The E. Nesbit Megapack: 26 Classic Novels and Stories (36 page)

The children were not allowed to help, but they loved looking on, and almost felt that, if they looked on earnestly enough, they must, in some strange mysterious way, be actually helping. You know the feeling, I daresay.

The Hippogriff, who was stabled in the castle, flew up to wherever he was wanted, to assist in the hauling. Mr. Noah only had to whisper the magic word in his ear and up he flew. But what that magic word was the children did not know, though they asked often enough.

And now at last the ark was finished, the scaffolding was removed, and there was the great Noah’s ark, firmly planted on the topmost tower. It was a perfect example of the ark-builder’s craft. Its boat part was painted a dull red, its sides and ends were blue with black windows, and its roof was bright scarlet, painted in lines to imitate tiles. No least detail was neglected. Even to the white bird painted on the roof, which you must have noticed in your own Noah’s ark.

A great festival was held, speeches were made, and every one who had lent a hand in the building, even the humblest M.A., was crowned with a wreath of fresh pink and green seaweed. Songs were sung, and the laureate of the Sea-Dwellers, a young M.A. with pale blue eyes and no chin, recited an ode beginning—

Now that we have our Noble Ark

No more we tremble in the dark

When the great seas and the winds cry out,

For we are safe without a doubt.

At undue risings of the tide

Within our Ark we’ll safely hide,

And bless the names of those who thus

Have built a painted Ark for us.

There were three hundred and seventeen more lines, very much like these, and every one said it was wonderful, and the laureate was a genius, and how did he do it, and what brains, eh? and things like that.

And Philip and Lucy had crowns too. The Lord High Islander made a vote of thanks to Philip, who modestly replied that it was nothing, really, and anybody could have done it. And a spirit of gladness spread about among the company so that every one was smiling and shaking hands with everybody else, and even the M.A.’s were making little polite old jokes, and slapping each other on the back and calling each other “old chap,” which was not at all their habit in ordinary life. The whole castle was decorated with garlands of pink and green seaweed like the wreaths that people were wearing, and the whole scene was the gayest and happiest you can imagine.

And then the dreadful thing happened.

Philip and Lucy were standing in their seaweed tunics, for of course they had, since the first day, worn the costume of the country, on the platform in the courtyard. Mr. Noah had just said, “Well, then, we will enjoy this enjoyable day to the very end and return to the city tomorrow,” when a shadow fell on the group. It was the Hippogriff, and on its back was—some one. Before any one could see who that some one was, the Hippogriff had flown low enough for that some one to catch Philip by his seaweed tunic and to swing him off his feet and on to the Hippogriff’s back. Lucy screamed, Mr. Perrin said, “Here, I say, none of that,” and Mr. Noah said, “Dear me!” And they all reached out their hands to pull Philip back. But they were all too late.

“I won’t go. Put me down,” Philip shouted. They all heard that. And also they heard the answer of the person on the Hippogriff—the person who had snatched Philip on to its back.

“Oh, won’t you, my Lord? We’ll soon see about that,” the person said.

Three people there knew that voice, four counting Philip, six counting the dogs. The dogs barked and growled, Mr. Noah said “Drop it;” and Lucy screamed, “Oh no! oh no! it’s that Pretenderette.” The parrot, with great presence of mind, flew up into the air and attacked the ear of the Pretenderette, for, as old books say, it was indeed that unprincipled character who had broken from prison and once more stolen the Hippogriff. But the Pretenderette was not to be caught twice by the same parrot. She was ready for the bird this time, and as it touched her ear she caught it in her motor veil which she must have loosened beforehand, and thrust it into a wicker cage that hung ready from the saddle of the Hippogriff who hovered on his wide white wings above the crowd of faces upturned.

“Now we shall see her face,” Lucy thought, for she could not get rid of the feeling that if she could only see the Pretenderette’s face she would recognise it. But the Pretenderette was too wily to look down unveiled. She turned her face up, and she must have whispered the magic word, for the Hippogriff rose in the air and began to fly away with incredible swiftness across the sea.

“Oh, what shall I do?” cried Lucy, wringing her hands. You have often heard of people wringing their hands. Lucy, I assure you, really did wring hers. “Oh! Mr. Noah, what will she do with him? Where will she take him? What shall I do? How can I find him again?”

“I deeply regret, my dear child,” said Mr. Noah, “that I find myself quite unable to answer any single one of your questions.”

“But can’t I go after him?” Lucy persisted.

