Chapter 17

Row, Row, Row Your Boat

"Mr. Ages, are you alright?"

While they had been striding through the corridors, it took a little while for Chris, Mrs. Brisby, and Justin to notice Mr. Ages lagging behind. He seemed worn out from hobbling while using his makeshift crutch for support, and Chris had been the one to ask that question, for he couldn't contain it and because someone was bound to sooner or later.

He must've been on his feet all day, Chris thought, taking in Mr. Ages' face and body language. Foot, I guess I should say.

"It's nothing for you to be concerned about, Mr. Fitzgibbons," Mr. Ages responded.

"Maybe not, but you look like you could use some rest," Chris calmly said.

"I'm going to have to agree with Chris," Justin said, not hesitating to hop on the discussion. "You should go lie down."

"I'll be fine," Mr. Ages firmly got across. "A broken leg doesn't mean I'm that old and frail."

"Oh, but Mr. Ages," Mrs. Brisby regarded him, "I think it would be best that you do that; you seem very tired. When was the last time you even had the chance to sit down today?"

A weary sigh spilled from Mr. Ages' mouth, and he channeled his irritation toward his specs, buffing them as he mumbled, "Young people these days…"

It took everything within Chris not to snort, and it appeared to be the same for Justin. "Well, not to be rude or anything, but you aren't getting any younger, Mr. Ages," Chris pointed out. "Plus, your leg might not heal any faster if you don't rest it frequently—which I assume you realize since you're practiced in medicine—and wouldn't you recommend to someone with the same injury as you do to rest as much as possible?"

Justin's lips pulled into a smirk, arms folded across his chest. "He's got you there."

A beat of silence followed, but then Mr. Ages' shoulders wilted, yielding his stubbornness. "Fine, fine, I'll rest as soon as I get home if it means having you all off my back about it."

"But won't it be a long trek from here to your home?" Mrs. Brisby gently questioned.

"It most likely will be, especially given the cast," Justin agreed, dragging his attention back to Mr. Ages. "Making the trip back home in your current condition may not be the best idea, and there are also predators lurking out there, like Dragon, that may find you an easy target."

Mr. Ages hummed to himself, considering his words. "That is a fair point…"

"There are seven empty chambers available for you to choose from. I'm sure Nicodemus wouldn't mind you occupying one of them for the time being. If anyone asks—"

"Yes, yes, I know what to say; my memory hasn't failed on me yet. But thank you, Justin, I'll see myself in one of the chambers." Mr. Ages then glided his gaze to Chris and Mrs. Brisby. "I shall see you both tomorrow."

"Sounds good, and rest well, Mr. Ages," Chris took the moment to say.

Mr. Ages dipped his head in acknowledgment before speaking to Mrs. Brisby. "And remember what I told you as far as Timmy's concerned."

"Yes, of course," Mrs. Brisby replied. "Thank you, Mr. Ages, and I wish you a well-earned rest."

The old mouse nodded once before returning the way they came, the sounds of his crutch bouncing off the walls, and soon his figure vanished from sight.

Once he was sure Mr. Ages was not within earshot, Chris began lobbing a question at Justin. "So… has Mr. Ages always been like that? You know…"

"Dour and adamant?" Justin finished for him. He let out a chuckle. "That's just how he is most of the time, but he does mean well."

The trio proceeded onwards as Chris spoke once more. "Honestly, I'm amazed he even managed to cover the distance back to Nicodemus's chamber."

"That's the thing. I actually had to carry him most of the way since he was not faring well with only his one leg and crutch. But don't tell him I said that. He likely won't appreciate I shared that information with you two."

Chris could already see it in his mind's eye, but he could understand why Justin needed to carry Mr. Ages the rest of the way. It wasn't the old mouse's fault he was having difficulty getting from one place to another, and adjusting to a crutch proved no easy feat for him. If Chris had been in his position, he probably would've felt the same way. He knew what it was like to have the nuisance of an injury.

