'He's not like a rabbit at all,' he thought. 'Flight's the last thing he ever thinks of. If I'd known three nights ago what I know now, I don't believe I'd ever have gone into Efrafa. I suppose he hasn't realized about the boat too? It wouldn't surprise me.' He dashed across the grass and jumped on the planking beside Hazel.
The appearance of Woundwort had achieved what Blackberry and Fiver could not. Every one of the does ran from the bank to the boat. Blackberry and Fiver ran with them. Woundwort, following them close, reached the edge of the bank and came face to face with Bigwig. As he stood his ground, Bigwig could hear Blackberry just behind him, speaking urgently to Hazel.
'Dandelion's not here,' said Blackberry. 'He's the only one.'
Hazel spoke for the first time. 'We shall have to leave him,' he answered. 'It's a shame, but these fellows will be at us in a moment and we can't stop them.'
Bigwig spoke without taking his eyes from Woundwort. 'Just a few more moments, Hazel,' he said. 'I'll keep them off. We can't leave Dandelion.'
Woundwort sneered up at him. 'I trusted you, Thlayli,' he said. 'You can trust me now. You'll either go into the river or be torn to pieces here - the whole lot of you. There's nowhere left to run.'
Bigwig had caught sight of Dandelion looking out of the undergrowth opposite. He was plainly at a loss.
'Groundsel! Vervain!' said Woundwort. 'Come over here beside me. When I give the word, we'll go straight into them. As for that bird, it's not dangerous -'
'There it is!' cried Bigwig. Woundwort looked up quickly and leapt back. Dandelion shot out of the bushes, crossed the path in a flash and was on the boat beside Hazel. In the same moment the rope parted and immediately the little punt began to move along the bank in the steady current. When it had gone a few yards, the stern swung slowly outwards, until it was broadside on to the stream. In this position it drifted to the middle of the river and into the southward bend.
Looking back, the last thing Bigwig saw was the face of General Woundwort staring out of the gap in the willow-herb where the boat had lain. It reminded him of the kestrel on Watership Down, which had pounced into the mouth of the hole and missed the mouse.
PART IV HAZEL-RAH
39. The Bridges
Boatman dance, boatman sing,
Boatman do most anything,
Dance, boatman, dance.
Dance all night till the broad daylight,
Go home with the girls in the morning.
Hey, ho, boatman row,
Sailing down the river on the Ohio.
American Folk Song
On almost any other river, Blackberry's plan would not have worked. The punt would not have left the bank or if it had, would have run aground or been fouled by weeds or some other obstruction. But here, on the Test, there were no submerged branches and no gravel spits or beds of weed above the surface at all. From bank to bank the current, regular and unvaried, flowed as fast as a man strolling. The punt slipped downstream smoothly, without any alteration of the speed which it had gained within a few yards o
f leaving the bank.
Most of the rabbits had very little idea of what was happening. The Efrafan does had never seen a river and it would certainly have been beyond Pipkin or Hawkbit to explain to them that they were on a boat. They - and nearly all the others - had simply trusted Hazel and done as they were told. But all - bucks and does alike - realized that Woundwort and his followers had vanished. Wearied by all they had gone through, the sodden rabbits crouched without talking, incapable of any feeling but a dull relief and without even the energy to wonder what was going to happen next.
That they should feel any relief - dull or otherwise - was remarkable in the circumstances and showed both how little they understood their situation and how much fear Woundwort could inspire, for their escape from him seemed to be their only good fortune. The rain was still falling. Already so wet that they no longer felt it, they were nevertheless shivering with cold and weighted with their drenched fur. The punt was holding over half an inch of rainwater. There was one small, slatted floorboard and this was floating. Some of the rabbits, in the first confusion of boarding the punt, had found themselves in this water, but now all had got clear of it - most either to bows or stern, though Thethuthinnang and Speedwell were hunched on the narrow thwart, amidships. In addition to their discomfort, they were exposed and helpless. Finally, there was no way of controlling the punt and they did not know where they were going. But these last were troubles beyond the understanding of everyone but Hazel, Fiver and Blackberry.
Bigwig had collapsed beside Hazel and lay on his side, exhausted. The feverish courage had gone which had brought him from Efrafa to the river and his wounded shoulder had begun to hurt badly. In spite of the rain and the throbbing pulse down his foreleg, he felt ready to sleep where he was, stretched upon the planking. He opened his eyes and looked up at Hazel.
'I couldn't do it again, Hazel,' he said.
'You haven't got to,' replied Hazel.
'It was touch and go, you know,' said Bigwig. 'A chance in a thousand.'
'Our children's children will hear a good story,' answered Hazel, quoting a rabbit proverb. 'How did you get that wound? It's a nasty one.'
'I fought a member of the Council police,' said Bigwig.