A Mission into the Wilderness and Memoirs of a Campaigning Trooper: A Story of Jack of Tabbyshire

a Story of Sir Samuel of Tabbyshire
Knight Commander of the Campaigning Troop of Tabbyshire

By Harold W. Cheney Jr.

Our Jack of Tabbyshire is now full grown. No longer a kitten, he is the acknowledged heir of Lord Wallingford. Further, as Viscount Jack, he governs Tabbyshire as his Grandfather's Regent.

Jack is troubled by an unexplained increase in ferocious forays by the Wild Cats of the Northern Hills into Tabbyshire. To discover their cause, he embarks on a Mission Into the Wilderness. Jack will restore peace by bringing the message of the Great Cat-the Mother of all Cats-to these Wild Cats.

In this tale Jack and his friend, Tootoo, meet the leader of the Wild Cats, Long Claw. They also meet Golden Fur, also a Wild Cat-or is he? Can our Jack prevail over these wild and hardened fighters in the Northern Hills? To this task our Jack must bring every skill of a Campaigning Trooper-and more.

In his Memoirs of a Campaigning Trooper, Captain Sam, rescuer of Jack in our previous tale, describes his rise from a humble tenant of Tabbyshire to Knight Commander of the Troop that guards the Shire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 28, 2007
• ISBN: 9780595918287

Harold W. Cheney Jr.

Harold (Hal) Cheney continues to be inspired by the tabby cat, Jack, who was born in his garage of a stray mother who wandered in one day. Although Hal (and Jack) live in east-central Illinois their spirits roam freely about the fields and forests of Tabbyshire.

Book preview

A Mission Into The Wilderness

And

Memoirs Of A Campaigning Trooper

A story of Sir Samuel of Tabbyshire Knight Commander of the Campaigning Troop of Tabbyshire

Harold W. Cheney, Jr.

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Lincoln Shanghai

A Mission Into The Wilderness A story of Jack of Tabbyshire

And

Memoirs Of A Campaigning Trooper A story of Sir Samuel of Tabbyshire Knight Commander of the Campaigning Troop of Tabbyshire

Copyright © 2007 by Harold W. Cheney, Jr.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any

means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

iUniverse 2021 Pine Lake Road, Suite 100 Lincoln, NE 68512 www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-0-595-47561-2 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-0-595-91828-7 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 

INTRODUCTION 

EXORDIUM—A Peek Ahead 

PART ONE 

A Meeting with Lord Wallingford 

A Visit to Patsy 

An Invitation Accepted 

The Training Begins 

Jack and The Dining-In 

After The Affair 

PART TWO 

His Grace, The Duke 

Jack Proposes a Plan 

Teena and Jack’s Mission 

Do You Believe? 

Sir Samuel’s Concerns 

PART THREE 

Up Into The Hills 

I do not wonder, Friend Jack. 

A Band of Three Forms Up—With Jazz 

A Taste of Moonglow 

These Are Wild Cats? 

Jack and Tootoo On The Run 

Is This Any Way To Escape? 

Corporal Bumsby To The Rescue 

Corporal Bumsby Meets Golden Fur 

Brought Before Long Claw 

„Get goin‘ while it‘s still daylight." 

To The Cliff 

With a laugh, the pair rose and continued on their way. 

Corporal Bumsby and Golden Fur’s Band 

Jack & Tootoo On The Run 

Struggle At The Six Stones 

Just Fine, Sir! 

The Troop AND The Troop AND THE TROOP 

Golden Fur—Long Claw’s Prisoner 

Sir Samuel and Jack 

Sergeant Bumsby and Jack 

PART FOUR 

A Surprise For Jack and Tootoo 

Tootoo And His Brother 

The Story of The Great Cat 

Jack Visits His Mother 

Golden Fur Is Loose! 

Janice Has a Surprise For a Cat 

Return To Grandpa’s Hut 

PART FIVE 

The Final Campaign Begins 

Sanctuary Or Promised Land? 

A Strange Talk With Lord Wallingford 

The Council Hears Jack’s Plan 

The Troop Moves Out 

This Is A Surprise.... 

Sergeant Twisty Meets Golden Fur 

Drill, Drill, and More Drill 

Spread The Good Word 

What Is Today Called? 

The Council In The Wild 

A Lesson For The Wild Kittens 

Deeper and Deeper Into The Hills 

Jack and His Two Sergeants 

The First of Many Skirmishes 

A Letter Home 

A Strange Homecoming 

Preparing For The Battle 

SERVICE IN THE MILITIA 

A REAL TROOPER 

ON OUR WAY TO OUR NEW HOME 

THE TRAINING OF A TROOPER 

ON THE CAMPAIGNING TRAIL 

Promise . Corporal. 

