The Abbot was still shaking his head with despair. "Did anything go right? It was the Dab organisation, you remember: Dibbuns Against Bedtime. On some pretext or other they got Memm and Foremole out of the kitchens, then the rascals ran back and bolted themselves in. Come and see."

When they arrived at the kitchens the door was off its hinges. Gooch the cook and his a.s.sistant, Furrel, were sorting through a selection of damaged tools they had borrowed from the wine cellars to unscrew the door hinges.

Gurdle Sprink clapped his paw to his brow. "Oh corks, is that my best bungspike? Looks more like a confounded corkscrew!"

Memm Flackery emerged from the kitchens, spattered from ears to tail with blackberry preserve and meadow-cream. "Steady on, old lad. Don't blame poor Gooch, 'twas me who borrowed your gear. 'Fraid we had to, wot! Those little cads locked us out! We had to break back in, or the jolly old kitchens would've never been the same again!"

Crikulus peered in at the chaos that had been caused. "Hmm, looks like they took to decoratin' the place with flour, preserve an' cream. Where are the Dibbuns now?"

Foremole Urrm wiped flour from his snout. "Oi got 'em all locked oop in ee veggible store, zurr. Tukk moi loife in moi paws doin' et. They'm was fierce h'infants!"

Skipper called on his two ottercrew to support him as guards. "Right, shipmates, let's parade these fierce h'infants out an' see wot they got to say for 'emselves!"

Some of the Dibbuns were so coated with baking ingredients that they were unrecognisable. Malbun pointed to one, who looked like he could be a mole.

"You there, stand up straight and take your paws out of that ap.r.o.n pocket. What's your name? Speak up!"

The Dibbun licked cream from his chin. "Oi'm Roobil, marm."

Friar Gooch pointed accusingly at him. "Roobil, that's him. He was the ringleader!"

Malbun Grimp stared at the line of bespattered babes. "You know where you are going now, don't you?"

A small voice murmured regretfully, "H'up to bed, marm."

Memm eyed Roobil. "Tell him he's jolly well wrong. Explain to him where you wretches are going first, wot wot wot?"

Roobil scuffed a footpaw across the floor, leaving a smear of blackberry preserve as he did. "Burr, straight in ee barff oi apposes."

The Harenurse waggled a paw under his snout. "Correct, sah, straight into the blinkin' bath, an' one whimper out of anybeast an' I'll bathe you twice!"

Sister Vernal lectured the miscreants severely. "Look at you, look at these kitchens! Shame on you. Rogues! Right, it's bath, bed and no supper for the lot of you!"

Roobil rubbed his small but bulging stomach ruefully. "Us'n's couldn't manage no more vikkles to be eaten, marm."

Friar Gooch stamped a paw on the floor. "Don't dare talk back, you dreadful Dibbuns. You should be ashamed o' yoreselves. Away with you and get bathed. That's unless you have anything to add, Father Abbot?"

Apodemus used his sternest tone. "I'll see you all in Great Hall tomorrow before breakfast. That's when I'll decide what must be done. You're all on Abbot's Report!"

The Dibbuns exchanged shocked glances as they were led off, dumbstruck: Abbot's Report was a very serious matter.

It was only when they were safely out of earshot that Skipper broke down laughing. "Aharrharrharr! Did y'see the liddle faces on 'em, harr harr!"

Memm Flackery sniffed at the otter's remark. "I fail t'see anythin' funny at all, sah!"

The Abbot tried hard to keep a straight face, but failed. "That Roobil, hahaha! We could've stood him on the table as an ornament at a feast. Hohoho! I've never seen anybeast with that much preserve and cream on him. He, hahaha, he looked like a little statue!"

Suddenly they were all laughing, even Memm. "Hawhawhaw! That That mousebabe Turfee, he will turn into a bloomin' statue if all that flour'n'water dries on him, wot!" mousebabe Turfee, he will turn into a bloomin' statue if all that flour'n'water dries on him, wot!"

Everybeast had forgotten about Ruggum and Bikkle, who were still present. Both were quite peeved at having missed all the fun.

Ruggum viewed the matter sternly. "Hurr, they'm surr-pintly vurry naughty beasts. If'n oi wurr ee, zurr h'Abbot, oi'd choppen thurr tails off, burr aye!"

With a swift paw gesture the Abbot warned the others to cease their merriment.

"Quite right, Ruggum. I hope you and Bikkle never behave as badly as they have. Better go and wash your paws for tea."

