Gonff repeated it dutifully, and Furmo made him say it again. The phrase made such a good rowing chant that the Guosim shrews took it up, bending and straightening their backs in time to the cadence.

"Damson crumble an' good hot sauce! Damson crumble an' good hot sauce!"

Chugger was acting captain again. He strode officiously up to Gonff and nodded approvingly. "Mista Gonff, you like a damser crum an' good 'ot sauces?"

The Mousethief licked his lips appreciatively. "I certainly do, me liddle mate!"

Patting his tiny stomach, Chugger growled fiercely, "Well you can't avva no more, I eated it all up, an' I not yore likkle mate now. I cap'n Chugg, see!"

Not stopping for anything they rowed doggedly on, trying to keep up the pace, which Martin had unconsciously increased again. Midnight had gone by an hour when they rounded the point. Everybeast lay back, panting with exhaustion, as Furmo gave orders to ship oars. Everybeast except Martin. As the Honeysuckle's Honeysuckle's hull sc.r.a.ped to a halt in the shallows, he was upright, staring at the deserted sh.o.r.e, which was bathed in pale moonlight. Like lonely sentinels, the cliffs stood high in the background, topped by spa.r.s.e vegetation. Darkened caves, partially covered by weather-warped driftwood and rubble, which had once disguised them from hostile eyes, lay forlorn and abandoned. A floodtide of memories poured in on Martin's senses. Every rock, even the wind-driven sand drifts, looked familiar to him. Turning to his tired companions, the Warrior spoke in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. hull sc.r.a.ped to a halt in the shallows, he was upright, staring at the deserted sh.o.r.e, which was bathed in pale moonlight. Like lonely sentinels, the cliffs stood high in the background, topped by spa.r.s.e vegetation. Darkened caves, partially covered by weather-warped driftwood and rubble, which had once disguised them from hostile eyes, lay forlorn and abandoned. A floodtide of memories poured in on Martin's senses. Every rock, even the wind-driven sand drifts, looked familiar to him. Turning to his tired companions, the Warrior spoke in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

"I was born here, I know this place!"

Slipping overboard, he waded through tne shallows.

Drawing his rapier, Log a Log Furmo signaled to his Guosim. Folgrim picked up his ax, determined to go ash.o.r.e with them. Gonff backed to the rail and stood in their path, holding up both paws.

"No, mates. Let our friend go alone. 'Twould not be right to intrude on him this night!"

The crew of the Honeysuckle Honeysuckle laid aside their weapons and sat down to await Martin's return. laid aside their weapons and sat down to await Martin's return.

Striding slowly up the beach, Martin turned to his right, the cave which had once been his home drawing him to it like a magnet. At first he thought his eyes were deceiving him. Halting, he stared hard at the feeble glow emanating from the cave. It was was a light. Somebeast had lit a fire there recently, which had died to glowing embers. Drawing his sword, the Warrior of Redwall crouched, moving forward silent as moonshadow. Entering the cave, he flattened himself against the rock wall, waiting until his eyes were accustomed to the dim light. a light. Somebeast had lit a fire there recently, which had died to glowing embers. Drawing his sword, the Warrior of Redwall crouched, moving forward silent as moonshadow. Entering the cave, he flattened himself against the rock wall, waiting until his eyes were accustomed to the dim light.

Covered by a long traveling cloak, an old mouse sat dozing by what was left of the fire. Martin crept close, extended his blade and tapped the mouse's paw lightly with its point. He did this once again, then the creature stirred, turning its face to him. The old mouse spoke in an awestruck voice. "Luke, is that you?"

Wordlessly Martin placed some broken twigs on the fire. Laying aside his sword, he sat down opposite the ancientcreature, staring at it through the rising flames. A slow smile of pure joy stole across the old one's lined face.

"Oh, Luke, Luke, it is you! But how ...?"

The Warrior spoke softly, so as not to frighten the old fellow. "I'm Martin of Redwall, son of Luke the Warrior. Pray, what is your name, sir?"

Rising slowly, the old mouse shuffled around the fire. Sitting next to Martin, he reached out and touched the Warrior's face. Martin watched in silence as tears rolled down the mouse's cheeks and his head began to shake.

"Ahhhh, so many seasons, so long ago. I've returned here through snow, rain and sun, many many times, and sat waiting alone, always alone."

Tears overcame further speech. Martin drew the old mouse to him, placing a paw about his scrawny back and wiping away the tears with the cloak hem. He rocked him gently. "There, there, no need to weep further, friend. I am Luke's son and I have come. You are not alone."

