In the following weeks the Sayna covered many sea leagues. They were well out of the cold latitudes and the weather became almost tropical, with constant sunshine beating down out of clear blue skies. But Luke was getting edgy and frustrated. There had been no sign of the red ship, which could be anywhere in the trackless wastes of ocean they were searching. Between them, he and Denno began drawing up a chart, from the northern shores to the isle where Beau had lived and onward. Luke was disappointed that there were no other landfalls to act as route markers.
“We’re sailin’ blind, mate. At least if we sighted land there might be some news of the red ship, but all we’ve seen for ages now is nothing but sea on every horizon.”
Denno put aside his quill pen, nodding agreement. “Aye, we could do with takin’ on some fresh water, too, an’ the supplies are runnin’ low. That hare must think his one job in life is dishin’ up mountains o’ vittles to the crew. Lookit the stomach I’ve put on!”
Luke, however, was not about to criticize his cook. “You leave ole Beau out o’ this, Denno. That hare can do no wrong as far as I’m concerned, mate. I never tasted such wonderful food in all my seasons.”
But Denno’s words proved prophetic. It was on the afternoon of the following day that Vurg scraped bottom of one water cask with the dipper.
“If’n we don’t sight land soon then I reckon we’re in trouble, matey. Water’s all but finished!”
Beau emerged from his galley swinging a ladle. “No water? Well, we’ll have t’make do with cider an’ whatnot. Cardo, what’s the jolly old position on drinks other than water? You’re my assistant seacook.”
There was a rattling and scuttling from the galley, then Cardo popped a mournful face around the door. “Down t’the dregs, Beau, down t’the very dregs!”
The irrepressible Beau began climbing the rope ladder of the center mast. “Well, no use standin’ ’round with a face like a squashed apple, comrade o’ mine. Just have t’scan the bloomin’ horizon for land, wot wot!”
Cardo cast a withering glance up at Beau. “Oh, just like that?”
The hare was now clinging to the mainmast top, one paw shading his eyes as he gazed eagerly all around. “Well of course just like that, y’silly fat mouse. Hello there, chaps, is that a smudge way out to the south-west? Land ho! Or at least I’ll bet it’s somethin’ jolly close to land. Hah, well done that hare! Mention in dispatches, maybe jot down a line o’ praise or two in the ship’s log at the very least!”
Luke shoved Denno playfully. “Y’see, matey, told you I wouldn’t have a word said against ole Beau! Cordle, set a course sou’west. If that’s land, we might make it before tomorrow mornin’.”
*
Tacking against the prevailing breezes, the Sayna lay off the island three hours before dawn. A huge cone, of what Luke took to be an extinct volcano, reared dark and forbidding against the night sky. Though it was difficult to see much in the darkness, Beau noted that there were forests of trees growing on the slopes and a shoreline of kinds. Luke spoke his thoughts to the hare as he sized up the situation.
“We’d best stay offshore until ’tis light—there might be reefs ’twixt here an’ the beach. Don’t see any signs o’ life ashore, but we’d best not chance anythin’ until daylight. You go an’ get a bit o’ shuteye with the crew, Beau, I’ll call ye when ’tis light.”
“Wouldn’t think of it, old lad. You and I shall stand watch together, ’til the ravenwinged shades of night are flown and earth is reborn in fiery sunlight to day!”
Luke leaned on the taffrail, eyes searching the shoreline. “Well said, Beau, very poetic, mate.”
The talkative hare perked up. “Thank ye kindly, Luke. I’m rather glad you appreciate poetry. Here’s a modest effort I composed m’self, to while away the hours back on my island. ‘A mole and a duck went strolling one day—’”
Luke’s strong paws clamped around Beau’s jaws, holding his mouth tight shut. “Either be quiet or go t’sleep. If you don’t I’ll put ye to sleep with a belayin’ pin!”
*
As dawn broke, Luke roused the crew, and they sailed cautiously in toward the shore. Now the island could be viewed clearly. The beach was dark bluey-black volcanic sand. A thin plume of white smoke drifted lazily from the top of the rock cone which dominated the place, denoting that the volcano was not altogether extinct. Purple and scarlet flowers bloomed thick in the foothills, and many of the trees had huge spear-shaped leaves. It was an exotic scene, though the total silence made it rather sinister. As Vurg watched the Sayna’s prow nose into the sandy shallows, he conveyed his misgivings to Luke.
“I’m gettin’ that same feelin’ I had last time we came to an island—I don’t like it, matey. Too quiet for a place that looks so fertile. There’s got to be some sort o’ creatures livin’ here!”
Luke pointed to the shore. “You’re right, Vurg. See there? Slightly above the tideline? What d’you make o’ that?”
Beau elbowed his way to the prow. “A great pile o’ fruit! The creatures must be jolly friendly leavin’ a gift like that for us.”
