What Eustace thought had best be told in his own words， for when they all got their clothes back， dried， next morning， he at once got out a little black notebook and a pencil and started to keep a diary. He always had this notebook with him and kept a record of his marks in it， for though he didn‘t care much about any subject for its own sake， he cared a great deal about marks and would even go to people and say， “I got so much. What did you get？” But as he didn’t seem likely to get many marks on the Dawn Treader he now started a diary. This was the first entry：
August 7Have now been twenty-four hours on this ghastly boat if it isn‘t a dream. All the time a frightful storm has been raging （it’s a good thing I‘m not seasick）. Huge waves keep coming in over the front
and I have seen the boat nearly go under any number of times. All the others pretend to take no notice of this， either from swank or because Harold says one of the most cowardly things ordinary people do is to shut their eyes to Facts. It’s madness to come out into the sea in a rotten little thing like this. Not much bigger than a lifeboat. And， of course， absolutely primitive indoors. No proper saloon， no radio， no bathrooms， no deck-chairs. I was dragged all over it yesterday evening and it would make anyone sick to hearCaspian showing off his funny little toy boat as if it was the Queen Mary. I tried to tell him what real ships are like， but he‘s too dense.
E. and L.， of course， didn’t back me up. I suppose a kid like L. doesn‘t realize the danger and E. is buttering up C. as everyone does here. They call him a King. I said I was a republican but he had to ask me what that meant！ He doesn’t seem to know anything at all. Needless to say I‘ve been put in the worst cabin of the boat， a perfect dungeon， and Lucy has been given a whole room on deck to herself， almost a nice room compared with the rest of this place. C. says that’s because she‘s a girl. I tried to make him see what Alberta says， that all that sort of thing is really lowering girls， but he was too dense. Still， he might see that I shall be ill if I’m kept in that hole any longer. E. says we mustn‘t grumble because C. is sharing it with us himself to make room for L. As if that didn’t make it more crowded and far worse. Nearly forgot to say that there is also a kind of Mouse thing that gives everyone the most frightful cheek. The others can put up with it if they like but I shall twist his tail pretty soon if he tries it on me. The food is frightful too.
The trouble between Eustace and Reepicheep arrived even sooner than might have been expected. Before dinner next day， when the others were sitting round the table ， waiting （being at sea gives one a magnificent appetite）， Eustace came rushing in， wringing his hands and shouting out：
“That little brute has half killed me. I insist on it being kept under control. I could bring an action against you， Caspian. I could order you to have it destroyed.”
At the same moment Reepicheep appeared. His sword was drawn and his whiskers looked very fierce but he was as polite as ever.
“I ask your pardons all，” he said， “and especially her Majesty‘s. If I had known that he would take refuge here I would have awaited a more reasonable time for his correction.”
“What on earth’s up？” asked Edmund.
What had really happened was this. Reepicheep， who never felt that the ship was getting on fast enough， loved to sit on the bulwarks far forwards just beside the dragon‘s head， gazing out at the eastern horizon and singing softly in his little chirruping voice the song the Dryad had made for him. He never held on to anything， however the ship pitched， and kept his balance with perfect ease； perhaps his long tail， hanging down to the deck inside the bulwarks， made this easier. Everyone on board was familiar with this habit， and the sailors liked it because when one was on look-out duty it gave one somebody to talk to. Why exactly Eustace had slipped and reeled and stumbled all the way forward to the forecastle （he had not yet got his sea-legs） I never heard. Perhaps he hoped he would see land， or perhaps he wanted to hang about the galley and scrounge something. Anyway， as soon as he saw that long tail hanging down-and perhaps it was rather tempting-he thought it would be delightful to catch hold of it， swing Reepicheep round by it once or twice upside-down， then run away and laugh. At first the plan seemed to work beautifully. The Mouse was not much heavier than a very large cat. Eustace had him off the rail in a trice and very silly he looked （thought Eustace） with his little limbs all splayed out and his mouth open. But unfortunately Reepicheep， who had fought for his life many a time， never lost his head even for a moment. Nor his skill. It is not very easy to draw one’s sword when one is swinging round in the air by one‘s tail， but he did. And the next thing Eustace knew was two agonizing jabs in his hand which made him let go of the tail； and the next thing after that was that the Mouse had picked itself up again as if it were a ball bouncing off the deck， and there it was facing him， and a horrid long， bright， sharp thing like a skewer was waving to and fro within an inch of his stomach. （Thisdoesn’t count as below the belt for mice in Narnia because they can hardly be expected to reach higher.）
“Stop it，” spluttered Eustace， “go away. Put that thing away. It‘s not safe. Stop it， I say. I’ll tell Caspian. I‘ll have you muzzled and tied up.”
“Why do you not draw your own sword， poltroon？” cheeped the Mouse. “Draw and fight or I’ll beat you black and blue with the flat.”
“I haven‘t got one，” said Eustace. “I’m a pacifist. I don‘t believe in fighting.”
“Do I understand，” said Reepicheep， with-drawing his sword for a moment and speaking very sternly， “that you do not intend to give me satisfaction？”