Back in his swim team days when Chris was competing, he suffered an injury called the swimmer's shoulder. While he had tried to go easy on it, it got worse to the point that his shoulder required surgery. Eventually, Chris had no choice but to throw in the towel around his junior year in college, ending any future promises of competing. It was a rough time for him, but even so, that did not mean his swimming days were over, as he could do that whenever he had free time, as long as his shoulder wasn't overused.

The drive to photograph was much stronger than his competitive nature in swimming, though. When he first got his hands on a camera, he thought it was like magic with just one click of a button as the lens faced something, birthing beautiful photos. It became clear that as Chris took lots of pictures at a young age, capturing so many moments life could offer, he was made for photography. Taking photos just felt natural to him, like breathing. It came as no surprise to anyone that he wanted to major in photography, and he had worked so hard through his semesters in college, trying to improve his skills, and in the end, it all paid off when he got his photography diploma. So, all was not lost.

Perhaps when this was all over, Chris could show Mrs. Brisby his photography skills and teach her how to use a camera. Even thinking about that sent his heart into a wild gallop, heat crawling up his neck and settling into his cheeks.

"I just hope he'll be okay," Mrs. Brisby piped up.

"Mr. Ages will be quite fine, Mrs. Brisby," Justin reassured her. "All he needs is a slow and steady recovery."

Taking his word for it, the field mouse nodded.

Silence settled between the trio as they worked their way down a path, colorful bulbs appearing occasionally and producing a soft glow in the slick cavern. Chris dragged in a slow breath. There was so much on his mind as it felt like a storage unit, just packing in every thought of his and making his head feel burdened. If only he could bulldoze the walls bordering the other truths and answers he needed…

Eventually, Chris, Mrs. Brisby, and Justin emerged from the mouth of a tunnel they were in. When Chris and Mrs. Brisby took in their surroundings, they certainly hadn't imagined what they now saw before them—as if they hadn't been taken by surprise enough today. Many large and small handcrafted boats were secured at docks, gently lapped by a pool of water and rocking like a baby in a crib. A few rats carried cargo, tended to the floating vessels, or took them out for a ride, soaring through the waters as gracefully as a bird.

On one of the ships, there were a few rats, all smiles, singing a sea shanty with a couple of them drinking some alcohol, just now arriving back from what more than likely was a fishing trip.

"Now you're ready to sail for the promised land
Weigh hey, roll and go!
Our clothes, boys, are all in the pawn
To be rollicking randy dandy-oh!

Heave a pawl, oh heave away!
Weigh hey, roll and go!
The achor's on board and the cable's all stored
To be rollicking randy dandy-oh!

Soon we'll be warping her out through the locks
Weigh hey, roll and go!
Where the pretty young girls all come down in their frocks
To be rollicking randy dandy-oh!

Heave a pawl, oh heave away!
Weigh hey, roll and go!
The achor's on board and the cable's all stored
To be rollicking randy dandy-oh!

Come breast the bars, bullies, heave her away
Weigh hey, roll and go!
Soon we'll be rolling her down through the bay
To be rollicking randy dandy-oh!

Heave a pawl, oh heave away!
Weigh hey, roll and go!
The achor's on board and the cable's all stored
To be rollicking randy dandy-oh!"

Boy, they sure seem to be having a good time, Chris observed.

Justin produced a chuckle after watching and listening to the crew sing that sea shanty and then beckoned Chris and Mrs. Brisby with a wave to follow him. "This way," he told them.

The tiny human and field mouse followed suit. "These… are all boats?" Mrs. Brisby got out, amazed by what her eyes beheld, soaking in these vessels' intricate details and sturdy craftsmanship.

"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Brisby."

The trio threaded through some rats passing by, and as they did, Chris could practically feel shocked stares settling on him, the human that shrunk—which were fair reactions as this was as rare as hens' teeth. He didn't take a glance at any of them, though, keeping his eyes straight ahead and daring not to show how much this was sinking his comfort level. He was a grown-ass man, not a boy who would hide behind the safety of a parent anymore.

"Quite possibly another of our finest works that took months to make," Justin continued, "and it's made travels for such things as fishing easier for us."

"You were not kidding when you said that there's much more we haven't seen," Chris remarked, mentally noting what else he and Mrs. Brisby were now privy to. "What else you got hiding, trains?"

