The Willows and Beyond Page 4

  Toad had never offered any real sanction to the youth before and was rather surprised to find himself doing so now, but there had been such an irritating confidence in the way that “Yes, Monsieur?” had been uttered that a new resolution to be firm and severe had come over him.

  “O non!” cried the youth, staring up in considerable dismay “Not real work — with my hands!”

  Master Toad recognized that there was a new tone in Toad’s voice. He had been much looking forward to going back to school where all his friends were, but now … O, how horrible Toad Hall was! How terrible his guardian was!

  “Well?” said Toad.

  “I shall be so ‘appy to ‘ike every afternoon before tea,” said the youth compliantly, though, in truth, he was already planning how he might evade in every way possible this most loathsome and humiliating of pastimes.

  “And now,” said Toad equably, recognizing that look in the youth’s narrowed eyes very well, for he had looked thus at his father years ago, “you have an hour before you need to change for dinner. Badger is coming, and Mole, Ratty and Otter if they are back from their journey to the Town. You know how stimulating you find their company”

  “Yes,” agreed Master Toad reluctantly, doing his best to put a brave face on it. “But Nephew and Portly — do they not come?”

  Toad smiled broadly and put an affectionate hand upon his ward’s shoulder, for he felt he had gone far enough.

  “Don’t worry. They are all coming. I would not be so heartless as to impose my old friends upon you without asking along some of your own. They have greatly missed you this summer, and they want to hear all about your adventures and misadventures upon the Continent.”

  For the first time since his return, Master Toad grinned. He went back to his books with renewed vigour, quite forgetting the passionate dislike of Toad he had felt only moments before, but feeling instead that it was perhaps good, after all, to be home.

  III

  Livestock

  The Mole and Water Rat had last journeyed up-river together to the Town several years previously, at the time of their renowned expedition, when they had explored the dangerous and little-known upper reaches of that tributary which forms the western boundary of His Lordship’s estate.

  They had ventured up the tributary on that occasion only after turning back from the Town when they had seen enough of its chimneys, factories, traffic and busy people, and decided such a route was not for them. They did not regret their decision, even though their journey led to a near-fatal encounter with the Lathbury Pike, which had so grievously injured the Mole, and had brought their expedition to a summary end.

  Now, as they passed the entrance to the tributary once more, they paused awhile and told Nephew something of their adventures there, before proceeding past that part of the riverbank owned by His Lordship. They could not but notice that a good many changes, all for the worse, had taken place.

  For one thing, His Lordship appeared to have shored up his bank with concrete and built a new jetty, so that it looked less natural, and less pleasing than they remembered it. For another, it was all too clear that a good deal more building had taken place along the River’s banks, so that the Town was now considerably extended. Yet not, as they might have hoped, with pleasing villas and riverside houses of the kind exemplified by His Lordship’s House and, on a smaller scale, by Toad Hall.

  There were a few tawdry attempts at fine houses such as these, but they were in red brick, and their frontages were quite spoilt by signs that said “No Fishing Here” and “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted”, and even, in one case, the ominous words “Patrolled by Dogs, Day and Night”.

  Far worse, to the Mole and the Rat, was the growth in the number of industrial jetties and noisome factories whose chimneys belched out noxious fumes. On their last visit they had seen a few such buildings going up. Now they had to press on past a whole succession of factories, and pass much nearer than they would have wished to pipes pumping out waste fluids and foaming mess into the River.

  “No wonder this vegetation looks all stunted and deformed!” exclaimed the Mole. “Give me the River Bank any day!”

  The Rat, however, could only stand and stare, appalled at what he saw, and seemingly struck dumb by the way in which the River, his River, could be so ill—used.

  “No wonder,” he whispered finally, “no wonder I sensed the River’s distress. Such waste and pollution are poisoning her, and this is surely what she has been trying to tell me. I must try to come back here soon with Otter to find out just how badly she is suffering.”

  Then, with a rueful shake of his head, he left behind the last riverside vegetation, powering their craft amongst endless jetties and oily backwaters, and past towering smoke-stained quays and walls, till they found a place to tie up.

  Neither the Mole nor Nephew had ever been so far into the Town, and were quite dazed by the noise and confusion of the place. The Rat was made of sterner stuff, however. Business had brought him here from time to time over the years, but even he had difficulty following the directions they were given — more than once — to the Town’s Head General Post Office.

  Fortunately it was not located too far from the River. Yet how vast it seemed when they finally found it. On every side carts and conveyances of all kinds bearing the red and gold of the Royal Mail, filled to overflowing with bulging mailbags, arrived and departed, accompanied by the shouts and cries of those who loaded and unloaded them.

  After a good many fruitless enquiries they eventually discovered that “Livestock” was located in a Special Department, far away from the regular items of mail. They negotiated their way down a side road, over two footbridges, behind a railway station and by way of an evil—smelling alley, till with some relief they spied a metal door above which projected an enamelled sign, which read, “Royal Mail, Livestock and Incidentals.”

  Looking at the small door, the Mole felt a little more cheerful and observed, “Well, Ratty, it’s obvious that no herds of camels or elephants can pass in and out of here, so we may take heart.”

