the lonely Mermaid grew very sad, for she knew that her own baby had
been the prettiest of them all, and she wondered how she could ever have
been ashamed of him. The other mothers were proud of their darlings, and
now they scorned her because she had no little one to hold her mirror
when she made her toilet, or to run her errands when she was busy at
play. But the poor Mermaid was too sad to play nowadays. She no longer
took any pleasure in the gay life which the Mer-folk lived beneath the
waves. She wandered instead here and there, up and down the sea,
calling, calling for her lost baby. The sound of her sobbing came from
the sea at morning, noon, and night.
She did not know her child's fate, but she feared that he had been
captured by the dreadful Men-folk, who, so her people said, were ever
seeking to snare the sea-creatures in their wicked nets. Day after day
the unhappy Mermaid swam along the shore trying to see the places where
the Men-folk dwelt, hoping that she might catch a glimpse of her lost
darling. But that good hap never befell her. Indeed, even if she had
seen Jan, she would not have known her baby in the sturdy boy dressed
all in blue, like the other fisher-lads. Nor would Jan have known his
mother in this beautiful creature of the sea. For he had quite forgotten
the Mermaid who had neglected him, and if he thought of the Mer-folk at
all it was as humans do, with wonder and with longing, and yet with
fear.
Now the good old Stork who had first meddled in these matters kept one
eye upon the doings in that neighborhood, and he had seen the sorrowful
Mermaid wandering lonely up and down the shore. He knew it must be the
Sea-child's mother, sorry at last for her long carelessness. As the
years passed he began to pity the poor creature; but when he found
himself growing too soft-hearted he would shake his head firmly and say
to himself,--
"It will not do. She is not yet punished enough, for she was very cruel.
If now she could have her baby again she would soon be as thoughtless as
ever. Besides, there is my promise to Gil. So long as he keeps the
secret so must I."
But one day, several years later, when the Stork was flying over the
harbor, he spied the Mermaid lying upon a rock over which the waves
dashed merrily, and she was weeping bitterly, tearing her lovely green
hair. She looked so pretty and so forlorn that the bird's kind heart was
touched, and he could not help stopping to comfort her a bit. Flying
close to her head he said gently,--
"Poor Mermaid! What is the matter?"
"Oh, oh!" wailed the Mermaid. "Long, long ago I lost my pretty little
Sea-child, and he is not to be found anywhere, anywhere in the whole
sea, for I have looked. I have been from ocean to ocean, from pole to
pole. Oh, what shall I do? He is on the land, I know he is, and the
wicked humans are ill-treating him."
The Stork spoke slowly and gravely. "Was he so happy, then, in his
sea-home? Did you love him and care for him very dearly?"
"No, no!" sobbed the Mermaid. "I did not love him enough. I did not make
him happy. I neglected him and found him in the way, till one day he
disappeared, and I shall never see him again. Oh, my baby, my little
Sea-child!"
The Stork wiped a tear from his eye. "It is very sad," he said. "But
perhaps it will comfort you to know that he is not far away."
"Oh!" cried the Mermaid, clasping her hands. "You know where he is? You
will bring him back to me? Dear, dear Stork! I will give you a necklace
of pearls and a necklace of coral if you will bring my baby to me
again."
The Stork smiled grimly, looking down at his long neck. "A necklace of
pearls and a necklace of coral!" he repeated. "How becoming they would
be!" Then he grew grave once more and said: "I cannot return your child
to you, but I can tell you something of him. He is indeed among the
humans, but he is very happy there. They love him and he loves them, and
all is well--so far."
"Oh, show him to me that I may take him away!" cried the Mermaid.
[Illustration: YOU WILL BRING HIM BACK TO ME?]
But the Stork shook his head. "No, no, for you deserted him," he said
solemnly; "now he has another mother in yonder village who loves him
better than you did. He has a brother, also, whom he loves best of all.
You cannot claim him so long as he is happy there."
"Then shall I never see him again, wise Bird?" asked the Mermaid sadly.
"Perhaps," answered the Stork. "If he should become unhappy, or if the
secret should be betrayed."
"Ah, then I must be again a cruel mother and hope that he may become
unhappy," sobbed the Mermaid. "I shall look for him every day in the
harbor near the village, and when his face is sad I shall claim him for
my own."
"You will not know him," cried the Stork, rising on his wings and
flapping away. "He wears a disguise. He is like a human,--like any other
fisher-boy; and he bears a human name."