The old mouse's eyes searched Martin's face. "Aye, you are Martin. So like your father, so like him. D'you not remember me? I'm Vurg, I was Luke's best friend."

Martin could not remember him, but he nodded. "Of course. I didn't recognize you in the dark. Vurg, my father's strong right paw. I recall you now. How are you, Vurg?"

Holding forth his withered paws, Vurg chuckled. "How am I? I'm old, Martin, old, old, old! Heeheehee, I've got more seasons on me than a hedgehog has spikes!"

Martin hugged the scrawny form to him fondly. "Nonsense, I think you look just the same as you always did. I'll wager your appet.i.te's still as good. Are you hungry, Vurg?"

"Heehee, anybeast tough enough t'be livin' on the northlands coast is always in need o' good vittles!"

Martin sheathed the sword across his shoulder. "Right, come on back to the boat with me. I've got a crew of Guosim shrews there who'll feed you 'til you burst!"

Vurg rose creakily, retrieving a beaded linen bag from the sand. This he stowed beneath his cloak. "Well, young Martin, what're we standin' 'round here waitin' for? Lead me t'the grub!"

Together they crossed the sh.o.r.e, Vurg leaning heavily on Martin's paw for support, chattering away.

"Guosim shrew cooks, eh? Bet they know 'ow to serve up proper-made vittles. Not like ole Cardo, now there was a mouse who'd burn a salad. Cook? Cardo couldn't boil water to save his life. You remember Cardo, don't you?"

Martin lied as he kept the oldster on a steady course. "Oh, Cardo! How could anybeast forget that buffoon!"

Gonff was on watch, sitting in the prow. He saw the two mice approaching the Honeysuckle Honeysuckle and roused the crew from their slumbers. and roused the crew from their slumbers.

"Ahoy, mates, Martin's comin' back. Looks like he's brought company, too. Stand byhe might need help."

Furmo and Folgrim a.s.sisted in getting Vurg aboard. The old mouse winked at the scarred otter. "Heehee, bet you could take care o' yerself in a sc.r.a.p?"

Folgrim's pointed teeth bared in a savage grin. "I've taken care of a few in me time, sir!"

Vurg mused absently as they seated him comfortably under the stern awning. "Aye, so did Luke an' Ranguvar, they took care o' more'n a few. Heeheehee!"

Furmo patted the old one's paw fondly. "How's yore sweet tooth, Grandad?"

"I tell ye, young whipsnout, a sweet tooth's about the only one I got left in me mouth. Heehee!"

The shrew stoked up his stove with seacoal and driftwood. "Then how does a baked river roll with hot maple syrup sound t'ye? I makes it with sweetflour an' all manner o' candied fruit, folds it careful-like into a big roll, bakes it to a turn an' pours 'ot maple syrup over it. Got a beaker or two of Dunehog Seafoam ale t'go with it. Sound good?" y y Vurg wiped a paw across his lips. "I'll tell ye when me mouth quits waterin', young 'un!"

Morning came, with overcast skies and a bitter wind. Martin sat beneath the stern shelter with his friends, sipping barley and carrot broth. Vurg lay behind them, close to the oven, wrapped snugly in his cloak, sleeping off the feast he had consumed.

Gonff sat Chugger on his lap, allowing him to steal his beaker of broth. "You finish that all up, matey. An' don't be dashin' about kickin' up a rumpus. Old Vurg needs lots o' sleep. Well, Martin, did y'find out what you needed to know from the ole feller, about yore dad an' so on?"

Martin shook his head as he watched Vurg sleeping. "Didn't want to rush him. Vurg will tell me when he's ready. Though I did hint that I needed information."

Dinny looked over the top of his beaker. "Wot did ee'm owd feller say 'bout that, zurr?"

Martin shrugged. "Not much, though he did say I'd find out all I needed to know when we took him back home to someplace called Tall Rocks."

Chugger was beginning to wriggle out of Gonff's grasp. Trimp took charge of him, stroking the tiny squirrel's head soothingly. She looked inquiringly at Martin. "Tall Rocks? Where's that?"

The Warrior stared out at the gray wintry seas. "Somewhere up north of here. Vurg said he'd show us the way."

Furmo picked up the linen bag from where it had fallen out of Vurg's cloak, and pa.s.sed it to Martin. "What d'you suppose is in this?"

Martin sighed deeply and placed the bag carefully back in the folds of Vurg's cloak without disturbing him. "He'll tell us when he's ready, I suppose. Though I'm not certain I want to know now. I have a feeling inside that 'tis going to be a long and tragic tale."

