The Rogue Crew Read Free Page B

“Was it a real sailing ship chasing you? What did you do?”
    Uggo waved his paws in anguish. “I ran, Father, ran for me life, but the ship came after me. I looked back an’ I saw the ’orrible beastie leanin’ over the side o’ the ship, gnashin’’is teeth at me.” Uggo yanked the bedsheet up over his face, howling. “O w w w owo w w w ! It was dreadful, I was so scared, I was—”
    The Abbot interrupted him sternly. “You were having a nightmare after gorging on enough hefty fruitcake to feed ten creatures, and this was your reward for the deed, you stupid young rip!”
    Uggo took to snuffling and weeping piteously. “Waaahahaaah! I’m sorry, Father Abbot, I’ll never do it agin, I promises ye, never agin, waaahaaahaaaah!”
    Sister Fisk took over then. “Stop this silly blubbering right away, d’you hear me? Now, drink this!”
    She held Uggo’s snout, forcing him to open his mouth whilst she poured medicine from a beaker into him. “Come on, now, drink it all down. ’Twill ease any tummy aching and help you to get some rest!”
    The Abbot took a thick old blanket from the chest at the bottom of the bed. He passed one end to the Infirmary Keeper. “Come on, Sister. I’m sure Dorka can look after him now. I’ll have a proper talk with Uggo when he’s recovered. Let’s go to lunch. We can use this blanket as shelter—sounds like ’tis still raining out there.”
    After the pair had departed, Dorka sat by the bed watching Uggo. His eyelids were starting to droop as the Sister’s potion took effect. The big old otter Gatekeeper spoke softly to him.
    â€œThere now, young un. I ’opes ye keep that promise ye made to Father Abbot. You go asleep now like a good liddle’og an’ don’t dream about monsters an’ ships no more. Hush now an’ sleep.”
    It was warm and snug in the little gatehouse. Glowing embers from the log fire in the grate cast gentle rays of red light into the shadows. Dorka sat back in the old armchair, listening to the rain pattering on the window and Uggo’s drowsy mutterings as he dropped into a slumber.
    â€œShip . . . big ship . . . green one . . . green sail, too. . . . Aye, green sail, wid a black fork top, an’ two eyes marked on it. Won’t rob no more cakes. Be a good ’og now. . . .”
    Dorka Gurdy stood up, alarm bells going off in her head at the symbol Uggo had described on that green sail. A black fork head with two eyes.
    A moment later she dashed out into the rain, running for the Abbey building. Her brother Jum Gurdy, the Cellardog, knew what the sign meant. She fervently hoped it was not what she thought.
    Â 
    Razzid Wearat had endured the pain of his injuries, hidden away in his fortress; he suffered for several seasons. The burns to his body would have killed a lesser creature, but not a Wearat. Eventually he regained his old strength and vigour, convalescing whilst he laid cunning plans. Now up and about, he went to an upper loft in his stronghold. Through a hole in the timbered wall, he viewed the refurbishment of his ship. Initially he had looked upon the scheme with scorn, but as time went by, Razzid’s opinion changed radically. He came to realise that Braggio Ironhook was not just a loudmouthed bully. The big ferret was a clever and resourceful beast, highly inventive when it came to shipwork. Braggio had nearly all the corsairs behind him. Everybeast believed that the Wearat had died of his injuries some seasons back. That was the way Razzid wanted things—he had his spies to keep him informed.
    The Wearat observed with growing wonder as Braggio supervised his slave labourers. Things he had never imagined were happening to his once-battered vessel. This irked Razzid. He began questioning himself. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Why had he never envisaged a ship armed in such manner? How had