The Golden Flight (21 page)

‘Yes, my dear?’ she said to break the ice.

‘I wanted to thank you for coming and saving us, well – most of us, anyway. Did my father or mother tell you about Hickory and me?’

Marguerite shook her head.

‘Well, he was a Sun-squirrel like us, even if he was a Silver, and I loved him. I can’t bear to think of him hanging in a tree to be eaten by maggots. Is there any way we can go back and bury him?’ she asked.

Marguerite felt a surge of love towards her kin-squirrel. Bluebell was ready to risk her own life just to bury a dead Grey who she had cared for. This was the second time in two days that squirrels had wanted to return to the Mainland that she had thought they had left forever.

‘Leave it with me, my dear, I’ll think about it and see if we can do anything.’

She went to look for Chip but found her son, Oak, first.

‘Is it true what Burdock is saying about you and the swans?’ he asked.

‘Mostly, but Burdock does like to add bits here and there to make a more dramatic story. She says more squirrels listen to her if she does that.’

‘What’s it like flying? Nothing exciting seems to happen here on Ourland.’

Marguerite outlined her adventures – the balloon flight, crossing the sea on a broken oar held by a dolphin, the rescue of Finisterre and the flight home on the swan’s back, not forgetting the lifting of Rowan’s party from the Eyeland.

‘Wow! All that in two days. Nothing ever happens here, I wish I could go to the Mainland.’

Sycamore joined them.

‘Oak-Friend,’ he said, all his previous sullenness gone. ‘You should have been with us – did we have some fun?’

‘I wish I had been,’ Oak replied.

‘Marguerite.’

She turned to see Rowan, with Meadowsweet beside him.

Meadowsweet spoke first. ‘Our Bluebell says that you are going to get her back to the Eyeland to bury Hickory. Is this true?’

‘She asked me if it was possible and I said I would think about it. Rosebay and Willowherb want to go back as well – even Chip says he would. Now I’ve got Sycamore getting Oak wanting to go. I’d have thought that they would want to stay here, where it’s peaceful.’

‘They’re all young,’ said Rowan. ‘They need adventure, something to make their blood flow, give them a tingle.’

‘I’d have thought, except for Oak, they would have had enough. I have!’

‘Yes, but you’re older. All youngsters need adventures and challenges – they get bored and troublesome otherwise.’

‘Should we let them go back, if that’s what they want?’

‘If it was me, you’d have a job to stop me,’ said Rowan.

‘If they do go back to bury Spindle, Hickory and Sitka, I’d be pleased. I don’t like the idea of them all hanging there. And the youngsters might be able to find out what the Greys are up to.’

‘But how? Remember Ourland here is an island in the sea. There’s no tree-trunk making a bridge from here to the Mainland.’

‘That never seems to bother you, Marguerite. You’ve crossed four times, a different way each time. You’ll think of something. When you do, I think we should encourage them.’

‘But it could be dangerous.’

‘True, but life always has been dangerous for squirrels, that’s what keeps us alert – and alive. You’ll think of something
.

‘If you think you can…’

Either by coincidence or Sun-plan, the dolphins swam in on the evening tide and thought-called to Marguerite as she sat looking up at the giant squirrel that Larch and his family had carved. Some idle tail-wag of a youngster had bitten the tufted ears off, and cut circles round its eyes, so that it appeared to be wearing those glass things that some humans hooked over their ears.

‘Marguerite-Friend,’ Lundy called. ‘We have come so that Finisterre can thank you for your help. He is much better and we have all recovered from our ordeal. It seems much more than three days ago. How are you? The swans evidently brought you back safely.’

Marguerite projected her thoughts and told of the incidents on the flight and the loss of the three Sun-squirrels.

‘If we can ever help you, let us know. We owe Finisterre’s life to you and your friends.’

‘We were glad to be able to repay you for all you have done for us in the past,’ Marguerite said, ‘but there
is
a little help you could give – if you are not too busy now.’

‘Our patrol is being swum by others until Finisterre is fully recovered. How can we help?’

‘There are squirrels, five altogether, who want to go back to the Mainland to finish off some business there and find what the Greys are up to now. Could you take them?’

‘Glad to. When do they want to go?’

‘They could be ready at first light.’

