some more down, while he addressed her in beautiful and touching
phrases, and then they went out again, for he simply could not stay at
home in the nest.
But they had not gone half-way when she felt another egg coming and
told him so.
“You had better stay up there in the nest,” he said, crossly. “This
running to and fro does not amuse me and is bad for the children’s
health.”
“Won’t you stay with me?” she asked.
“I’ll come and have a look at you as often as I can,” he said.
“And that’s the way you keep the promises you made me!” said she and
burst into tears.
“My own darling little wife!” he said. “I can’t help you the least
little bit with the eggs. You’ve got to lay them and lay them you must.
My work for our dear children and for yourself will begin when the eggs
are all laid and you have started hatching them. And then, of course,
when the little darlings come out, they will have to be fed and taught
how to get on in the world. I am saving up my strength till that time
comes, you see. And then I will sit on the eggs, while you go for a
nice little trip and play about with the others down below.”
“Did you ever hear the like?” said auntie. “How beautifully he talks!
You’ve got a really nice husband.”
And so the young wife went back to the nest alone and laid her third
egg. Auntie flew down to the beach with the husband:
“I’ll look after him, dear,” she whispered; “trust me for that.”
And then the fourth egg came and the fifth.
She had plucked all the feathers from her breast that she thought she
could spare and placed them in a nice little, mouse-gray heap around
the eggs. Then she sat upon them herself and brooded and brooded. At
first, from time to time, she went to the edge of the cliff to look
down at the beach, where her husband was with the other men and the
ladies who had no eggs. But she did this less and less often. She took
no food, grew thin and brooded and brooded. Her aunt called every day
to have a chat with her.
4
One day, the husband came and sat down by the nest. He looked very
spruce with his green neck and his bright eyes.
“Well, how are you getting on?” he asked.
“I despise you,” she said. “Go away and never show your face to me
again. You coaxed me with your fair promises and not one of them have
you kept. I have had to pluck all the down I wanted from my own breast.
I’ve been sitting here alone, day after day, while you’ve been amusing
yourself with all those revellers on the beach. You haven’t brought me
a bite of food.”
“Tush!” he said, scratching in the sand with his fine, yellow feet.
“I shall be pleased to bring you a small mussel from time to time, if
that gives you any satisfaction. But, for goodness’ sake, don’t be so
formal! Do you really imagine that men weigh their words when they’re
engaged?”
“Get out of this!” she screamed. “I don’t want my children to see their
unnatural father.”
“Oh, as for that, I wouldn’t give a straw to see that callow brood,” he
replied. “And, upon my word, you’re no beauty yourself! You’re so lean
and full of bald spots. You’re very different from the pretty girl I
fell in love with.”
She was about to fly up out of the nest and give him one for himself;
but she lay as though rooted to the floor and stared at a man who put
his head over the edge of the cliff. Her husband flew away with a loud
scream and auntie did the same. But the man hardly gave them a glance.
He scrambled up the rock and set down a great basket, which he carried,
beside the nest.
“What a fine nest!” he said. “There’s down enough here to stuff a
little pillow with.”
“What do you want?” asked the eider-duck.
“I shan’t hurt you,” said the man. “It would be silly of me to do you
any harm; why, I put the box here for you myself. I only want the down
that’s in your nest.”
“Never!” cried the bird, spreading out her wings and holding on to the
nest as fast as she could. “What should I do with my children?”
“Why, pluck some more down from your pretty breast, my dear,” said the
man, kindly. “Now stand aside and let me get by, without any nonsense.
After all, I’m the stronger of the two and the nest belongs to me.”
But the young eider-duck did not stir from her place. She pecked at his
hands with her beak and cried:
“Go down to the beach and catch my husband and my old aunt! Kill them,
if you like, and take all their down. It’s only what they deserve. But
you must let my down be!”
“Stuff, my pet!” said the man. “The best down is what a mother plucks
from her breast. We all know that. And, if your children have to do
without, it will come in useful for other children, dainty little human
children, whose parents can afford to buy the softest little pillows
for them.”
“At least, wait until my children are ready!” cried the eider-duck in
despair.
“A nice thing!” said the man. “What, let you lie there and spoil the
down? Come, clear out!”