Luke frowned. “Too friendly, perhaps. Let’s not be too hasty. There’s something about this little offering that doesn’t ring true.”
But Beau was already leaping the side. “C’mon, you chaps! I’ll be food taster. My stomach’s as steady as a jolly old rock, wot wot.”
Before Luke could stop them, most of the crew had followed the hare, bounding overboard into the shallows and splashing ashore toward the heap of luscious fruit piled on the beach. Vurg chuckled as the hare picked a grape, tossed it and caught it deftly in his mouth. He waited a few seconds and then waved a large bunch of wild grapes at the ship. “Still standin’, me hearties. Delicious! C’mon, everyone, tuck in!”
Luke and Vurg watched as they all pounced hungrily on the mysterious gift. “Ahoy, Beau,” called Vurg. “Bring some back for us.”
“Right y’are, Vurg. I say, chuck the empty casks overboard an’ we’ll see if we can find a stream to fill ’em from.”
Being the only two left on board, Vurg and Luke rolled all the casks out and tipped them over the side. Vurg tied the tiller in position so the ship would not drift.
“I was wrong, Luke. This island seems quite friendly now. P’raps Beau was right, an’ whoever left the fruit out doesn’t mean us any harm. Mayhap they’ll show themselves before the day’s out.”
A stream of freshwater actually flowed across the shore, not far from the heap of fruit. Dulam and Cardo filled the casks and got them back to the ship. Luke rigged a rope through the mainsail’s top block, and between them he and Vurg hoisted the casks of water aboard. Dulam and Cardo waded back to join their friends ashore.
Luke called after them. “Make the most of it. Tell the crew I want them back on deck by sunset. We sail at first tide tomorrow.”
Luke was busy stowing the casks in the galley when Vurg shouted urgently from out on deck. “Onshore, mate. Come an’ see!” He left what he was doing and hurried out.
Some of the crew were lying down amid the fruit, some were sitting aimlessly nearby, while one or two of the remainder were staggering oddly about. All appeared to have slack grins on their faces. Luke yelled, “Ahoy, Coll, Dulam, Beau, what’s the matter, mates?”
Dulam collapsed on the sand, Coll fell on top of him, only Beau remained standing. The hare gave a faint giggle, tried to wave, then his legs gave out and he sat down awkwardly, staring at the ship, smiling foolishly.
Luke smote the taffrail. “That fruit, I should’ve known it. C’mon, Vurg!”
But Vurg was pointing to where the foothills met the shore. “Wait, those bushes are movin’!”
Halfway over the side, Luke checked himself. He could scarcely believe his eyes. The entire hillside had come to life. Literally hundreds of bushes were moving across the shore in a massive screen of foliage. On instinct he leaped back aboard and dragged Vurg down flat.
A veritable hail of missiles struck the boat: arrows, javelins, spears and stones. Drums began pounding aloud and an eerie wailing rose from the bushes, followed by another salvo of missiles. Luke grabbed a long boathook.
“Get your spear, Vurg. Pole her off into deeper water.”
Scurrying forward, they pushed the vessel into the ebb tide, grunting with exertion as they pressed hard against their poles. An arrow thwacked into Vurg’s shoulder, and Luke ignored a deep javelin graze across his cheek.
“Push, Vurg, let’s give it all we’ve got, mate!”
The Sayna’s keel scraped free of the sand. Luke dashed recklessly astern and slashed the rope which held the tiller rigid. Wheeling sideways, the Sayna caught the tide. Luke flattened himself as another rain of death peppered the ship, then she was bow out, sailing free. Arrows, sticking up from the deck timbers as if from a pincushion, snapped against Luke’s footpaws as he dashed back to Vurg’s side.
Wincing, the brave mouse tugged the shaft from his shoulder. “Lucky that arrow’s flight was near spent an’ my tunic’s a good thick ’un. I’m not bad hurt, Luke, what about you?”
Luke pawed blood from the cut on his cheek. “Only a scratch, mate, I’ll live. Whoever they are, ’tis plain they can’t shoot straight. Great seasons, look!”
Vurg stared in amazement at the diminishing shoreline. Silent and deserted the beach lay, as if nobeast had ever been there. All that remained was a pile of squashed fruit. Vurg turned in bewilderment to his friend. “Where’ve they gone? Denno, Cordle, Beau, the whole crew are gone. What do we do now?”
Grim faced, Luke gazed at the shoreline, his warrior blood pounding furiously as he strove to control himself. “Let’s make sail, it’ll look as if we’re runnin’ away. We’ll wait ’til dark, Vurg. Then we’ll go back an’ get ’em!”
