Tales from Watership Down (25 page)

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the youngster. “It’s just that everybody speaks of him as ‘Captain,’ and I’ve got into the way of it.”

They went out into a beautifully fresh, clear morning and found Campion sitting in the sun at the foot of the bank. He and Hazel greeted each other with embarrassment and a certain reserve. On the last occasion when they had been together, that terrible evening on Watership Down, Campion had asked Woundwort whether he should kill Hazel. Neither had forgotten that, though both were anxious that no mention of it should be made now. As Strawberry came up to join them, Hazel was able to cover the awkward moment by greeting him as an old friend and follower and by asking him how he liked life in the new warren. Strawberry replied for the most part with praise of his rabbits, who, he said, had worked hard and settled in very well, those from both Watership and Efrafa.

“Campion,” began Groundsel, “although you’ve been Chief Rabbit of Efrafa for a long time now—ever since the disappearance of Woundwort last summer, in fact—you’ve
been having a lot to do with this warren of mine, haven’t you? You’ve been here a good deal.”

“Yes, I have,” answered Campion.

“He’s too distinguished and proud to make any excuses or hold anything back,” thought Hazel. “Whatever this is all about, at least we shan’t have to squeeze information out of him or tell him he’s lying.”

“Anyone who wants to come,” went on Campion, “I take them out on Wide Patrol.”

Why don’t you stick to taking out your own Efrafans?”

“Because they won’t come,” replied Campion without hesitation. “Not one of them.”

“Why not, do you know?”

“Because they associate Wide Patrols with Woundwort.” said Campion. “They don’t want anything that they think has to do with Woundwort.”

“Well, haven’t Wide Patrols got a lot to do with Woundwort? Isn’t that quite right?”

“Certainly,” said Campion, and waited silently for Groundsel to go on.

“He invented them, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Yet you come here and fill my rabbits up with Woundwort’s ideas?”

“No, I don’t. I simply take out on Wide Patrol any rabbits who want to come.”

“And that’s all? You don’t tell them about Woundwort and what he did?”

“No. I never mention Woundwort.”

“And you aren’t planning to influence enough rabbits to fight for you so that you can take over this warren?”

“Certainly not.”

“Well, I think you are.”

“None of the rabbits I’ve taken out on Patrol can have told you that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I always assure them that I’ve got no such plans. I haven’t the least wish to take over Vleflain.”

“Then why come here and persuade my rabbits to go out on Wide Patrols with you?”

“I don’t persuade them. They’re eager to come.”

“Because of the influence of your personality. They want to feel that you’re their friend.”

Campion made no reply.

“Isn’t that so?”

“Possibly.”

“You’re a distinguished rabbit. You were Woundwort’s best officer. You led the assault at Nutley Copse. You did everything you could to help him take the Efrafans to destroy Hazel’s warren, and you brought the survivors back to Efrafa when no one else could have done it. Do you really think that my rabbits aren’t going to admire you and want to be like you?”

“They may. But as I’ve said, all I do is take out on Wide Patrol any rabbits who want to come.”

“What for?”

“For my enjoyment and their good.”

“And that’s all?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. A young rabbit came up to speak to Groundsel, who dismissed him with a curt “Not now. Not now.” It was Fiver who spoke next.

“You say for your ‘enjoyment and their good.’ Could you perhaps tell us a little more about that? What do you enjoy and what do you think does them good?”

Campion remained silent for some little time, as though meditating on his reply. When next he began to speak, it was in a relaxed, almost gentle tone, very different from his hitherto sharp, brief replies.

“To have grown up in Efrafa, to have begun by admiring Woundwort although far below his notice; then to have become an officer and after a time to realize that you were one of the few rabbits that he respected and relied upon to carry out what he wanted, even though he wasn’t there himself—these are the experiences which have made me what I am, good or bad. They’ve made me self-reliant, able to think for myself; to think for Woundwort and act for him when he wasn’t there to tell me what to do—all this has been my entire life. And now that he’s gone, no one can expect me to forget his influence in a matter of months. Of course, I’ve realized now all he did, all he thought, that was wrong. I needn’t tell it to you now.”

