vessel’s arrival in the stream, and after communications had been effected with the shore, it was found that men could not be induced to risk working in the holds until the rats were expelled.  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. Ubes.  The vessel had a private leak, that is, a leak which was not occasioned by constructive weakness, but by some omission of caulking, bolting, trinnelling, &c.  This alone only called for one pump to be set going every two hours, but the heavy buffeting made her strain and leak so badly that it ultimately necessitated the continuous use of both pumps.  The sea was running cross and heavy, which caused the cargo to shift, and the water to come on the ceiling, that is, the inner planking of the hull.  A portion of the crew that could be spared from the pumps was ordered to take some forecastle bulkhead planks down, and make their way into the hold for the purpose of trimming the cargo over.  The work was carried on vigorously, amid a continuous flow of adjectives.  The captain and owner, both of whom were much-respected men, were consigned by the sailors many times to perdition and other more or less sulphurous places.  Indeed, the father of evil was freely invoked against them; but as both captain and owner are very much alive at the present time, the former controlling a vast business in conjunction with his sons, and the captain for many years having been living a peaceful life far away from the desolate storming of angry waters, whatever may be in store for those two well-cursed gentlemen, external appearances up to date favour the assumption that Jack’s invocation has been unheeded.  There was much desultory talk during the spells of shovelling, and one of the sailors, who, by the way, had at one time commanded his father’s Scotch clipper, remarked, as though he were soliloquising, “I don’t