This world, where much is to be done, and little known...
Dr. Johnson"And then before the Mark silflay," said Chervil, "I always have a look at theweather. The previous Mark send a runner, of course, to say when they're goingdown, and he reports on the weather, but I always go and have a look for myselfas well. In moonlight we put the sentries fairly close in and keep on the moveourselves to make sure no one goes too far. But in rain or darkness we send theMark up in small groups, one after the other, and each group has a sentry incharge. In absolutely desperate weather we ask the General's permission topostpone the silflay.""But do they often try to run away?" asked Bigwig. During the afternoon hehad been up and down the runs and crowded burrows with Chervil and Avens,the other Mark officer, and had thought to himself that never in his life had heseen such a cheerless, dispirited lot of rabbits. "They don't strike me as a verydifficult bunch.""Most of them are no trouble, it's true," said Avens, "but you never know whentrouble's coming. For instance, you'd have said there wasn't a more docile lot inEfrafa than the Right Flank. And then one day they get four hlessil wished onthem by the Council, and the next evening Bugloss isn't very quick in the uptakefor some reason, and suddenly these hlessil play a trick on him and bunk. Andthat's the end of him -- to say nothing of poor old Charlock, killed on the ironroad. When something like that happens, it happens like lightning and it isn'talways planned: sometimes it's more like a frenzy. A rabbit tears away on impulseand if you don't knock him over quick, the next thing you know three more will beoff after him. The only safe way is to watch all the time when they're aboveground and do your own relaxing when you can. After all, that's what we're herefor -- that and the patrols.""Now, about burying hraka," said Chervil, "you can't be too strict. If theGeneral finds any hraka in the fields he'll stuff your tail down your throat. Theyalways try to dodge burying, though. They want to be natural, the anti-social littlebeasts. They just don't realize that everyone's good depends on everyone'scooperation. What I do is to set three or four of them to dig a new trough in theditch every day, as a punishment. You can nearly always find someone to punishif you try hard enough. Today's squad fills up yesterday's trough and digs another.
There are special runs leading into the bottom of the ditch and the Mark have gotto use those and no others when they go out to pass hraka. We keep a hrakasentry in the ditch to make sure they come back.""How do you check them in after silflay?" asked Bigwig.
"Well, we know them all by sight," replied Chervil, "and we watch them godown. There are only two entrance holes for the Mark and one of us sits at eachhole. Every rabbit knows which hole he has to use and I should certainly miss anyof mine who didn't go down. The sentries come in last of all -- I only call them inwhen I'm quite sure that all the Mark are down. And once they're down, ofcourse, they can't very well get out, with a sentry at each hole. Digging I shouldhear. You're not allowed to dig in Efrafa without permission from the Council.
The only really dangerous time is when there's an alarm -- say, a man or a fox.
Then we all bolt for the nearest hole, of course. So far, it doesn't seem to haveoccurred to anyone that he could bolt the other way and have quite a long startbefore he was missed. Still, no rabbit will bolt toward elil, and that's the realsafeguard.""Well, I admire your thoroughness," said Bigwig, thinking to himself that hissecret task seemed to be even more hopeless than he had expected. "I'll get thehang of it all as soon as I can. When do we have the chance of a patrol?""I expect the General will take you on patrol himself, to begin with," saidAvens. "He did me. You may not be so keen when you've had a day or two withhim -- you'll be worn out. Still, I must admit, Thlayli, you're a fine size, and ifyou've been living rough for some time you'll probably manage it all right."At this moment a rabbit with a white scar across his throat came down the run.
"The Neck Mark's just going down, Captain Chervil, sir," he said. "It's abeautiful evening: I should make the most of it.""I was wondering when you were going to show up," replied Chervil. "TellCaptain Sainfoin I'm bringing my Mark up at once."Turning to one of his own sentries who was close by, Chervil told him to goround the burrows and send everyone up for silflay.
"Now," he said, "Avens, you go to the further hole as usual, and Thlayli can joinme on the nearer one. We'll send four sentries out to the line, to start with, andwhen the Mark have all gone out we'll add four more and keep two in reserve. I'llsee you in the usual place, by the big flint in the bank."Bigwig followed Chervil along the run, down which came the scents of warmgrass, clover and hop trefoil. He had found most of the runs closer and stuffierthan he was used to, no doubt because there were so few holes into the open air.
The prospect of an evening silflay, even in Efrafa, was pleasant. He thought of thebeech leaves rustling above the far-off Honeycomb, and sighed. "I wonder howold Holly's getting on," he thought, "and whether I'll ever see him again: or Hazeleither, for the matter of that. Well, I'll give these blighters something to thinkabout before I've finished. I do feel lonely, though. How hard it is to carry a secretby yourself!"They reached the mouth of the hole and Chervil went outside to look round.
When he returned, he took up station at the top of the run. As Bigwig found aplace alongside, he noticed for the first time, in the opposite wall of the run, akind of recess like an open cave. In this, three rabbits were squatting. Those oneither side had the tough, stolid look of members of the Owslafa. But it was at theone in the middle that he stared. This rabbit had very dark fur -- almost black.
