The Rogue Crew by Brian Jacques Read Free Book Online

Major Fforbes is right. If they can slip back into the sea, we can’t pursue them. Hares have never been seabeasts, it’s no good talking about us having a navy. We know little of mariners’ ways. We need allies who are skilled in the ways of sailoring.”
    Lieutenant Scutram had a suggestion.
    â€œWhat about otters, marm? I don’t mean river an’ stream types who dwell inland, but sea otters.”
    Buff Redspore spoke out in agreement. “Aye, sea otters who are fighters. I know there’s a lot of ’em up on the High North Coast. They like nothin’ better than a good skirmish. I’ll wager they’d be willin’ to jolly well help us!”
    Colonel Bletgore, who had been dropping off into a doze, immediately began a diatribe at the idea. “Hah, sea otters? Confounded rogues, ye mean! Not a scrap o’ manners among that flamin’ lot. Skor Wotjamicallim . . . Hatchet Dog, or some other dreadful outlandish name. Hah, pish an’ tosh, marm. Never!”
    Lady Violet looked around the assembly. “I think I’ve heard him spoken of as Skor Axehound. Has anyone further knowledge of him or his tribe?”
    Captain Rake Nightfur, a tall, dangerous-looking black hare, with a deep scar running from ear to chin, stepped forward, pawing the hilts of two claymores he wore across his shoulders. “Afore Ah came tae Salamandastron, Ah lived on the High North Coast. When Ah was younger, Ah fought alangside the braw Skor an’ his warriors. Ye’ll no’ find bonnier an’ no mair fearsome beasties than the Chieftain Skor—aye, an’ his Rogues.”
    Captain Rake paused, staring around the forge chamber. “Hark tae me. Ah’ll no’ tolerate a slight or ill word against Skor Axehound or his crew. D’ye ken?”
    Lady Violet smiled at the captain. “Oh, I think we all got the message, Cap’n Rake. This High North Coast you speak of, I take it the territory is some fair distance from here. Would you be willing to visit there as an ambassador from me?”
    Rake bowed gallantly, then drew his swords, placing them in front of Violet. “Mah fealty, mah blades, mah heart an’ paws are yours tae command, fair lady!”
    The Badger Ruler’s violet-hu ed eyes twinkled momentarily. “I never doubted that for an instant, Rake, thank you! Now, I wish you to start as soon as possible on this mission. Take with you a score of Long Patrollers of your own choosing, and may fortune be with you.”

5
    As dawn’s rosy paws stole over the Abbey walls, Jum Gurdy was getting ready to leave for the coast, intent on questioning his old uncle Wullow. The sturdy otter chuckled as he watched Friar Wopple packing rations into his haversack.
    â€œGo easy, marm. I ain’t plannin’ on bein’ gone for ten seasons. That’s enough vittles t’keep a regiment o’ Salamandastron hares goin’.”
    The kind watervole waved a package of candied chestnuts at the Cellardog. “Be off with ye, Jum Gurdy. I’ll not see any Redwaller starve on a journey. Besides, y’might like to give some o’ these vittles to yore ole uncle Wullow.”
    Jum smiled as he slipped a flask in with the food. “Aye, thankee. Ole Wullow’d like that, marm. I’m takin’ ’im some o’ my best beetroot port as a gift.”
    Young Uggo Wiltud, who had got over his ill stomach and was now sentenced to three days’ pot washing, looked over from his greasy chore. The gluttonous hedgehog was always interested in the subject of food or drink.
    â€œI’ve never tasted beetroot port, Mister Gurdy. Wot’s it like?”
    Jum shouldered his loaded haversack, commenting, “Never mind ’ow it tastes, young Wiltud. You just get on with yore pot scourin’!”
    Scowling, Friar Wopple picked up one of the pots. “The whole Abbey’d be down with tummy trouble if they had to eat