They now approached a kelp bed, the straight, thin stems of the kelp running far upward to the surface of the water. Here and there upon the stalks were leaves, but Trot thought the growing kelp looked much like sticks of macaroni, except they were a rich red-brown color. It was beyond the kelp — which they had to push aside as they swam through, so thickly did it grow — that they came to a higher level, a sort of plateau on the ocean’s bottom. It was covered with scattered rocks of all sizes, which appeared to have broken off from big shelving rocks they observed nearby. The place they entered seemed like one of the rocky canyons you often see upon the earth.
“Here live the fiddler crabs,” said Merla, “but we must have taken them by surprise, it is so quiet.”
Even as she spoke, there was a stirring and scrambling among the rocks, and soon scores of light-green crabs were gathered before the visitors. The crabs bore fiddles of all sorts and shapes in their claws, and one big fellow carried a leader’s baton. The latter crab climbed upon a flat rock and in an excited voice called out, “Ready, now — ready, good fiddlers. We’ll play Number 19, Hail to the Mermaids. Ready! Take aim! Fire away!”
At this command every crab began scraping at his fiddle as hard as he could, and the sounds were so shrill and unmusical that Trot wondered when they would begin to play a tune. But they never did; it was one regular mix-up of sounds from beginning to end. When the noise finally stopped, the leader turned to his visitors and, waving his baton toward them, asked, “Well, what did you think of that?”
“Not much,” said Trot honestly. “What’s it all about?”
“I composed it myself!” said the Fiddler Crab. “But it’s highly classical, I admit. All really great music is an acquired taste.”
“I don’t like it,” remarked Cap’n Bill. “It might do all right to stir up a racket New Year’s Eve, but to call that screechin’ music — ”
Just then the crabs started fiddling again, harder than ever, and as it promised to be a long performance, they left the little creatures scraping away at their fiddles as if for dear life and swam along the rocky canyon until, on turning a corner, they came upon a new and different scene.
There were crabs here, too, many of them, and they were performing the queerest antics imaginable. Some were building themselves into a pyramid, each standing on edge, with the biggest and strongest ones at the bottom. When the crabs were five or six rows high, they would all tumble over, still clinging to one another and, having reached the ground, they would separate and commence to build the pyramid over again. Others were chasing one another around in a circle, always moving backward or sidewise, and trying to play “leapfrog” as they went. Still others were swinging on slight branches of seaweed or turning cartwheels or indulging in similar antics.
Merla and the earth people watched the busy little creatures for some time before they were themselves observed, but finally Trot gave a laugh when one crab fell on its back and began frantically waving its legs to get right-side-up again. At the sound of her laughter they all stopped their play and came toward the visitors in a flock, looking up at them with their bright eyes in a most comical way.
“Welcome home!” cried one as he turned a back somersault and knocked another crab over.
“What’s the difference between a mermaid and a tadpole?” asked another in a loud voice, and without a pause continued, “Why, one drops its tail and the other holds onto it. Ha, ha! Ho, ho! Hee, hee!”
“These,” said Merla, “are the clown crabs. They are very silly things, as you may already have discovered, but for a short time they are rather amusing. One tires of them very soon.”
“They’re funny,” said Trot, laughing again. “It’s almost as good as a circus. I don’t think they would make me tired, but then I’m not a mermaid.”
The clown crabs had now formed a row in front of them. “Mr. Johnsing,” asked one, “why is a mermaid like an automobile?”
“I don’t know, Tommy Blimken,” answered a big crab in the middle of the row. “WHY do you think a mermaid is like an automobile?”
“Because they both get tired,” said Tommy Blimken. Then all the crabs laughed, and Tommy seemed to laugh louder than the rest.
“How do the crabs in the sea know anything ‘bout automobiles?” asked Trot.