A laugh bubbled through Justin's chest. "No trains, but some have thought about manufacturing something like that at one point, but that was vetoed due to the concerns it would draw some unwanted attention."

That's reasonable, Chris thought of saying but kept his mouth closed.

Justin led the tiny human and field mouse across one of the jetties to a canoe, enough to fit a few people. It was made of mahogany wood, the figurehead looking like an ocean wave, an unlit oil lamp perched at the stern, and a metal pole rested inside the sitting compartment—an oar perhaps was what Chris could guess. He then started to make out a couple of tiny words that were almost hard to see splashed across the canoe in cursive script.

River Whisper.

"We'll take the River Whisper," Justin informed Chris and Mrs. Brisby. "She'll have you out of here in no time."

"River Whisper?" Mrs. Brisby echoed, seeming a little flabbergasted that someone would name an object like a canoe something.

"She's a graceful canoe that barely is heard through the river. That's why she's called that."

"She's quite the beauty, I must say," Chris said, admiring the canoe. "Kind of reminds me of the canoe my dad bought back then; we and my mom used to take it out sometimes on a river."

That caught Justin's interest. "Did your father have a name for it?"

Chris nodded. "Charlotte of Waters, named it after my mom for their first anniversary."

A smile touched Justin's lips. "Your father must've loved your mother very much to name a canoe after her."

The ghost of a smile flickered across Chris's lips as he thrust his hands into his pockets, nodding once more. "He worshipped the ground she walked on. I suppose their story was almost like Romeo and Juliet, only no Shakespearean words, no feuding families, no tragic love ending involving poison and a sword, et cetera." Though the sting of what happened to his parents in the past was not one he liked to look back on, the good memories of them were a soothing balm.

Chris felt a hand connect to his upper arm. He recognized the touch of Mrs. Brisby's, and an electric charge sizzled up his arm, his gaze finding hers. She stared up at him with a swirl of emotions, but Chris picked up on her giving him consolation, knowing that his parents were no longer among the living.

He enveloped her hand with his, squeezing it gingerly to thank her and let her know he was okay.

In response, Mrs. Brisby smiled up at him weakly.

Justin cleared his throat slightly to get their attention, seeing that dropping the topic would be better. "Shall we get going?"

Mrs. Brisby responded with a nod. "Yes, please."

With a smile, Justin stepped aside, hand outstretched. "Ladies first."

Mrs. Brisby willingly took his hand with a gracious smile, and Justin helped her in the canoe.

A muscle in Chris's cheek jumped, wishing he had been the one to do that, but he mindfully reprimanded himself and that it was better not to get petty over something such as this. He only wants to help, Chris reminded himself. Don't be a blockhead; if not for yourself, for Elizabeth and her children. Creating drama will only worsen things, and I'm better than that…

Wordlessly, Chris tucked into the River Whisper, and once he and Mrs. Brisby were positioned, Justin went over to a nearby trunk and flipped it open. He fished out a box and pushed on the side of it, only for another box to slowly slide out. Nestled inside that box were matches. Justin strode over to the oil lamp and gaped it open, revealing a white candle with weeping wax hardened against it. He plucked out one of the matches, scraped the tip of it against the canoe's wood, and a tiny flame was born. Carefully, he brought the match near the candle, and its wick was soon nursing a flame of its own, brightening the oil lamp in a hazy glow.

Justin blew out the flame on the match, tossed it in a metal bucket of other used matches after putting away the box of matches, and then hopped aboard the River Whisper. He scooped up the pole, treaded carefully toward the stern, and unknotted the rope at the dock cleat, setting free the canoe. Justin pushed the River Whisper away from the pier using the pole before stroking forward, steering it toward the opening where Chris and Mrs. Brisby would get a taste of riding in a canoe in the underground river channels.

Justin had mildly rowed the River Whisper down a couple of waterways as if it were a romantic canoe ride for Chris and Mrs. Brisby, and the duo took the time to take in their surroundings. They passed by denticulations of stalagmites and stalactites jutting out, with flowstones that were like melting wax, some rock formations, and occasionally, they spotted watersnakes slithering through the streams along with craggy bones and skulls that were long forgotten and beginning to be overgrown by moss as mist was rolling in. The earthy and groundwater odor hung in the air, giving off the pleasantries of the simple things in nature.