Bikkle looked as though b.u.t.ter would not melt in her mouth. "Ho no, Farver, we's very good likkle beasts, not never like those naughty Dibbuns, never ever!"

When they had gone, Apodemus turned to the elders. "Thank you for not laughing, friends. We've got to show an example to the young 'uns. Friar Gooch, would it be possible for you and Furrel to try and arrange some tea for us? Anything will do."

Gooch bobbed a small bow to the Abbot. "I'll see wot we can do, sir. Per'aps you'd all like to take tea in the orchard? Tis still a fine day."

Apodemus patted the Friar's paw. "Splendid idea. Thank you, my friend."

Tea in the orchard was extremely pleasant. Gooch provided them with some of his seedcake, thin cuc.u.mber sandwiches and hot mint tea. Memm sat next to Malbun Crimp, listening to the account of the crow attack.

The Harenurse poured tea for them both. "Crow attack, eh? Doesn't sound half as blinkin' bad as the Dibbun attack we put up with back here, little rotters! Oh well, I s'-pose that's put paid to your hopes of rediscoverin' that old badger place, what was the name of it, Brockhall? 'Spect you'll never find it now, wot?"

Malbun blew on her tea to cool it. "I'm not givin' up that easy, and neither is Crikulus. Never fear, I'm thinking up a new plan already. Crows don't fly at night. The two Dibbuns weren't bothered by them when they were lost and alone at night in the woodlands."

Crikulus, who was seated nearby, brightened up. "Of course, that's when we'll return to search the area!"

Memm helped herself to an extra-large slice of seedcake. "Huh, wouldn't be me, old lad, indeed not. Trampin' all over Mossflower hopin' t'find some old ruin, wot!"

Curdle supped tea noisily. "But yore fergettin' the pawring those Dibbuns found. I'll wager there's treasure aplenty t'be found at Brock'all. That's somethin' worth goin' t'look for, ain't it?"

The Abbot had been listening to the conversation. Folding both paws into his wide sleeves, he leaned back against a pear tree and let the sun warm his old whiskers. "Perhaps next time you could take the Dibbuns along with you. Armed with blackberry cream tarts. I wager there's not a crow alive wouldn't turn tail at the sight of that."

Foremole shook his head gravely. "You'm roight thurr, zurr!"

11.

Dawn was scarce an hour old when Sagax was wakened by an enormous belch and the sound of Scarum's voice.

"Whoops, I say, 'scuse me!"

The noise woke Kroova also, and being closest, he dived upon the gluttonous hare, who was in the process of raiding their food supplies. Sagax helped the sea otter to restrain Scarum, managing to get him in a headlock, whilst Kroova grabbed the hare's paws and shook them roughly.

"Leggo those vittles, ye longeared bandit. We thought you was seasick an' had sore teeth!"

As Scarum strained to reach his mouth with a honeyed oatcake, Kroova knocked it from his grasp. The ever-hungry hare protested volubly.

"Gerroff me, you rotters. Can't y'see I'm jolly well well again? Ain't a chap allowed t'make a recovery with some bally dignity, wot? Release my starvin' young body, I say!"

Sagax kicked the ration packs out of Scarum's reach, then he and Kroova got the culprit down and sat on him. The young badger looked at the slack knapsacks with horror.

"You thieving flopeared foodbag, don't tell me you've eaten all those vittles while we were asleep?"

Scarum became quite moody and self-righteous. "Serves y'right for laughin' at me. I mean, what's a chap t'do, eh? I made a flippin' miraculous recovery, no thanks to you two, snorin' an' wheezin', there, after stuffin' yourselves with skilly'n'duff. So I came t'the conclusion that I'd have to put m'self on the road to recovery with just a measly nibble or two, so there!"

Kroova was aghast at the amount of food the hare had bolted. "Measly nibble or two, d'ye say? Y'great lollopin' grub swiper, you've near eaten us out o'keel an' cabin!"

Scarum stared up at them pleadingly. "I say, messmates, d'you mind not sittin' on me? It's makin' me feel quite ill again, wot."

They released him. Kroova went back and unlashed the tiller, taking up his position as steersbeast. Sagax repacked sc.r.a.ps of food into the depleted packs while Scarum sat in the bow, sulking as his badger friend tried remonstrating with him.

