It was decisively arranged to have the vessel
scuttled. This was done, and the situation became more
perplexing than ever. As soon as the water began to flow
into the vessel, the rats took to the rigging, and every
available space of it became occupied. Never had such a
sight been witnessed before. It was decided to shoot at
them. The panic at once grew into pandemonium, both amongst
the rats and the public. The fear of large numbers of the
rats making their escape seized the imagination, and took
some subduing. Methods were adopted, however, which soon put
an end to mere contemplation, and the rats were speedily put
out of harm's way. The story comes from America, and is an
answer to those who cling to the silly notion that rats have
the faculty of prevision and always leave a ship that is to
be sunk or is sinking. _These_ rats would not leave even
after the vessel was sunk.
Many years ago, long before sailing vessels succumbed to
steam, I was serving as cabin boy aboard a brig laden with
salt, which had been taken on board at St. Ubes, Portugal.
We were in the Bay of Biscay, and had encountered a
succession of gales from the time of leaving St.
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