“Why, Tommy Blimken and Harry Hustle were both captured once by humans and put in an aquarium,” answered the mermaid. “But one day they climbed out and escaped, finally making their way back to the sea and home again. So they are quite traveled, you see, and great favorites among the crabs. While they were on land they saw a great many curious things, and so I suppose they saw automobiles.”
“We did, we did!” cried Harry Hustle, an awkward crab with one big claw and one little one. “And we saw earth people with legs, awfully funny they were; and animals called horses, with legs; and other creatures with legs; and the people cover themselves with the queerest things — they even wear feathers and flowers on their heads, and — ”
“Oh, we know all about that,” said Trot. “We live on the earth ourselves.”
“Well, you’re lucky to get off from it and into the good water,” said the Crab. “I nearly died on the earth; it was so stupid, dry and airy. But the circus was great. They held the performance right in front of the aquarium where we lived, and Tommy and I learned all the tricks of the tumblers. Hi! Come on, fellows, and show the earth people what you can do!”
At this the crabs began performing their antics again, but they did the same things over and over, so Cap’n Bill and Trot soon tired, as Merla said they would, and decided they had seen enough of the crab circus. So they proceeded to swim farther up the rocky canyon, and near its upper end they came to a lot of conch shells lying upon the sandy bottom. A funny-looking crab was sticking his head out from each of these shells.
“These are the hermit crabs,” said one of the mermaids. “They steal these shells and live in them so no enemies can attack them.”
“Don’t they get lonesome?” asked Trot.
“Perhaps so, my dear. But they do not seem to mind being lonesome. They are great cowards, and think if they can but protect their lives there is nothing else to care for. Unlike the jolly crabs we have just left, the hermits are cross and unsociable.”
“Oh, keep quiet and go away!” said one of the hermit crabs in a grumpy voice. “No one wants mermaids around here.” Then every crab withdrew its head into its shell, and our friends saw them no more.
“They’re not very polite,” observed Trot, following the mermaid as Merla swam upward into the middle water.
“I know now why cross people are called ‘crabbed,’“ said Cap’n Bill. “They’ve got dispositions jes’ like these ‘ere hermit crabs.”
Presently they came upon a small flock of mackerel, and noticed that the fishes seemed much excited. When they saw the mermaid, they cried out, “Oh, Merla! What do you think? Our Flippity has just gone to glory!”
“When?” asked the mermaid.
“Just now,” one replied. “We were lying in the water, talking quietly together when a spinning, shining thing came along and our dear Flippity ate it. Then he went shooting up to the top of the water and gave a flop and — went to glory! Isn’t it splendid, Merla?”
“Poor Flippity!” sighed the mermaid. “I’m sorry, for he was the prettiest and nicest mackerel in your whole flock.”
“What does it mean?” asked Trot. “How did Flippity go to glory?”
“Why, he was caught by a hook and pulled out of the water into some boat,” Merla explained. “But these poor stupid creatures do not understand that, and when one of them is jerked out of the water and disappears, they have the idea he has gone to glory, which means to them some unknown but beautiful sea.”
“I’ve often wondered,” said Trot, “why fishes are foolish enough to bite on hooks.”
“They must know enough to know they’re hooks,” added Cap’n Bill musingly.
“Oh, they do,�
� replied Merla. “I’ve seen fishes gather around a hook and look at it carefully for a long time. They all know it is a hook and that if they bite the bait upon it they will be pulled out of the water. But they are curious to know what will happen to them afterward, and think it means happiness instead of death. So finally one takes the hook and disappears, and the others never know what becomes of him.”
“Why don’t you tell ‘em the truth?” asked Trot.
“Oh, we do. The mermaids have warned them many times, but it does no good at all. The fish are stupid creatures.”
“But I wish I was Flippity,” said one of the mackerel, staring at Trot with his big, round eyes. “He went to glory before I could eat the hook myself.”
“You’re lucky,” answered the child. “Flippity will be fried in a pan for someone’s dinner. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”
“Flippity has gone to glory!” said another, and then they swam away in haste to tell the news to all they met.