Chris clutched the blue amulet and fixed his gaze on it, his reflection staring back at him. Its magic hadn't been activated throughout the day; the last time it had, though, was after he and Mrs. Brisby cut the plow's fuel line and fell off it, saving them from some rubble that likely would've crushed them like a bug. But perhaps it was for the better until there came a time when he truly needed it.

He then remembered something as his eyes lingered far longer than what was necessary on his amulet and directed his gaze to Justin, a thought that kept nagging at his mind. "So, Justin," he began, "when you recommended to me that I hide this necklace earlier"—Chris flashed the amulet at Justin like a badge—"what did you mean by that?"

"Ah, that," Justin answered while sculling. "Valuable objects like that necklace can get into the wrong hands, and the wrong hands are the ones that usually rub dirt on something like clout."

Chris pondered on Justin's words. "Someone like… Jenner?"

Justin nodded somberly, a little out of character at that moment as he usually seemed laid back for a captain. "Take good care of that necklace; it's very special."

Chris cocked his head. Does he know what this necklace does? And if so, how does he know about it? That was when another thought came to Chris's mind.

Do the rats… have something to do with this necklace? Chris wondered. Are they the sole reason it shrunk me? Surely, that's not possible… but then again, there's much I have yet to learn… And beyond a shadow of a doubt, magic exists, so that may be possible… There's just so much to process, though…

"May I ask a question, Justin?" Mrs. Brisby spoke up before Chris could even ask the rat if he had any information on the amulet.

"Of course, Mrs. Brisby," Justin said in a kind tone. "Whatever question you may have, I will gladly answer."

Relief passed over the field mouse's features. "How will you move my house when there's Dragon to worry about?"

"Well, ordinarily…"

Chris could sense that Justin seemed a little hesitant to answer since this was Dragon they were now talking about, Chris's family's cat. He leaned forward, now curious. "Ordinarily what?"

"Ordinarily," Justin continued, "When we have a long project to do at night—sometimes even by day—Mr. Ages makes a sleeping powder to give to Dragon. It doesn't harm the cat, but he stays extremely drowsy for the next eight hours or so."

At what he said, Chris went fish-eyed. The events from the other day flashed before his eyes: coming across a sleepy Dragon and seeing some rats filed in a line as they heaved an electric cable toward the rosebush. It all started to make sense now why Dragon didn't wake up and pounce on him, even when he accidentally stepped on a stick and splintered it.

Dragon had been drugged.

"You did it yesterday…" Chris said, dumbfounded, as he draped his hand over his forehead. "I stumbled upon Dragon as I was about to return to the Brisby home… No wonder why he hadn't woken up. I thought the reason why he didn't was because he was getting old."

"Wait, that happened yesterday?" Mrs. Brisby inquired, as this was the first time she was hearing of this.

Chris rubbed his neck sheepishly, knowing he had left out that detail from her the other day since she was under so much pressure, especially after what almost transpired for Timmy, and he didn't want to bother her about it. But since that detail was now out in the open… "Yeah… I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wasn't sure if you'd believe me, and seeing that you were stressed out…"

Mrs. Brisby's mouth formed a thin line, but understanding reached her eyes as she put a hand on the top of the tiny human's. "It's okay, Chris, you don't have to apologize. I just wish that you would've told me."

That made a particular feeling balloon in Chris's chest. How was it that even with her gentle nature and the slightest of touches from her, he could feel this way?

"I should've told you," Chris replied, having no dispute on that. "I'll try to be more honest with you from here on out."

A subtle smile occurred on Mrs. Brisby's lips, making Chris's heart miss a beat. "Don't worry, I believe you."

Chris reciprocated the smile.

There was a pin-drop silence until the tiny human and field mouse realized they had almost forgotten about Justin, flushing as they turned back to him. The rat didn't seem to mind, though. His patience never faded.

"Sorry," they said in unison.

