By the time Chumley and Thoris reached World's End, Egbert, Wilbur, Zian, Winky and Groggs had been missing several days and their prospects seemed grim. The news of their disappearance was a sad shock to the normally garrulous rat and his portly weasel companion. Chumley was determined to find his friends and used his position as Governor Emeritus to establish a quick investigation as to the circumstances of the disappearance. When Zian's boat, the Lily, was found adrift and empty on the northern side of the peninsula outside the bay, hope for his friends survival faded quickly.
That evening, Chumley and Thoris ate a sullen dinner in The Drunken Crab. Chumley looked up at his friend.
"Ah can't believe Egg and Wilbu' are lost. Willy's too good a sailor, ain't 'e?"
"Good thailorth drown too," Thoris said sadly.
"Still, ah mahght be inclined to agree with ya if'n they didn't find the boat. Ah just can't see him fallin' off the boat, can ah? It just don't feel right, does it?"
Thoris perked up a little.
"No it doethn't, you're right. Leth finish dinner and thtart over. We won't quit till we know for sure, one way or another."
Chumley reached out and clapped Thoris on the shoulder.
"Right you are my friend. Let's not assume the worst. We'll retrace their steps, we will."
As Chumley finished speaking, a grizzled old fishing rat reached out from the neighboring table and placed his paw on Chumley's shoulder.
"Sorry to interrupt, my lords."
Chumley turned toward the old man and chuckled.
"Ain't no lords here, old timer. What can ah do for you?"
"I seen your friends, dey was'n' alone."
Chumley became serious.
"What did you see?"
"I seen 'em twice. Here in da bar, da night before dey went missin' and then helpin' out da Scratchbacks on da outer reef."
"Whath a Thcrathback?" Thoris asked.
"Dey's a family what pretends to be pirates. We all know dey ain't, be we humors dem 'cause dey're a nice sort, friendly and such."
"How were my friends helpin' 'em out?" Chumley asked with hopeful intensity.
"Da Scratchback clan ran aground on da reef and your buddies was givin' dem a lift."
Thoris looked up.
"Where do theeth Thcrathback live?" he asked.
The old fisherman leaned over the table.
"Dey gots demselves a fine ship around da point, da Rose I think she's called."
"Could our friends be there?" Chumley asked hopefully.
The old rat turned back towards his table and addressed an equally grizzled stoat who sat drinking a flagon of frothy ale.
"Hey Sully, you seen da Scratchback ship when you was tendin' your traps?" He inquired of his companion.
The stoat grinned a snaggle-toothed grin.
"Da pirates?" he laughed, "I think deyse gone. I seen 'em last week, traded 'em some crabs for a nice oyster knife."
"Gone?" Thoris asked.
The stoat chuckled again.
"Yeah, t'aint like dey was anchored, da boat was stuck in some rocks. I'm guessin' dat storm lifted 'em off'n da rocks and dey drifted off."
Chumley broke out into a wide grin.
"That's it!" He exclaimed, "They 'elped these Scratchbacks and were on the ship in the storm, weren't they?"
The fisher-rat shook his head.
"I wouldn't be too happy if'n I was you. If dey was on da ship in da storm, you ain't gonna see them no more."
"What do you mean?" Thoris demanded.
The rat put his wizened paw on the weasel's' arm in a gesture of comfort. He spoke softly with a hint of sadness.
"We gets dese storms a lot, young fella. Deyse always da same. Winds blows in from the east, strong and cold. Anything gets stuck in da storm ends up in da same place....Xenoth."
"Xenoth, are you sure, mate?" Chumley asked anxiously.
"Sure am, got a brother who was swept there a coupla years ago. It was da same as your pals," he looked up, "least dey's probably alive."
Chumley went silent and thought for a moment.
"You said da storms are da same, right?"
The old rat nodded.
"So, if we figure out where their boat was, we can figure out where they ended up, is that roight?"
"I reckon."
"You and your pal, wait here. We'll pay for your food and drink. I'm gonna go get a map, ain't ah? And your gonna show me where the ship was and which way the winds blows. You can do that, right?"
The fisher-rat grinned broadly.
"Free food and drink? You bet, cap'n!"
"I'll thtay here with them, Chumley, you get the map," Thoris offered.
The stoat at the next table grasped Chumley's arm as he stood.
"Knowin' where they landed ain't gonna help you. Nobody ever comes back from Xenoth, ain't possible. Lookin' for 'em's just a waste of time."
Chumley pulled his arm away.
"There's always 'ope, ain't there? Dese are my friends, and if I got to dig under the sea to get dem back, ah will, won't ah? Now, drink up and hang about, ah'll be back in two shakes of a whale's tail." He rushed out of the pub, leaving Thoris to baby sit the two fishermen and listen to tales of Xenoth.
Chumley returned a short while later carrying a rolled up map of World's End and the surrounding seas including the eastern edge of Xenoth.
By the time he returned, the two old fishermen were arguing about the virtues of fish as opposed to crab and beseeching Thoris to judge which had the superior flavor. The weasel was trying to be diplomatic and judge each seafood superior, but different. The old beasts would have none of it and demanded an answer, so it was with great relief that he spotted Chumley and quickly called him over.
"Where did you go?" Thoris asked with mild annoyance in his voice.
"Ah got this, didn' ah?" Chumley unrolled the map and continued, "There are definite advantages to bein' Lord 'igh Governor Emeritus, mah fine weasely friend. Folks actually do what ah ask and get me what ah want, amazin', ain't it. Mama Bilgespike would be proud." He turned his attention to the old fishermen.
"Now, ah'd like you fine gentlebeasts to show me where that Scratchback boat was stranded."
"Yes, me lud." The stoat said looking down at the map. He pointed a bony paw at a point around the western side of the peninsula.
"I reckon it would be about dere."
Chumley circled the area indicated with a stick of charcoal.
"Which way did ya say the wind blows durin' these storms?" he asked.
The fisher-rat took the charcoal from Chumley and after studying the various landmarks he recognized, he drew an arrow and turned to his friend.
"That's about right, wouldn't you say, Sully?"
"You got it right, Gribby, that's how she blows, sure enough."
Chumley took back the charcoal and drew a line parallel to the rat's arrow from the circle he had drawn earlier across to Xenoth.
"Well Sebastian, if they got swept to Xenoth, this is where they landed, give or take a mile or two. The Cold Narrows twixt 'ere and Xenoth is only twenty miles wide and with a true wind on a driftin' ship this is where she landed, sure enough."
"What good will knowing where they are do uth?"
"We can see if their alive, can't we? Long as we stays outside the shield, we can get some spyglasses and find 'em. If dey spot us, they can row out and we can talk and figure something out, right?"
"Ith worth a try. At leatht we might find them alive and that would be wonderful," Thoris nodded.
Chumley rolled up the map and after thanking the fisher-beasts and buying them several more flagons of wine, he and Thoris returned to their quarters to plan a sea voyage the next day.