Keep your balance!

Rain, rain, rain. Hans is soaked to the bone. All morning he’s been hauling heavy beer barrels, slippery with water. He’s had enough! He walks over to the journeyman, who stands dry under the roof by Enhjørningsgården, noting down how many barrels have been brought ashore today.
“Would it be all right, sir, if I take a quick trip to the privy?” Hans asks.
The journeyman nods absentmindedly, eyes on his papers.

Hans heads for a small shed standing right at the edge of the wharf. That’s where people do their business—straight into Vågen, together with fish guts and rubbish. “No wonder the water’s so murky and foul!” Hans thinks as he sits down. He tries not to imagine what must be lying down there on the bottom. Still, it feels good to get a short break from the heavy work.

“Hey!” a voice calls from the corner. It’s Rattus, washing himself with his little paws.
“Are you done yet?”
“I just sat down!” Hans answers. “I needed a little pause.”
“Hurry up then. I’ll wait outside!” Rattus says, whisking out the door.

It grows quiet for a moment.
“Finished now?” he nags from outside.
“No!” Hans snaps.
Ten seconds pass.
“How about now?”
“Shush!”
“Now?”

Rattus doesn’t give up. Hans sighs, finishes quickly, and steps back out into the filthy weather.
“Why do you always have to pester me like that, Rattus?”
But Rattus doesn’t answer—he’s already darted ahead to a small boat tied to the wharf.

“This is where the competition begins!” he announces proudly.
“Competition?” Hans asks. What has that rat come up with now?
“We’ll see who’s best at jumping from boat to boat—all the way out to that ship!” Rattus points with his tail.

Hans squints and sees a German galiot moored at the far end of Vågen. Between the little boat near him and that ship out there, the harbor is packed so tightly with vessels that you can barely see the water between them.

“I don’t have time for this, Rattus! I’ve got ships to moor, cargo to carry, fish to sort. The journeyman will be angry. A ship boy never gets time off!”

But before he can say more, Rattus shouts: “Ready! Set! Go!” With a leap, the rat scurries along the gunwale of the small boat, then springs gracefully onto the next.

Hans has to move fast if he wants even the slightest chance of winning. He steps onto the first boat—it rocks violently under his weight. He takes two big strides to the bow and jumps to the next. Rattus is already three boats ahead.

“Unfair contest!” Hans yells. “This is way harder for me than for you!” The decks are so wet and slippery he can hardly get a foothold. Rattus looks back smugly.
“You’re losing!”

Hans clenches his teeth and pushes forward as quickly as he can.

Then suddenly, he sees Rattus lose control. The rat skids across the slick deck of a Nordlands boat—SPLASH! He vanishes into the cold, dark water.

“Rattus!” Hans cries, but there’s no reply. He scrambles onto the Nordlands boat and peers over the side. Nothing. Panic rises in his chest. He leans out as far as he dares, plunging his hand into the icy, filthy water. Something brushes against him—he grabs it and hauls it up.

A fish head, eyeless, gapes stupidly at him.
“Ugh!” He flings it away. But where is Rattus? Has he drowned?
“Rattus!” Hans calls again, close to tears.

“Yes? What are you shouting for?”

Hans spins around. There’s Rattus, filthy and dripping wet, grinning with his yellow teeth as he pulls an eggshell from his ear.

“You’re alive!” Hans sobs, tears mixing with the rain on his cheeks.
“Of course I’m alive! You think I’d die from a little swim?” Rattus shakes himself, sending trash and brown muck flying everywhere. A lump of something lands right under Hans’s nose. The stench is awful—he doesn’t even want to know what it is.

But it doesn’t matter. Hans is too relieved he hasn’t lost his friend.
“We wharf rats are the best swimmers in the world!” Rattus crows. “But you, Hans—you’re a terrible boat jumper. Better watch out so you don’t fall in. Oh, and by the way… I won!”