Justin stared at them in amusement. "It's quite alright," he assured them before locking his gaze on Chris's. "I should be the one apologizing to you, though."

Confusion lined Chris's forehead. "For what?"

"For what we do to Dragon whenever we need to finish a long project. But surely you could understand?"

At that, a smirk lit the tiny human's face. "Don't worry about it. Quite frankly I've never been much of a cat person, but I understand why you and the others felt the need to do something like that if it means it'll make you feel safer."

The revelation seemed to have been unexpected for Justin and even Mrs. Brisby. "No kidding, I never would've thought," Justin admitted.

"Out of curiosity," Mrs. Brisby initiated her sentence, "how do you get Dragon to take the sleeping powder?"

"We put the sleeping powder in his food. Someone must go into the farmhouse kitchen and put it in his dish. The only way through the kitchen is through a tiny hole in the floor." Justin made a gesture with his hand for emphasis. "Ages tried it yesterday. That's how he broke…"

"Broke his leg," Mrs. Brisby mumbled it at the same time Justin did with a shy smile.

"Right." Justin rounded a bend in the river as he bulldozed on. "The trouble is with his leg now broken he won't be able to plant the sleeping powder in Dragon's food."

"But why Mr. Ages?" Chris asked. "Can't someone else do it?"

"I'd be glad to do it myself, but I'm too big. You see, a few years ago, when we had the idea of putting Dragon to sleep, we cut that hole in the floor just behind the cabinet so we didn't risk getting caught so easily. If we'd put the sleeping powder somewhere else, your family likely would have spotted it."

Chris thought that was a fair claim. Someone probably would've if the rats had gone that route. It became clearer how they were bypassing such things, like the traps his Aunt Beth and Uncle Paul had hidden in the house. The rats were always vigilant and had a plan, thanks to the chemical liquid they'd been injected with long ago, and if they never had that upgrade, most of the rats imaginably would've mindlessly walked into traps or found themselves in the belly of the beast: Dragon.

"To reach the bowl," Justin went on, "Mr. Ages crawled under the cabinet. When he reached the edge, he would quickly dash to the bowl, drop in the powder, and dash back out of sight. But with a broken leg, he can't dash."

Chris and Mrs. Brisby silently slid their glances to each other as the words sank in. If drugging the cat would be the only way to make sure he didn't interfere with moving the Brisby home, how would the sleeping powder now be delivered to the food bowl? None of the rats could do it due to their size as it had to be someone much smaller… someone like—

Something began to crumble from above, and the trio shot their heads up in time to see a stone on the verge of giving in to gravity. Rubble was chipped off, sprinkling toward the water, and soon, the stone followed behind and plummeted into the river, a splash of water slapping against the River Whisper and sloshing inside it, soaking the tiny human and field mouse's feet. Mrs. Brisby gasped as the canoe almost tipped over, holding on for dear life as Chris hooked his arm around her waist to steady her, his breath held while keeping grip on their ride with his hand, knuckles white.

Mrs. Brisby released a strained breath when the River Whisper stopped swaying, her body shaking slightly.

"I got you," Chris promised, feeling the wave of panic thrumming through the field mouse along with her rapid heartbeats. "I got you."

The tension he sensed in her body loosened as she breathed slowly and steadily. Mrs. Brisby guided her hand to where her heart was to steady its rhythm and sagged against the tiny human. Chris felt his heart trip over itself, sparks flitting down his body. Did she feel that too, or was it just him?

"That was close," Justin commented, picking up the threads of paddling.

"What's up there?" Mrs. Brisby managed to word out.

"The mill. It's falling apart. Hope it stays up there… at least until we're done with the Plan."

"Plan…" Chris repeated after discerning the same mill he and Mrs. Brisby had been at a couple of days ago with Jeremy, puzzling about the said Plan. "What exactly is the Plan?"

"To live without stealing, of course. It's wrong to grab things for the taking that don't belong to us, and you can rest assured, Chris, that our days of stealing from your family will be over."

Chris absorbed those words that rang with absolute truth. Most of these rats, like Justin, truly didn't want to be known as pilferers and only wanted to live their lives like any person desired. They could no longer live as rats. They knew too much.

