by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.
REFLECTIONS ON RATS.
The ugly animal left me no choice to doubt of its species. The momentmy fingers touched its smooth coat, I recognised it by the "feel;" but Ifelt the wicked creature in a double sense, for before I could disengagemy hand from the clutch I had so rashly taken, its sharp teeth hadpierced my thumb, until they nearly met through the flesh. At the sameinstant its screech sounded in my ears shrill and terrifying!
I withdrew my fingers as quickly as I could, and flinging myself to thefurthest corner of the chamber--that is, the one which I thoughtfurthest from my disagreeable visitor--there for some minutes Icrouched, listening to hear whether the hideous animal had left me.
I could hear nothing, and I concluded it had made a retreat to someother part of the ship. Most probably it was as badly scared as I--though that could hardly have been--and in proof that I was the morefrightened of the two, the rat had the presence of mind to use its teethand bite me, while I was for the moment quite driven out of my senses.
In the brief encounter my antagonist had certainly proved victorious;for in addition to the fright he had given me, he had inflicted a severeand painful wound, that was every moment growing more painful. Iperceived that my thumb was bleeding freely, for I could feel the bloodrunning over my fingers, and glueing them to the very tips.
I could have borne my discomfiture calmly enough, for what signified thebite of a rat? but that was not the whole question. The thought thattroubled me was, whether the creature had quite gone away, or whether itwas still near, and would return?
The thought of its coming back again, perhaps emboldened by having gotoff without punishment, caused me very great annoyance.
You may wonder at this, but it was really the case. During all my lifeI have had a sort of instinctive antipathy to rats--I might even say a_dread_ of them. This feeling was stronger while I was only a boy; but,although I have since encountered animals of a much more dangerouscharacter, and fought with some, I do not remember any that everinspired me with more fear than I have felt in coming in contact withthat common and ubiquitous creature--the _rat_. It is a fear blendedwith a feeling of disgust; and it is a fear not altogether unfounded--for I know of many well-authenticated cases, in which rats have attackedhuman beings, and not a few where children, and even men, wounded orotherwise disabled, have actually been killed and devoured by thesehideous _omnivora_.
Many such stories had been told me while I was a boy; and it was butnatural I should remember them at that moment. I _did_ remember them;and under the influence of such memories, I felt a fear upon me verymuch akin to terror. The rat, too, was one of the largest I had everencountered, so large that for a moment I could scarce believe it to bea rat. It _felt_ as bulky as a half-grown cat.
As soon as I became a little composed, I tied up my thumb with a ragtorn from my shirt. The wound in a few minutes' time had grownexceedingly painful--for the tooth of a rat is almost as poisonous asthe bite of a scorpion--and small as was the scratch, I anticipated agood deal of suffering from it.
I need not add that the incident had banished sleep, at least for atime. In reality I did not go to sleep again till nearly morning; andthen I awoke every minute or two with a start--from fearful dreams, inwhich the vision was either a rat or a crab making to seize me by thethroat!
For hours before I slept at all, I lay listening to see if the brutewould return; but I did not note any signs of his presence for theremainder of that night. Perhaps the _squeeze_ I had given him--for Ihad come down rather heavily upon him--had frightened him enough tohinder a repetition of his visit. With this hope I consoled myself,else it might have been still longer before I should have slept.
Of course, the presence of the rat at once accounted for thedisappearance of my half biscuit, as well as for the damaged upperleather of my buskin, which latter had been lying at the door of hismilder cousin the mouse. The rat, then, must have been prowling aroundme all the while, without my having known of it.
During the hours I lay listening, before falling asleep again, my mindwas busy with one particular thought--that was, how I should manage incase the rat should return? How was I to destroy--or, at all events,get rid of--this most unwelcome intruder? I would at that moment havegiven a year of my life for the loan of a steel trap, or any trap thatwould take rats; but since the loan of a trap was out of the question, Iset my brains to work to invent some contrivance that would enable me torid myself of my unpleasant neighbour: neighbour I might call him, for Iknew that his house was not far off--perhaps at that moment he had hisden not three feet from my face--likely enough, under the biscuit-box orthe cask of brandy.
Cudgel my brains as I might I could hit upon no plan to get hold ofhim--at least, no plan to trap him with safety. I felt pretty sure Icould lay my hands upon him, provided he came near enough, just as I haddone already; but I was in no humour to repeat that performance. I knewthe crevice by which he had retreated. It was the aperture between thetwo great barrels--the brandy-cask and the water-butt.
I fancied he would return the same way, if he came back at all; and itoccurred to me that if I were to stop up all the other apertures exceptthat one--which I could easily do with pieces of cloth--let him come in,and then suddenly cut off his retreat by caulking that one also, Ishould have him in the trap. But this would be placing myself in anawkward situation. I should be in the trap as well as he, and he nonearer destruction than ever, unless I finished him by a hand-to-handtussle. Of course, I knew I could conquer and kill the rat. Mysuperior strength would enable me to squeeze him to death between myhands, but not without getting a good many severe bites, and the one Ihad got already hindered me from having any relish for another encounterof the kind.
How, then, was I to manage without a trap? That was the thought thatoccupied me as I lay sleepless and in dread of the rat returning.
But I cogitated to no purpose. It was well-nigh morning, when, wornwith watching and planning, I fell off into the half-dozinghalf-dreaming State--of which I have already spoken--and still nofeasible plan had offered itself for entrapping the "vermin" that wascausing me so much annoyance and alarm.