IN THE FISH-KING'S REALM
It was only when they reached a meadow full of wild flowers, and the
Twins, worn out with their long run, lay down to rest, that Dulcie
remarked with a sigh of relief--
"We never do seem to be so safe as when we are us!"
"We won't be Birds nor Beasts any more," replied Cyril. "Hark! What's
that snoring so loud?"
"It's not snoring. I believe it's the waves!" Saying which Dulcie jumped
up and Cyril did the same. The children found the meadow they were in
was on a cliff, and that below were far-reaching sands, and in the
distance heaved the glorious deep blue sea.
They clapped their hands and danced with delight, and when that
performance was over they carefully descended the steps cut in the face
of the cliff which led down to the shore.
Very soon their shoes and stockings were slung round their necks, and
they were running over the hot sand to where the wavelets came rippling
to meet their little feet.
So immersed were they in paddling that it was a little time before they
noticed some one sitting amongst the rocks which peeped out of the
surface of the ocean a short distance away. A hand was beckoning to
them, and thinking it might be some one who wanted help, Cyril declared
he would go to the rescue, and began to wade towards the spot.
Dulcie, fearful of his going alone, and not wishing to be left behind in
the adventure, hurried next to him. The current was rather strong and
the water got deeper as they went; but they didn't think of their
clothes (which were no longer wholly dry), but only of the rescue. When
they reached the rocks they found to their surprise a very quaint figure
calmly seated there, who motioned them in a very grand manner to a place
on each side of him. "Pray be seated. Good morning!"
"Good morning!" exclaimed the visitors politely, taking the places
indicated.
"Good afternoon!" said the Fish-King. "Do you mind holding my crown one
moment, my dear?"
Dulcie took it with awe. He was a very fine gentleman indeed, and the
two children couldn't help staring at him as he smoothed his hair in
silence. He was short and stout, in a costume not unlike that of
Harlequin in the pantomime, only the colouring was green and blue. His
goggle green eyes and wide, down-drawn mouth made him look comically
like a carp, whilst the pointed wisp of white beard on his chin and the
four long white hairs he was winding round his bald head were not really
an improvement to his appearance.
"Thank you kindly, my dear," he said as he took his crown and put it on.
It was beautifully made, entirely of the loveliest small shells, and
when he wore it he looked every inch just what he happened to be.
In spite of his queer face, the two visitors felt quite at ease with
him, and were sure that with such a pleasant voice, too, he must be very
nice indeed.
"What are you King of?" inquired Dulcie with a friendly smile.
"Of the fish," he answered, patting her cheek. "I'm right glad to see
you."
Suddenly remembering, the little couple at once donned their shoes and
stockings as a sign of respect.
"It's very healthy, I suppose," remarked Dulcie, "living out at sea like
this?"
"I suppose so, my lady," answered the Fish-King drily. Dulcie liked
being called "my lady." "Except," he continued thoughtfully, "for an
occasional attack of shingles I don't ail much." Then turning to Cyril
he asked: "How's that old rascal of a Wizard? laughing in his
dressing-gown, eh?"
"I'm sorry I don't know, your Majesty," replied the boy, surprised at
the question and the way it was put.
"You will soon get to know me. I only hope you may not be disappointed.
You certainly wouldn't have been disappointed with my ancestor."
"Who's your ancestor?" asked Dulcie bluntly. "Was he a King-fisher too?"
"Not at all. He was Neptune."
"Where did he live?"
"In Imagination."
"Where's that?"
Cyril raised his eyebrows at her lack of manners.
"You turn to the right," answered his Majesty patiently, with a gesture
that way, "follow your nose, mount a hill north of the Fore Head, and
there you are. See?"
The Twins couldn't think what answer to make--though he seemed to expect
one--so they gave a little nervous laugh.
"Just see, there's a dear boy," said the Fish-King kindly, in order to
change the subject--"just see if you've got a copy of the _Financial
Market_ about you, will you? Or maybe you know what the Financial Time
is? That would do quite as well. Oh, beg pardon--I see you've no watch
on; pawnbroken, eh?"
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean; I've never heard of all that,"
admitted Cyril.
"But you _have_ heard there's been another slump!"
"What?" ventured Dulcie.
"In what? Why, in Seaweed, of course. Just my luck. Fishy transactions
never do pay, though they always promise to. But," he added, rousing
himself, dismal still, "you must both come down soon and have a cup of
sea or something--it's my birthday, and there's going to be jinks
below."
"Birthday! How delightful!" said Dulcie.