"Oh, tell me that name!" begged the Mermaid.
But the Stork only cried, "I must not tell. I have told too much
already," and he was gone.
"Oh, then I will love all fisher-boys for his sake," sobbed the
Mermaid as she dived down into the sea. "And some day, some day I shall
find him out; for my baby is sure to be the finest of them all."
Now the years went by, and the parents of Gil and Jan were dead. The two
brothers were tall and sturdy and stout, the finest lads in the whole
country. But as their shadows grew taller and broader when they walked
together across the sand, so another shadow which had begun to fall
between them grew and grew. It was the shadow of Gil's selfishness and
jealousy. So long as Jan was smaller and weaker than he, Gil was quite
content, and never ceased to be grateful for the little brother who had
come to be his playmate. But suddenly, as it seemed, he found that Jan
was almost as big as himself; for the boy had thriven wondrously, though
there were still several years which Jan could never make up. Gil was
still the leader, but Jan was not far behind; and Jan himself led all
the other boys when his brother was not by. Every one loved Jan, for he
was kind and merry, while Gil was often gloomy and disagreeable. Gil
wanted to be first in everything, but there began to be some things that
Jan could do better than he. It made Gil angry to hear his brother
praised; it made him sulky and malicious, and sometimes he spoke
unkindly to Jan, which caused the blue eyes to fill with tears. For, big
fellow though he was, Jan was five years younger, and he was a sensitive
lad, loving Gil more than anything else in the world. Gil's unkindness
hurt Jan deeply, but could not make him love his brother less.
Both boys were famous swimmers. Gil was still the stronger of the two,
and he could outswim any lad in town. As for Jan, the fishermen declared
that he took to the water like a fish. No one in all the village could
turn and twist, dive and glide and play such graceful pranks, flashing
whitely through the waves, as did Jan. This was a great trouble to Gil,
who wished to be foremost in this as in everything else. He was a
selfish fellow; he had wanted a playmate to follow and admire him. He
had not bargained for a comrade who might become a rival. And he seemed
to love his brother less and less as the days went by.
One beautiful summer day Gil and Jan called together the other boys, the
best swimmers in the village, and they all went down to the bay to swim.
They played all sorts of water-games, in which the two brothers were
leaders. They dived and floated and chased one another like fishes
through the water. Jan, especially, won shouts of applause for his
wonderful diving, for the other boys liked him, and were proud of him,
glad to see him win. This again made Gil jealous and angry. Jan dived
once more and remained under water so long that the boys began to fear
that he would never come up; and in his wicked heart Gil half hoped that
it was to be so. For it had come about that Gil began to wish he had no
brother at all. So different was he from the boy who made the eager
bargain with the good old Stork.
At last Jan's head came out of the water, bubbling and blowing, and the
boys set up a cheer. Never before had any one in the village performed
such a feat as that. But Jan did not answer their cheers with his usual
merry laugh. Something was troubling him which made him look strange to
the others. As soon as he reached the shore he ran up to Gil and
whispered in his brother's ear a curious story.
"Oh, Gil!" he cried. "Such a strange feeling I have had! Down below
there as I was swimming along I seemed to hear a strange sound like a
cry, and then, surely, I felt something cling close to me, like soft
arms. Gil, Gil, what could it have been? I have heard tell of the
Mermaidens who are said to live in these waters. Some even say that they
have seen them afar off on the rocks where the spray dashed highest.
Gil, could it have been a Mermaid who touched me and seemed to pull me
down as if to keep me under the water forever? I could hardly draw away,
Gil. Tell me what you think it means?"
Gil was too angry at Jan's success to answer kindly. He sneered,
remembering the secret which only he and the Stork knew.
"There are slimy folk, half fish and half human, people say. The less
one has to do with them the better. I think you are half fish yourself,
Jan. It is no credit to you that you are able to swim!" So spoke Gil,
breaking the promise which he had once given.
On the minute came a hoarse cry overhead, and a great Stork flapped down
the sky, fixing his sharp eyes upon Gil, as if in warning.
"Why, how strangely the Stork acts!" cried Jan.
Gil bit his lip and said no more, but from that moment he hated his
brother wickedly, knowing that the Stork was still watching over the
child whom he had taken from the sea.
But Jan had no time to ask Gil what he meant by the strange words which
he had just spoken, for at that moment several of the boys came running
up to them. "Ho, Gil! Ho, Jan!" they cried. "Let us have a race! Come,
let us swim out to the Round Rock and back. And the winner of this race
shall be champion of the village. Come, boys, make ready for the race!"