"Really, Scarum, you make me ashamed to be in your company. Fancy sitting up half the night stuffing yourself with the ship's supplies. You're not the only creature aboard, there's me and Kroova, too, you know. Well, what have you got to say for yourself, eh?"

The hare nibbled crumbs from his paws moodily. "Huh, don't know what you two're gettin' y'selves in such a blue funk about. There must be absolutely loads of scoff an' scads o' vittles over that way."

He gestured to starboard. Kroova looked perplexed. "Where?"

Scarum pointed again, explaining his logic. "Over there, of course! That's where the land's supposed t'be, ain't it? You jolly well said so when y'took a look at that map. Matter o' fact, you were the chap who said he knew exactly where we were. So, if there's land over that way, there must be scoff of some kind. Huh, even a duffer could figure that out, wot wot!"

Sagax exchanged glances with the sea otter and shrugged. "He's right, of course. We're not in any great hurry. Why don't we sail over that way and take a look, no harm done?"

Kroova shaded his eyes, peering at the watery horizon. "I never said I knowed exactly where we were, I'm just makin' a rough guess. But the coast is to our starboard side. I'm game to take a chance if'n you are, mates."

Scarum immediately began spouting nautical nonsense. "Belay then, me hearties, an' all that sort o' bilge scuttle. Lower your jolly old main wotsits an' turn that thingeeyo handle. Trim up those sail doodlemidads an' set course for dry land an' boatloads o' scoff, wot!"

After an hour of heading due east, they were rewarded by the sight of a thin grey strip on the horizon. Sagax was first to see it. "You were right, Kroova, looks like land to me. Do you have any idea what part of the coast it is?"

Studying the chart, the otter shook his head. "Don't see any hills stickin' up, or clear landmarks. Could be anywheres, but like you say, mate, 'tis land!"

After a deal of tacking against an outgoing tide, they felt the Stopdog's Stopdog's keel sc.r.a.pe sand. It was early noon. Sagax leaped over, landing waist deep in the sea. Throwing the bowrope over his shoulder, he began pulling the vessel closer to sh.o.r.e. Kroova jumped in to a.s.sist him, but Scarum went aft and sat playing with the tiller. keel sc.r.a.pe sand. It was early noon. Sagax leaped over, landing waist deep in the sea. Throwing the bowrope over his shoulder, he began pulling the vessel closer to sh.o.r.e. Kroova jumped in to a.s.sist him, but Scarum went aft and sat playing with the tiller.

"No need for three of us t'get our paws soakin' wet, wot? You chaps are doin' a splendid job there. I'll stay back here an' keep the jolly old mast straight."

Kroova smiled as he called back. " 'T'aint a mast, that's a tiller, an' 'twill look after itself. Now git yore paws wet, sea water's good for 'em!"

Scarum's reply was punctuated by a snort of derision. "An' get eaten by some hungry shark? Tchah, sah, my parents didn't rear this charmin' creature to have him end up as a fish's dinner. Indeed not!" He waited until they were level with the beach before making a sprightly hop onto the sand, pulling a face. "Yukk! Pretty damp around here, ain't it? Have t'watch I don't catch a chill. Righty ho, lead on, sh.o.r.e-party chaps!"

Kroova found a broken spar of driftwood on the tide-line. Taking a sea-smoothed boulder, he drove the wood deep into the sand on the lee side of the tideline and tied the rope to it. "That should 'old 'er 'til we return. Right, let's take the lay o' the land an' see wot's wot!"

They had landed on a broad beach of grey sand, dotted with areas of shingle. Beyond that lay a shallow rise to scrubby gra.s.sland, steepening to flat-topped dunes scattered with small gnarled trees. Kroova had armed himself with the old cutla.s.s they found on board. Scarum had the dagger tucked in the back of his belt, while Sagax held the old unstrung bow like a staff. He pointed up to the dunes with it and began trudging through the sand. "That could be a likely place. Come on."

They came across meagre bits of food, some wild onions, sweet young dandelion roots and a patch of drop-water parsley. Sagax took charge of it before Scarum could start stuffing himself. The young badger stowed it in one of the knapsacks, which he had emptied and fetched along.

The hare pouted a bit. "Fresh vegetation's supposed t'be good for scurvy. We should chew on a bit of that stuff after our voyage, wot!"

Kroova whacked him lightly with his rudder. "Y'ain't been long enough at sea t'smell salty, let alone git scurvy."

There was not much else edible to be found. Although one of the trees was a hazel, the nuts were still green and solid. Nonetheless Sagax began picking the biggest ones.