"Why, how old can you possibly be?" asked Cyril, "if it's not impolite
to ask."
"Quite right. Let me see," said the Fish-King thoughtfully. "Ah, now I
remember. I'm just several millions of years--it takes a little time to
fix the number exactly--and eleven days."
"That _is_ old, Sire," murmured Dulcie as she regained her breath, which
had been taken away at the idea of so many birthdays.
"Old? Nonsense, my lady."
"How can it be 'and eleven days' if it's your birthday, your Worship?"
asked Cyril, thinking he'd go one better than Sire.
"Because, my Philosopher, I prefer the new-fangled Calendar which puts
one on eleven days; in that way, when I'm told I don't look my age, I
know it's true, and not flattery. See?"
The children were not quite satisfied with the explanation.
Nevertheless, they were pleased to find it the most natural thing in the
world to be getting chummy with a Fish-King.
"Now, do come below waves and have a cup of sea or something," he
repeated, looking appealingly first at one and then at the other.
"Thank you very much," replied his little guests. "But," said the
cautious Dulcie, "sha'n't we be drownded?"
"You both have your catseyes on, I presume?" And his Majesty stared
anxiously in their faces. "Yes, I see you have. Very well, then. Sit
steady! Halloa there," shouting downwards. "Lift, please!" Then
muttering, "It's high time we went," he smiled. His smile was so
unutterably comic that it was to a merry burst of childish laughter that
all the rocks descended as quickly as the tide rose above them, and the
trio, smiling still, found themselves gently deposited at the bottom of
the Ocean.
"Wonderful thing water pressure!" remarked the Fish-King. Then, helping
them off the rocks, he added with a gracious wave of the hand, "Welcome
to my Domain!" And the Twins bowed so prettily that he appeared much
gratified.
"Ah!" he said, taking them by the hand and stopping still, "I see Fido.
Fido, Fido!" At his call a fine dog-fish came forward at a fast swim;
and its head was patted graciously, whilst its tail wagged with
contentment. "Now," resumed his Majesty, "we'll go to the Revels;" and
they proceeded at a smart walk as buoyantly through the clear water as
through air.
The sea-scape was perfectly beautiful, but as the Fish-King once more
seemed deep in melancholy, the Twins gazed silently around. They were
evidently walking along the King's Road, for it was wide enough to walk
three abreast; the sand was so fine and glittering that it looked like
gold dust; the path was bordered by exquisite shells. On either side
were gardens of variegated anemones. Here and there an old sodden boot
lay about untidily, at which the Fish-King frowned and looked uneasy.
They passed oyster beds, where, besides oysters, all sorts of fish,
large and small, were fast asleep, breathing heavily with their mouths
wide open. Now and again a squadron of lobsters or jelly-fish would
confront them, and respectfully divide and wait until the royal
procession of three had passed through.
At last they came to a great object ahead which turned out to be a
sunken ship, and the children heard the Fish-King say: "Welcome, my
dears, to my home! I hope your visit to 'The Billows' will please you."
They eagerly assured him it would, for they felt certain they were going
to have a jolly time.
On board everything was most snug and trim; and in the large saloon he
led his two little guests to one end of the long table, where they found
biscuits, tinned meats, jam, and other nice things, which they enjoyed
very much, whilst their host looked on with a satisfied expression.
"_Now_ will you take a cup of something?" he asked--and seemed relieved
when they declined with thanks. "I'm a seatotaller myself," he observed;
"I don't drink like a fish, nor go in for cups."
"I'm glad we said 'No, thank you,'" whispered Dulcie to Cyril, who
nodded assent. "Why are you so sad, Mr. Fish-King?" she asked when she
had satisfied her hunger, and she stroked his great flabby hand.
He didn't answer for a moment, then trying to twist up his mouth into a
smile he said as he roused himself: "I fear I'm somewhat glum for a
birthday party, but I've had so many of them; besides, I'm bothered
about the slump! One would think Seaweed safe enough for a vested
interest, surely. From all accounts, they must have been cooked--softly,
too, in the bargain! Can you make it out, my dears?"
[Illustration: _Its head was patted graciously_]
The Twins couldn't understand it at all, and shook their heads quite
emphatically over the matter.
"Now, let's go abaft," suggested his Majesty. He rose, and looked at
them with a ray of cheerfulness. "We'll watch the Water Sports. I revel
in them when they are good--usually they go bad."
