ON a beautiful clear lake swam a large family of Ducks. At the head of
them all was the Mother-Duck, quacking proudly, and all the ducklings
tried to imitate her voice, which they considered superior to that of
the nightingale.
“Quack! Quack!” said she--“We have had enough of the water to-day. Let
us swim to shore and see what kind of dinner we can pick up.”
Thereupon she turned briskly towards the land, and all her children
dutifully followed her example, except the two youngest, who were very
wilful and obstinate.
“What greedy creatures you are!” they cackled,--“Never can five minutes
pass in peace without your wanting something to eat! We do not intend
to come on shore; no! we shall remain here on the water and swim about
by ourselves.”
“Naughty children!” screamed old Mother-Duck--“Come to me directly!
The first lesson of life is obedience to your parents, so just come on
shore at once!”
“Oh, bother you!” replied the two rude young ducklings--“You are an old
Silly! Yes--we repeat it,--an old Silly! You know nothing. What! Are we
going to obey you? No, indeed! We are much too clever for that,--much
wiser than you are, and that’s the sober truth. So leave off scolding,
if you please, for we mean to stay where we are.”
Now under the waters of the lake lived a little sprite, a good fairy,
who hated naughty, disobedient children, as all good fairies do. And
when he heard the ducklings, how they talked so rudely to their mother,
he determined to punish them for their ill-manners.
“Tiresome little things!” he thought--“They want a lesson; and a
lesson, and a sharp one too they shall have!”
With this, in the twinkling of an eye, he turned them into a pair of
wooden shoes, and threw them on the shore in a heap of sand and mud.
There they lay, quite dumb and unable to move. The old Duck and the
rest of her family, seeing them disappear so suddenly, thought they
had dived under the water to hide themselves. So without more ado, they
waddled away with a great noise, cackling and lamenting over the wicked
disobedience that had been shown by these two youngest ducklings to
their Mother, who had been so kind to them. Meanwhile, they themselves
lay in the mud quite still, no longer beautiful and shiny ducks, but
only wooden shoes, and very ugly ones too.
The worst of it all was, that, shoes as they were, they suffered
dreadfully from a desire to swim, and thus suffering they said to
themselves,--
“Oh! if we could only get into the water! If some one would put us
in--just for an instant!”
But they wished and sighed in vain, for an old peasant who was passing
by at this moment caught sight of them and exclaimed,--
“Hullo! hullo! here are shoes! Yes, _shoes_, as I am a living man!
Now this is what I call a lucky find!”
With these words he put them on, and walked away in the greatest state
of excitement. But the shoes were much too small for him,--they
pinched his gouty toes and made him altogether very uncomfortable, so
on reaching home he told his wife he had bought her a nice pair of
wooden shoes.
“I hope they will fit you,” he said--“I have often noticed, my dear,
how the old shoes you wear let in the damp--now these will keep you
warm and comfortable!”
The old wife tried them on. She was delighted with them. They fitted
her to a T, as the saying is, and with hearty words and big tears of
gratitude in her eyes, she thanked her tender husband again and again.
He received these thanks in a very sly manner, for he knew in his heart
that he did not altogether deserve them.
“I have,” he said inwardly, “given her something which cost me
nothing,--absolutely nothing!” But he kept this to himself and
smiled very good-humouredly, and thought--“Yes, yes! She ought to be
grateful--of course she ought. And she _is_ grateful. Ha! ha! That
is the best of it!”
The next morning the old woman went down to the river to fetch a
pitcher of water, and on her way she observed that her shoes were very
muddy.
“I will wash them in the river,” she thought, “and then my husband
will see what care I take of them--”
No sooner said than done. The shoes were put in the water,--but what
was her astonishment, and her fright too, when she saw them swimming
away as fast as they could go! The fact is that the transformed ducks
no sooner found themselves in the water than they felt compelled to
swim--to swim, as it were, for life and death. And on they went, and
on and on, quite heedless of the poor old woman who sat down on the
shore and cried bitterly. Her shoes had now gone away so far that they
looked to her no bigger than bits of floating cork; and while she was
lamenting and crying, her husband came suddenly upon her. When he was
informed of what happened he gave her a good beating for letting the
shoes go so easily, and then he starved her all day to make up (as he
said) for the price of them. Ah! what a kind man he was!