Vurg woke before noon feeling much refreshed, and to prove it he ate a huge breakfast. Under his directions they pushed off and continued north. Martin watched, silent and pensive once more, as his birthplace faded into the distance.

Chapter 16.

It was a late noon, two days out from Martin's former home, when Tall Rocks hove into view. Rain was falling heavily and the wind had died completely. The sea surface, though pitted constantly by rainfall, was relatively calm, with a notable absence of the huge foam-crested rollers usual in the area. Vurg stood in the bows, Martin at his side, and relayed directions. Furmo and Dinny held the tiller between them, listening out for instructions.

"Keep her head out to sea a bit. Stick to that course!"

Furmo obeyed, but voiced his doubts. "Wouldn't we be better tackin' in closer to the land side?"

Martin swiftly gave him his answer. "No, no! Stay seaward. Vurg says the underwater reefs are close to the surface insh.o.r.e. Out here the sea runs very deep, so the reefs are far below us. Keep her head out!"

"Right enough. Just as well the tide's runnin' smooth t'day."

Martin agreed. "Aye, Vurg says that if any waves start up youjnust steer right out to sea, away from Tall Rocks, and forget the whole thing until ebb tides arrive. Otherwise the Honeysuckle'& Honeysuckle'& be smashed against the rocks!" be smashed against the rocks!"

Dinny glanced fearfully to the horizon. "O seas, keep ee gurt waves clear of us'n's. Thurr be nuthin' wurser'n a drownded molebeast, no zurr!"

Trimp and the remainder of the crew stood aghast at the size of Tall Rocks. Monumental pillars of stone, they reared out of the sea like monsters from the dawn of time, huge and forbidding. For leagues of the coastline the seas were dotted with them, colossal and weirdly shaped, some cylindrical, others triangular or square-sided, their bases festooned with seaweed, kelp and dark moss above the columns of dark basalt stone. The Honeysuckle's Honeysuckle's sail was taken in, and the most expert Guosim oarbeasts sat at the rowlocks, knowing their lives depended on the accuracy and sureness of their strokes. The order came when they were almost abreast of a cl.u.s.ter of columns, fronted by one half as big again in girth and height as the rest. sail was taken in, and the most expert Guosim oarbeasts sat at the rowlocks, knowing their lives depended on the accuracy and sureness of their strokes. The order came when they were almost abreast of a cl.u.s.ter of columns, fronted by one half as big again in girth and height as the rest.

"Take 'er in steady. Keep the big 'un on yore portside!"

Trimp held tight to Folgrim's paw. "Good grief! Look at the size of those rocks, Folgrim!"

Chugger, who had climbed onto the otter's shoulders, clung there like a leech, whimpering. "I frykened, mista Fol, Chugg no like this!"

Folgrim tickled the little squirrel's footpaw. "Aye, I'm frightened too, matey. So is the whole crew, an' even Martin, so we're in good company, I reckons!"

All else was forgotten as the monstrous pinnacles loomed close. Fear echoed in Furmo's high-pitched yell. "Bring 'er 'round! Round the big rock! Push 'er off'n'take 'er 'round, mates! Now!"

Rising in a smooth high swell, the sea swept the skiff, like a cork, straight for the big rock. Paddlers on one side banked her, rowing furiously, while Martin and Gonff joined the others, fending the rock off by pushing against it with oars and long poles. With an audible sucking and gurgling the swell receded. Down they shot into a deep trough, with the Honeysuckle Honeysuckle swerving bravely in a swift arc around the basalt monolith. No sooner were they on the lee side of the rock than the peril of their position increased. Now they were in a narrow channel betwixt the main column and the others grouped behind it. Obeying Vurg's orders, the Guosim Chieftain sang out, "I'm steerin' for that pack o' rocks! Make ready to tie up, for'ard, aft an' amidships! But don't tie 'er fast, mates, leave slack so she can ride the swells!" swerving bravely in a swift arc around the basalt monolith. No sooner were they on the lee side of the rock than the peril of their position increased. Now they were in a narrow channel betwixt the main column and the others grouped behind it. Obeying Vurg's orders, the Guosim Chieftain sang out, "I'm steerin' for that pack o' rocks! Make ready to tie up, for'ard, aft an' amidships! But don't tie 'er fast, mates, leave slack so she can ride the swells!"

The moment they were in reach of the grouped pinnacles, Martin whirled a weighted line, as did Folgrim in the midships and Gonff at the prow. Again the swell lifted them and Furmo shouted, "Heave those lines out, mates!"

