The sound of voices struck on my ear. People were talking in whispers
all round me, but I could not distinguish what they said. Then even the
consciousness of where I was faded from me, and I was fast asleep. Even
when I was sleeping I still suffered the painful sensations of hunger.
I was tantalised by seeing in my dreams tables spread out, sometimes for
breakfast, and at others for dinner or supper. My brothers and sisters
were seated round them, laughing and talking merrily, and eating the
good things with excellent appetite. Once Mr Butterfield brought me a
bowl of turtle-soup, and assuring me of its excellence, ladled it into
his mouth before my eyes, and then disappeared with a hop, skip, and a
jump.
In the same way Aunt Deb appeared with a plate of crumpets, her
favourite dish, and swallowed them one after the other, making eyes at
me all the time they vanished down her throat. This done, she went off
waltzing round and round the room, till she popped up the chimney. I
cannot now remember one-tenth of the sensations which presented
themselves to my imagination, showing, as I opine, that the stomach is
in intimate connexion with the brain. Among others, by-the-bye, I
fancied I was wandering about the streets of Liverpool, looking into
cookshops and eating-houses, where people were engaged devouring food,
which they in the most provoking manner held up to me on the ends of
their forks, and instead of allowing me to take it, put it down their
own throats.
Again all was a blank. Silence reigned around; when suddenly a faint
light streamed across the space before me, and I saw armies of rats
tripping from all directions and assembling not five feet from my nose.
Over the casks and bales and packages they streamed in countless
numbers, whisking their tails, leaping and tumbling over each other;
some making somersaults, others playing at leapfrog. Numbers climbed up
from beneath the kelson; some came from the fore part of the ship,
others from aft. "Why, she must be perfectly overrun with the brutes,"
I thought. "I wonder how any human being can exist on board. It's
surprising that they should never molest me." They were merry fellows.
I could not help laughing at the curious antics they played.
Presently I heard a voice shout "Silence!" A buck rat had seated
himself on the top of a plank, which I had not before observed. Much to
my surprise he held a note-book in his hand, and opening it began to
read. He was too keen-sighted, I suppose, to require spectacles, though
how he managed to see in that light I could not tell.
"Silence!" he again cried; and he then shouted at the top of his voice,
which was somewhat squeaky for an orator, "Friends, Romans,
countrymen,--Lend me your ears."
I thought this a very odd way for a rat to commence an oration. As he
spoke, all the rats, cocking up their ears, sat on their tails--some on
the tops of the casks, others round and below me.
"Thank you for the attention you seem inclined to pay me, brother rats,"
he continued. "I wish to impress on your minds the serious fact that
we, as a race, have been maligned, abused, hunted, and ill-treated in
all varieties of ways. We have had traps set for us, and although we
are not often caught in them, it serves to exhibit the malice of our
enemies. Adding insult to injury, they have, as I have only lately
discovered, designated us in one of their popular dictionaries as
troublesome vermin of the mouse kind. Why should they not have
described us as rodents of graceful form, endowed with wonderful
sagacity and activity to which the smaller animal called the mouse is
allied? These human beings have also the audacity to malign our
character, to insinuate that we are fickle and undependable, besides
being fierce and savage. Thus, when one of their own race changes
sides, they say that the wretched biped has `ratted,' Not content with
abusing us, they make savage war against our race by every cruel mode
they can devise. They chase us with cats and dogs. Not that we care
much for the cats, who seldom venture into our haunts; but those horrid,
keen-scented terriers, are, it must be confessed, justly to be dreaded.
Still more so are those cunning little ferrets which insinuate
themselves into our abodes. The hatred of our enemies is exhibited in
their use. Nowhere are we safe from them. They make their way through
the narrowest crevices, dive down to the lowest depths we can reach,
disturb our domestic happiness, watch for us on our hunting expeditions,
and rout us out of our securest strongholds. This fearful persecution
is originated, aided, and abetted by our malignant persecutors, who,
besides the traps I have already spoken of, even attempt our destruction
by mixing poison in the food they leave in our way. We have only the
melancholy satisfaction of creeping beneath the boardings of their
rooms, there to die, and to allow our decaying bodies to fill the air
with noxious odours. Friends, Romans, countrymen," he went on,
repeating his former curious style of address, "we have met to devise
means to assert our rights among created beings, and to revenge
ourselves for the injuries we have for so many centuries of the world's
history suffered. We are now decidedly in the majority on board this
ship. We hold possession of her chief strongholds. Her captain,
officers, and crew exist only on sufferance; so then, brother rats and
sister rats, young and old, as it is our glorious privilege to belong to
a free republic, express your opinions without fear. It is my business
to note and record them."
Directly the speaker ceased, even for a moment, the rats began frisking
and whisking about, biting at one another's tails and leaping over one
another, till he again shouted "Silence!"
"Has no one any opinion to offer?" he asked.
On this a grave-looking rat from the top of a cask answered, "Yes, I
have an idea, which I'll propound as soon as those frolicsome young
fellows at the bottom of the hold will keep quiet."
On this the president again cried out, "Be quiet, you young rascals, or
I'll singe your whiskers. Now, Brother Snout, let us hear what your
idea happens to be," he said, turning to the rat on the top of the cask.
The last-mentioned rat accordingly spoke, curiously using the same
expressions as the former one had done. "Friends, Romans, countrymen:
we are resolved on revenge. Revenge is sweet. Is it not so?"