"We're almost there," Justin gave the tiny human and field mouse a heads up.

A few moments later, Justin was parking the River Whisper next to a slick, stony terrain, and there was a path that led just outside the pounding curtain of water. Chris and Mrs. Brisby climbed out of the canoe—with Chris helping her out—before looking back at the rat.

"Thanks, Justin," Chris said, giving his gratitude. "We'll see you tomorrow."

"It's my pleasure," Justin replied.

"Yes, thank you," Mrs. Brisby politely said, but Chris noticed that she wasn't walking alongside him, seeming to be in a train of thought about something. "Umm… About Dragon, maybe…"

Justin tilted his head, and Chris mirrored that motion as he watched the two.

"Oh, nothing." The field mouse then waved to Justin. "Goodbye!" She then made haste and joined Chris.

"What was that about?" Chris queried as they ascended the path.

"It was nothing, really."

Chris hummed to himself but didn't probe her further and decided to leave it at that. He'd be all ears if she wanted to talk about it, though.

They made it outside, the sunlight and warm breeze greeting them as they bounded from stone to stone across a familiar pond that sparkled like champagne. However, upon landing on a third stone, they began to pick out something uncanny. A lilypad was cutting through the water, but that wasn't what caught their attention. A reed bamboo poked out from underneath it, and they could hear breathing coming through it as if it were a snorkel.

"The hell?" Chris said, his brow furrowed, perplexed.

Like a magnet being pulled to its polar opposite, the lilypad made a beeline for the stone they were on, only for it to smack against it, a wet sound created as the reed bamboo flew off to the side. Chris and Mrs. Brisby leaned over for a better view, but they immediately jumped back when someone emerged from the water, lillypad tied against their neck as they gasped for air, coughing loudly.

"Excuse me… pardon me," they wheezed out.

Chris and Mrs. Brisby's eyes goggled when they saw that it was Jeremy. What was he doing here? And why wasn't he watching the kids?

"Jeremy?" The tiny human and field mouse simultaneously said.

"What're you–"

"Shhhh!" Jeremy desperately silenced them with a shush motion, cutting off Chris's sentence. "I'm being followed."

"Followed?" Mrs. Brisby restated.

"Shhh-hhh!" Jeremy swung his head from one shoulder to the other with such panic as he kept his eyes peeled for someone. "There's a crazy lady with a hat! She's got big teeth! She tied me up! And then I–"

"Whoa–whoa–whoa, slow down, Jeremy," Chris said with his hands up, trying to calm down the crow. "You said a crazy lady with a hat and big teeth tied you up?"

"Yeah, well… she did, but I managed to–"

"Did she also happen to be a grouchy shrew with a cane?"

There was a pause as Jeremy blinked, staring thunderstruck at Chris. "Y-yes! H-how did you know?!"

Oh, boy… Chris thought, pinching the bridge of his nose, coming to understand that something must've happened while he and Mrs. Brisby were gone. Should've seen this one coming…

Chris and Mrs. Brisby shared a glance, realizing they had some catching up to do.

A/N- Another chapter down, more to go! So, the movie and book didn't mention much about boats, but I thought it would be fun to write this chapter based on them, and by golly, I could not resist adding a sea shanty in this because it seemed so fitting! The sea shanty featured in this chapter is Randy Dandy Oh by Michel Schrey, Nils Brown, and Seán Dagher, with a few of the lyrics changed up by me. It's actually one of my favorite sea shanty songs in the soundtrack for Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and I will catch you all soon in chapter 18!

Reviews:

jarmet: Nope, not this chapter, but soon ^^

Fan Boy 101: Thank you, and you will certainly know soon enough!

William RP: Thanks, and a happy belated New Years to you! And don't you worry, more chapters will be on the way with some anticipating scenes for sure ;)

ric castle: And a happy belated New Years to you too! Oh, and I bet XD

Bailey Radcliff: Thank you so much; I'm pleased to know! Yeah, Jenner is definitely an insufferable, selfish rat who'll do anything just to get what he wants, so I can understand where you're coming from. Thanks again ^w^