'I cannot explain it!' said mother. 'Perhaps he is going to give you to some one? I wish I knew what places one goes to from Charing Cross. But there is no cat's Bradshaw, alas!'
I was taken away by a groom—I smelt his clothes through the basket—next day, as arranged. We got into a noisy place full of people talking, and I felt myself being transferred to Mr. Fox's hands, and didn't he take hold of the handle of the basket that contained me as if it was a hot coal! I wondered why he didn't put me in the guard's van; but no, he stuck to me and put me down on the seat of the compartment, just as Auntie May did, and then went as far off me as he could go, for I could tell the distance by the rustle of the newspaper he opened, and read fiercely all the way. I learned that we were going to cross the sea from the conversation of two ladies in the same compartment.
'Do you think it is going to be rough, guard? Have you heard what the sea is like at Dover?'
'Like a mill pond, ma'am.'
'Oh, I do hope—' said one.
'I suffer so always!' said the other.
'Not worse than me, surely? Nobody could. I shall die in crossing some day. What is that in the basket? Is it a bird or a cat? I saw a parrot once crossing. I believe it was sick, or was it only imitating the dreadful noise people make? I wonder if cats are sick?'
I wondered too. Not that I mind being sick, as I said before, and I thought They were making a great deal too much of it.
I didn't like it, though, when we got to Dover, and Mr. Fox shouldered me and carried me down a ladder and on to something that wobbled gently. There was a horrible smell—that was the worst of it—a kind of salt prick in the air, that I didn't like. Mr. Fox handed me to a man, saying:
'Here, take care of this animal for me—you see it is labelled "Valuable Cat"—and look after it till we get to Calais!'