I will always remember our chats of ships and suchlike. It’ll only take the sight of a river and the whiff of fresh water to remind me of days of happiness and comradeship I’ve rarely known.
I’m not much good at saying goodbye, but I’d be much obliged if you would come down to the Weir on the morrow morn, along with Mr Mole if he’ll oblige me, and anybody else who cares to wave goodbye and wish me well upon my way.
I’ll say my last farewell then, friend, but believe me when I say I hope all will be well with you till you reach your last mooring, and far beyond. Afore then, and knowing how you have a fancy for far off places, I’ll send you a card or two to put in that fine atlas of yours. Till tomorrow then.
Yours truly
Sea Rat
“We shall go and say goodbye, of course,” said the Rat sombrely, “but I shall be sorry to do so, sorry indeed.”
Mole observed that the happy light that had been in his eyes all morning seemed almost to have disappeared, and he gazed upon the River morosely now, and sadly, and in silence. The spirit of the day had quite gone out of him, and it was no good pretending otherwise.
“Ratty, there’s something I wanted to say,” essayed the Mole. “I mean, I — O dear!”
The Mole walked to the edge of the River and stared down into the water, which seemed suddenly dark and impenetrable, and vast, forever flowing, forever flowing south towards the sun.
“Ratty, I think I’ll take a little stroll along the bank by myself, if you don’t mind, just to stretch my legs before we embark once more.”
“You go ahead, Mole,” said the Rat quietly head low The Mole trudged slowly upstream, staring at the River, then stopping to stare some more, across its surface, into the shadows of the far bank, then letting his eyes light upon a drifting twig, and from that to a sudden swirl of water, and from that — from that —
Why, could he not hear something beyond that swirl, beneath and about?
He sat down on the bank, as he had so often seen the Rat do, with reeds rising all about him, and the willows swaying in the breeze.
“I am sure I can hear, if I only listen hard enough,” he whispered in wonder. “Help me hear, help me for Ratty’s sake!”
Was that the sound of the trees behind him parting to let someone past, or just the wind? Was it the clouds that cast that benign shadow? And was it the hand of Him who is bigger than the largest tree, more ancient than the oldest rock, that touched the Mole’s shoulder as gently as the River flowed?
“Listen, Mole, and hear her song. Listen now!”
The Mole obeyed His voice and listened as he had never been able to before, and heard a song that was wistful with longing, and adrift with the words of farewell, yet also full of encouragement.
“Help him, Mole, help your dear friend. It is up to you now, for my strength has all but gone and he is hardly able to hear me. Tell him what he has to do. Help him.”
“I will, I will!” cried the Mole, rising suddenly, shaking his head as if to break the spell that seemed cast all about him.
“Mole! Where are you? Mole! Why whatever is it?” For the Mole came running then, running as if there was no time at all, his eyes wild, his hands and arms waving all about.
“O Ratty, you’re here. Now listen —“Calm down, old fellow”
“No, I will not calm down, Ratty, for I am not calm, and will not be till I have said what I must. How long have you known me?”
“A very long time, Mole — a great many years.
“And have I ever given you any reason to doubt me? Or to think I cannot be trusted?”
“You have not, not once. I know nobody as sterling and trustworthy as you, except Badger, perhaps, or Otter. But I know you as the most reliable and most caring of good friends. But surely I do not need to tell you this, because —The Mole held up his hand to silence the Rat.
“Will you trust me now, Ratty, and not utterly reject what I am about to say without at least thinking about it for a little?”
“I suppose I must, old fellow! Whatever’s on your mind?”
“Pass me the letter the Sea Rat sent you.
The Rat did so, and the Mole perused it awhile before reading out a line from it: “‘You have a fancy for far-off places.’ So the Sea Rat has written. It’s true, isn’t it, Ratty?”
“Yes,” said he, quietly and sadly.
“Then trust me, Ratty, and follow my advice. Travel with the Sea Rat tomorrow, go with him, Ratty. You need the change, you need the sun, you need —“
“But I could not possibly!” expostulated the Rat, utterly dumbfounded.
“I can think of no reason why not, not one’ said the Mole, turning and staring at the River, his eyes as clear as its surface suddenly seemed.
“But — !“ cried the Rat, once more lost for words.
“But what?” said the Mole mildly.
“I couldn’t leave the River Bank, and I couldn’t leave you!”
Mole stared at him in silence for a time and then said, “You could, and in a way you have already Something has broken in you, Ratty, as it has in the River you love.”
“The River’ breathed the Rat, going to its edge and staring at her flow.
“Ask her what she wants you to do,” said the Mole; “ask her that! Once you nearly followed your heart and I stopped you. Now you have a second chance. Take it, dear friend, grasp it, for it will not come again.”
“I am too old,” murmured the Rat.
“It will make you younger.”
“Mole, I am afraid!”
The Mole went to his side and put his hand upon his shoulder.
“Ask her with all your heart and she will answer you, urged the Mole, retreating quietly to pack up the picnic things. Then, while the Rat still stared at the flowing water, the Mole stowed the gear in the boat once more, hardly daring to look at his friend.