But this was not the most remarkable thing about him. He was dreadfullymutilated. His ears were nothing but shapeless shreds, ragged at the edges,seamed with ill-knit scars and beaded here and there with lumps of proud, bareflesh. One eyelid was misshapen and closed askew. Despite the cool, exciting airof the July evening, he seemed apathetic and torpid. He kept his gaze fixed on theground and blinked continually. After a time he lowered his head and rubbed hisnose on his forepaws in a listless manner. Then he scratched his neck and settleddown in his former drooping position.
Bigwig, his warm, impulsive nature stirred by curiosity and pity, went acrossthe run.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Blackavar, sir," replied the rabbit. He did not look up and spokewithout expression, as though he had answered this question many times before.
"Are you going to silflay?" said Bigwig. No doubt, he thought, this was somehero of the warren, wounded in a great fight and now infirm, whose past servicesmerited an honorable escort when he went out.
"No, sir," answered the rabbit.
"Why ever not?" said Bigwig. "It's a lovely evening.""I don't silflay at this time, sir.""Then why are you here?" asked Bigwig, with his usual directness.
"The Mark that has the evening silflay, sir," began the rabbit. "The Mark thathas -- they come -- I--" He hesitated and fell silent.
One of the Owslafa spoke. "Get on with it," he said.
"I come here for the Mark to see me," said the rabbit in his low, drained voice.
"Every Mark should see how I have been punished as I deserve for my treacheryin trying to leave the warren. The Council were merciful -- the Council weremerciful -- the Council -- I can't remember it, sir, I really can't," he burst out,turning to the sentry who had spoken. "I can't seem to remember anything."The sentry said nothing. Bigwig, after staring in shocked silence for a fewmoments, rejoined Chervil.
"He's supposed to tell everybody who asks," said Chervil, "but he's getting sortof stupid after half a month of it. He tried to run away. Campion caught him andbrought him back and the Council ripped up his ears and said he had to be shownat every morning and evening silflay, as an example to the others. But if you askme, he won't last much longer. He'll meet a blacker rabbit than himself one ofthese nights."Bigwig shuddered, partly at Chervil's tone of callous indifference and partly athis own memories. The Mark were filing up now and he watched as they wentpast, each darkening the entrance for a moment before hopping out under thehawthorn. It was clear that Chervil prided himself on knowing his rabbits byname. He spoke to most of them and was at pains to show that he had someknowledge of their personal lives. It seemed to Bigwig that the answers he gotwere not particularly warm or friendly, but he did not know whether to put thatdown to dislike of Chervil or merely to the lack of spirit that seemed to becommon to the rank and file in Efrafa. He was closely on the watch -- asBlackberry had advised him to be -- for any signs of disaffection or rebellion, buthe could see little grounds for hope in the expressionless faces that went by. Atthe end came a little group of three or four does, talking among themselves.
"Well, are you getting on all right with your new friends, Nelthilta?" saidChervil to the first, as she passed him.
The doe, a pretty, long-nosed rabbit not more than three months old, stoppedand looked at him.
"You'll get on yourself one day, Captain, I dare say," she replied. "Like CaptainMallow -- he got on, you know. Why don't you send some does on Wide Patrol?"She paused for Chervil to reply, but he made no answer and did not speak tothe does who followed Nelthilta out into the field.
"What did she mean by that?" asked Bigwig.
"Well, there's been trouble, you know," said Chervil. "A bunch of does in theNear Fore started a row at a Council meeting. The General said they must bebroken up and we had a couple sent to us. I've been keeping an eye on them.
They're no trouble themselves, but Nelthilta's taken up with them and it seems tohave made her cheeky and resentful: sort of thing you saw just now. I don't reallymind that -- it shows they feel the Owsla's on top. If the young does became quietand polite I should be much more worried: I should wonder what they were up to.
All the same, Thlayli, I'd like you to do what you can to get to know thoseparticular does and bring them a bit more into line.""Right," said Bigwig. "By the way, what are the rules about mating?""Mating?" said Chervil. "Well, if you want a doe, you have one -- any doe in theMark, that is. We're not officers for nothing, are we? The does are under ordersand none of the bucks can stop you. That just leaves you and me and Avens; andwe shall hardly quarrel. There are plenty of does, after all.""I see," said Bigwig. "Well, I'll silflay now. Unless you've got any other ideas,I'll go and talk to some of the Mark and then go round the sentries and get the lieof the land. What about Blackavar?""Leave him," said Chervil. "He's none of our business. The Owslafa will keephim here until the Mark come back and after that they'll take him away."Bigwig made his way into the field, conscious of the wary glances of the rabbitshe passed. He felt perplexed and apprehensive. How was he to begin hisdangerous task? Begin he must, in one way or another, for Kehaar had made itclear that he was not ready to wait. There was nothing for it but to take a chanceand trust somebody. But whom? A warren like this must be full of spies. Probablyonly General Woundwort knew who the spies were. Was there a spy watching himnow?