‘Do they want a boat, or can we carry them on sticks in our mouths, that would be easiest. It’s not far this time.’

‘Sticks would be fine.’

They discussed the finer details and then Malin asked how the five would return.

‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ Marguerite admitted, ‘everything is happening so fast.’

‘It’s the New Moon in two weeks time. We’ll pick up your scouting patrol from the same beach as we drop them at, on New-Moon night. If they’re not there we’ll come back each New Moon until they come. Rely on us. Until the morning then.’

The three dark bodies swam out into the tideway and disappeared under the water.

There was only an hour to daylight left. Marguerite ran off to find Burdock.

‘Can you get a message to Sycamore, Bluebell, Rosebay and Willowherb tonight?’ she asked breathlessly.

‘I’m a News-squirrel, not a Post-squirrel, but yes, I’m sure I can, Marguerite-Ma. What’s the message?’

‘The dolphins will pick up five squirrels at Pottery Point at first light tomorrow to take them to the Mainland to bury Spindle and the two Greys and to find out what the other Greys are up to.’

‘You only gave me four names – who’s the other?’

‘Chip.
I’ll
tell him.’

‘Oak –your son –wanted to go!’

Marguerite thought quickly, one extra squirrel would not make the patrol too large, and Oak needed the experience. ‘If you can find him, tell him to be ready as well. And…’

Burdock stood expectantly.

‘A true message this time. No elaboration…’

‘Marguerite-Ma – as if I would!’

It was one of those late-summer mornings when autumn lets you know it is not far away. A certain chill was in the air and a smell of ripeness, with just a hint of decay, drifted through the woodland to tickle the nostrils of early risers.

At Pottery Point it seemed that the whole squirrel population of Ourland was there to see the patrol leave. The dolphins were just off-shore, each holding a length of driftwood sideways in their mouths. They swam in small circles picking up the sense of squirrelation that was coming from the massed ranks on the beach.

The six squirrel scouts were on the beach, watched by envious youngsters, most of whom would have given their whiskers, if not their tails, to have been able to join the patrol. Marguerite was clearly in charge, pairing the squirrels and allocating each pair to a dolphin.

‘Oak, you go with Bluebell, swim out to Malin – that’s the biggest dolphin. Chip, you and Sycamore swim out to Lundy, and Rosebay, you go with Willowherb and climb on to Finisterre’s stick. You can all swim, can’t you? The water’s quite warm and you will dry off quickly when you’re ashore. Good luck!’

The remaining squirrels watched the scouting party disappear into the early haze as the dolphins swam up the channel. Just Poplar and Clover came to Marguerite’s side.

‘Can we have a word with yew when the otherz have left?’ Just Poplar said quietly.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

‘Marguerite,’ Just Poplar said when only the three of them were left on the beach. ‘Who iz the zelected Leader of Ourland?’

Marguerite immediately realised the import of the question and felt a rush of concern and regret. She had organised all of this activity without any reference to the Leader, the Tagger or any of the other senior squirrels.

‘Oh, Poplar, I know what you are going to say and I
am
sorry. I just got swept along. All of those young squirrels wanted to go and bury Spindle and when the dolphins offered to take them…’

Her voice trailed away. She realised that she was speaking her defence and may have to do so before the full Council if Clover accused her of acting incorrectly. Having been Tagger herself, she knew that she had done just that.

Clover saw the contrite look on her friend’s face and reached out a paw.

‘It’s all right, Marguerite-friend, we’ll call it ‘acting on your own initiative.’

Initiative

Is a name for successful

Disobedience.

‘Let’s hope that the patrol are able to carry out their mission and return safely. They’re all fairly young.’

‘I thinkz it will be good for them,’ said Just Poplar. ‘Uz’d have liked to go zcouting on the Mainland when uz wuz young. Too old now though. Being Leader iz tiring enough with all theze troublezome youngzterz. Do yew know what zome did yezterday?…’

The dolphins swan steadily westwards, keeping to the deepest waters. Malin explained to Chip, who could follow dolphin-think, that this way would avoid the mudflats and the boggy harbour shores and they would land at Tallships Point beyond the Long Island.