Gil's face brightened, for he had ever been the strongest swimmer on the
bay, and now he could afford to be kind to poor Jan, whose blue eyes
were clouded and unhappy, because of Gil's former harsh words and
manner.
"Ho! The race, the race!" cried Gil. "Come, Jan, you can dive like a
fish. Now let us see how you can swim. One, two, three! We are off!"
The boys sprang, laughing, into the water. Jan needed but a kind word
from his brother to make him happy again. Off they started for the Round
Rock, where the spray was dashing high.
The black heads bobbed up and down in the waves, drawing nearer and
nearer to the rock. Gradually they separated, and some fell behind. The
lads could not all keep up the gay strokes with which they had begun the
race. Four held the lead; Boise and Cadoc, the lighthouse-keeper's sons,
Gil, and Jan.
Almost abreast they rounded the rock, and began the long stretch back to
the beach. Soon Boise began to fall behind. In a little while Cadoc's
strength failed also. They shouted, laughingly, that they were fairly
beaten, and those who were on shore began to cry encouragement to the
two brothers, who alone were left in the race.
"Gil! Jan! Oh, Gil! Oh, Jan! Hasten, lads, for one of you is the
champion. Hurrah! Hurrah!"
Gil was in high spirits, for he was still in the lead. "Hurry, little
brother," he cried, "or I shall beat you badly. Oho! You can dive, but
that is scarcely swimming, my fine lad. You had better hurry, or I win."
And Jan did hurry. He put forth all his strength as he had never done
before. Soon the black heads bobbed side by side in the water, and Gil
ceased to laugh and jest, for it was now a struggle in good earnest. He
shut his teeth angrily, straining forward with all his might. But push
as he would, Jan kept close beside. At last, when within a few yards of
the beach, Jan gave a little laughing shout and shot through the water
like a flash. He had been saving his strength for this,--and he had won!
The other boys dragged him up the beach with shouts and cheers of
welcome to the new champion, while Gil, who had borne that title for so
long, crawled ashore unaided.
"Hurrah for Jan!" they cried, tossing their caps and dancing happily,
for Jan was a great favorite. "Hurrah for the little brother! Now Gil
must take the second place. You are the big brother now!" And they
laughed and jeered at Gil,--not maliciously, but because they were
pleased with Jan.
Jan ran to Gil and held out his hand for his brother's congratulations,
but Gil thrust it aside. "It was not a fair race!" he sputtered.
"Unfair, unfair, I vow!"
The others gathered around, surprised to see Gil so angry and with such
wild eyes.
"Gil, oh, Gil! What do you mean?" cried Jan, turning very pale. "Why was
it not a fair race, brother?"
"Brother! You are no brother of mine!" shouted Gil, beside himself with
rage. "You are a changeling,--half fish, half sea-monster. You were
helped in this race by the sea-people; you cannot deny it. I saw one
push you to the shore. You could not have beaten me else. Every one
knows that I am the better swimmer, though I am no fish."
"Nonsense!" cried Boise, clapping Gil on the shoulder with a laugh. "You
talk foolishness, Gil. There are no sea-folk in these waters; those are
old women's tales. It was a fair race, I say, and Jan is our champion."
But Jan heeded only the cruel words which his brother had spoken. "Gil,
what do you mean?" he asked again, trembling with a new fear. "I was not
helped by any one."
"Ha!" cried Gil, pointing at him fiercely, "see him tremble, see his
guilty looks! He knows that I speak true. The Mermaid helped him. He is
half fish. He came out of the sea and was no real brother of mine, but a
Merbaby. A Mermaid was his mother!"
At these words a whirring sound was heard in the air overhead, and a
second time the Stork appeared, flapping across the scene out to sea,
where he alighted upon the Round Rock. But Gil was too angry even to
notice him.
"Gil, Gil, tell me how this can be?" begged Jan, going up to his brother
and laying a pleading hand upon his arm.
But Gil shook him off, crying, "It is true! He is half fish and the
sea-folk helped him. It was not a fair race. Let us try it again."
"Nonsense!" cried the other boys indignantly. "It was a fair race. Jan
need not try again, for he is our champion. We will have it so."