*
Drums pounded everywhere. At first, Cardo thought they were inside his skull, causing the massive headache that woke him. However, he saw that they were all too real when he opened his eyes. It was a scene that turned his blood to ice water, though strangely, everything was wrong side up. Like the rest of his crewmates, he had been bound tight and slung lengthways on a stout pole, so that his head hung down. The poles had been hoisted up on ropes, close to the ceiling of a big cave, with a fire burning at its center. Rock ledges had been carved around the cave walls in tiers, and these were crowded with hundreds of small fierce ratlike rodents, unlike any Cardo had ever seen. They were covered with intricate patterns of red, orange and white dyes, with clattering seashells affixed to ears, paws and tails.
At the rear of the cave were two massive drums, atop of which forty or fifty of the rodents performed a stamping dance. The sound boomed and banged relentlessly, increased fourfold as it echoed around the cave’s interior. Crouching by the fire was a figure far larger than the rest, obviously a female weasel, draped from ears to tail with long necklaces and bracelets made from painted crab claws. Her face was daubed thick with white clay, black charcoal lines accentuating the features.
Beau was hanging alongside Cardo. He opened his eyes, looked around, then squinched his ears flat peevishly and called downward to the rodents, “Put a flippin’ bung in it, you chaps, wot! Those drums are makin’ my old noggin throb dreadfully. I say there, you! Yes you, marm, tell these blighters t’desist. Hmph! Rank bad manners t’go thumpin’ drums like that when a body’s feelin’ out o’ sorts. Now pack it jolly well in!”
As if by magic, complete silence fell. The remainder of the crew had awakened, and Beau winked at them knowingly. “Voice of command an’ discipline, that’s the thing t’give the blinkin’ troops, wot wot!”
The weasel sprang upright. Grabbing a long wand ornamented with dried sea urchins, she shook it, pointing first at the captives, then to somewhere at the back of the cave between the two drums, and finally making a long sweeping gesture at the crammed masses of rodents.
“Rabbatooma! Slarissssssss! Ya Aggoreema!”
This seemed to drive the rodents into a frenzy. They laughed savagely, howling back at their leader, “Ya Marrahagga! Slarissssssss! Ko, Slarissssssss!”
Coll strained his head over toward Beau. “Huh, ’ope you ain’t said the wrong thing, mate.”
The hare was quite indignant. “Wrong thing, laddie? Me? I should say not. Tact an’ diplomacy are the pawmark of us Cosfortinghams. Hang on a tick, I’ll have a word with that vermin lady, see what the position is as regards loosin’ us from our bonds, wot. Now then, my good villainess, d’you think y’could spare a few of those runty types to unbind me’n’my stalwart comrades? Sort of save us hangin’ around, pardon the pun.”
Ignoring the hare’s request, the weasel crouched and began making mysterious weaving patterns upon the cave floor with her wand. The small ratlike creatures pointed at the captives and chanted aloud, “Ko Slarissssss Rabbatooma! Slarissssss eeeeeeyoh!”
Denno shook a droplet of perspiration from his nose-tip. “Phew! I’m roasted!”
Dulam closed his eyes, as if trying to block out his thoughts. “Quiet, mate. That could be a bad choice o’ words. They might be flesh eaters.”
Now the rodents who had been dancing on the drumheads deserted their posts, swiftly scrambling onto the ledges alongside the rest. Casting something into the fire, the weasel caused the flames to burn green. Then she went to the drums and began tapping her wand alternately against the side of each one, calling out in a sibilant voice, “Slarissssss Slarisssssss Slarisssssssssss!”
Ever the optimist, Beau suggested brightly, “D’y’know, I’m not familiar with their lingo, but I’ll wager Slariss is some sort o’ greeting, like how d’ye do, or good evenin’, chaps. P’raps I’d better return the compliment, show some manners, wot. I say, marm, Slariss t’you, too. Slarissssssssssss. Howzat?”
From a hidden opening behind the two drums Slariss emerged.
Beau’s mouth went suddenly dry with fear—even he was not ready for this. The snake’s head was bright green and huge. It slid slowly out in a seemingly never-ending ripple of sleek coils. As if searching, its flickering tongue quested in and out restlessly, eyes glittering in the firelight, twin diamonds of primitive evil. Lazily the green and black chevroned coils formed into several loops, one atop the other, with the flat reptilian head resting at their peak. Standing at the other side of the fire, the weasel poked the tip of her long wand in the flames until it was glowing. Not one creature in the cave made a sound or moved a muscle. The snake was hunting, seeking a victim. The crew hung motionless, stiff with terror. Beau was not aware of the glowing wand’s end approaching behind his head. Suddenly the weasel touched it against the tip of his long right ear.
“Yowchowoop!” He shook his head.
“Slarisssssss!”
Not a paw’s length away, the snake swayed its head, mouth open, fangs bared dangerously, hissing its challenge. The hare found himself staring into the reptile’s eyes. Frozen with nameless dread, he hung there helpless.