The Willows and Beyond (6 page)

III

Livestock

The Mole and Water Rat had last journeyed up-river together to the Town several years previously, at the time of their renowned expedition, when they had explored the dangerous and little-known upper reaches of that tributary which forms the western boundary of His Lordship’s estate.

They had ventured up the tributary on that occasion only after turning back from the Town when they had seen enough of its chimneys, factories, traffic and busy people, and decided such a route was not for them. They did not regret their decision, even though their journey led to a near-fatal encounter with the Lathbury Pike, which had so grievously injured the Mole, and had brought their expedition to a summary end.

Now, as they passed the entrance to the tributary once more, they paused awhile and told Nephew something of their adventures there, before proceeding past that part of the riverbank owned by His Lordship. They could not but notice that a good many changes, all for the worse, had taken place.

For one thing, His Lordship appeared to have shored up his bank with concrete and built a new jetty, so that it looked less natural, and less pleasing than they remembered it. For another, it was all too clear that a good deal more building had taken place along the River’s banks, so that the Town was now considerably extended. Yet not, as they might have hoped, with pleasing villas and riverside houses of the kind exemplified by His Lordship’s House and, on a smaller scale, by Toad Hall.

There were a few tawdry attempts at fine houses such as these, but they were in red brick, and their frontages were quite spoilt by signs that said “No Fishing Here” and “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted”, and even, in one case, the ominous words “Patrolled by Dogs, Day and Night”.

Far worse, to the Mole and the Rat, was the growth in the number of industrial jetties and noisome factories whose chimneys belched out noxious fumes. On their last visit they had seen a few such buildings going up. Now they had to press on past a whole succession of factories, and pass much nearer than they would have wished to pipes pumping out waste fluids and foaming mess into the River.

“No wonder this vegetation looks all stunted and deformed!” exclaimed the Mole. “Give me the River Bank any day!”

The Rat, however, could only stand and stare, appalled at what he saw, and seemingly struck dumb by the way in which the River,
his
River, could be so ill—used.

“No wonder,” he whispered finally, “no wonder I sensed the River’s distress. Such waste and pollution are poisoning her, and this is surely what she has been trying to tell me. I must try to come back here soon with Otter to find out just how badly she is suffering.”

Then, with a rueful shake of his head, he left behind the last riverside vegetation, powering their craft amongst endless jetties and oily backwaters, and past towering smoke-stained quays and walls, till they found a place to tie up.

Neither the Mole nor Nephew had ever been so far into the Town, and were quite dazed by the noise and confusion of the place. The Rat was made of sterner stuff, however. Business had brought him here from time to time over the years, but even he had difficulty following the directions they were given — more than once — to the Town’s Head General Post Office.

Fortunately it was not located too far from the River. Yet how vast it seemed when they finally found it. On every side carts and conveyances of all kinds bearing the red and gold of the Royal Mail, filled to overflowing with bulging mailbags, arrived and departed, accompanied by the shouts and cries of those who loaded and unloaded them.

After a good many fruitless enquiries they eventually discovered that “Livestock” was located in a Special Department, far away from the regular items of mail. They negotiated their way down a side road, over two footbridges, behind a railway station and by way of an evil—smelling alley, till with some relief they spied a metal door above which projected an enamelled sign, which read, “Royal Mail, Livestock and Incidentals.”

Looking at the small door, the Mole felt a little more cheerful and observed, “Well, Ratty, it’s obvious that no herds of camels or elephants can pass in and out of here, so we may take heart.”

Just then there was a mighty bellowing and a rumbling in the lane and buildings all about, such as four and twenty thousand stampeding oxen might make. Then they realized that what they thought were walls next to the door were in fact mighty iron-clad gates, which now shook and clattered, and seemed about to burst open to let the rampant herd inside escape.

“This small door is for us,” said the Rat gloomily, “and I fear those great gates are for whatever it is we are to collect.”

Considerably abashed, they passed through the door and the Rat presented his card to the thin, bespectacled gentleman who eventually answered their summons.

“Ah, yes,” he said, peering at the card.

“Is it — or are they — large?” asked the Rat in trepidation. “Large is a very relative word in this game,” the Post Office official said. “For example, a cow is large relative to a sheep, is it not?”

“Yes” a greed the Rat, “but —“

“Whereas relative to some bulls, I can assure you that a cow will seem quite small.”

“I see,” said the Rat, now —“But if you’re talking large relative to
large,
then in my experience the largest we’ve had here is two white rhinoceroses for the Zoo. They
was
large, and one more than he should have been, since somehow or other en route to the Town, probably off the Liberian coast, he managed to get himself in the family way”

“You mean the rhinoceros was a female and —“

“We felt it wisest not to say so, sir, for that would have made the documents all wrong and he would have had to be sent back. There’s no knowing the difficulties that would have ensued had we reclassified him as being of the female gender.”