The squirrel’s fur was dry again by the time they reached Tallships. The dolphins cruised along, watching the shore and looking for the best place to land the scouts. There was a Man-drey on the point and, to the south of this, two oak trees grew right on the water’s edge, with their roots washed out from under them by the sea so that they appeared to stand on many legs.

‘Those are a good landmark,’ Malin indicated to Chip. ‘This is where we’ll pick you up again at dawn after the night of the New Moon.’ They turned in towards the beach as Chip thanked them.

Rosebay helped her sister Willowherb, who she knew was a poor swimmer and frightened of water. Wet through once again, the squirrels climbed the low gravelly cliff and sat in the heather watching the dolphins swim down-channel.

‘We’re on our own now,’ said Oak the Wary, ‘the sooner we can get to those trees, the better.’

On Ourland,  Marguerite, Poplar and Clover climbed to the top of the bank and found Rowan and Meadowsweet waiting there.

‘We’ve not really been introduced,’ Rowan said to Poplar. ‘I am Rowan the Bold and this is Meadowsweet Rowan’s Love. Our daughter, Bluebell, is one of those who has just gone with the dolphins.’

‘Thiz iz Clover,’ Poplar said, ‘but yew will remember her from when yew were all at the Blue Pool, her iz now the Tagger of Ourland, and uz’z Juzt Poplar, the Leader. Uz iz zorry that uz haven’t welcomed yew before. Zo much zeemz to be happening all at wonze! Yew’r zizter iz highly thought of here.’

Hearing this, Marguerite smiled and her tail rose noticeably.

‘Uz expectz that yew will want to rezd after all yew have been through, ‘Poplar continued.

Rowan replied, ‘I – we are fine. We were hoping to find something to occupy us. We are both experienced teachers and enjoy that. Can you use us in any way?’

‘There iz a lot of thingz not right here at prezent. Perhapz yew, zeeing it with new eyeze, zo to zpeak, can zee what needz to be done and teach uz what to do.’

Sitting in the areas flattened by the tents of the departed boy scouts the five squirrels held an impromptu meeting in the grass behind Pottery Point to analyse the problems that were afflicting the squirrel population of the island.

Most seemed to have grown out of boredom. With an abundance of food and no predators, there was nothing to keep the youngsters on their claws.

‘That party that went to the Mainland this morning ,’ Clover said, ‘if we could organise such scouting patrols regularly, they would provide adventure for the youngsters.’

‘Would your dolphins help us again?’ she asked Marguerite.

‘They’re not really
my
dolphins, but yes, I think they would.’

Meadowsweet said, ‘All the scouts would need to be taught how to look after themselves and survive in hostile country,
that
could be a job for Rowan and me. We know quite a bit about the Greys as well as about squirrelship and survival.’

‘We must put these ideas to the Council,’ said Clover.

‘What Council?’ said Poplar. It’z zuppozed to include all the zquirrelz but hardly any com’z nowadayz.’

‘I don’t think you can have a Council with
all
the squirrels, like we used to at the Blue Pool,’ said Rowan. ‘You probably need to have a Council of just a few senior ones and make each of those a guardian of different things.’

‘Zum zquirrel would have to be in charge,’ said Poplar. ‘A zort of King like uz father wuz.’

‘The problem then, was that
he
made all the decisions. No other squirrel’s views mattered,’ Marguerite reminded him.

‘Uz knowz that. That’z why uz abolished it all. Uz wuz King vor a few minutez, remember. That kind of power corruptz. Yew’d make a good Queen, Marguerite-Friend, it would be hard to corrupt yew.’

‘Me? I’d never be a Queen!’

The scouting party had paused in a tree overlooking some wide fields. So far it had been easy. Humans had made a wooden walk-way through the marshier places and the squirrels had scurried along that, then taken to the trees, mostly oak and birch, all close enough together for them to run and leap from one to the next.

In a state of high exhilaration, they eventually slowed down and halted to regain their breath. A noise like a wasp immediately drew their attention towards a human, tiny in the distance, bent down at the foot of a tree and holding something red. The wasp-sound changed slightly, held steady for a minute, then the human stood up and stepped hurriedly back. The squirrels watched in horror as the distant tree lurched over and fell to the ground. The swish of its leaves and the crunch as the trunk hit the earth reached the squirrels a second later.