But Jan was looking at Gil strangely, and the light was gone out of his
eyes. His face was very white. "I did not know that you cared so much to
win," he said to Gil in a low voice. Then he turned to the others. "If
my brother thinks it was not a fair race let us two try again. Let us
swim once more to the Round Rock and back; and the winner shall be
declared the village champion." For Jan meant this time to let his
brother beat. What did he care about anything now, since Gil hated him
so much that he could tell that story?
"Well, let them try the race again, since Jan will have it so," cried
the boys, grumbling and casting scornful looks at Gil, who had never
been so unpopular with them as at this moment.
Once more the two sprang into the waves and started for the Round Rock,
where the spray was dashing merrily over the plumage of the Stork as he
stood there upon one leg, trying not to mind the wetness which he hated.
For he was talking earnestly with a pretty Mermaid who sat on the rock
in the surf, wringing her hands.
"It is he! It is he!" she cried. "I know him now. It is the lad whom
they call _Jan_, the finest swimmer of them all. Oh, he dives like a
fish! He swims like a true Sea-child. He is my own baby, my little one!
I followed, I watched him. I could hardly keep my hands from him. Tell
me, dear Stork, is he not indeed my own?"
The Stork looked at her gravely. "It is no longer a secret," he said,
"for Jan has been betrayed. He who is now Jan the unhappy mortal boy was
once your unhappy Sea-baby."
"Unhappy! Oh, is he unhappy?" cried the Mermaid. "Then at last I may
claim him as you promised. I may take him home once more to our fair
sea-home, to cherish him and make him happier than he ever was in all
his little life. But tell me, dear Stork, will he not be my own little
Sea-child again? I would not have him in his strange, ugly human guise,
but as my own little fish-tailed baby."
"When you kiss him," said the Stork, "when you throw your arms about his
neck and speak to him in the sea-language, he will become a Sea-child
once more, as he was when I found him in his cradle on the rocks. But
look! Yonder he comes. A second race has begun, and they swim this way.
Wait until they have turned the rock, and then it will be your turn. Ah,
Gil! You have ill kept your promise to me!"
Yes, the race between the brothers was two thirds over. Side by side as
before the two black heads pushed through the waves. Both faces were
white and drawn, and there was no joy in either. Gil's was pale with
anger, Jan's only with sadness. He loved his brother still, but he knew
that Gil loved him no more.
They were nearing the shore where the boys waited breathlessly for the
end of this strange contest. Suddenly Jan turned his face towards Gil
and gave him one look. "You will win, brother," he breathed brokenly,
"my strength is failing. You are the better swimmer, after all. Tell the
lads that I confess it. Go on and come in as the champion."
He thought that Gil might turn to see whether he needed aid. But Gil
made no sign save to quicken his strokes, which had begun to lag, for in
truth he was very weary. He pushed on with only a desire to win the
shore and to triumph over his younger brother. With a sigh Jan saw him
shoot ahead, then turning over on his back he began to float
carelessly. He would not make another effort. It was then that he saw
the Stork circling close over his head; and it did not seem so very
strange when the Stork said to him,--
"Swim, Jan! You are the better swimmer; you can beat him yet."
"I know; but I do not wish to beat," said Jan wearily. "He would only
hate me the more."
"There is one who loves you more than ever he did," said the Stork
gently. "Will you go home to your sea-mother, the beautiful Mermaid?"
"The Mermaid!" cried Jan; "then it is true. My real home is not upon the
shore?"
"Your real home is here, in the waves. Beneath them your mother waits."
"Then I need not go back to that other home," said Jan, "that home where
I am hated?"
"Ah, you will be loved in this sea-home," said the Stork. "You will be
very happy there. Come, come, Mermaid! Kiss your child and take him
home."
Then Jan felt two soft arms come around his neck and two soft lips
pressed upon his own. "Dear child!" whispered a soft voice, "come with
me to your beautiful sea-home and be happy always." A strange, drowsy
feeling came over him, and he forgot how to be sad. He felt himself
growing younger and younger. The world beyond the waves looked unreal
and odd. He forgot why he was there; he forgot the race, the boys, Gil,
and all his trouble. But instead he began to remember things of a
wonderful dream. He closed his eyes; the sea rocked him gently, as in a
cradle, and slowly, slowly, with the soft arms of the Mermaid about him,
and her green hair twining through his fingers, he sank down through the
water. As he sank the likeness of a human boy faded from him, and he
became once more a fresh, fair little Sea-child, with a scaly tail and
plump, merry face. The Mer-folk came to greet him. The fishes darted
about him playfully. The sea-anemones beckoned him with enticing
fingers. The Sea-child was at home again, and the sea was kind.