Meanwhile the shoes went sailing away, and never once stopped to
inquire where they were going, till suddenly they struck against some
obstacle in the water. It was the blade of an oar, and they immediately
saw that they were close to a small rowing-boat, in which sat two
children,--a girl of about ten or eleven years of age, and her brother,
a sturdy lad some five or six years older. The little girl leaned
over the side of the boat to see what had happened to the oar, and
exclaimed,--
“Oh, look! A pair of shoes! A pair of wooden shoes! What a funny thing
to find a pair of shoes in the sea!”
Laughing merrily, she reached out her hand, and caught the shoes, one
after the other, and lifted them into the boat.
“They are actually quite new,” said her brother, examining them with
curiosity. “And I do believe they will just fit you. Try them on--” And
he put one on his sister’s little foot. It fitted beautifully, so she
put on the other, and then both children laughed aloud,--clear ringing
laughter, like the tinkling of silver bells in a sledge.
“This is a good day’s fishing!” exclaimed the little girl. “Wooden
shoes are not exactly pretty, but they are strong and useful, and these
will save mother buying me a new pair. They come at the right time,
too, for mine are worn into holes!”
As soon as the children landed, they ran home to tell their adventure.
Their home was a hut on the sea-shore, and a very poor hut it was, for
their father was only a fisherman, and they, with their mother, helped
him to earn a living by making and mending the nets. The good mother
smiled when she saw her little daughter return--she looked so bright
and happy, and so proud of her wooden shoes.
“It is a lucky fishing,” she said--“and I will say nothing to spoil
your pleasure, my little one; though your father told me to give you
and Denis a scolding--”
Denis flushed angrily.
“Why, mother?” he inquired--“Why should we be scolded?”
“Nay, Denis,” said the mother gravely; “you should not ask, for you
know the reason well enough. Your father has forbidden you to go out in
the boat after dark, and yet you _will_ do it, and what is worse,
you take your little sister into the same danger as yourself,--and, as
for you, Nanette,” she added, turning to the child, who stood silent
and ashamed, “I wonder how you can be so naughty! I have told you never
to go out at night with your brother. He does not know enough about
the coast and the hidden rocks, on which many a brave ship has struck
and foundered. But you are both so wild and wilful because you know I
have too much to do to be always on the watch for your foolish pranks.
You care nothing for your mother. Now that you are so pleased with the
wooden shoes, I foresee what will happen. You will be always on the
water, trying to find something else,--and some day you will both be
drowned. Come, Nanette, be a good child, and promise me, at any rate,
that you will not go out in the boat after sunset. Denis will not care
to go alone, and so you will both be obedient. Come, come, promise me!”
“I promise you, mother,” said Nanette in a low voice.
Denis said nothing, and both children looked sad and sullen. As for
the wooden shoes, the excitement about them soon subsided, though
Nanette continued to wear them all day,--but they themselves noticed
how reluctantly the little feet of their wearer seemed to run on the
various domestic errands required,--and in what a petulant humour the
golden-haired little Nanette seemed to be.
Night came at last, and the lovely moon rode high in the heavens,
looking as round and bright as a silver shield. Every tiny wavelet on
the sea was tipped with light, and here and there a deeper line of
radiance showed plainly where the phosphorescent fish were gambolling
and darting to and fro under the water. On the shore stood Denis, the
fisherman’s son. He was stealthily at work, unfastening the moorings
of his father’s skiff, and every now and then he glanced towards the
hut in fear lest his parents should be on the watch. But the little
home was shut for the night, and all was dark and silent. Carefully
and almost noiselessly, young Denis pushed the boat towards the edge
of the water, and then he ran swiftly to one of the windows of the hut
and tapped softly. In another moment Nanette appeared, and with her
brother’s help, she climbed through the window, and soon stood beside
him. She wore her wooden shoes--and oh, how unhappy they felt! How they
wished they could say, “Nanette! dear little Nanette! don’t disobey
your mother!”
But they could only creak a faint disapproval as she ran along the
shore in eager and feverish haste to be out with her brother on that
sparkling and beautiful ocean. Quite forgetful of her promise to
her mother, she laughed in sheer enjoyment of her own naughtiness
and wilfulness, and as Denis pushed out the boat and rowed quickly
and steadily away from land, she clapped her hands in excitement and
exclaimed,--
“Oh, what a lovely night! What a shame it would be to stay in bed while
the moon is shining so brightly!”
“Yes,” replied Denis, as he bent to the oars and rowed as swiftly as he
could--“Father is very unkind to wish to prevent us enjoying ourselves.