  Just then there was a mighty bellowing and a rumbling in the lane and buildings all about, such as four and twenty thousand stampeding oxen might make. Then they realized that what they thought were walls next to the door were in fact mighty iron-clad gates, which now shook and clattered, and seemed about to burst open to let the rampant herd inside escape.

  “This small door is for us,” said the Rat gloomily, “and I fear those great gates are for whatever it is we are to collect.”

  Considerably abashed, they passed through the door and the Rat presented his card to the thin, bespectacled gentleman who eventually answered their summons.

  “Ah, yes,” he said, peering at the card.

  “Is it — or are they — large?” asked the Rat in trepidation. “Large is a very relative word in this game,” the Post Office official said. “For example, a cow is large relative to a sheep, is it not?”

  “Yes” a greed the Rat, “but —“

  “Whereas relative to some bulls, I can assure you that a cow will seem quite small.”

  “I see,” said the Rat, now —“But if you’re talking large relative to large, then in my experience the largest we’ve had here is two white rhinoceroses for the Zoo. They was large, and one more than he should have been, since somehow or other en route to the Town, probably off the Liberian coast, he managed to get himself in the family way”

  “You mean the rhinoceros was a female and —“

  “We felt it wisest not to say so, sir, for that would have made the documents all wrong and he would have had to be sent back. There’s no knowing the difficulties that would have ensued had we reclassified him as being of the female gender.”

  “But in our case?” said the Rat, striving to get back to the point.

  “In your case, I am not permitted to comment upon size, gender or number, as it’s cash on delivery, and a client’s business is private.”

  “But is it
camels?” persisted the Rat, who had decided that if it was, he would not accept delivery and hang the consequences.

  “I can say it is not camels, sir, without breaking rules, because camels are stored down the lane where the buildings are taller, or rather have no roofs. Those buildings are in fact open space. Now, if you would just sign here, please, sir, and pay one farthing for the receipt stamp.”

  “Is that all? I thought I would have to pay much more than that!”

  “I said cash on delivery and in a manner of speaking that is correct. But it came with the cash attached and I have taken the liberty of taking said amount, leaving you with a profit of sixpence three farthings, which is a unique occurrence in the C.O.D. department. Congratulations! There! That’s done! Now, if you’ll follow me, gentlemen, you can take delivery.”

  They passed through a succession of vast rooms lined with a great many cages and pens, filled with innumerable varieties of animals. It cannot be said that all the odours of these rooms and pens were pleasant, and not every sight that met their eyes was a delight. But the overwhelming feature was the sound, an endless cacophony of grunts and bellows (from the oxen they had heard before), hissing (from a consignment of Indian vipers) and bubbling (from several tanks of Chinese carp), moos and baas (from more familiar cattle and sheep) and the avian sounds of hoopoes and giant cockatoos, and the chatter, fortunately in Malay, of a gross of green parrots.

  Every now and then the Rat or the Mole would stop and say, “Is it this?” or “Surely not that?” but always the Post Office official would urge them on.

  “Not far now, just through the next two buildings!” Finally, they reached the most dilapidated building they had yet come across.

  “There’s mainly pigs here,” said the official, “but you’ll find your item beyond them: number 2467 D. Be sure not to mix it up with the 2467 A & B, which are Peruvian goats, nor 2467 C, which I believe to be iguanas from the Galapagos Islands, though I can’t be sure as they’ve gone to ground in the hay This is the key to its cage, sir, so perhaps you could go and consider if you’ll accept it, while I attend to some other business. I’ll be with you by and by”

  With that he was gone, and they made their way past aisle after aisle of grunting pigs to where their item awaited them. The cages were well labelled, A through to D, and the Peruvian goats were plain to see, and to smell as well. In C they saw a good deal of hay, and protruding from the bottom two reptilian tails.

  Finally they came to cage D, which was somewhat in the shadows, since the only window at this end of the building was above the goats. At first it was hard to make out much at all, but as they grew accustomed to the gloom, they could make out the form of a living thing in the furthest corner of the cage — and then two bright eyes. Eyes that stared at them unblinkingly The creature was draped — dressed is too precise a word — with yards of a fabric that had long ago ceased to be white, and wore upon its head a curious hat, little more than a roundel of rags. “What on earth is it?” said Nephew, speaking for them all. “It is …” began the Mole, not at all sure he knew. “That is, it might be —“But the Rat knew what it was the moment he saw it, though he could not imagine why it had been sent to him.

  He knew what it was, and he was horror-struck.

  “It is a rat,” he said.

  “A young rat,” said the Mole.

  “The most strangely dressed rat I ever saw,” said Nephew “As if… as if.

  “As if it has come from Egypt and is used to hot sunshine,” continued the Mole.

  The Water Rat, ever practical, unlocked the cage door.

  The rat did not move, but only stared. Then, as if from very long habit, it tugged at some twine tied about its right wrist, to which was attached a large Royal Mail C.O.D. label, stamped Paid, upon which were several red-wax seals and other stamps, and some writing in black Indian ink.

  This read: To the Water Rat, Rat’s House, The River Bank, the River, nr The Town, Capital of the Empire.

