The Rogue Crew

Young Uggo Wiltud soon found that Jum Gurdy’s bark was not serious, and his supposed bite was nonexistent. The young hedgehog knew that the otter, despite his forbidding size and appearance, was quite easygoing. Together they trudged off along the path, cutting across the ditch and travelling west through the area of Mossflower woodlands which skirted the vast flatlands. Midmorning saw warm sun seeping through the leafy canopy of oak, beech, elm, sycamore and other big trees. Soft, loamy earth was sprouting with grass, young fern, cowslip, primrose, silverweed, milkwort and alkanet. Birdsong was everywhere, echoing through patches of sunlight and shade.

None of this was of any great interest to Uggo, whose stomach had been telling him of his need for food all morning. Jum, who had been forging doggedly ahead, turned to the young laggard in his wake. “Are ye weary already, Master Wiltud?”

The reply was loud and swift. “No, I’m ’ungry, Mister Gurdy!”

Jum nodded at the sky. “Sun ain’t reached midday yet. That’s when we stops for lunch. Keep goin’ awhile yet.” He carried on.

Uggo followed, but not without complaint. “Huh, ’tis alright for you, Mister Gurdy. You ’ad brekkist back at the Abbey, but I never, an’ I’m starvin’!”

The otter leaned on the lance he used as a travelling stave. “Ho, dearie me, pore liddle ’og. Wot a pity ye can’t go sneakin’ off down t’the kitchens a-stealin’ vittles.”

Uggo stuck out his lower lip surlily. “Wouldn’t ’ave to. There’s always summat t’be ’ad round Redwall. You only’ave to ask nicely.”

Jum made a sweeping gesture with his stave. “An’ wot about ole Mossflower, eh? There’s plenty t’be ’ad around here without even the askin’!”

Uggo chanced a scornful snort. “Hah! Like wot?”

The big otter cast swiftly about, then pulled a stem with yellow buds adorning it. “Like this. Try it.”

The young hedgehog took the stem, sniffed it, then took a tentative nibble. “Tastes funny—wot is it?”

Jum shook his head pityingly. “You young uns are too used t’bein’ carried round an’ gettin’ vittles served up on a platter. That’s young dannelion, matey. I ate many a stem o’ that when I was yore age. Now, try some o’ these.”

He gathered various pieces of early vegetation, feeding them one by one to Uggo and explaining.

“This is alkanet—taste like cucumber, don’t it? Try some coltsfoot. Nice, ain’t it? This one’s tutsan, good for ye. Charlock, sweet Cicely. There’s all manner o’ vittles growin’ wild in the woodlands. No need t’go ’ungry.”

Uggo chewed gingerly, pulling a wry face at the bitter flavour of one particular plant.

“T’aint the same as proper food, though, is it, Mister Gurdy?”

Jum snorted at the lack of gratitude. “Maybe not to yore way o’ thinkin’, but ’twill keep ye goin’ until lunchtime. Now stop moanin’ an’ git walkin’!”

When midday eventually came, Jum was secretly glad of the rest. He had aged, and he had put on weight being in charge of Redwall’s Cellars. It was some while since he had undertaken a journey to the coast. Careful not to let his young companion see that he was tired, the big otter put on a springy step.

“Keep up now, Master Wiltud. Yore fallin’ behind agin!”

Uggo was not in a good mood. He pointed angrily upward. “You said we was goin’ t’stop for lunch when the sun reached midday. It did that some time ago, an’ you ain’t stopped. Wot are we waitin’ for, Mister Gurdy, nighttime?”

It was the sight of a stream ahead which prompted the otter to say, “On the bank o’ yon water ’neath that willow. That’s the spot I was aimin’ for. Would’ve been there afore, except for yore laggin’ behind.”

It was indeed a pleasant location. They soon had a small fire going and mint tea on the boil. From the haversack, Jum sorted out some cheese, scones and honey. Cooling his footpaws in the shallows, he oversaw Uggo toasting two scones with cheese on them. “That’s the way, matey. Nice’n’brown underneath with bubbly cheese atop. Perfect!”

The young hog did not mind preparing lunch. “I’ll need two more scones, to spread honey on for afters.”

Uggo was surprised at how good food tasted outdoors.

After they had eaten, Jum spread a large dockleaf over his eyes. Lying back against the willow trunk, he settled down.

“Let’s take a liddle nap. Ain’t nothin’ like the sound of a gentle runnin’ stream at early noon.”

Uggo skimmed pebbles awhile, then felt bored. “I ain’t sleepy, Mister Gurdy.”

The otter opened one eye. “Go ’way an’ don’t bother me fer a while. Do a spot o’ fishin’ or somethin’.”

Uggo stared into the clear running stream. “But there ain’t no fish t’be seen round here.”

The otter gave a long sigh. “Well, go downstream. There’s a small cove where the water’s still. May’aps ye’ll find some freshwater shrimp there, an’ we’ll make soup fer supper t’night.”

Uggo persisted. “I’ll need a rod an’ line.”

Jum took on a threatening tone. “Ye don’t catch watershrimp with a rod’n’line. Take one o’ them scone sacks an’ make a net. I trust yore not so dim that ye can’t make a simple fishnet, are ye?”