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"
You
are
not
one
of
us
,
"
said
the
Water
Rat
,
"
nor
yet
a
farmer
;
nor
even
,
I
should
judge
,
of
this
country
.
"
"
Right
,
"
replied
the
stranger
.
"
I
'm
a
seafaring
rat
,
I
am
,
and
the
port
I
originally
hail
from
is
Constantinople
,
though
I
'm
a
sort
of
a
foreigner
there
too
,
in
a
manner
of
speaking
.
You
will
have
heard
of
Constantinople
,
friend
?
A
fair
city
and
an
ancient
and
glorious
one
.
And
you
may
have
heard
too
,
of
Sigurd
,
King
of
Norway
,
and
how
he
sailed
thither
with
sixty
ships
,
and
how
he
and
his
men
rode
up
through
streets
all
canopied
in
their
honour
with
purple
and
gold
;
and
how
the
Emperor
and
Empress
came
down
and
banqueted
with
him
on
board
his
ship
.
When
Sigurd
returned
home
,
many
of
his
Northmen
remained
behind
and
entered
the
Emperor
's
body-guard
,
and
my
ancestor
,
a
Norwegian
born
,
stayed
behind
too
,
with
the
ships
that
Sigurd
gave
the
Emperor
.
Seafarers
we
have
ever
been
,
and
no
wonder
;
as
for
me
,
the
city
of
my
birth
is
no
more
my
home
than
any
pleasant
port
between
there
and
the
London
River
.
I
know
them
all
,
and
they
know
me
.
Set
me
down
on
any
of
their
quays
or
foreshores
,
and
I
am
home
again
.
"
"
I
suppose
you
go
great
voyages
,
"
said
the
Water
Rat
with
growing
interest
.
"
Months
and
months
out
of
sight
of
land
,
and
provisions
running
short
,
and
allowanced
as
to
water
,
and
your
mind
communing
with
the
mighty
ocean
,
and
all
that
sort
of
thing
?
"
"
By
no
means
,
"
said
the
Sea
Rat
frankly
.
"
Such
a
life
as
you
describe
would
not
suit
me
at
all
.
I
'm
in
the
coasting
trade
,
and
rarely
out
of
sight
of
land
.
It
's
the
jolly
times
on
shore
that
appeal
to
me
,
as
much
as
any
seafaring
.
O
,
those
southern
seaports
!
The
smell
of
them
,
the
riding-lights
at
night
,
the
glamour
!
"
"
Well
,
perhaps
you
have
chosen
the
better
way
,
"
said
the
Water
Rat
,
but
rather
doubtfully
.
"
Tell
me
something
of
your
coasting
,
then
,
if
you
have
a
mind
to
,
and
what
sort
of
harvest
an
animal
of
spirit
might
hope
to
bring
home
from
it
to
warm
his
latter
days
with
gallant
memories
by
the
fireside
;
for
my
life
,
I
confess
to
you
,
feels
to
me
to-day
somewhat
narrow
and
circumscribed
.
"
"
My
last
voyage
,
"
began
the
Sea
Rat
,
"
that
landed
me
eventually
in
this
country
,
bound
with
high
hopes
for
my
inland
farm
,
will
serve
as
a
good
example
of
any
of
them
,
and
,
indeed
,
as
an
epitome
of
my
highly-coloured
life
.
Family
troubles
,
as
usual
,
began
it
.
The
domestic
storm-cone
was
hoisted
,
and
I
shipped
myself
on
board
a
small
trading
vessel
bound
from
Constantinople
,
by
classic
seas
whose
every
wave
throbs
with
a
deathless
memory
,
to
the
Grecian
Islands
and
the
Levant
.
Those
were
golden
days
and
balmy
nights
!
In
and
out
of
harbour
all
the
time
--
old
friends
everywhere
--
sleeping
in
some
cool
temple
or
ruined
cistern
during
the
heat
of
the
day
--
feasting
and
song
after
sundown
,
under
great
stars
set
in
a
velvet
sky
!
Thence
we
turned
and
coasted
up
the
Adriatic
,
its
shores
swimming
in
an
atmosphere
of
amber
,
rose
,
and
aquamarine
;
we
lay
in
wide
landlocked
harbours
,
we
roamed
through
ancient
and
noble
cities
,
until
at
last
one
morning
,
as
the
sun
rose
royally
behind
us
,
we
rode
into
Venice
down
a
path
of
gold
.
O
,
Venice
is
a
fine
city
,
wherein
a
rat
can
wander
at
his
ease
and
take
his
pleasure
!
Or
,
when
weary
of
wandering
,
can
sit
at
the
edge
of
the
Grand
Canal
at
night
,
feasting
with
his
friends
,
when
the
air
is
full
of
music
and
the
sky
full
of
stars
,
and
the
lights
flash
and
shimmer
on
the
polished
steel
prows
of
the
swaying
gondolas
,
packed
so
that
you
could
walk
across
the
canal
on
them
from
side
to
side
!
And
then
the
food
--
do
you
like
shell-fish
?
Well
,
well
,
we
wo
n't
linger
over
that
now
.
"
He
was
silent
for
a
time
;
and
the
Water
Rat
,
silent
too
and
enthralled
,
floated
on
dream-canals
and
heard
a
phantom
song
pealing
high
between
vaporous
grey
wave-lapped
walls
.