The children readily agreed. "It's lucky you happened to come on my
birthday," he continued, "for you may be amused. Here's a list of the
different Courses," and he took up a Menu from the table: "they'll race
through them like old boots!"
"Do they race better than new ones?" inquired Cyril.
"They've more experience," replied his Majesty. "What is about to
begin," he said quite gaily as they followed him up the gangway,
"is--let me see; ah yes--'Turtle Mocked.' Now just look at Fido"--he
leaned over the side, the Twins did likewise. "He's turning turtle!" And
the three watched with approval the antics of the dog-fish as he turned
his somersaults; and they applauded this first item on the programme.
"Next Innings!" shouted his Majesty. "Fish balls bowled," he read from
the Menu. And taking their plaice, a game of cricket began. "They think
they can play," he whispered, "and that is the way I humour them, or
they might begin to cry, and I hate anything that reminds me of blubber.
But how can any one in their senses imagine plaice fielding at slip?
Why, they don't know cricket from a bat--nor never will at this rate, I
should think."
"Once in London, we saw such a lot of fish in the big shops there,"
volunteered Dulcie in a burst of confidence. The next moment she wished
she hadn't spoken, for Cyril was frowning at her and shaking his head.
She glanced timidly at the Fish-King. He evidently didn't mind, for he
merely remarked with a sigh: "Ah dear! One of these days my poor
subjects will be sucked from the sea through a 2d. tube, straight to
Billingsgate--I suppose that'll be the time for slumps and no mistake!"
"I suppress the Sole and Eel Course!" he cried suddenly. There was a
great stir in the water at this intimation. "It's a dance," he muttered.
"Let's get on with the Cod Stakes." He put down the Menu and threw
overboard some nets and fishing tackle. Then began a highly amusing
exhibition by old fish showing the young ones how to nibble the bait
without taking the hook, and if taken by some mischance, how to get
unhooked--how to avoid the nets, and other life-saving dodges which his
Majesty explained to the astonished Twins.
But hardly had he finished when a fat young gurnet who was taking part
in the sports did get hooked, and clumsily extricating himself went off
leaving a thin red track behind him.
"The poor thing is hurt!" exclaimed Dulcie.
"Oh no," said the King; "a herring-bone stitch is all that's necessary."
"I know how to do that," replied Dulcie, "but I thought it was only used
to make dress things look pretty; I never heard of it for mending fish."
The excitement continued unabated.
When the revels were over, the little strangers expressed their
enjoyment of the birthday party, and thought perhaps they ought to be
saying good-bye. Their kind host wouldn't hear of their going yet--they
hadn't even seen the Cable which he was just going to visit.
"Who's won the prizes?" asked Cyril as they got off the ship.
"I have," replied his Majesty.
"Not the winners of the races and of the sports?" said the boy, in
amazement.
"They can't expect to win the races and win the prizes too. _I_ have won
the prizes."
"What have you won, your Worship?"
"I forget," he answered vaguely. "I've won so many in all these years,
and they get so mis-laid--for all the world like addled eggs!"
"But you've only just--" commenced Cyril.
"Don't tease," said Dulcie, pulling at her brother's sleeve. And so the
matter dropped.
Whilst Cyril and the Fish-King were talking about the price the crown
might fetch were he obliged to part with it on account of his recent
financial losses, Dulcie was so busy admiring the beautiful creatures
swimming about, that she stumbled and fell before her companions could
warn her that the Cable was lying in her path. She was soon up, and it
was the Fish-King now who was lying prone on the ground, but his
attitude was intentional; he was listening intently. At a sign from him
they did likewise. The billows overhead were lashing up the spray, and
through the rushing sound could be vaguely heard: "Number A. 1. Sea
Power! Has that nice little venture proved successful, Sire?"
It was the Wizard's voice. The Twins stared at one another with startled
eyes.
"No, thou Cabalistic One," shouted the Fish-King, and got up with an
impatient sigh, so he didn't hear what sounded like the echo of mocking
laughter which the children recognised before they rejoined him. "Some
one's at the bottom of that business, I'll be bound," he grumbled. "I'm
afraid I'm too green, and ye gods and little fishes alone know how I
manage to be, for I've a fit of the blues often enough," and he glanced
at the garment he wore. "Now come and inspect my Workhouse." He led them
away in silence to a small lugger, also wrecked, commandeered by his
Majesty.
"What a lot of residences you have, Sire," remarked Dulcie timidly,
realising the situation.