He paused, but no one spoke, and after a little he continued.

“Bringing those survivors back, alone, from Watership to Efrafa last summer—that was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and do without the General. It called on every particle of strength and self-reliance I’d got; it nearly killed me; and when we’d got back and I’d recovered, why wouldn’t I feel proud of what I’d done? I knew then what I was capable of.

“But I didn’t show it. I was half expecting to be killed by the rabbits who’d hated Woundwort and had only been held back by Vervain and by Woundwort’s own authority.

“But they didn’t kill me. They made me Chief Rabbit. They needed me to think for them and act for them; to dismantle Woundwort bit by bit and persuade them to keep the parts that made sense.

“There was one part that to me made more sense than all the rest put together, and that was the Wide Patrols. Woundwort always said, again and again, that rabbits didn’t have to run away or to hide in holes. They could beat the elil if only they had the determination and self-confidence to do it. And to get that, they had to learn how to be wary, self-reliant, tenacious and brave. And that they learned through the Wide Patrols.

“To be taking out a Wide Patrol on a fine morning—there’s nothing more wonderful in the world. To know that they trust you and want to come with you; to know there’ll be danger and not to care, and to make them feel like that too. And then if danger suddenly becomes a reality, to stand up to it and either beat it or escape by using you wits. And
to see your rabbits, the three or four with you on the Patrol, improving all the time, until they become fit to lead a Patrol themselves—that’s all very enjoyable, I assure you. Wide Patrols make cunning trackers, swift runners and brave fighters. You know this, Groundsel. You’ve been an Efrafan officer and must have been on quite a few Patrols yourself.”

As he paused and looked about him at his questioners, Hazel asked, “But weren’t rabbits killed on these Patrols?”

“No more than we could afford to lose,” answered Campion. “When I’d got Efrafa back to something like normal, last autumn, I tried to get the Wide Patrols started again, but not a rabbit would come. They said they’d had enough of what they called ‘Woundwort’s fancy ways.’ So I had to drop it. To go on pressing them would probably have been the right way to get myself killed.

“But I still longed to take out a Wide Patrol myself. I wanted it for my own enjoyment and nothing more. But you can’t do a Wide Patrol by yourself. You’d know if you’d ever tried. The mutual reliance and the comradeship aren’t there.

“So I came up here to see if things were any different at Vleflain. They were. I didn’t have to coax or wheedle anyone. Right from the start I had the material for three or four Patrols and more. And this is what I mean by saying it’s for my enjoyment and their good. The rabbits I’ve taken out are far, far better for it.”

“But isn’t it true,” persisted Hazel, “that quite a lot of rabbits have been killed or lost on these Patrols of yours?”

“I wouldn’t say a lot,” said Campion. “I’d say a few. And that’s the price that has to be paid, of course, for all that’s gained.”

“Why didn’t you come and speak to me first?” said Groundsel. “I’m the Chief Rabbit here, in case it’s happened to escape your notice.”

“Don’t you talk like that to me,” flashed Campion. “I remember when you were a nobody. And if you want the real answer, it’s because I didn’t want to ask any favors from a junior Efrafan officer.”

“But we’re not in Efrafa now,” said Groundsel. “We’re in Vleflain and I’m the Chief Rabbit.”

Before the bristling Campion could reply, Fiver spoke again.

“Let’s break off for a bit now, shall we? I’d like to have a go at your dandelions, Groundsel. They smell first-rate, better than anything we’ve got up on the Down. Dandelions don’t seem to favor the downs, somehow.”

Taking Hazel with him, he moved off a little way along the bank, where the two remained in earnest talk for quite some time. When they had rejoined the others, Hazel at once said, “Campion-rah, how would you like to come and stay in our warren for a bit? You could do all the patrolling you liked, and we’ve got plenty of young rabbits who would jump at the chance of going out with you. I’m sure they’d all be much the better for it, once you’d settled in and got started.”