“I never heard of anything so foolish,” remarked Trot as she swam slowly on through the clear, blue water.
“Yes, it is very foolish and very sad,” answered Merla. “But if the fish were wise, men could not catch them for food, and many poor people on your earth make their living by fishing.”
“It seems wicked to catch such pretty things,” said the child.
“I do not think so,” Merla replied laughingly, “for they were born to become food for someone, and men are not the only ones that eat fishes. Many creatures of the sea feed upon them. They even eat one another at times. And if none was ever destroyed, they would soon become so numerous that they would clog the waters of the ocean and leave no room for the rest of us. So after all, perhaps it is just as well they are thoughtless and foolish.”
Presently they came to some round balls that looked much like balloons in shape and were gaily colored. They floated quietly in the water, and Trot inquired what they were.
“Balloonfish,” answered Merla. “They are helpless creatures, but have little spikes all over them so their enemies dare not bite them for fear of getting pricked.”
Trot found the balloonfish quite interesting. They had little dots of eyes and dots for mouths, but she could see no noses, and their fins and tails were very small.
“They catch these fish in the South Sea Islands and make lanterns of ‘em,” said Cap’n Bill. “They first skin ‘em and sew the skin up again to let it dry, and then they put candles inside, and the light shines through the dried skin.”
Many other curious sights they saw in the ocean that afternoon, and both Cap’n Bill and Trot thoroughly enjoyed their glimpse of sea life. At last Merla said it was time to return to the palace, from which she claimed they had not at any time been very far distant. “We must prepare for dinner, as it will soon begin to grow dark in the water,” continued their conductor. So they swam leisurely back to the groves that surrounded the palaces, and as they entered the gardens the sun sank, and deep shadows began to form in the ocean depths.
CHAPTER 8
A BANQUET UNDER WATER
The palaces of the mermaids were all aglow with lights as they approached them, and Trot was amazed at the sight.
“Where do the lamps come from?” she asked their guide wonderingly.
“They are not lamps, my dear,” replied Merla, much amused at this suggestion. “We use electric lights in our palaces and have done so for thousands of years — long before the earth people knew of electric lights.”
“But where do you get ‘em?” inquired Cap’n Bill, who was as much astonished as the girl.
“From a transparent jellyfish which naturally emits a strong and beautiful electric light,” was the answer. “We have many hundreds of them in our palaces, as you will presently see.”
Their way was now lighted by small, phosphorescent creatures scattered about the sea gardens and which Merla informed them were hyalaea, or sea glowworms. But their light was dim when compared to that of the electric jellyfish, which they found placed in clusters upon the ceilings of all the rooms of the palaces, rendering them light as day. Trot watched these curious creatures with delight, for delicately colored lights ran around their bodies in every direction in a continuous stream, shedding splendid rays throughout the vast halls.
A group of mermaids met the visitors in the hall of the main palace and told Merla the queen had instructed them to show the guests to their rooms as soon as they arrived. So Trot followed two of them through several passages, after which they swam upward and entered a circular opening. There were no stairs here, because there was no need of them, and the little girl soon found herself in an upper room that was very beautiful indeed.
All the walls were covered with iridescent shells, polished till they resembled mother-of-pearl, and upon the glass ceiling were clusters of the brilliant electric jellyfish, rendering the room bright and cheerful with their radiance. In one corner stood a couch of white coral, with gossamer draperies hanging around it from the four high posts. Upon examining it, the child found the couch was covered with soft, amber sponges, which rendered it very comfortable to lie upon. In a wardrobe she found several beautiful gossamer gowns richly embroidered in colored seaweeds, and these Mayre was told she might wear while she remained the guest of the mermaids. She also found a toilet table with brushes, combs and other conveniences, all of which were made of polished tortoise-shell.