"I shall just have to trust my feelings," he thought. "I'll go round the place a bitand see if I can make any friends. But I know one thing -- if I do succeed ingetting any does out of here, I'll take that poor wretched Blackavar with me aswell. Frith on a bridge! It makes me angry just to think of him being forced to sitthere like that. General Woundwort indeed! A gun's too good for him."Nibbling and pondering, he moved slowly over the open meadow in theevening sun. After a while he found that he was approaching a small hollow,much like the one on Watership Down where he and Silver had found Kehaar. Inthis hollow there were four does, with their backs to him. He recognized them asthe little group who had gone out last. They had evidently finished the hungry,intent stage of feeding and were browsing and talking at leisure, and he could seethat one of them had the attention of the other three. Even more than mostrabbits, Bigwig loved a story and now he felt attracted by the prospect of hearingsomething new in this strange warren. He moved quietly up to the edge of thehollow just as the doe began to speak.
At once he realized that this was no story. Yet he had heard the like before,somewhere. The rapt air, the rhythmic utterance, the intent listeners -- what wasit they recalled? Then he remembered the smell of carrots, and Silverweeddominating the crowd in the great burrow. But these verses went to his heart asSilverweed's had not.
Long agoThe yellowhammer sang, high on the thorn.
He sang near a litter that the doe brought out to play,He sang in the wind and the kittens played below.
Their time slipped by all under the elder bloom.
But the bird flew away and now my heart is darkAnd time will never play in the fields again.
Long agoThe orange beetles clung to the rye-grass stems.
The windy grass was waving. A buck and doeRan through the meadow. They scratched a hole in the bank,They did what they pleased all under the hazel leaves.
But the beetles died in the frost and my heart is dark;And I shall never choose a mate again.
The frost is falling, the frost falls into my body.
My nostrils, my ears are torpid under the frost.
The swift will come in the spring, crying "News! News!
Does, dig new holes and flow with milk for your litters."I shall not hear. The embryos returnInto my dulled body. Across my sleepThere runs a wire fence to imprison the wind.
I shall never feel the wind blowing again.
The doe was silent and her three companions said nothing: but their stillnessshowed plainly enough that she had spoken for all of them. A flock of starlingspassed overhead, chattering and whistling, and a liquid dropping fell into thegrass among the little group, but none moved or startled. Each seemed taken upwith the same melancholy thoughts -- thoughts which, however sad, were at leastfar from Efrafa.
Bigwig's spirit was as tough as his body and quite without sentimentality, but,like most creatures who have experienced hardship and danger, he couldrecognize and respect suffering when he saw it. He was accustomed to sizing upother rabbits and deciding what they were good for. It struck him that these doeswere not far from the end of their powers. A wild animal that feels that it nolonger has any reason to live reaches in the end a point when its remainingenergies may actually be directed toward dying. It was this state of mind thatBigwig had mistakenly attributed to Fiver in the warren of the snares. Since thenhis judgment had matured. He felt that despair was not far from these does; andfrom all that he had heard of Efrafa, both from Holly and from Chervil, he couldunderstand why. He knew that the effects of overcrowding and tension in awarren show themselves first in the does. They become infertile and aggressive.
But if aggression cannot mend their troubles, then often they begin to drifttoward the only other way out. He wondered what point on this dismal path theseparticular does had reached.
He hopped down into the hollow. The does, disturbed from their thoughts,looked at him resentfully and drew back.
"I know you're Nelthilta," said Bigwig to the pretty young doe who had retortedto Chervil in the run. "But what's your name?" he went on, turning to the doebeside her.
After a pause, she answered reluctantly, "Thethuthinnang, sir."*"And yours?" said Bigwig, to the doe who had spoken the verses.
She turned to him a look of such wretchedness, so full of accusation andsuffering, that it was all he could do not to beg her then and there to believe thathe was her secret friend and that he hated Efrafa and the authority which herepresented. Nelthilta's rejoinder to Chervil in the run had been full of hatred, butthis doe's gaze spoke of wrongs beyond her power to express. As Bigwig staredback at her, he suddenly recalled Holly's description of the great yellow hrududuthat had torn open the earth above the destroyed warren. "That might have met alook like this," he thought. Then the doe answered, "My name is Hyzenthlay, sir.""Hyzenthlay?" said Bigwig, startled out of his self-possession. "Then it was youwho--" He stopped. It might be dangerous to ask whether she rememberedspeaking to Holly. But whether she did or not, here, evidently, was the rabbit whohad told Holly and his companions about the troubles of Efrafa and thediscontent of the does. If he remembered Holly's story rightly, she had alreadymade some sort of attempt to leave the warren. "But," he thought, as he met oncemore her desolate eyes, "what is she good for now?""May we have permission to go, sir?" asked Nelthilta. "The company of officersabsolutely overpowers us, you see: we find a little of it goes an awfully long way.""Oh -- yes -- certainly -- by all means," replied Bigwig in confusion. Heremained where he was as the does hopped away, Nelthilta raising her voice toremark, "What a great oaf!" and half looking round in the evident hope that hewould take her up.
"Oh, well, there's one of them with some spirit left, ............