“But in our case?” said the Rat, striving to get back to the point.

“In your case, I am not permitted to comment upon size, gender or number, as it’s cash on delivery, and a client’s business is private.”

“But is it camels?” persisted the Rat, who had decided that if it was, he would not accept delivery and hang the consequences.

“I can say it is not camels, sir, without breaking rules, because camels are stored down the lane where the buildings are taller, or rather have no roofs. Those buildings are in fact open space. Now, if you would just sign here, please, sir, and pay one farthing for the receipt stamp.”

“Is that all? I thought I would have to pay much more than that!”

“I said cash on delivery and in a manner of speaking that is correct. But it came with the cash attached and I have taken the liberty of taking said amount, leaving you with a profit of sixpence three farthings, which is a unique occurrence in the C.O.D. department. Congratulations! There! That’s done! Now, if you’ll follow me, gentlemen, you can take delivery.”

They passed through a succession of vast rooms lined with a great many cages and pens, filled with innumerable varieties of animals. It cannot be said that all the odours of these rooms and pens were pleasant, and not every sight that met their eyes was a delight. But the overwhelming feature was the sound, an endless cacophony of grunts and bellows (from the oxen they had heard before), hissing (from a consignment of Indian vipers) and bubbling (from several tanks of Chinese carp), moos and baas (from more familiar cattle and sheep) and the avian sounds of hoopoes and giant cockatoos, and the chatter, fortunately in Malay, of a gross of green parrots.

Every now and then the Rat or the Mole would stop and say, “Is it this?” or “Surely not that?” but always the Post Office official would urge them on.

“Not far now, just through the next two buildings!” Finally, they reached the most dilapidated building they had yet come across.

“There’s mainly pigs here,” said the official, “but you’ll find your item beyond them: number 2467 D. Be sure not to mix it up with the 2467 A & B, which are Peruvian goats, nor 2467 C, which I believe to be iguanas from the Galapagos Islands, though I can’t be sure as they’ve gone to ground in the hay This is the key to its cage, sir, so perhaps you could go and consider if you’ll accept it, while I attend to some other business. I’ll be with you by and by”

With that he was gone, and they made their way past aisle after aisle of grunting pigs to where their item awaited them. The cages were well labelled, A through to D, and the Peruvian goats were plain to see, and to smell as well. In C they saw a good deal of hay, and protruding from the bottom two reptilian tails.

Finally they came to cage D, which was somewhat in the shadows, since the only window at this end of the building was above the goats. At first it was hard to make out much at all, but as they grew accustomed to the gloom, they could make out the form of a living thing in the furthest corner of the cage — and then two bright eyes. Eyes that stared at them unblinkingly The creature was draped — dressed is too precise a word — with yards of a fabric that had long ago ceased to be white, and wore upon its head a curious hat, little more than a roundel of rags. “What on earth is it?” said Nephew, speaking for them all. “It is …” began the Mole, not at all sure he knew. “That is, it might be —“But the Rat knew what it was the moment he saw it, though he could not imagine why it had been sent to him.

He knew what it was, and he was horror-struck.

“It is a rat,” he said.

“A young rat,” said the Mole.

“The most strangely dressed rat I ever saw,” said Nephew “As if… as if.

“As if it has come from Egypt and is used to hot sunshine,” continued the Mole.

The Water Rat, ever practical, unlocked the cage door.

The rat did not move, but only stared. Then, as if from very long habit, it tugged at some twine tied about its right wrist, to which was attached a large Royal Mail C.O.D. label, stamped
Paid,
upon which were several red-wax seals and other stamps, and some writing in black Indian ink.

This read:
To the Water Rat, Rat’s House, The River Bank, the River, nr The Town, Capital of the Empire.

“Well!” said Ratty. “This doesn’t tell us much, now does it!”

But then he saw that some extra words of guidance had been added less legibly after the address:
The River lies sou’-sou’-west of the Town, and maybe three days’ good walking, a day by boat.

The Rat repeated this slowly then muttered, “Well, it’s from a mariner of some kind, that’s plain enough, but who?”

He turned suddenly to the Mole and was about to say something when the young rat, silent still, pointed to the twine once more, about part of which was wrapped some of that oiled paper used by seafarers to keep their shag in good order.

The Water Rat opened it up and then, seeking to find the best light he could, he read aloud the strangest, and the most moving letter he was ever likely to receive.

“Dear Mr Water Rat,

“I hope I may make so bold as to trust you remember me after all these long years and that time we spent upon the roadside near your home, when you made me as sailor-like a repast as ever I’ve had before or since. I am that same
—“