Both Groundsel and Campion seemed taken aback.
Neither made any reply, and Hazel went on: “I know one rabbit who’d be more than pleased to see you, and that’s Bigwig. He’s often spoken of you in the most admiring terms and wanted to know you better.”

It was plain that Campion was not averse to the idea. As he remained silent, Fiver put in, “I’m sure they could find someone to look after Efrafa for a little while. Nothing like as good as you, of course, but if they did get into any sort of trouble, you could easily be back there in a day and a half. Kehaar could let you know at once if you were needed.”

“Very well,” replied Campion at last. “I shall be glad to come for a time. I should certainly like to meet Bigwig again—as a friend this time. But I think a lot of your younger rabbits are going to miss me, Groundsel. That’s the plain truth.”

“You could always lead one of your Wide Patrols down here and see them again,” said Groundsel, half seriously. “It’s not really all that far.”

When Campion broke the news to his friends and admirers in Vleflain, there was much disappointment. Two of these, a pair named Loosestrife and Knapweed, begged Hazel to let them come too, and Groundsel made no objection.

They started next day and reached Watership without any trouble from elil. Hyzenthlay, although certainly taken by surprise, welcomed Campion and his followers, while Hazel allotted them a burrow for themselves. (It had been Flyairth’s.)

Campion had the sense to begin in a small way, with
short, easy Patrols, which Bluebell called “there and back.” One of his first and keenest recruits was Sandwort, although Campion, when he had sized him up, said that he ought to restrict himself to undemanding work—for the time being at least. Bigwig, having joined in a long and exhausting Patrol into the country west of Beacon Hill, told Hazel and Fiver that Campion’s leadership was impressive and, he thought, better than his own.

“Thank goodness they’ve taken to each other,” said Fiver. “I was afraid they might not.”

The first casualty occurred round about midsummer, when a doe named Lemista, having damaged her front paw, fell victim to a dog, which killed her before Campion could drive it off. Hazel was upset, but Bigwig, like Campion, regarded it as “the price to be paid.” “Wherever that rabbit was doing his work, Hazel-rah,” he said, “—and he does it very well—there’d be bound to be occasional casualties; and our rabbits are no different from any other rabbits.”

“Oh, yes, they are,” answered Hazel. “They’re different when you know them personally.” But he did nothing to check or change what Campion was doing; there was no general demand that he should do so. The younger rabbits admired Campion. He made no enemies. They considered him a unique asset to the warren. You were not really respected until you had done a few Patrols.

In the event, he stayed on until he became an accepted institution: a gaunt, gray rabbit somewhat given to entrusting Patrol leadership to his best and most reliable followers, although what every learner wanted was to be taught by
him. “Anyone can do it once they’ve learned how,” he used to say. “A lot of them can do it better than me.” But it was not true, and his standards remained as exacting as ever.

For one quality in particular they all thought the world of him: he never carped. He never said the equivalent of “These young rabbits nowadays, they’re not like we used to be.” On the contrary, he was warm and full of encouraging praise for his youngsters. “But don’t start thinking you’re good,” he would add. “It’s not me, it’s the elil who’ll show you whether you’re any good when you come across them. And you can’t afford to be wrong. You realize that, don’t you?”

He died on a Patrol, as he would have wished. One showery afternoon in April, out beyond Kingsclere, a Patrol he was leading encountered two wandering cats at close quarters. All five rabbits stood their ground, and there was a sharp tussle before the cats were glad enough to make their escape. Campion, however, was mortally wounded and died where he had fallen.

He, too, like Woundwort, in time became a legend. On dark, rainy evenings, if a benighted Patrol became lost and uncertain, a spirit of confidence would enter the leader’s heart and guide them home. This they knew to be Captain Campion, onetime hero of Efrafa, but no less a hero to the rabbits of Watership Down.