The strong slender ropes snaked out and up. Three iron grapnels clanked simultaneously into the stone crevices. The Honeysuckle Honeysuckle was secured safely, and bobbed up and down alongside the rocks, with the slack lines allowing her to ride easily on the swells. was secured safely, and bobbed up and down alongside the rocks, with the slack lines allowing her to ride easily on the swells.

Log a Log Furmo could not stop his paws shaking. He wobbled along the deck and leaned against Martin, pale, breathless and shaken. "By the fur'n'blood o' the great Guosim, at least ten times there I thought we was a goner, matey!"

Martin grasped his friend's paws, steadying them. "You did it superbly, Furmo. n.o.beast could keep her on course like you did'twas nothing short of a miracle!"

Stamping his footpaw against the deck, Furmo smiled proudly. "Aye, an' no other craft in all the rivers'n'seas could've done it like our Honeysuckle. Honeysuckle. Wot a ship! I'll tell some stories about 'er t'my tribe when we gets back!" Wot a ship! I'll tell some stories about 'er t'my tribe when we gets back!"

Vurg took a deep breath. Cupping paws around his mouth, he called out in a quavery voice, "Ahoy the Arfship! Arfship! Ahoy there, can you 'ear me?" Ahoy there, can you 'ear me?"

There was no answer. Furmo felt recovered enough to roar out in a thunderous baritone, "Ahoy Arfship, Arfship, 'tis Vurg an' some company. Ahoooooy!" 'tis Vurg an' some company. Ahoooooy!"

Martin pulled the shrew to one side just in time to avoid a hefty rope ladder with timber rungs which came down out of the rocks and clattered to the deck.

Gonff stared in puzzlement at Vurg. "Who are we shoutin' to, an' wot's an arfship, mate?"

On the ledge above them a hare appeared. He looked as ancient as Vurgolder, in fact. Shaking a tremulous paw at Vurg he called down, "Where in the name of my auntie's ap.r.o.n have you been, wot? I've been sittin' up here like a blinkin' sickly seagull, worryin' about you, sah! Now y'come sailin' up here, pretty as y'please, in charge of this jolly old rats' regatta. Wot!"

Vurg mounted the rope ladder with Trimp's a.s.sistance, followed swiftly by her friends. The old mouse argued with the hare as he climbed up to the ledge.

"Oh, give yore flappin' jaws a rest, Beau. These creatures are friends. They brought me back from the north sh.o.r.e. Which is more'n I can say for you. I'd grow whiskers t'me footpaws waitin' on you t'come an' fetch me, y'great flop-eared bag-bellied droopy-pawed rockrabbit!"

The old hare's ears stood up indignantly as he helped Vurg onto the ledge. "Hah, rockrabbit is it, you blather-bottomed old dodderer, wot wot. I've had a barnacle ca.s.serole bubblin' here for two confounded days waitin' for you. Bad form, sah! I was goin' t'make a plum pudden too, but I flippin' well ain't now. So you can go an' jolly well whistle f'your blinkin' dessert for all I care. An' I hope the ca.s.serole keeps you awake all night. Ungrateful bounder!"

Martin popped his head over the ledge. "When you two creatures have stopped arguing, would you mind moving aside? We've got a ship's crew to get up this ladder."

The hare fitted a rock crystal monocle into one eye and glared down at Martin. "Oh, have you now? Well my compliments t'you, sah, an' your crew, wot! I s'pose you've come to eat us out of house an' home without a by your leave or jolly old toodle pip!"

Vurg interrupted the hare's tirade. "Ahoy, Beau, mind yore manners. Take a close look at yon mouse an' tell me who ye think he is?"

Beau crouched down, holding his back and grimacing. He brought his face level with Martin's. The eyegla.s.s popped out with surprise as he stared at the Warrior mouse.

"Luke! Well burn my auntie's taters, wot! You're a bounder, a rotter an' a curmudgeon, sah! How is it that you've stayed so jolly young while we've grown old? Not the done sort o' thing, I'd say. Bally cad!"

Martin sprang up onto the ledge. Smiling, he grasped Beau's paw and pumped it up and down.

"I'm Martin of Redwall, son of Luke the Warrior. Whom have I the pleasure of addressing, sir?"

The hare shook his h.o.a.ry silver head, returning the smile. "Knew y'father well, sah. Excellent chap! I'm Beauhair Fethringham Cosfortingsol. No I ain't, I'm Beausol Fethringhair Cosfortingclair. No I ain't, wait a tick. I'm Beauham Fethringclair Confounditall. Tchah! I'm so old I've forgotten me own name. What a disgrace, wot!"