"Anything's better than nothing. We might find some way of cooking these up that'll make 'em taste all right. Where's that nuisance Scarum got to, can you see him?"

Kroova immediately spotted the hare. He was racing along the dunetops like a madbeast, holding in his paw a withered chunk of honeycomb, pursued by a small number of bees.

"Yeeehooooo! Gerroff, you rotters, 1 saw it first! Ow-chyowch! Help, chaps, heeeeelp!"

There was a crashing noise and Scarum vanished in a dip amid the dunes. Sagax started to run toward it, but Kroova held him back.

"No 'urry, matey, let 'im get shut o' those bees first. There's only a few of 'em, ole potbelly won't come t'much 'arm."

They strolled across the dunes, the sea otter pointed out a stunted bush with the remains of a hive in it. "It's an old 'un. Those are prob'ly the last few bees movin' away. Their queen must've died." He loaded bits of broken honeycomb into the knapsack. "Nice of ole Scarum t'find it for us, though!"

On reaching the dip, they found themselves staring down into a mined dwelling. It looked as if it had been some form of hideout. The walls were made of stones and driftwood, sh.o.r.ed up by sand, and the roof was a lattice of woven broad-stemmed gra.s.s and dried rushes. There was a large hole torn through the roof. A few ancient bees buzzed slowly out into the daylight, followed by Scarum's complaining shouts.

"Go on, away, you miserable insects, be off with you. Bee off? Oh I say, that's a good 'un. Yaaaaagh! What's that?"

The hare sounded so frightened and urgent that the two friends felt bound to investigate. Sliding down the sun-warmed sand into the hollow, they found the door, a crude affair of cordage and rushes. Sagax pulled it to one side, allowing noontide sunlight to stream in.

The petrified hare was lying flat on his back, flanked either side by two skeletons clad in mouldering rags. Scarum lay there, his eyes the only part of him that moved. He rolled them beseechingly at the badger and the otter.

"Pull me out of here quick! Quickquickquick!"

They reached inside and dragged him out by his foot- paws. Scarum began stuffing his piece of honeycomb into his mouth. "Good for shock, somethin' sweet. That's what my old auntie used t'say Good old auntie, mmff, grrmff, s'good!"

Sagax sat down outside the ruined dwelling, peering in. "They look like the remains of rats to me. What d'you think?"

Kroova went inside and squatted by the grisly things to inspect them carefully. "I'd say you was right. This is wot's left o' a couple of searats. Lookit this."

He held up two bra.s.s earrings, now tarnished to green. Rummaging about in the sand, he came across some carved bone bracelets and a fish-skin eyepatch.

"Aye, they're searats sure enough, lookit those rags of clothin'. Typical searat gear. Wonder 'ow they came to perish in this forsaken place?"

Sagax pointed with his unstrung bow. "Well, look around for yourself. There doesn't appear to be any signs of upset, a battle or a struggle. I think these two rats just starved to death. They seem to be lying there peacefully enough."

The sea otter sifted his paws through the sand around both wretched skeletons. "Aye, yore right, mate. Ain't no traces of vittles, not even fishbones or empty water flagons. Twas starvation finished off these two, all right!"

Scarum, who had remained steadfastly outside, peered over Sagax's shoulder, a look of mixed horror and sympathy on his face. He shook his head sadly.

"I say, what an absolutely awful way t'go. Poor blighters. Fancy perishin' from lack of tuck and a measly drop t'drink. Good grief, it boggles the blinkin' imagination, wot. I'd jolly well die before I'd let that happen t'me!"

Sagax ignored the hare's inane comments. "Kroova, what's that thing sticking up out of the sand, there, just by your left footpaw?"

Digging his paws into the shifting sand, the sea otter pulled forth a smooth, shiny yellow cylinder. "Wot, y'mean this? Beats me, mate, I ain't never seen nothin' like it afore, 'Ere, catch!"

He tossed the object to Sagax. The young badger had no trouble in identifying it. "It's called bamboo. My father has a piece of it in his collection of searat stuff. He said it comes from the hot lands beyond the ocean. Look, it has a wooden keg-stopper knocked into one end of it!"

Sagax tried to dislodge the stopper, but it was fitted so tightly that it would not budge. Kroova emerged from the ruined dwelling. He gazed back inside at the dark, empty, eyeless sockets of the two searat skulls, fixed forever in the eerie grin of death.