Really, the room was more dainty and comfortable than one might suppose possible in a palace far beneath the surface of the sea, and Trot was greatly delighted with her new quarters. The mermaid attendants assisted the child to dress herself in one of the prettiest robes, which she found to be quite dry and fitted her comfortably. Then the sea-maids brushed and dressed her hair, and tied it with ribbons of cherry-red seaweed. Finally they placed around her neck a string of pearls that would have been priceless upon the earth, and now the little girl announced she was ready for supper and had a good appetite.
Cap’n Bill had been given a similar room near Trot, but the old sailor refused to change his clothes for any others offered him, for which reason he was ready for supper long before his comrade. “What bothers me, mate,” he said to the little girl as the y swam toward the great banquet hall where Queen Aquareine awaited them, “is why ain’t we crushed by the pressin’ of the water agin us, bein’ as we’re down here in the deep sea.”
“How’s that, Cap’n? Why should we be crushed?” she asked.
“Why, ev’r’body knows that the deeper you go in the sea, the more the water presses agin you,” he explained. “Even the divers in their steel jackets can’t stand it very deep down. An’ here we be, miles from the top o’ the water, I s’pect, an’ we don’t feel crowded a bit.”
“I know why,” answered the child wisely. “The water don’t touch us, you see. If it did, it might crush us, but it don’t. It’s always held a little way off from our bodies by the magic of the fairy mermaids.”
“True enough, Trot,” declared the sailor man. “What an idjut I was not to think o’ that myself!”
In the royal banquet hall were assembled many of the mermaids, headed by the lovely queen, and as soon as their earth guests arrived, Aquareine ordered the meal to be served. The lobsters again waited upon the table, wearing little white caps and aprons which made them look very funny; but Trot was so hungry after her afternoon’s excursion that she did not pay as much attention to the lobsters as she did to her supper, which was very delicious and consisted of many courses. A lobster spilled some soup on Cap’n Bill’s bald head and made him yell for a minute, because it was hot and he had not expected it, but the queen apologized very sweetly for the awkwardness of her servants, and the sailor soon forgot all about the incident in his enjoyment of the meal.
After the feast ended, they all went to the big reception room, where some of the mermaids played upon harps while others sang pretty songs. They danced together, too — a graceful, swimming dance, so queer to the little girl tha
t it interested and amused her greatly. Cap’n Bill seemed a bit bashful among so many beautiful mermaids, yet he was pleased when the queen offered him a place beside her throne, where he could see and hear all the delightful entertainment provided for the royal guests. He did not talk much, being a man of few words except when alone with Trot, but his light-blue eyes were big and round with wonder at the sights he saw.
Trot and the sailor man went to bed early and slept soundly upon their sponge-covered couches. The little girl never wakened until long after the sun was shining down through the glass roof of her room, and when she opened her eyes she was startled to find a number of big, small and middle-sized fishes staring at her through the glass. “That’s one bad thing ‘bout this mermaid palace,” she said to herself. “It’s too public. Ever’thing in the sea can look at you through the glass as much as it likes. I wouldn’t mind fishes looking at me if they hadn’t such big eyes, an’ — goodness me! There’s a monster that’s all head! And there goes a fish with a sail on its back, an’ here’s old Mummercubble, I’m sure, for he’s got a head just like a pig.”
She might have watched the fishes on the roof for hours, had she not remembered it was late and breakfast must be ready. So she dressed and made her toilet, and swam down into the palace to find Cap’n Bill and the mermaids politely waiting for her to join them. The sea maidens were as fresh and lovely as ever, while each and all proved sweet tempered and merry, even at the breakfast table — and that is where people are cross, if they ever are. During the meal the queen said, “I shall take you this morning to the most interesting part of the ocean, where the largest and most remarkable sea creatures live. And we must visit King Anko, too, for the sea serpent would feel hurt and slighted if I did not bring my guests to call upon him.”
“That will be nice,” said Trot eagerly.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 301