“Well, Moly,” sighed the Rat at last, lighting up his briar and kicking at the bank.
“Yes, Ratty?” said poor Mole, no longer able to hide his curiosity, his excitement or his trepidation. Never had he felt more certain that something was right; never had he understood better that it was for the Rat to decide.
“Do you really think I still could?” asked the Rat suddenly trying to conceal his excitement.
“I do.”
“And that I would enjoy it as much as I have always thought?”
“Probably”
“And that the Sea Rat would have me aboard?”
“Certainly”
“Then I’ll go, Mole, I will go and — why, there’s no need to look quite so relieved. It’s almost as if you’ll be glad to see the back of me.”
The Mole laughed, and perhaps cried a little too.
“It’s not that at all,” he said, “for I shall miss you more than words can ever say. No, it is simply that I had myself resolved, while standing upon the bank earlier, that if you did not go, I would!”
“Why, my dear fellow!” cried the Rat.
The Mole held up his hand.
“I do not say I want to, indeed such travel is not for the likes of me, for I am a home bird through and through. But if my going is what would have been needed for you to go, then —“
The Rat stared at his friend then, much moved.
“Mole,” he said huskily, “no animal ever had a truer friend than you have been to me.”
“I have often thought and said the same of you, Ratty,” said the Mole simply.
The Rat let go of the painter and the boat gently drifted out into the River, to begin the homeward journey, and in a way, to begin another, greater, journey too.
As they drifted on the sun began to set, and the westward sky was filled with the warm glow of a happy day nearly accomplished, and a momentous decision having been taken, there was no need for words.
The shore seemed almost enshadowed, though the River itself was aflame with the sunset sky, and as they passed Rat’s House, the Mole saw Young Rat watching quietly, and the O
tter and Nephew too, and waved to them and pointed towards the Island to indicate where they were heading before they finally put back to shore.
Mole knew well enough when to stop and turn, for the Rat had often told him: “When you hear the Weir’s roar, that’s when to turn about. It’s all very well for practised oarsmen like myself and Otter to go right round the Island, Mole, but those with less experience had best be cautious.”
That roar came to the Mole’s ears now, just as the Rat raised a hand to point at the Island, saying, “Look, Mole, just look at that!”
The Mole pulled in the oars a little and turned to look, and saw the sun red and gold across the sky, and the Island rising from the River, no more than a silhouette; the Island where so many years before, searching for Portly and finding him safe in the arms of the Friend and Helper who watched over them all, they had together known for a time something of Beyond, and its wonder had never left them.
“O my” whispered the Mole, “it’s so beautiful, Ratty, so beautiful.”
Behind him, watching too, the Rat said softly “Mole, old fellow, I never thought I would want to leave the River Bank, but now —“
“It is for the best, Ratty, and one day you’ll return, I’m sure of that.”
Then he turned to look at the Island once more as the Rat murmured, “I never wanted it to end, Mole, never. But you’re right, one day I shall come back here and all will be well again.
“I shall be here, Ratty, and so will the River and the Island; all waiting, just as they were and ever will be.”
“That’s in a time beyond,” whispered the Rat, “for Beyond is here as it always was and always will be, its song waiting to be heard by those of us who can hear it.”
“O Ratty’ whispered the Mole turning to him, and so forgetting himself in the strange and wistful magic of the moment that he let the oars drop into the water. “O my dearest friend, what contentment we have been privileged to know together here.”
“Yes,” whispered the Rat dreamily “and will know together again one distant day when I return.”
What cared they then that the River turned and turned the boat, for all they saw was the light that shone about the Island, and a future in Beyond that would one day embrace them both.
What cared they that the Weir’s dull roar grew louder by the moment as the Island raced past? What cared they in those moments for anything, they who had touched the deepest chords of friendship two lives can find?
“Hold her fast, Portly! Let Young Rat climb aboard!”
It was the Otter’s voice, commanding and assured as he and Portly swam alongside, and steadied the boat in the River’s gathering race towards the Weir. While with a swift heave and final push Young Rat was aboard, to the oars in a moment, and had her back under control.
“Has Ratty been taken ill?” said the Otter, for that is how it had seemed to them from the bank.
“Not he, nor I,” murmured the Mole.
“Never felt better’ said the Rat.
“Then why endanger yourselves and the craft like this?”
“Well, she’s in good hands now,” said the Rat unabashed, as Young Rat brought her safely home.
“Never ever better, eh Ratty?” said Mole, laughing.
“Never,” said the Rat, climbing ashore. “Now Young Rat, it’s plain for all to see that you have mastered the skills of swimming, but there’s one more thing you must do before I give you your certificate as Able Seaman First Class and Distinction on the Inland Waterways, which you’ve earned many a time since you joined my ship, and never more so than today!”
“Aye aye, Cap’n,” said the youngster with astonishment and glee.
“Look lively now and fetch your father, for he and I have matters to attend to with regard to the journey we’ll be starting together tomorrow for the coast.”
“Ratty!” cried the Otter in astonishment.
“Aye aye, sir!” cried Young Rat, beginning to see the import of what the Rat said.