  “Well!” said Ratty. “This doesn’t tell us much, now does it!”

  But then he saw that some extra words of guidance had been added less legibly after the address: The River lies sou’-sou’-west of the Town, and maybe three days’ good walking, a day by boat.

  The Rat repeated this slowly then muttered, “Well, it’s from a mariner of some kind, that’s plain enough, but who?”

  He turned suddenly to the Mole and was about to say something when the young rat, silent still, pointed to the twine once more, about part of which was wrapped some of that oiled paper used by seafarers to keep their shag in good order.

  The Water Rat opened it up and then, seeking to find the best light he could, he read aloud the strangest, and the most moving letter he was ever likely to receive.

  “Dear Mr Water Rat,

  “I hope I may make so bold as to trust you remember me after all these long years and that time we spent upon the roadside near your home, when you made me as sailor-like a repast as ever I’ve had before or since. I am that same —“

  “Why, Mole,” cried Ratty, his suspicions now confirmed, “it’s from the Sea Rat. The one I met so many years ago. You remember!”

  The Mole did indeed remember, only too well. It was a story he had told Nephew a good many times as a warning against yielding too impulsively to those restless yearnings for travel that beset so many animals of a wandering nature at autumn time. He had told him of how that stranger had appeared along the River Bank, and held the Rat spellbound with many alluring tales of far distant places; of how the Mole had come along just in time to restrain the Rat from following in the stranger’s footsteps and leaving the River Bank for ever, to end up one day in a watery grave at the bottom of some foreign dock (as the Mole imagined such wandering seafarers too often ended their days).

  The Rat resumed his reading of the letter:

  “I am that same Sea Rat to whom you were so hospitable, and I have never forgotten your kindness or the River Bank where you had your home.

  “Well, fellow mariner the game’s up with me now and I have not many days to live, mayhap only hours. By the time you read this; shipmate, I’ll be down below in Davy Jones’s locker.”

  For the first time since they had entered the cage the young rat responded in some way: he nodded sadly It was evident that the Sea Rat had indeed passed on, just as he had predicted.

  “Now, here’s the point. I remember you to be a practical kind of fellow, as most nautical rats are, so I’ll not beat about the bush. After I left you those many years ago, fate and good fortune took me to the creeks of Malaya where I gave up the sea-faring life for a time and made a stab at rubber plantation work. But I lost what money I had, and I lost as well the only pearl I ever possessed in all my life—

  — the mother of that youngster you see before you now.”

  ‘The poor youth!” cried the Mole, much moved by the Sea Rat’s testimony.

  “I decided to work my passage home but was diverted up the Nile, where they have need of a good hand upon a deck, which I was, and which my boy had by then become. But lady luck went against me once more, and not a fortnight since I contracted a fever, what we would call the ‘Gruesome’ in our lingo.

  “I said before that the boy’s mother was the brightest pearl in my life, but not far behind is the boy himself He’s good about the water, so you’ll have a use for him and he’ll work his passage without you needing to train him up. He can speak five languages fluently, and two more passably, though you may not have much use for Malayan lingo and its dialects along the River Bank, nor Chinese for all I know.

  “I’ve racked my brain as to what to do with him, for this place is filled with villains and low types; so once I’m gone he’ll be lucky not to be sold into slavery and bondage. Anyway, the sea’s no life for a rat these days; for now the sailing ships have all but gone there’s no joy left in it. Come to that, the roaming life’s not all it’s cracked up to be. That was why I had been trying to get him back home a
nd apprentice him to land-lubbing work of some kind; but I’ll not be able to now.

  “All in all, and when I count the little money I have left, which isn’t much, the best thing I can do for him, which will let me die in the hope he’s got a bit of a start in life, is to send him to you. Seeing as I don’t have enough to buy a ticket for him as a passenger, except to get him as far as Sicily, where I don’t put his chances too high, I thought I’d send him by the Colonial Royal Mail, which will give him feed and water, and get him home safer than if he was the Crown Jewels, which to me he is.

  “So that’s the long and short of it. There should be a bit of change left over, which you’re welcome to, and I know he’ll more than make up for the trouble he’s causing you. Don’t mind if he don’t say much till he’s near water. He don’t like to be away from it too long. Farewell, old shipmate, and look after my lad for me proper, and teach him all you know And don’t let him wander off till he’s learnt how to settle down, as you have but I never did.

  “Regulations won’t allow livestock to have baggage, but then seafarers like me travel light. Still, I’ve hung me old marlin spike about his neck so he’ll have something to remember me by. I’ve had it since my first ship and now it’ll have to travel on without me.

  “Your old friend,

  “Sea Rat.”

  Ratty stood in silence for a moment, and then signalled to Mole to come with him out of the cage.

  “Whatever am I going to do, Mole? I can’t possibly take him home with me. Yet I can’t very well leave him here, can I? Why this young rat is absolutely nothing to do with me, and it is very presumptuous of that old sea dog —”

  “You haven’t forgotten him, then?”

  “Of course not. I have often thought of him, but now —“But now he’s gone, Ratty, as we all will one day and he’s left you the only thing he had to leave.”