THERE’S A fine new plaything then!” said Jim, as Derry came whizzing along the pavement on a light bright bicycle.
Jim had seen Derry go down the street in all sorts of ways. First in his Nanny’s arms, when he was carried. Later on in his pram, when he was wheeled. Then in a red wooden motor-car, that he could steer for himself. And now on this gay new cycle with the spidery wheels.
“Daddy and Mummy gave it to me for my birthday,” said Derry. “I’m eight today.”
“If I live to see the tenth of August,” said Jim, “I shall be eighty. Nobody’ll give me a bicycle.” He chuckled a little at the notion.
“What would you like best on your birthday?” asked Derry.
“A sight of the sea,” said Jim, “that’s what I’d like better than anything else—a sight of the sea, blue green, or grey, and the smell of it in my nose.”
“I hope you will live to see eighty, Jim,” said Derry.
“And I hope you will!” said Jim heartily. “It’s a very good age to be. What else did you have?”
“Seven birthday cards, and a letter from my granny with a pound in it, and an engine from my uncle, and a book from my aunt, and a mouth-organ from Nanny, and a kitten from the cat. She had five yesterday, so she could spare me one.”
“What colour was it?” asked Jim. “Green?”
Derry burst out laughing. “It’s black with white paws. There isn’t a green kitten.”
“Yes, there is,” said Jim, “because I’ve seen one.”
“Where?” asked Derry.
“Under the sea,” said Jim, “when I was a sailor.”
All the children in the street knew that Jim had been a sailor on the sea, but it surprised Derry to hear that he had been a sailor under it. He exclaimed, “Have you really been under the sea, Jim?”
“Of course I have! What d’ye take me for? A land-lubber?”
Derry didn’t know what a land-lubber was, but he thought he had better not take Jim for one, so he said, “No, of course not. Tell me about the green kitten.”
“I caught it in my shrimping-net,” said Jim, “on the beach at Pegwell Bay.” He paused.
“Do go on, Jim!” urged Derry, leaning his bicycle against the pillar-post.
“Seeing it’s your birthday,” said Jim, “I will. But I’ve got to do some remembering first.” He blew his nose thoughtfully for some time, and then began.
•
It happened when I was a boy. I felt the call of the sea, and ran away from the farm in Kent where I was born. Our farm was not far from the coast, and soon I came to Pegwell Bay, where the good ship Rocking-horse was riding at anchor.
The Captain saw me coming, through his telescope, and when I was near enough he called, “Come here, boy!” He had a commanding sort of voice, so I came.
He looked me up and down, and said, “My cabin-boy has just run away to go on a farm.”
“That’s funny,” I said, “because I’ve just run away from a farm to go for a cabin-boy.”
The Captain looked me up and down, and said, “You’ll do. What’s your name?”
“Jim,” I said. “What’s yours?”
“Cap’n Potts,” he said. “Well Jim, we don’t sail till tomorrow, and tonight I feel like shrimps.”
“Like shrimps?” I said.
“Yes, like shrimps,” said Cap’n Potts.
Now when he said he was feeling like shrimps, I thought Cap’n Potts meant he was feeling sad, or seedy, or something like that. But it turned out he meant just what he said, for he handed me a big shrimping-net, and said, “Go and catch some.”
That was a job any boy would enjoy, be he cabin-boy or farm-boy. I kicked off my boots in a jiffy, and went shrimping among the pools on the beach. The pools were surrounded by rocks, and the rocks were covered with thick green weed, like wet hair, very slippery to the feet.
When I’d got a nice netful of shrimps, I took them aboard the Rocking-horse and Cap’n Potts said, “Well done, Jim! You’ll make a first-class cabin-boy, I see. Take them below to Cookie, and tell him to boil them for tea.”
I went below and found Cookie, and said, “Please, I’m Jim the new cabin-boy, please, and please, Cap’n Potts says will you please cook these shrimps for tea?”
“Shrimps!” said Cookie. “Do you call this a shrimp?”
He plunged his hand into the net, and fetched up what looked like a little lump of rock smothered in green seaweed. But the little lump wriggled in Cookie’s hand, the little lump arched its weedy green back, the little lump waved a weedy green tail, the little lump pricked up two weedy green ears, the little lump wrinkled its weedy green nose, and spat. Next thing, it jumped out of Cookie’s big hands, and clawed its way up to my shoulder, where it sat rubbing its soft green head against my cheek.
The little lump was nothing less than a wee green Kitten, with eyes as pink as coral.
The next day, when we sailed, the Kitten sailed too, and before long it was the pet of the ship. But I was its favou-rite, and it always slept in my cabin. Being the cabin-boy, I had of course, a cabin to myself.
Now that first trip of mine we did not seem to have the best of luck. Everything the ship could have the Rocking-horse had, like a child who has chicken-pox, measles, and mumps, one after the other. The Rocking-horse had hurricanes, and icebergs, and pirates, and thunderbolts. Once she was wrecked, and once she was becalmed.
It was when she was becalmed that my adventure happened.
Cap’n Potts was a restless man, and liked to be on the move. It gave him the fidgets when the ship got stuck like that in the middle of the sea, and one evening he came up to me and said, “Jim, I feel like lobsters!”
“Never mind, Cap’n,” I said. “Perhaps we’ll get a move on tomorrow.”
