The Narwhal was once again preparing to set sail.
The rats seemed to sense the loss of their leader. Their morale hit rock bottom. With drooping ears, they bit each other's tails, crawling onto the deck in long chains.
"Mother, you don't have to see me off. Please, go home. The ship has a new telegraph now, so I'll send a message every so often to let you know I'm safe," West said awkwardly to his mother, who was tugging at his clothes on the dock.
West felt a bit embarrassed when he saw the other crew members watching them from the deck.
"My son, are you sure you won't reconsider the postman job? Going to sea is just too dangerous," his mother pleaded, still trying to persuade him.
"Mom, it's really fine. Look, I've been out to sea several times and I'm still alive and well, aren't I?"