He pushed her aside, took all the down, put it in his basket and went
away, saying:
“Pluck some more feathers if you want them for your young. That’s what
a good mother always does.”
Then she went to the edge of the rock and looked out.
The eider-duck were disporting themselves gloriously. She could
distinctly see her husband and her aunt diving and amusing themselves
as though life were a sheer enjoyment. And all the others were doing
the same: not one of them thought that there was a man up above
emptying all the nests of their precious down.
“Come up here and pluck your breast!” she screamed. “Now is the time to
keep some of your promises. Your eggs are lying bare and cold, while
you are enjoying yourself down there, you wretch!”
But her voice died away in the noise of the wind and surf. No one
heard her cries or beheld her despair. She remembered that the eggs
were really getting cold, while she stood there, and she hurried back
to the nest.
One of the eggs began to burst and soon a tiny beak peeped out of the
hole in the shell. She now flew to help the little chap out. She stood
gazing at him for a moment and saw what a darling he was. And then,
like a mad thing, she began to pluck the last remaining feathers from
her breast and every part of her and laid them round the little fellow.
She ceased complaining and thought only of how she could make her
children warm and comfortable.
5
Two days later, all the five young ones were out.
The young mother saw with pride how smart they were. Already, they
stretched out their feet, which had a delicate web between the toes,
yawned, lifted their little wings and even quacked a bit.
“You must go to the beach at once,” she said. “I am sure that there
are no prettier children on the whole rock. But, should you meet your
wretch of a father, mind you look the other way.”
She went down the rock and the five little ones followed so nimbly that
it was a joy to see. Half-way down, she met her aunt:
“I was just coming up to see you,” said the old lady. “I say, what
darlings your five children are!”
“Aren’t they dears?” said the mother, who forgot all her rage when she
heard her aunt’s praises.
“Let me take one of them to walk with,” said auntie.
“Not while I live!” said the mother, severely. “I know too well how
flighty you are, auntie. My children are mine and nobody else’s and
mine they shall remain.”
At that moment, a shot rang out through the air.
It was a silly shot, fired at random by a silly boy who wanted to show
off his father’s gun. But the gun was loaded and the shot spread and
Mother Eider-Duck sank to the ground with a scream.
“My young ones! My young ones!” she moaned.
“They’re all right, all five of them,” said auntie. “Be easy. But
what’s the matter?”
“I’m dying,” said the mother. “I am full of shot. I know for certain
that I’m dying. Oh, my children, my children!”
“Never mind about them,” said auntie. “I shall be a mother to them in
your stead and look after them as if they were my own.”
“Oh, auntie,” said the mother, in a feeble voice, “you are so terribly
frivolous. I have seen you myself from up there, playing and fooling
about with the men and the girls on the beach. How can a mother trust
her children to you?”
“What do you mean?” asked auntie. “Surely, it’s quite different when
one has children to care for. You just die in peace, do you hear?”
And that is what Mother Eider-Duck did.
She sank into herself and only just had time to take a last look at
her children. But her aunt did not even wait till she was quite dead.
She forgot everything, except that she had suddenly got five beautiful
children, and at once walked off with them to the beach. She knew the
nearest way, because she had already been there several times with
children. She made the road easy for them and helped them in every
possible manner, fondling them with her beak and praising or scolding
them according to their deserts.
By the time that their mother had closed her eyes, the children were
down on the beach.
They at once swam and dived in a way that was a joy to see. Auntie
watched over them and almost burst with pride. An old beau came up and
asked her to take a walk with him, but she gave him a smart rap with
her beak:
“Don’t you see the children, you old coxcomb?” she said. “Get out of
this, or I’ll teach you!”
And she remained with the children until they were able to take care of
themselves. She travelled to the South with them, winter after winter,
and listened to the men courting them and befooling them, just as their
father had done to their mother. She showed them good places for their
nests, paid wedding-visits and was honoured and esteemed all over the
rock, until, one day, a sea-eagle came and caught her and gobbled her
up.
THE END
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Danish: _Edderkop_.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or alternate spelling has been retained from the original.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Spider and Other Tales, by Carl Ewald