A LITTLE NIGHT ACTION 

A TRUE BONDING 

A TROOPER OF THE BORDER FORCES 

THE MAKING OF A LANCE CORPORAL 

IT’S BACK TO TABBYSHIRE FOR A BRIEF 

VISIT 

WE AMBUSH THE AMBUSHERS 

BAD FEELINGS AS THE CAMPAIGN ENDS 

SERGEANT SAM INJURED ON CAMPAIGN 

LIEUTENANT SAM—BACK TO TABBYSHIRE 

LIEUTENANT SAM‘S EVENING WITH HIS 

LORDSHIP 

DO I PLOT WITH SOME CORPORALS? 

WHAT OLD THOM HAD TO SAY 

TO CATCH A THIEF 

A TRAP IS SET 

THE TROOP COMES FIRST 

DISCIPLINE AND TRUST 

A Mission Into The Wilderness

A story of Jack of Tabbyshire

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 

I have commented many times, in many places, that I consider myself a story teller rather than an author. I began writing about Jack with much inspiration from the little one-eyed kitten born in our garage of a mother cat who wandered, one spring day, onto our back deck. In the beginning I thought I had to invent a storybook locale for my Jack, his persona, and a tale of events (which I hoped were interesting—even exciting).

Do story tellers have to be a little bit distanced from the real world inhabited by their neighbors? I think it must be so. As long as I knew that Jack and his Shire were fiction, nothing in my tales could make a listener or reader care much about what was happening in them.

Happily, somewhere along the story teller’s way I became aware that my characters were letting me know what they were doing. I knew then that I was not—so very much—inventing their events and putting them into a plot. It began to seem more to me that I was recording events that I was being allowed to discover as having happened. This must be the point where a story teller wonders about what is real and what is make-believe.

I must recognize major assistance, for this the second book which records the further adventures of Jack of Tabbyshire. As I discover the incidents that make up my story, I often share them with my children. I am then surprised (I must say pleasantly) by some of their comments and contributions. But I wonder if they share my (sometimes) drift into the alternate reality of Tabbyshire.

When I voiced this concern to my oldest daughter, Rose Ann, she replied with a neatly twisted reference to the place, relative to a tree, where the apples fall: ... the nuts don’t fall very far from the tree.

As a story teller I must confess that I need special attention to link the parts of my story into a hopefully coherent whole. I usually start my tale with a firm grasp of its beginning and of its end. All I have to do then is fill in that messy stuff that occurs in-between. I discover events that these cats participate in—then I have to find out where they fit into the entirety of the tale. It is in this area that I must confess my thanks to my children: Rose Ann, Carolyn, Elizabeth, Tim, Mary, Harold, and Gwendolyn. Mary and Harold are especially helpful in keeping me on a logically consistent narrative path. Harold also has contributed many clever incidents.

I have defined ambivalence for them by telling them that I am at the same time both proud of my clever children and also jealous that they are so much more clever than I am.

And, finally, I must acknowledge a somewhat obscure inspiration.

My fifth Great Grandfather is David Shipman. Today Grandpa David has only one claim (and a contested one, at that) to fame. The people in and about Cooperstown, New York, believe that my Grandpa David was the real-life person who inspired James Fennimore Cooper in the creation of his character of Natty Bumpo—the Deerslayer, Leather Stocking, Hawkeye—the protagonist of Cooper’s famed Leatherstocking tales. This possible link has driven me to read those stories. I cannot claim any of Cooper’s strengths as a story teller, but I certainly recognize many of my weaknesses as similar to those which Mark Twain identified in his essay on the literary offenses of Cooper as an author.

Harold W. Cheney, Jr. 2006

INTRODUCTION 

This story is the second book about Jack of Tabbyshire. The first book recounted Jack’s birth and those adventures that eventually returned Jack to his rightful place as the heir to, and Regent of, Lord Wallingford of the Great Manor in Tabbyshire.

As the author pointed out in that earlier tale, names and titles for the cats of Tabbyshire are rendered in a form that attempts to make them meaningful to human readers. The author has been as careful as he can be to assure his readers that these names and titles represent the actual society of the cats of Tabbyshire as closely as seems possible.

It has been my pleasure and privilege to watch Jack grow from kittenhood to the stately cat he has become. It is my intention and hope to share some of that pleasure with you, my reader.