“And another thing,” continued the Rat, growing more like his old self by the minute, “take charge of portering this craft overland to below the Weir, and have her moored and ready there, the gear stowed and all ship-shape for eight bells in the morning.”
“Aye aye, sir!” cried Young Rat, setting off at once to break the news to his father.
As he went off, and the Otter and Portly hauled the boat ashore, the Mole laughed with pleasure and excitement, as he had not been able to do for months past.
“Now, Mole, I’ll need your help with the victualling while I get my gear ready”
“Aye aye, Cap’n Ratty, sir,” said the Mole with a grin.
Then the Rat laughed too and it seemed to the Mole there was a look in his eyes as fresh and lively, as young and contented, as up and doing, as the very first moment he had met him so many years before.
IX
A Public Hearing
That evening, the Sea Rat having immediately declared himself in hearty approval of the Water Rat’s accompanying him upon his travels to warmer climes, the news of Ratty’s impending departure soon travelled along the River Bank, and brought with it a rush of excited chatter and several visits to the Rat’s home.
First the Otter and Portly came by again and gave their glad approval, for they had seen at once the wisdom of the Mole’s advice, and the practical good sense the Rat showed in accepting it. Then the Badger arrived, somewhat distracted and hardly able to believe his ears, though he too approved the plan, which added greatly to the Rat’s confidence in the matter.
“But I trust your normal good sense will curb the Sea Rat’s wilder and more unruly ideas,” said the Badger, “and that you will travel slowly at first and build up your strength once more.
“I shall!” said the Rat, whose bag — for that was all he intended to take — was already packed, and whose staff— for that was the only protection he intended to carry —was by the door.
Then Toad arrived, whispering to Badger that, “all is arranged, as only Toad of Toad Hall can arrange such things!”
“You’ll say goodbye to Master Toad for me, won’t you?” said the Rat.
“No need, dear chap,” said Toad, “he has a special dispensation to come down to see you off, and in any case, he also has certain information that Badger needs.”
“Yes, gentlemen,” said Badger, “and it is information that concerns you all. My farewell to Ratty can wait till the proper time, which is tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, I am very much aware that this may be the very last opportunity we have to discuss together, in the Rat’s presence, a matter that may well benefit from his advice, and one it would be remiss of me not to raise while he is still among us.
“Speak out, Badger,” said the Rat, “and we will tell you what we think, just as we always have!”
“Very well: you will remember that some time ago I heard rumours that the Wild Wood is under threat of being cut down in the name of advancement to be replaced by houses. Well, it seems that the rumours are not without foundation!”
Suddenly the room was silent, as the Water Rat and his friends took in Badger’s shocking news. All had hoped this matter had been forgotten.
“There is to be a hearing on the matter in the Town, next month,” continued Badger. “In brief, the scheme proposes to fell the Wild Wood in two phases — the first part, further away from the River Bank but up to my own home, this year, and the second part, right down to the River Bank, next year. We will all be affected in some way — even Toad, for I understand his estate is under threat as well!”
Toad nodded unhappily.
“Two years hence, gentlemen,” said Badger grimly, “there will be no Wild Wood left — unless we put a stop to this scheme!”
“We shall!” some cried.
“We must!” others declared.
“However, I am not confident of the outcome, and a significant portion of those affected, namely the weasels and many of the stoats, support the scheme —“Shame! Down wit
h the rascals!”
“Gentlemen, please!” cried the Badger. “The weasels have represented to me their very strong belief that new accommodation for their brothers in the Town, where they now live in crowded slums, should be provided here — though I believe the stoats are divided on the issue.
“I can only remind you how important it is that those who have views on the matter, whatever they may be, should express them forcibly in writing — nothing less will do — to the personage whose address I shall give you in a moment, and you should also be willing to attend the Public Hearing in Town upon the twelfth day of May.”
“We shall!”
“We must!”
“Surely,” cried the Otter, “if enough of us are against it they won’t proceed, will they?”
“I fear that they will, Otter. This is not a matter of democracy but of money and influence, and while my Grandson here has been diligent locally trying to gather information about who is behind this scheme, Master Toad — ah, I think I hear him coming at last, so he can tell you for himself!”
There was a loud roaring outside, which came to a sudden stop. The door opened and in came Master Toad, in all the protective gear of a motor-cyclist, for such pursuit he had recently taken up.
After a good deal of further chatter and talk, and a quick display of his new motor-cycling skills, which were still so raw that he very nearly landed up in the River, Master Toad accepted a cooling drink and, prompted by the Badger, told them all that he knew.
Master Toad seemed to have grown up a good deal in recent months, and though he had not yet acquired that comfortable, plumpish build which was so much part of Mr Toad’s persona, he was well on the way to it.
“Mes amis,” he began, his initial nervousness betrayed by this lapse into his mother tongue, for he was not yet as used as Toad to public speaking, “I shall not waste words but what I ‘ave to say is confirmed by what Grandson has learnt from the workmen who ‘ave been marking out where the trees will be guillotined down and ‘ouses built.
“Three people ‘ave formed what you call a consortium, a group, and have bought the Wild Wood and the canal and a lot more. They do not ‘ave the River, that’s the Monarch’s, nor the land on the other side, because the Village owns that —“