"One must, if one is a royalty," he replied. "I have even more than the
German Emperor. I've one for eating in. One for thinking in. One for not
thinking in. And a host of others. There is one which takes me eighteen
hours to reach, where I go at cradle time, where the waves hush me to
sleep with their lullaby--you have heard it--'Rocked in the Cradle of
the Deep,' eh?"
"Yes, yes," assented the Twins readily.
His glum face slightly relaxed, then he continued: "It's always a matter
of interest to me when my ship comes home. I don't whistle for it; I
squall for it. Look out for squalls, for I feel restless, and in my
family carping is our form of humour."
Once inside the cabin of the lugger the Fish-King took an immense ruler,
and sitting upon the table in front of a high heap of foolscap began
ruling one wave after another. Absorbed in his occupation, his mouth
tightly drawn down, he looked more than ever like a carp. He kept on
ruling the waves, heeding neither the little coughs, the little
fidgetings, or the little hints, entreaties, regrets, or excuses of the
Twins, until, exasperated at his sudden and unaccountable oblivion to
their existence, they murmured broken words of thanks for his past
kindness, and, not a little indignant, they walked out of the cabin,
jumped over the side of the ship, and swam upwards. They met many a
quaint creature, and then diving below they rested in a quiet spot again
amongst beautiful shells--at last in peaceful calmness at the bottom of
the sea, alone with the heaving waves palpitating far above them.
Talking over the strange conduct of the Fish-King, it occurred to Cyril
that the fact of parting from them risked reminding him of blubber,
which he hated, as he had told them before, so he must have preferred
ignoring them altogether, especially as he had work to do. But Dulcie
thought perhaps they might see him again when he was not so busy.
"It must be rather jolly being a crowned head," mused Cyril; "I vote we
have a shy at another catseye, so as to have a gorgeous crown and boss
everything and everybody."
Dulcie, dazzled at such a magnificent prospect, readily agreed.
"I wish I were a crowned head!" exclaimed Cyril excitedly.
"I wish I were a crowned head!" repeated Dulcie with fervour.
[Illustration: _They met many a quaint creature_]
They stared at one another. No change had come. Dulcie was the first to
understand their failure.
"Of course not," she remarked. "How stupid of us! It's a Bird, Beast, or
Fish we have to choose, not a crowned head!"
So her brother, to change the subject, drew her attention to an eel that
was trying to turn head over ... wriggling in a very upside down
fashion. Tired of watching it, they lay chest downwards, and, supporting
themselves on their elbows, kicked up their own heels.
"Do you believe there is such a thing as a Sea-serpent, little Sis?"
inquired Cyril lazily.
"I believe there are sometimes, when they are in season."
"Well, I can tell you there are _not_. And the only season they _are_ in
is the Silly Season. Father says so."
"It's so lovely down here, and you're spoiling it all, Cyril, by
arguing. I do think it would be nice," she added, glancing round, "to be
an oyster and have a real pearl! I wished I possessed a real pearl!"
"Shut up," cried Cyril. But to his annoyance he found his sister already
gone, and a stupid-looking, closed-up oyster in her place, out of which
he could not get a glimmer of satisfaction.
"You _have_ shut up and no mistake!" he said severely, "in the middle of
a conversation too." However, she was soon at his side again, and looked
very sorry.
"Well, what was it like?" was his laconic welcome, accompanied by a
glance of disapproval.
"Not at all nice. I didn't want to remain--although I possessed a
magnificent pearl. I felt so horribly ill--as though I had some dreadful
disease. What a life pearl-oysters must have if they feel like that!"
"I've heard pearls _is_ a disease."
"Then how horrid of you to let me have it. You ought to have told me."
"How could I? You were in such a hurry. I couldn't do anything. You were
just the same over that wretched mole. I do wish you wouldn't go off
like that again; you know you promised you wouldn't."
"I forgot. But it's the Wishes that go off so quick."
"I say! Where was your bracelet, Dulcie, when you were an oyster?"
"Don't know," she answered, pondering. "I s'pose it must have melted. Oh
yes, of course I remember--it had grown very small, and formed a sort of
little boundary all round me inside my shell; it's here all right now. I
can't think--let me see, what were we talking about before I went away?
There was something I was going to tell you. What _were_ we talking
about, Cyril?"
"Sea-serpents."
"Oh yes. Well, I was going to tell you, there must be Sea-serpents, 'cos
you remember it being in the papers and our seeing a picture of one."
"But that was all stuff and nonsense."
"No it wasn't."
"Well, look here, we'll soon find out, little Duffer. I wish I were a
Sea-serpent!"
