Byron's works and a new railway rug to show for three months' work. The
boatman who pulled me off to the ship said: 'Hallo! I thought you had
left the old thing. _She_ will never get to Bankok.' 'That's all _you_
know about it,' I said scornfully--but I didn't like that prophecy at
all.

"Suddenly a man, some kind of agent to somebody, appeared with full
powers. He had grog-blossoms all over his face, an indomitable energy,
and was a jolly soul. We leaped into life again. A hulk came alongside,
took our cargo, and then we went into dry dock to get our copper
stripped. No wonder she leaked. The poor thing, strained beyond
endurance by the gale, had, as if in disgust, spat out all the oakum of
her lower seams. She was recalked, new coppered, and made as tight as a
bottle. We went back to the hulk and re-shipped our cargo.

"Then on a fine moonlight night, all the rats left the ship.

"We had been infested with them. They had destroyed our sails, consumed
more stores than the crew, affably shared our beds and our dangers, and
now, when the ship was made seaworthy, concluded to clear out. I called
Mahon to enjoy the spectacle. Rat after rat appeared on our rail, took
a last look over his shoulder, and leaped with a hollow thud into the
empty hulk. We tried to count them, but soon lost the tale. Mahon said:
'Well, well! don't talk to me about the intelligence of rats. They ought
to have left before, when we had that narrow squeak from foundering.
There you have the proof how silly is the superstition about them. They
leave a good ship for an old rotten hulk, where there is nothing to eat,
too, the fools!... I don't believe they know what is safe or what is
good for them, any more than you or I.'

"And after some more talk we agreed that the wisdom of rats had been
grossly overrated, being in fact no greater than that of men.

"The story of the ship was known, by this, all up the Channel from
Land's End to the Forelands, and we could get no crew on the south
coast. They sent us one all complete from Liverpool, and we left once
more--for Bankok.

"We had fair breezes, smooth water right into the tropics, and the
old Judea lumbered along in the sunshine. When she went eight knots
everything cracked aloft, and we tied our caps to our heads; but mostly
she strolled on at the rate of three miles an hour. What could you
expect? She was tired--that old ship. Her youth was where mine is--where
yours is--you fellows who listen