As Viscount and as Lord Wallingford’s Regent, Jack is now a full grown cat of truly noble stature. He is both humble (by nature of his upbringing by his Grandpa) and proud (from his flawed Father, the late Master Jefferson). He is not content to live the role of Master of the Great Manor, but aspires to a life devoted to more significant achievements.

This tale describes the first of these—Jack’s Mission into the Wilderness.

Harold W. Cheney, Jr.

EXORDIUM—A Peek Ahead 

With the cry of, Bring forth the prisoner! Blinky, Steward of the Great Manor of Tabbyshire tapped his staff thrice on the floor of the great hall of the Manor.

Captain Thom entered from one of the doors that bordered the great hall. He strode quickly to a point midway to the stately chair occupied by Viscount Jack of Tabbyshire. He bowed slightly to Lord Jack, turned, and issued a brief command.

Guard! Escort the prisoner.

A guard of four Troopers of the Campaigning Troop entered. They formed a box around a naked and very ragged cat. The prisoner, for such was this Wild Cat, looked about, an angry and defiant look on his face. Captain Thom approached the chair of Lord Jack.

M’Lord, this is a Wild Cat captured after a battle along the northern marches of the Shire.

Was he part of the raiding party, Captain Thom?

No, M’Lord. He was unaccompanied when captured. He was sighted by tenants of Squire Drake and by some other cats. They found him breaking into one of the larders of the Squire.

All this time, as he spoke, Jack was inspecting the captured Wild Cat with his one good eye. Likewise, the prisoner was inspecting Jack. To any reasoned observer it was obvious that each of the two was taking the measure of the other.

Have you been able to communicate with him?

No, M’Lord.

Jack became aware that Tootoo, his friend, who sat by his side, had laid his paw lightly on the sleeve of his jacket. What is it, Friend Tootoo?

Jack—may I look at the prisoner more closely?

To what purpose, Tootoo?

I am not sure. There is something.. His voice trailed off.

Captain Thom, attend to the security of the prisoner. Yes, Tootoo. Approach the prisoner, but do be careful.

Tootoo rose from his chair and slowly approached the Wild Cat. The four Troopers kept close watch as Tootoo slowly circled the prisoner. After several circuits Tootoo stopped, facing him. He peered closely into the eyes of the prisoner. After a moment of silence, Tootoo turned and faced Jack.

M’Lord Jack, I know this cat. He is my Brother....

[Part IV, Chapter I]

PART ONE

A Meeting with Lord Wallingford 

Viscount Jack of Tabbyshire paused for a moment and looked about. The Great Manor still generated a feeling in Jack of awe, even though he was now, as his Grandfather’s Regent, its Master. Night was well advanced, but Jack was far from tired. He often made these tours of the Great Manor in the stillness of night.

At times such as this he would often close his eye and imagine that he was back in the primitive hut of his beloved Grandpa—a human who had taken him and his Mother in and cared for them—Grandpa who had given Jack his name—Grandpa who, unto the end of his days, had lavished his love on his Jack, day after day, through Jack’s kittenhood.

Jack could not suppress a sad sigh at these thoughts. No cat could know how much Jack missed his Grandpa.

Jack continued down the central corridor. He approached a guard—a trooper of his Campaigning Troop.

SIR!

Stand easy, Trooper. What is your name?

Trooper Bumbsy, Sir! Er ... M’Lord!

Jack stepped closer. "As a Trooper on Post, you are correct to address me as Sir. I could never take such an address as anything but the most respectful. Jack continued. I know a Trooper Bumbsy. He rendered fine service to me in dire times. But I think that he is now a Corporal."

Yes, Sir. Corporal Bumbsy is my cousin.

Well, Trooper, live up to the example of your cousin and you will make a fine Trooper, I have no doubt. Carry on.

The trooper resumed his Post as Jack moved on down the Hall. He turned onto another corridor and soon found himself passing by the door to the Manor’s Library. The door stood ajar. The flickering of light from within showed that someone might be within. Jack nudged the door, opening it further.

Grandfather! I’m sorry if I am disturbing you.

Lord Wallingford set aside the book over which he had been dozing. Jack! How good of you to stop by so late at night to cheer up an old cat. Please come in.. Excuse me—I must remember that you are the Master here. May I have the pleasure of your company?

Grandfather, so long as you reside here, it is you who are my Master. I would be delighted to visit with you if such is your wish.

Then come and join me. Please let me pour you some catnip wine. You will find it is a fine vintage. It helps me relax. Has Blinky shown you your cellar?

Taking a seat opposite that of Lord Wallingford, Jack nodded and waved his paw in acceptance. His Lordship passed a small crystal saucer to Jack. Jack, to your Mother, to whom I owe so much—Lady Patsy!

