“Ahem—er—you know of course that all ships have rats in them, Doctor, do you not?” And the Doctor said, “Yes.” “And you have heard that rats always leave a sinking ship?” “Yes,” said the Doctor—“so I’ve been told.” “People,” said the rat, “always speak of it with a sneer—as though it were something disgraceful. But you can’t blame us, can you? After all, who _would_ stay on a sinking ship, if he could get off it?” [Illustration: “‘And you have heard that rats always leave a sinking ship?’”] “It’s very natural,” said the Doctor—“very natural. I quite understand.... Was there—Was there anything else you wished to say?” “Yes,” said the rat. “I’ve come to tell you that we are leaving this one. But we wanted to warn you before we go. This is a bad ship you have here. It isn’t safe. The sides aren’t strong enough. Its boards are rotten. Before to-morrow night it will sink to the bottom of the sea.” “But how do you know?” asked the Doctor. “We always know,” answered the rat. “The tips of our tails get that tingly feeling—like when your foot’s asleep. This morning, at six o’clock, while I was getting breakfast, my tail suddenly began to tingle. At first I thought it was my rheumatism coming back. So I went and asked my aunt how she felt—you remember her?—the long, piebald rat, rather skinny, who came to see you in Puddleby last Spring with jaundice? Well—and she said _her_ tail was tingling like everything! Then we knew, for sure, that this boat was going to sink in less than two days; and we all made up our minds to leave it as soon as we got near enough to any land. It’s a bad ship, Doctor. Don’t sail in it any more, or you’ll be surely drowned.... Good-by! We are now going to look for a good place to live on this island.” “Good-by!” said the Doctor. “And thank you very much for coming to tell me. Very considerate of you—very! Give my regards to your aunt. I remember her perfectly.... Leave that rat alone, Jip! Come here! Lie down!” So then the Doctor and all his animals went off, carrying pails and saucepans, to look for water on the island, while the swallows took their rest. “I wonder what is the name of this island,” said the Doctor, as he was climbing up the mountainside. “It seems a pleasant place. What a lot of birds there are!” “Why, these are the Canary Islands,” said Dab-Dab. “Don’t you hear the canaries singing?” The Doctor stopped and listened. “Why, to be sure—of course!” he said. “How stupid of me! I wonder if they can tell us where to find water.” And presently the canaries, who had heard all about Doctor Dolittle from birds of passage, came and led him to a beautiful spring of cool, clear water where the canaries used to take their bath; and they showed him lovely meadows where the bird-seed grew and all the other sights of their island.