Bellmaker [Redwall 7] by Brian Jacques & Allan Curless

Author:Brian Jacques & Allan Curless [Jacques, Brian & Curless, Allan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780613715737
Publisher: Rebound by Sagebrush
Published: 2011-12-23T00:52:38+00:00

The Hon Rosie Woodsorrel and Duny Quill stepped from behind the canopied frame and waved merrily to their friends aboard the Pearl Queen. Both looked none the worse for their ordeal of being lost at sea. A great gasp of delight and astonishment came from the animals massed on the deck. Rosie and Durry crossed the sand, while the toads stood watching silently. They reached the ship, and dozens of hands leaned out to help them on board. Rufe threw himself happily on Durry.

“What the ... ? How did ... ?” spluttered the Bell-maker.

Rosie gave Joseph a huge wink. “Toodle pip, old sport—listen carefully an’ don’t ask silly questions. Young Durry an m’self have got to keep up our image as Bulgums, sort of greatbeasts who come flyin’ out of the sky an’ all that.

Have you got any of that absolutely foul seaweed grog that those searats left aboard?” Log-a-Log scratched his head in bewilderment. “There’s jugs an’ jugs of it in the galley. Why?”

“Never mind why, old thing. Just go and get a jug, please.”

While Log-a-Log went to the galley Durry and Rufe carried on hugging each other. The young squirrel seemed lost for words; all he could do was weep. Durry hugged him tighter. “There, there now, Rufey, don’t you cry no more, I’m back!”

Patch could not help chuckling. “He’d prob’ly weep a lot less if you didn’t ’ug so tight, matey. The pore beast gets spiked worse every time y’do!”

Durry immediately let go, and Rufe giggled helplessly as he pulled hedgehog spines from his paws. “Oh hahaheehee, I’ll never let you out of my sight hahaheehee again, Duny Quill. Hahaheehee!” Patch and Durry joined in the laughter, three friends together. Log-a-Log had returned with a jug of seaweed grog, and Rosie took it from him.

“Come on, young Quill, stop that laffin’ an’ conduct y’self like a proper Bulgum. Leave those two a moment, they’ll still be here when y’get back. We’ve got a bit of magic to do for old Glogalog.” Log-a-Log gave Rosie a skeptical look. “Can you really understand the marshtoad language?1’

Hon Rosie jumped down to the sand, carefully catching the jug of grog as Durry lowered it to her. “I s’pose so, though not all of it, just the main bits,” she said. “A Bulgum is a high-up sort of chap, chief or magician, that kind of rot, and Glogalog is the podgy feller in the hammock. He’s the King of all marshtoads; we saved his life—but I’ll tell y’more about that later. Oh, by the way, I’d change my name if I were you, just for the time we’re here. The mighty King wouldn’t like havin’ somebeast around with a name that sounded too much like his. Well cheerio, see you later, Glug a Bag!”

The shrew Chieftain looked at her indignantly. “Glug a Bag?”

The breakfast fire was reduced to a few smoldering twigs and ashes. Glogalog and the marshtoads formed a circle around it. Rosie instructed Durry as to what they should do, and the performance began.

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