Jack, pleased with the toast, again nodded, this time with a smile on his lips. Jack lapped a sip from the proffered saucer. I know that my Mother is ever grateful to you and to your Lady for your gracious acceptance of her into your household..

... into our family, Jack. Into our family. Lord Wallingford looked fondly on Jack. By the Great Cat, you have grown so much in the time you have been here. His Lordship chuckled. Perhaps I shouldn’t say this, but your head seemed then to wobble a bit on your slender kittenish neck. Ah, now, your neck is stout and firm. You are a real cat among cats.

Thank you, Grandfather. No need to explain. Yes, I was something short of a grown cat then. I wonder yet that you saw enough in me to elevate me to such a position of responsibility while I was yet so young.

"I did see something in you. I did not realize it then, but I now think that it comes in no small measure from the nurturing you received from your Grandpa.. No.. Let me go on.

You do not know how much you look like your Father, my young Jefferson, when he was your age. He was your age when.. When.. Lord Wallingford’s voice broke and he cast his eyes about much as if he expected to see his son somewhere near. Indeed, his eyes did fall on the formal portrait of Master Jefferson, which hung on the far wall, near one of the large windows that overlooked the grounds.

Jack followed his Grandfather’s gaze. He never found it easy to look at that portrait. Yes, he could see himself in that visage. That very recognition bothered him. It was only when he looked into the eyes portrayed that he felt some relief. As caught by the artist, Master Jefferson’s eyes looked out on a world about which he cared only for what he could take from it.

His Lordship continued. "I said you look like. I know that my young Jefferson had flaws. I do not say he had his flaws. He had flaws that I nurtured in him. Can you follow me? Two kittens, so much alike in appearance to begin with and, I believe, so much alike in potential, but becoming such different cats"

Again the old cat paused, carefully picking out his words. I believe that your Grandpa and your humble beginnings have made you what my Jefferson could have been, if I had been a better Father to him.

You are too hard on yourself, M’Lord, and too hard on.. On my ... my Father.

Hard? Perhaps. But truthful? I have no doubt of that. My dear Jack.. I know that I have never had the will nor the strength of character to really govern this Shire as it should be governed. My garden and my library are where I am happy. My garden is where I am best employed. As for my Jefferson ... well, I just do not know. I only know that I am all too grateful that you came unto me so that I could turn the burdens of this position over to you. I have no doubt but that you will be the Lord that this Shire deserves..

Please, M’Lord..

No more, Jack. I grow tired. Will you aid me to my chambers? Lord Wallingford rose, and leaning against Jack for support, made his way out into the darkened corridor.

So, side by side and brushing against each other, went these two cats. So much alike in some ways. So much different in others. The one, older,

dreamt of his past and things lost. The other, younger, dreams of his future and things to be achieved.

A Visit to Patsy 

Jack tried to spend some time each day with his Mother, Patsy. His visit to her chambers in the Great Manor were usually just before the evening meal.

Mother?

"Oh please come in, Kitten." In her choice of address, it was not that Patsy retained any of her past reluctance to address her kitten as Jack, it just seemed natural for her to continue (at least in private) to refer to him as Kitten. And, were the truth to be known, Jack preferred that, himself.

How are you feeling today, Mother?

I’m fine. Were you busy today?

Oh yes, Mother. I never imagined how busy the affairs of the Shire must have kept Grandfather.

And how is your Grandfather?

He is getting on. He often tells me that he feels so much better now that he can spend more time with his garden. What did you do today?

Well, Kitten, I . well I guess that I.. To tell the truth, I did not do much of anything today.

Aren’t you happy, Mother?

Oh yes! How could I not be happy with how well you are doing?

But that is me. How about you? Are you doing those things that make you happy?

I’m not sure what I want to do. Here Patsy paused and thought for a while. Do you know, this is something I would never have imagined me saying, but I think that—in some ways which I cannot explain—I was happier back in Grandpa and Grandma’s hut by the river. Isn’t that strange?

"Not at all, Mother. There are many times when I think of those days and I think, ... isn’t that strange? You go through any day that—at the time—seems no different than any other. Oh, nice ... pleasant even, but nothing special. There was such a day once when Grandpa had gone out to gather firewood. I was still just a scrambling kitten and I was after him all the time. What a pest I must have been! But Grandpa kept talking to me all the while as he filled his little cart. Then he picked me up and gave me a ride on his shoulders while he pulled the cart back to the hut. Nothing special in that, was there? But ever so often now that one particular day comes back to me and