So Gil became the champion; but that was little pleasure to him, as you
can fancy. For he remembered, he remembered, and he could not forget. He
thought, like all the village, that Jan had been drowned through his
brother's selfishness and jealousy. He forgave himself less even than
the whole village could forgive him for the loss of their favorite; for
he knew better than they how much more he was to blame, because he had
broken the promise which kept Jan by him. If he had known how happy the
Sea-child now was in the home from which he had come to be Gil's
brother, perhaps Gil would not have lived thereafter so sad a life. The
Stork might have told him the truth. But the wise old Stork would not.
That was to be Gil's punishment,--to remember and regret and to reproach
himself always for the selfishness and jealousy which had cost him a
loving brother.
THE TEN BLOWERS
I
ONCE upon a time there was a fat Miller who lived in the Land of
Windmills. Now that is a queer country, where the people look queer,
talk and live and dress queerly, and where queer things are likely to
happen at any time. So you must not be surprised if this should be a
queer tale of the Miller and his mill and his family; but you must take
my queer word for it that the happenings were all queerly true as I
shall tell them.
The Miller was a thoughtful fellow, as the folk of the Land of Windmills
are apt to be; and he had ideas. When his first son was born he sat down
and thought for a long time. His baby had fine lungs; he cried louder
and longer than any baby of whom the Miller had ever heard, so that the
father had to go out of doors to think.
"He is a very remarkable child!" said the Miller to himself. "His
talents in the way of lung-power are extraordinary; they must be
developed. I believe in deciding as soon as possible what a child shall
be, according to his earliest inclinations. With his fine lungs he must
become a Blower of some kind; a Musician,--perhaps a Corneter or a
Flutist. But that we can decide later. I shall begin to train him
immediately."
So the Miller trained the lungs of his son. His first gift to the baby
was an ivory whistle, and the little fellow soon learned to blow it so
that his mother was nearly deafened. When he grew stronger he had a
penny trumpet, and then there was a racket, to be sure! But the more
noise he made the more were the Miller and his good wife delighted. For
they said to each other: "What wonderful talents has our son! Surely he
will become a great blowing Musician in the days that are to be."
Before he was a year old Hans could blow a little bugle so loudly that
all the dogs of the neighborhood would rush to the house and surround
it, barking. But he made no tunes on the bugle; only noise.
Not long after this came a little brother for Hans; and this baby showed
the same talents as the first one, by day and by night filling the
cottage with his sturdy bellows. You might think that this would have
disturbed the peace of the Miller and his wife, who could get no sleep
at all. But no, indeed! They were twice delighted.
"Look now!" they said, "we shall have two little Blowers in the
family,--perhaps a flute and a trombone; perhaps a cornet and a
fife,--who knows?" And they began to put Piet through the same training
that Hans had received; which was very pleasant for the little brothers,
as you can imagine. There was no crying of "Oh, children! Don't make
such a racket!" in that house. There was no hiding of whistles and
trumpets and bugles. When one noisy toy wore out they were immediately
given a new one, for fear that they should forget how to blow. And they
played at nothing else all day long but blowing, and blowing, and
blowing. The house was so noisy that the neighbors did not often visit
the Miller's wife. But she cared nothing at all for that.
Then another baby came; and as the years went by more little brothers
blessed the Miller's cottage, each with the same wonderful lung-power,
the same puffy cheeks, the same fondness for blowing. Till before the
Miller fairly had counted them all, he found himself sitting at the head
of a table around which ten little Blowers kicked their heels and blew
on their porridge to cool it.
Now ten little Blowers, each blowing all day long for dear life, have
ten big appetites; and the Miller had hard work to supply them with
food. The children were not helping him by earning money. Oh no! They
were too busy blowing,--practicing on the flutes, trombones, trumpets,
bugles, fifes, horns, oboes, cornets, bassoons, and piccolos which their
father had bought them, hoping that they would be Musicians. But it was
very strange; although they were becoming skillful indeed in making a
loud noise, they had never yet made any music. The more they practiced
the further they seemed to be from any tune. When they all got together
and blew their instruments as hard as they could, you cannot imagine a
more wonderful noise than that which they produced! They could blow the
panes out of the windows and the leaves from the trees, but they could
not make the least little tune to save their lives.