"I'm not a Duffer, after all," was Dulcie's first thought as Cyril
vanished into what looked like the end of a wriggling tail--a tail so
long that it stretched right out of view, and she realised this must be
part of her own brother. It was slowly moving away.
"Don't go and leave me," she cried appealingly, clutching hold of the
great scaly thing. But it moved quicker, dragging her along. So, in her
anxiety she clambered on top of it, sat down, and found to her surprise
that its undulating movement of progress formed a regular switchback,
and that she was travelling along its back towards its head in a most
pleasant and delightful manner.
"What a funny thing to happen!" And she laughed. "But whatever will
occur when I get to the end! And what yards and yards of him there seem
to be!"
All this she wondered and heaps more, till at last she saw the
creature's huge neck looming high up in front of her; when she got there
it stopped her progress. It turned its head round--which resembled that
of a giraffe--and its mild eyes looked kindly at her; and what was most
comic, yet comforting, it wore a nose-ring of gold set with catseyes.
[Illustration: _What a glorious ride that was!_]
She patted its neck affectionately; and then with a mighty glide of long
duration the huge creature took her up, up, until, with her still on its
back, gracefully reclining against its neck, the Sea-serpent arose with
her above the surface of the Ocean.
Certainly, no one now would have taken them for twins.
What a glorious ride that was! Nothing around but the wild surging
spray, the wind blowing in her face, brightening her cheeks, and tossing
her fair hair about. Above, the clouds, dark and heavy, tore
along--everywhere movement, reckless, turbulent movement.
What a wild ride it was!
Far, far in the distance appeared a dark speck. As it came nearer it
turned out to be a ship with broken mast, broken by the waves which
leaped over its deck again and again. People were on it, for shouts came
from it borne along on the wind.
A fearful squall arose as from the very bosom of the Ocean. Lightning
played around the doomed ship. Half blinded by it, and bewildered by the
deafening noise of thunder, Dulcie just caught a glimpse of the
Fish-King in the water near, before burying her face in her hands to
escape the blinding glare of the second flash. Starting suddenly at the
terrifying clap of thunder that followed, she lost her balance and fell
off the Sea-serpent's back headlong into the surging waters. For some
time she was tossed about, sometimes swimming, sometimes floating,
enjoying the excitement of the thing, knowing she couldn't drown, and
expecting every moment to see something of her huge brother, when all of
a sudden she found herself right in the middle of a shoal of fish.
She was startled to find, too, that like them, she had been caught in a
large net from which, swim and search as she would, she could find no
means of escape. Restlessly with her fellow-captives she turned this way
and that in vain hope of freedom. She knew she must be adding to the
salt water around, for she felt so miserably helpless and lonely, and a
heavy sob now and again escaped her. Here indeed was a lack of freedom
and no mistake, for the poor fish as well as for herself! Never, never
again, she said to herself, would she beg for fish for tea if this was
what they had to endure. Round and round inside the net she swam,
backwards, forwards, upwards, downwards--no outlet was there. If only
she could find the way she got in! The thread was so hard and strong,
too, that she could do nothing, tear at it with her little hands as she
would. She had nothing sharp about her either, not even a pin.
The sea became calmer by degrees, but Dulcie's anxiety grew, and her
impatience with it, till the sound of men's voices from above raised
her excitement to fever pitch.
"Oh dear, oh dear! It must be the fisher people!" And the thought that
the little swimming creatures darting about in terrified jerks would
soon be motionless for ever, helped to increase her distress.
"Hold hard, Bill. Ain't it heavy!" said a gruff voice.
"My missus won't be sorry," answered his mate.
The net was actually being hauled up, and Dulcie, beating against it
with her arms and struggling hard, was being hauled up with it.
Her sleeve had got rucked up--the catseyes glistened.
"I wish--oh what? I can't think--to be something very small indeed--oh
quick!"
No change occurred. She could now see the boat and the men's stooping
figures.
"Oh please, I want to change--I want to be one of--no, I forgot, they
can't get out either--I wish I were a--a----"
"Holy St. Patrick!"
"Bless me, what's that?" exclaimed both men, glancing down at her.
"--A periwinkle!" gasped Dulcie faintly.
The next second the little girl disappeared from their view and the
fishermen rubbed their eyes and stared at one another with their mouths
open. The big fishes and little were quick to seize that golden
opportunity of their captors' careless handling of the net--and escaped,
down to every jack sprat of them. And with the gentle murmur of the sea
there mingled noisy and ugly words of baffled hope and disappointment.