The Rogue Crew by Brian Jacques Read Free Book Online Page B

kitchens. He picked up a fresh-baked scone, spread it with honey and took a bite.
    â€œGood morning, Friar. What’s going on with those two?”
    The Friar poured cups of hot mint tea for them both. “Oh nothin’, really. I suspect that Jum’s givin’ young Uggo a lesson in growing up usefully. A trek to the seacoast with our Cellardog behind him may do that hog a power o’ good, Father.”
    Thibb blew on his tea and sipped it carefully. “Right, marm. I think Jum Gurdy’s just the beast to teach that scamp a lesson or two.”
    In the belltower, Matthias and Methusaleh, Redwall’s twin bells, boomed out into the clear spring morn, signalling breakfast at the Abbey.
    Outside on the path, Uggo called out hopefully, “May’aps we’d best go back for our brekkist, Mister Gurdy?”
    Jum Gurdy shook his head, pointing the way. “Already’ad brekkist whilst you was still snoozin’. Keep goin’, young un. ’Tis quite a way ’til lunch!”
    Â 
    By midday, Greenshroud was well out to sea. Razzid Wearat took a leisurely meal of grilled seabird, washed down with a beaker of seaweed grog. He watched a wobbly-legged old searat clearing the remains away, then rose from the table. He snapped out a single word.
    â€œCloak!”
    The rat dropped what he was doing to get the green cloak, holding it as Razzid shrugged his shoulders into it.
    â€œTrident!”
    The serving rat placed the trident in his waiting paw. Without another word, the Wearat waited on his minion to open the cabin door, then strode out on deck. A corsair searat was at the tiller.
    Razzid wiped moisture from his weepy eye. “What’s the course?”
    The corsair replied smartly, “As ye ordered, Cap’n, due east!”
    Vermin were loitering near, coiling ropes and doing other needless tasks, listening alertly for the Wearat’s command as to where they would be sailing.
    He did not keep them waiting, calling out loud and clear, “Take ’er in closer to shore! Lookout, keep watch for anythin’ interesting onshore!”
    A sharp-eyed young ferret tugged his ear in acknowledgement. “Aye aye, Cap’n!” He began climbing into the rigging.
    Razzid’s next words came at the crew like a thunderbolt.
    â€œStay close to the shore, but set a course for the High North Coast!”
    The word had been given. Razzid Wearat was bent on a return battle with the sea otters. An ominous silence fell over the crew. Those who had lived through the last disastrous foray knew the strength and bloodlust of Skor Axehound’s warriors. None of the vermin had thought that Razzid would be foolhardy enough to try a second attack. However, none of the corsairs was so rash as to dispute their captain’s decision. They returned to their tasks in sullen silence—all but one.
    A muscular, tattooed ferret, who had barely escaped with his life at the first incident, was heard to mutter to the rat he was working alongside, “Huh, those wavedogs beat the livin’ tar out of us. They ain’t beasts t’be messed about wid.”
    He turned and found himself facing Razzid.
    â€œYe were sayin’?”
    The ferret backed off nervously. “Never said nothin’, Cap’n.”
    Like a flash the trident was a hairsbreadth from his neck. The Wearat sounded dangerously calm. “Lie to me an’ I’ll slay ye here an’ now. What did ye say? Tell me.”
    The ferret was a seasoned killer and no mean fighter, but he quailed under the Wearat’s piercing eye.
    â€œI jus’ said those wavedogs wasn’t beasts t’be messed wid.” Razzid let the trident barbs drop.
    â€œSo, that’s what ye think, eh? Anyone else think that?”
    The ferret looked nervously at his mates’ faces, but nobeast was about to speak out. He smiled weakly and shrugged. “I didn’t mean nothin’, Cap’n. On me