We do no harm.”
“Besides,” added Nanette, “even if the sea _did_ get rough, you
know how to manage a boat in a storm, don’t you?”
“Of course,” said Denis confidently--“But there’s no fear of a storm
to-night. We are safe enough.”
As he spoke there came a sudden crash and crack--they had gone straight
on a sharp rock!--a treacherous rock, hidden in the waves and unknown
to any but experienced sailors. Their boat was splitting! The water
rushed in--Denis looked about him in despair. They were three or four
miles from the shore--poor Nanette screamed loudly.
“Be quiet!” cried her brother; “I will save you, dear! I can swim!”
And, flinging off all the clothes that might impede his movements, he
threw one strong arm round his sister, who was now speechless with
terror, and plunging boldly into the waves with her, made gallant
efforts to reach the land. As they left it, their boat parted asunder
and broke in pieces. Oh, what fearful moments were those in which the
unhappy children struggled for life and death, battling with the cruel
sea!
Thoughts of their mother,--the disobedience they had shown towards
her,--the picture of her despair and sorrow when she should hear of
their dreadful end,--all the little touching memories of home swarmed
thickly in upon them,--and Nanette gasped for breath.
“Are we going to die?” she muttered feebly.
“Yes, dear,” said poor Denis, “I am afraid so. My strength is going. I
can’t swim any more.”
Then came a terrible moment, when all around them seemed of a blood-red
colour--then it changed to a vivid green. The moon itself, the sky,
the stars, all became green as the green water,--then gradually the
arms of Denis relaxed, and the poor children sank together, down, down
to their deaths. The moon shone, and the stars sparkled as brilliantly
as ever, and only the floating pieces of the little boat remained on
the rippling sea. Only the wreck?--No--there was something else,--the
wooden shoes! They had been loosened by the movement of the waves from
the feet of the poor little Nanette, and there they were, on their
travels as before. They felt dreadfully miserable, and were very much
shocked and frightened at the sudden and tragic end of their late owner.
“She disobeyed her mother,” thought they,--and they quivered and
creaked as the water carried them along, for they remembered their
own disobedience when they were ducklings; but they had not much time
to think seriously, for they were now in the open sea, and they were
obliged to go at a very rapid rate. After several days and nights of
journeying without any fresh adventures, they arrived at a part of the
ocean where a dreadful storm was raging. The sky was black as ink,
and the thunder rolled and crashed among the clouds in a frightful
manner. Suddenly a blaze of red fire sprang up into the sky--then
another and another, and the shoes saw they were signal rockets from
a ship in distress. Swimming on and on, they at last perceived an
enormous vessel rocking to and fro on the mountainous waves, and they
heard her tall masts fall, splintered by the lightning. Suddenly there
came a great crash,--a gurgling noise,--and then all was over. Now and
then the shoes saw some unhappy creature struggling with the great
waves for a few seconds and then sucked down in an abyss to certain
destruction. They were very much terrified at this dreadful scene, and
they were trying to swim out of it as fast as possible, when they found
themselves clutched by a man’s hand, probably in mistake for a plank or
spar. The man was in the last agonies of drowning, and as he released
his grasp of the wooden shoes, a flash of lightning illumined for a
moment his ghastly and contorted features. Struggling to lift himself
above the riotous and lofty billows, he cried, “Mother! mother! forgive
my long disobedience!”
And with this last supreme effort of strength, the unfortunate sailor
sank and was lost for ever.
The wooden shoes were now completely horrified at the awful sights it
had been their lot to see.
“What an experience!” they said to themselves--“Oh, how much better to
be ducks than shoes! Surely no happy duck in a pond ever witnessed such
scenes! The life of a duck in a pond is so peaceful--so placid!”
“Oh, if they had never disobeyed their good, kind Mother-Duck,” they
thought!--but, in spite of their recollections, they were compelled to
go swimming on as they were, and so they got carried by a cross current
out of the ocean down a great river, and out of the great river into a
smaller one, and out of that into a lake,--a beautiful clear lake which
they seemed to remember. As they floated along pleasant memories came
into them, and they felt as if something strange was about to happen.
Suddenly they saw a beautiful duck with shining feathers coming towards
them, and they nearly jumped out of the water in their excitement, for
they moaned creakily to themselves,--
“We were ducks once! we were ducks once!”
“Yes,” said a soft voice near--“Poor little Nanette was alive once,
but she disobeyed her mother, and now where is she?”