bottle. We went back to the hulk and re-shipped our cargo.

"Then on a fine moonlight night, all the rats left the ship.

"We had been infested with them. They had destroyed our sails, consumed
more stores than the crew, affably shared our beds and our dangers, and
now, when the ship was made seaworthy, concluded to clear out. I called
Mahon to enjoy the spectacle. Rat after rat appeared on our rail, took
a last look over his shoulder, and leaped with a hollow thud into the
empty hulk. We tried to count them, but soon lost the tale. Mahon said:
'Well, well! don't talk to me about the intelligence of rats. They ought
to have left before, when we had that narrow squeak from foundering.
There you have the proof how silly is the superstition about them. They
leave a good ship for an old rotten hulk, where there is nothing to eat,
too, the fools! . . . I don't believe they know what is safe or what is
good for them, any more than you or I.'

"And after some more talk we agreed that the wisdom of rats had been
grossly overrated, being in fact no greater than that of men.

"The story of the ship was known, by this, all up the Channel from
Land's End to the Forelands, and we could get no crew on the south
coast. They sent us one all complete from Liverpool, and we left once
more--for Bankok.

"We had fair breezes, smooth water right into the tropics, and the
old Judea lumbered along in the sunshine. When she went eight knots
everything cracked aloft, and we tied our caps to our heads; but mostly
she strolled on at the rate of three miles an hour. What could you
expect? She was tired--that old ship. Her youth was where mine is--where