DOWN TO THE SEA
Calling upon the power of a dolphin, Raphael walked down into the sea.
When the green water closed over his head, he realized that he had
entered a new world, as strange as the earth which he had left. He
took a breath cautiously and found that he could breathe. I wonder, he
thought, whether the fish know that there is another world on top of
the water, and that there are other worlds even beyond that.
Raphael climbed slowly down a great cinder cliff to which clung odd
mosses and seaweed. He was looking for some sign of life in the silent
depths when he stumbled carelessly over a rock and started to fall. It
was then he noticed for the first time the peculiar nature of the land
he was in. Instead of falling, he tipped forward and settled gently
through the water face down. Why, thought Raphael, this is like flying.
And he swam a few strokes.
At the bottom of the cliff, he sat down to rest in a large bush of
seaweed which floated soft green branches toward him. He was out of
breath.
‘Be careful,’ said a voice at his elbow as he was about to settle back
comfortably. ‘There is a sea urchin almost underneath you.’
Raphael struggled to his feet as fast as he could. He saw no living
thing, however, until he looked up. Above him finned a large pop-eyed
fish which stared down at him coldly.
‘Oh,’ said Raphael, ‘I didn’t expect to see you there.’
‘Didn’t you?’ asked the fish sarcastically.
Raphael flushed, but replied politely. ‘May I ask, Sir or Madam, what a
sea urchin is?’
The fish eyed him angrily. ‘My name is Mary Cod.’
And she pointed to a little round creature like a black pincushion with
long spines.
‘I beg your pardon,’ answered Raphael humbly. ‘I suppose I should have
recognized you.’
‘You could not be expected to know me,’ sneered the cod in a temper.
‘We look quite different on a dinner-table.’
Raphael was shocked at this. He thought it a joke in rather poor taste.
‘Miss Cod,’ he began, ‘I am sorry to have....’
‘Miss Cod, indeed!’ mouthed the codfish. ‘Tommy, Walter, Archibald,
Augustus, Percy, Angela, Peter, William, and Mary, come here this
minute.’
And Mrs. Cod sailed off, wriggling her fins indignantly, followed by
her family, which dawdled indolently behind, opening and shutting their
mouths.
I wonder if they all belong to her, thought Raphael. They look more
like a school of fish on a lecture tour or an outing.
He was regretting that he had not asked her more about life under the
sea, and where he might find the King or the President of the ocean,
when a small voice fluted in his ear:
‘Do I understand, young man, that you would like to see the President?’
[Illustration: ‘MISS COD, INDEED!’ MOUTHED THE CODFISH]
Again Raphael, startled, looked helplessly about. He was not yet
accustomed to the semi-twilight of the ocean. All he saw were the rocks
down which he had tumbled, and the lacy branches of the seaweed which
pulsed slowly back and forth with the ocean current. He looked up, but
could see nothing except long rays of green light which filtered in
broad bands through the water.
‘Do I understand, young man, that you would like to see the President?’
repeated the voice patiently.
Then Raphael discovered a sea horse hovering like a humming bird so
close to his ear that he had to turn his head to see him. He balanced
upright like a ribbed celluloid toy, and held a branch of green weed in
his tail.
‘I want to see the President very much,’ answered Raphael hastily.
‘Follow me,’ said the sea horse. ‘I have the honor of being Equerry to
the President.’ He started to swim away.
Raphael rose heavily, and, moving his arms in a swimming motion,
followed his guide as rapidly as he could. They went up a steep ridge
and came to a plateau covered with sea grass which moved with the
ocean current like a field of wheat in the wind. As they hurried along,
Raphael saw black shadows drift slowly back and forth, nosing the grass.
‘What are those, Mr. Sea Horse?’ he asked.
‘They are sharks, Mr. Raphael.’
‘Oh,’ said Raphael nervously, and looked about for a bush to hide in.
The sea horse noticed this.
‘They won’t hurt you,’ he said, waiting for Raphael to catch up. ‘They
are far too lazy.’
Raphael and the sea horse swam forward side by side. Now that he was
more used to this strange method of walking, he found that he could
travel quite easily.
‘I met Mrs. Cod,’ he said by way of conversation.
The sea horse laughed without changing his expression. ‘I suppose she
was as cross as usual. She has come south for the winter and has been
complaining of the heat and her family ever since. She belongs farther
north, and not in these semi-tropical waters at all,’ the sea horse
went on to explain, ‘and her family is really quite a trial. Of course
they aren’t all hers. Most fish don’t ever see their children.’
While they were talking, Raphael and the sea horse crossed the
plateau and started to descend. The way became rough, and gigantic,
moss-covered boulders blocked the path. The seaweed grew thicker,
tangling into a rich brown and green jungle of limp branches through
which Raphael found it increasingly difficult to force his way. Great
lava mountains towered above them in ropy hills and cliffs, or overhung
black pits which the rays of the sun could not pierce.
‘Where does the President live?’ asked Raphael after a long silence.
‘Not far from here. I suppose you know that they are all expecting you.’
‘Who is expecting me?’
‘His Excellency, the Cabinet, and the Admirals of the North and South
Atlantic.’
‘Really?’ said Raphael, who had ceased to be surprised at anything.
‘Who told them I was coming?’
‘Gæa, the Queen Mother, sent us word,’ answered the sea horse as he
dipped his body respectfully.
He seemed disinclined to say more and Raphael politely changed the
subject.
‘Would you mind telling me your President’s name?’
‘Willingly,’ answered the sea horse. ‘The President of the Atlantic
democracy is His Excellency, Mr. Albert Right Whale. He was elected, as
you may have heard, on account of his size.’
‘Is the Pacific a democracy also?’ asked Raphael.
‘Oh, dear, no,’ replied the sea horse proudly.
Just then the path they were following joined a broad highway of
white sand which ran between two high mountains. Along this road swam
thousands of fish, more fish than Raphael had ever seen. For the most
part they drifted along in schools: gray snappers, muttonfish, and red
and black groupers. Occasionally Raphael and his guide passed a sting
ray asleep like a mottled fungus on the ocean floor. And once they
came upon an immense octopus shambling along on his knuckles.
The road gradually narrowed to a gateway between two walls of black
obsidian. Most of the fish made no effort to pass this barrier, but
swam slowly in a circle about the entrance. Many of them turned away
and drifted silently back the way they had come like ghosts.
‘Here we are,’ said the sea horse. ‘Follow me.’
[Illustration]