with things that have nothin' te do with him. Stupid, stupid cat!"

Klis was quite sure that by now, Clogg had forgotten about him entirely.

"It started small of course- always does- nothin' but rope traps- but now! Oh now it's more than rope traps! Well I won't be fallin' into this one-" the rat turned towards Klis, who seemed rather frightened now by Clogg's behaviour. "An' neither will yew! I don't want yew or that jill near each other, do ye understand?"

"B-but what about Scarface?"

"Scarface is dead." Clogg replied bluntly, before once more launching into a tirade. "And that's his fault as well! And now he's gone and made himself a captain! ENTER!"

The door swung open, and a determined-looking Browneye walked in. "Captain," he said, saluting Clogg. "I'd like te ask yew what my duties as first mate are, owin' te the fact that some of yer crew have misguided me."

Clogg looked ready to murder somebeast, and Klis wisely decided to take his leave. If the one-eyed rat did decide to strangle the unfortunate stoat, the ferret decided, he wouldn't want any witnesses!

"She's not bein' payed te like me…" Klis muttered to himself as he made his way past the crowd of vermin still cheering Bork on and insisting that Choptail hadn't learned his lesson yet.

"She's just… nice… Nice beasts exist! An'- an' she thinks I'm important so maybe she's a little bit extra nice but she's not seducking me…" he thought back to their first meeting, when she had all but kissed him. "She's not… that's not… she was bein'... friendly. An' was showin' me round the ship. P-probably just wanted te feel the silk is all. She's not… she's not seduckting me… is she?"

"Oh I don't think so," said the Manywhiskers, appearing at his side.

Klis hopped a foot in the air and whirled around to face the whiskered wildcat, who as-ever was grinning. "Y-ye don't think what?"

"That she's 'seduckting' you. That's just Cloggo being paranoid, nothing to worry about."

"Oh, y-ye heard?"

"Clogg is rather loud." The Manywhispers did not think it necessary to add that he'd been listening at the door. "And honestly, what rubbish that is, that somebeast is being payed to love you."

"Y-yeah." Klis glanced around worriedly. "I-it is just rubbish, isn't it?"

"Absolutely. Nothing but garbage. And I would know, it's my job to know things, isn't it… Klis?"

Once more the burly ferret leapt up in a panic, and turned to face the grinning feline, his eyeballs wide and his face fearful.

"Yes, I know who you are. But Swallowtail didn't tell me. I found out on my own. And no needs to worry Marick-son. Your secrets are safe with me. I collect secrets you see," he winked and although Klis was not exactly reassured he did not jump into the air this time. "And I know that Swallowtail loves you more than she knows."

"Sh-she does?" Klis cleared his throat hastily. "I mean, er- yes it seems that way, doesn't it?"

"Oh yes it is that way. I read her diary, you see. They're my favourite things to read. I read Cloggo's once and honestly, do yourself a favour and ignore everything he says about Swallowtail. He wouldn't know a pair of star-crossed lovers if an asteroid hit him. Why… I distinctly remember his first love- Swallowtail is your first isn't she?"

"Well… yes…" Klis admitted, scratching the back of his head.

The wildcat beamed. "Thank you for being honest, I already knew that of course but other vermin have this nasty habit of quadrupling the numbers a little. Anyways like I said, ignore Cloggo. He doesn't really think she's being payed either, you know. He just says that because he's had bad experiences."

"With jills?"

"With lady rats. You know Poisonblade, don't you? That rat captain that sits around looking all menacing? Well she's always been the dark, brooding type and young Cloggo found that quite attractive- back when he was Whimper of course, I don't think he finds much attractive now beyond his beloved books, and of course his treasure- but that comes with the territory. Unfortunately our half-blind rat realized too late that underneath his beloved Poison's dark and brooding there was some sort of crazy in her and well, one thing led to another and one day I think Clogg left her marooned- took the only rowing boat back and left her on an island far at sea- of course this was after she tried to poison him," the miniature wildcat sighed majestically. "Love."

"I-it sounds scary the way ye p-put it." Klis stammered, his teeth chattering violently. "W-what if Swallow tried te poison me? Or leaves me on an island?"

"Swallowtail is not the dark and brooding type. She would stab you and not poison you. And of course, if she wanted you stabbed she would have just let Scarface do the job for her. And there was no reason to waste her rations on you either," The Manywhiskers patted a relieved-looking Klis on the back.

"Thanks er- Manywhiskers. If yew don't… mind… could ye tell me more about…" Klis raised an ear, heard Clogg shouting at Browneye and, grinning, decided he still had plenty of time. "More about Clogg's er- secrets?"

"Oh of course," the wildcat grinned. "It's another favourite hobby of mine. But I did have one other thing to talk about before I get lost in memory lane." A crumpled parchment was pushed into Klis' paw. "The next time we spot land we will be forced to venture forth in search of food and freshwater. It just so happens that, having studied the charts, the next island we reach will be full to the brim with treasure."

"T-treasure?" Klis' eyes were widening in wonder.

"All the best kinds," the wildcat promised. "This is a secret map- the only one that exists in the whole world. Can you keep it safe for me? Just for a little while? And make sure nobeast steals it? Oh and of course, make sure that Clogg doesn't find out about any of this. Think you can do that?"

Klis hesitated. He was not good at subtlety and hiding things, but the tantalising thoughts of treasure were tickling the pirate within him. "Nnn-yes, yes I think I can do that."

"Then I promise to share the treasure with you."