Vurg sn.i.g.g.e.red. "Heehee, try Beauclair Fethringsol Cosfortingham. That's yore silly long name."

The hare scratched his scraggy whiskers. "Ah! Of course it is. Thank you, old chap." Then, scratching his whiskers again, he turned on Vurg. "On the other paw, who asked you, sah, you battered old mouserelic? When I need somebeast to tell me m'name I'll jolly well ask m'self. Pish tush! The very idea, tellin' a chap his own moniker!"

Vurg approached him until they stood nose to nose. "Battered ole mouserelic? Well of course I am, an' who wouldn't be, lookin' after you all these seasons. Should've left you on Twin Islands, that's wot I should've done!"

Martin clapped a paw to his brow, looking beseechingly to Gonff. The Mousethief pushed Beau and Vurg apart. "Quiet now, you two, an' lissen t'me. Aboard our ship we got a way of settlin' arguments. We let any quarrelsome beasts settle things by challengin' our argument counselor. Folgrim, come over 'ere!"

Testing his ax edge by licking it, Folgrim strode over. Baring pointed teeth, he turned his scarred face from Vurg to Beau. The otter's voice sounded like a blade hacking ice.

"Well now, anybeast got an argument t'settle wid me, choose yore weapons. Axes or teeth, it don't make no odds t'me!"

Vurg immediately hid behind Beau, whose throat bobbed like an apple on a string as he gulped. "Arguin'? Who's arguin', old chap? Merely a bit o' humorous banter 'twixt my erstwhile companion and m'goodself, wot? I say, Vurg, hadn't we better get these seagoin' types aboard the good vessel Arfship? Arfship? They look jolly hungry an' tired t'me. We could frica.s.see a shark or two for friend Folgrim, or maybe he'd prefer just to gnaw on the messdeck table. Er, ahaha, follow me, chaps. No offense, mister Folgrim sir, merely a jocular jest, wot wot!" They look jolly hungry an' tired t'me. We could frica.s.see a shark or two for friend Folgrim, or maybe he'd prefer just to gnaw on the messdeck table. Er, ahaha, follow me, chaps. No offense, mister Folgrim sir, merely a jocular jest, wot wot!"

Vurg and Beau led them through a perfectly round tunnel in the rock. They emerged on the other side amid the ma.s.sed pinnacles and stood gazing up in open-mouthed awe at the sight that greeted them. Beau managed to make an elegant leg and bowed slightly. "Welcome to the vessel Arfship!" Arfship!"

Jammed between the column they stood upon and the one immediately next to it was half a ship. High overhead it stood, lodged between both pinnacles, more than two-thirds of the way up. From midships to for'ard end it was wedged firmly, a huge rusting iron spike at its forepeak driven into the rock by some tremendous force. The thing had once been red, but now through seasons of harsh weather, seaspray, sun and rain, it was faded to a rose-pink hue.

Dinny's voice cut the silence. "Well fill moi tunnel! Arf a ship oop in ee air!" Ascending another rope ladder, they climbed up to the old habitation. Trimp stared about in astonishment at the immensity of it all. It was like being in some great chamber. Timbered bulkheads with holes for oarports let in the light, as did the opened hatch covers high above them. Furmo's voice echoed spectrally in the vast s.p.a.ce, as the crew of the Honeysuckle Honeysuckle walked through it wide-eyed. walked through it wide-eyed.

"An' this is supposed t'be only arf a ship! I tell ye, mates, could you imagine it afore it was broken, with the other arf attached? It must've been like a floatin' village! I wager there wasn't anythin' that size ever sailed the seas!"

Vurg nodded his old head. "Oh but there was, an' this is what's left of it. See through those open hatch covers? There's another deck above this an' another one above that again. Yore lookin' through three decks up t'the main one, which, if y'count it, makes four altogether. We keeps the 'atches open to give light, battens 'em down in bad weather. Up these stairs is the for'ard cabins. Come on, I'll show ye!"

Martin shook his head as he pa.s.sed rows of benches, with chains dangling from them and long broken oars hanging through the ports. They looked well worn from constant use. "Beau, was this a slave ship?"

"Indeed it was, old lad, the foulest, most evil vessel that ever plied the ocean. Now 'tis our home, our beloved Arfship. Arfship. Actually, 'twould have been Actually, 'twould have been Half Ship Half Ship if I'd had me way, but the others called it if I'd had me way, but the others called it Arfship, Arfship, so so Arfship Arfship it is, wot. Come an' eat now, questions later, that's the drill!" it is, wot. Come an' eat now, questions later, that's the drill!"