“Perhaps we will,” said Cap’n Potts, “and perhaps we won’t. But whether we do or don’t, tonight I feel like lobsters.” Then he handed me a lobster-pot, and said, “Go and catch some.”
Then I saw what he meant, and I got into a diving-suit, tucked the lobster-pot under my arm, dived over the side of the Rocking-horse, and sank to the bottom.
There was I, just a little nipper, all alone on the bed of the ocean. And there I saw wonders, to be sure! Coral and pearl and golden sands, coloured seaweed as big as bushes, sunfish and moonfish like red-and-silver jewels, anemones like brilliant beds of flowers, and a sunken ship painted with gold vermilion, like the castle of a king. The only thing I didn’t see was lobsters.
I was just wondering how to catch what wasn’t there, when I found I was caught myself. The long arm of an Octopus had shot out and whipped round me like a rope; next thing I knew, I was lifted up and dropped down into the stateroom of the gorgeous ship I mentioned.
There I found myself face to face with an angry Cat-fish. She was the biggest Catfish you ever saw, and on her head was a little coral crown. She kept opening and shutting her mouth at me, and goggling her eyes at me, as cross as two sticks, and I couldn’t think why.
“You seem upset, ma’am,” I said.
“Upset!” she snapped. “I should think I am upset! And on top of it all you must go and call me ma’am, as though I hadn’t a royal title of my own.”
“Tell me what it is, and I’ll call you by it, ma’am,” said I.
“There you go again!” she snapped. “Where are your eyes, boy? Can’t you see the crown on my head? I am the Queen of the Catfish, and I want my Kitten!”
“Your Kitten, ma’am-your-majesty?” said I.
“My Kitten, booby,” she said, “that you caught in your shrimping-net. And till Cap’n Potts gives it me back, he shan’t have his cabin-boy. As long as he keeps my Kitten, I’ll keep you!”
“Who’s to let him know?” I asked.
“You shall write him a letter,” said she, “and I’ll send it up by Octopus.”
With that she set me down in the ship’s saloon, a very glorious room indeed, with golden plate and jewelled goblets on the tables, and hangings of rich leather on the walls. I took off my diving-suit, pulled out my notebook and pencil, and scribbled a note to Cap’n Potts. This was it:
Dear Cap’n Potts,
The Queen of the Catfish wants her Kittenfish, which is the green Kitten we’ve got aboard the Rocking-horse, and she’s going to keep me till she gets it, so if you want me back send down the Kitten by Octopus, but if you’d rather have the Kitten than me, don’t bother. I hope you are well, as this leaves me.
Yours obediently,
Jim
Just as I scribbled “Jim,” the Queen of the Catfish looked up and said, “Is your letter done? The Octopus is ready to start.”
“Here’s the letter, ma’am-your-majesty,” said I, “but I’m afraid the pencil won’t stand salt water.”
“We’ll put it in a shell to keep it dry,” said the Queen of the Catfish. The saloon was littered with junk of all sorts, and she picked out a big spotted shell with a mouth like a letter-box. Then she posted my letter in the shell, gave it to the Octopus and he went aloft.
I wondered a bit whether Cap’n Potts would rather keep the Kitten than have me back again. I would in his place, and I made ready to stay under the sea for the rest of my life. It wasn’t a bad place to stay in, but I preferred the Rocking-horse. So when the Octopus came down again with the Kitten in its tentacle, I felt quite light-hearted.
It was a pretty sight to see the little green Kitten leap into its mother’s fins, sea-mewing with pleasure; and the Queen of the Catfish was so pleased to see it that she turned from snarly to smiley.
“Get into your diving-suit, Jim,” she said, “and my respects to your Captain, and tell him next time he catches a Kittenfish he must throw it back, or there’ll be trouble.”
“There was trouble,” said I, “what with hurricanes, icebergs, pirates, and all.”
“Those were my doing,” said the Queen of the Catfish, “but from now on you shall have fair winds and smooth sailing. Here’s your lobster-pot.” With that she handed me my pot, and it was full to the brim with lobsters. “Nasty vicious things!” said she. “Always nipping my kittens when they get the chance. I’m glad to be rid of a few. Good-bye, Jim.”
“Good-bye, ma’am-your-majesty,” said I.
“Booby!” she said.
The Octopus took me in one tentacle, and the lobster-pot in another; the Kitten waved its paw at me, and the Queen of the Catfish kissed her fin, and up we went. In another moment I and the lobsters were put down safe and sound on the deck of the good ship Rocking-horse, and wasn’t I glad! I’d never thought to see her more.
Cap’n Potts was sorry to lose the Kitten, but when he saw the lobsters he said, “Well done, my lad; you’re a first-class Cabin-boy, you are!” Then the wind began to blow, and the sails began to fill, and the Rocking-horse was well under way when we all sat down to hot lobsters for tea.
And now see here what I’ve got in my pocket. It’s the very shell I posted my letter in. I found it lying about the deck a few days later, and I’ve kept it ever since. It’s a good shell, and a pretty shell, and seeing it’s your birthday you can keep it, as a present from Jim. Put it to your ear, and you’ll hear the sea in it. But don’t go putting it to your Kitten’s ear, or she might turn green—and then there would be trouble.