“General Whiskerandos, your remarks savour very much of war, but pardon me remarking, very little of wisdom,” remarked the aged orator. “You have omitted to mention several important matters. In the first place, let me observe that the crew of a ship never sleep all at one time. Supposing a complete victory were gained over those below, the rest would discover the cause of their death, and would wage ruthless war against us. And what about the terrier? He sleeps at the door of the captain’s cabin. He would not be idle, depend on that. He would be delighted to encounter our leading column. It would be rare fun to him, but a disastrous circumstance for us. Let me advise you, Brother Whiskerandos, that your idea is a foolish one. Suppose just for one moment that we should succeed, and that we should put to death every human being on board, what would become of the ship? She would float about unless dashed on the rocks by a hurricane till, her timbers and planks rotting, the water would rush in and she would go to the bottom.”
“That suggestion seems to be disposed of. Is it not?” asked the president.
“I have a proposal to make,” exclaimed an aldermanic old rat, sitting up on the top of a chest. “I suggest a course of proceeding which cannot fail of success, and will, at the same time, be pleasant and agreeable to ourselves. We will sally forth and eat up all the provisions in the ship, cut holes in the water-casks and let out all the water. We will commence at the bottom, working our way upwards, so that we shall not run the risk of having our proceedings discovered. What we can’t eat we will destroy, so that those wretched mortals triumphing in their strength and intelligence will be deprived of the means of sustaining life, and must succumb before long to inevitable death; and we whom they have despised and ill-treated will gain possession of the ship and be our own masters, and sail in whatever direction we may please. The kingdom will be our own. We shall be lords of all we survey, and there will be no one to interfere with our proceedings.”
“What about Nero and Pincher?” asked a small rat with a squeaky voice. “What will become of them, Brother Doublechops?”
“When provisions run short they will to a certainty be killed and eaten by the bipeds,” answered the stout orator. “I shall watch for the result with intense interest, and have made up my mind to have a nibble at their livers and other bits of their insides. It will afford me intense satisfaction to eat a portion of those who have destroyed if not devoured so many of our race.”
“Oh! Brother Doublechops, oh! Brother Doublechops you are talking nonsense,” said the aged orator, who was evidently one of the most influential rats of the assembly. “If, as I before observed, we were to kill the captain, officers, and crew, what’s to become of the ship without any one to navigate her? She can’t steer a course for harbour, and would remain tossed by the waves and blown about by the winds till she met the fate I before described, and went down to the bottom, carrying us with her.”
“Has no one a further proposal to make?” inquired the president.
Nobody answered; even the squeaky voice of the little rat, who looked as if he had no end of suggestions to offer, was silent. A murmur of rattish voices filled the air.
“Friends, Romans, citizens, again I ask you all to lend me your ears,” exclaimed the president, at which all the rats put on a look of profound attention. “You have heard the proposals offered as well as the answers made to them. To me, speaking with due deference to the opinion of others, the proposals appear to be the most insane, foolish, and impracticable that could have been devised by rattish brains. Here we are, cut off from all connexion with the dry land and the whole race of rats. It is very clear that we can’t navigate this ship into harbour by ourselves. If we sink her we ensure our own destruction. If we kill the captain, officers, and crew by any of the means hinted at, we are equally certain ultimately to suffer. Here we are, and here inexorable fate dooms us to remain till we once more get alongside the shore and a plank from the ship enables us during the dark hours of night to effect our escape. Let us, therefore, like wise rats, in the meantime, be content with our condition, and enjoy at our ease the provisions with which the ship is stored.”
“Granted, Mr President, that your remarks are correct,” exclaimed Whiskerandos, who had before spoken, “I have still an idea which has long been hatching in my brain. I suggest that we wait until the ship reaches port and is moored securely alongside, when we will attack her planks both tooth and nail, and by boring holes in her bottom let in the water and make our escape.”