“I am sorry to say,” said Mr. Noah, “that we have no boats; the Pretenderette has stolen our one and only Hippogriff, and none of our camels can fly.”

“But what can I
do?
” Lucy stamped her foot in her agony of impatience.

“Nothing, my child,” Mr. Noah aggravatingly replied, “except to go to bed and get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow we will return to the city and see what can be done. We must consult the oracle.”

“But can’t we go
now
,” said Lucy, crying.

“No oracle is worth consulting till it’s had its night’s rest,” said Mr. Noah. “It is a three days’ journey. If we started now—see it is already dusk—we should arrive in the middle of the night. We will start early in the morning.”

But early in the morning there was no starting from the castle of the Dwellers by the Sea. There was indeed no one to start, and there was no castle to start from.

A young blugraiwee, peeping out of its hole after a rather disturbed night to see whether any human beings were yet stirring or whether it might venture out in search of yellow periwinkles, which are its favourite food, started, pricked its spotted ears, looked again, and, disdaining the cover of the rocks, walked boldly out across the beach. For the beach was deserted. There was no one there. No Mr. Noah, no Lucy, no gentle islanders, no M.A.’s—and what is more there were no huts and there was no castle. All was smooth, plain, bare sea-combed beach.

For the sea had at last risen. The fear of the Dwellers had been justified. Whether the sea had been curious about the ark no one knows, no one will ever know. At any rate the sea had risen up and swept away from the beach every trace of the castle, the huts and the folk who had lived there.

A bright parrot, with a streamer of motor veiling hanging to one claw, called suddenly from the clear air to the little blugraiwee.

“What’s up?” the parrot asked; “where’s everything got to?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said the little blugraiwee; “these human things are always coming and going. Have some periwinkles? They’re very fine this morning after the storm,” it said.

CHAPTER VIII

UPS AND DOWNS

We left Lucy in tears and Philip in the grasp of the hateful Pretenderette, who, seated on the Hippogriff, was bearing him away across the smooth blueness of the wide sea.

“Oh, Mr. Noah,” said Lucy, between sniffs and sobs, “how
can
she! You
did
say the Hippogriff could only carry one!”

“One ordinary human being,” said Mr. Noah gently; “you forget that dear Philip is now an earl.”

“But do you really think he’s safe?” Lucy asked.

“Yes,” said Mr. Noah. “And now, dear Lucy, no more questions. Since your arrival on our shores I have been gradually growing more accustomed to being questioned, but I still find it unpleasant and fatiguing. Desist, I entreat.”

So Lucy desisted and every one went to bed, and, for crying is very tiring, to sleep. But not for long.

Lucy was awakened in her bed of soft dry seaweed by the sound of the castle alarm bell, and by the blaring of trumpets and the shouting of many voices. A bright light shone in at the window of her room. She jumped up and ran to the window and leaned out. Below lay the great courtyard of the castle, a moving sea of people on which hundreds of torches seemed to float, and the sound of shouting rose in the air as foam rises in the wind.

“The Fear! The Fear!” people were shouting. “To the ark! to the ark!” And the black night that pressed round the castle was loud with the wild roar of waves and the shriek of a tumultuous wind.

Lucy ran to the door of her room. But suddenly she stopped.

“My clothes,” she said. And dressed herself hastily. For she perceived that her own petticoats and shoes were likely to have better wearing qualities than seaweed could possess, and if they were all going to take refuge in the ark, she felt she would rather have her own clothes on.

“Mr. Noah is sure to come for me,” she most sensibly told herself. “And I’ll get as many clothes on as I can.” Her own dress, of course, had been left at Polistopolis, but the ballet dress would be better than the seaweed tunic. When she was dressed she ran into Philip’s room and rolled his clothes into a little bundle and carried it under her arm as she ran down the stairs. Half-way down she met Mr. Noah coming up.

“Ah! you’re ready,” he said; “it is well. Do not be alarmed, my Lucy. The tide is rising but slowly. There will be time for every one to escape. All is in train, and the embarkation of the animals is even now in progress. There has been a little delay in sorting the beasts into pairs. But we are getting on. The Lord High Islander is showing remarkable qualities. All the big animals are on board; the pigs were being coaxed on as I came up. And the ant-eaters are having a late supper. Do not be alarmed.”

“I can’t help being alarmed,” said Lucy, slipping her free hand into Mr. Noah’s, “but I won’t cry or be silly. Oh, I do wish Philip was here.”

“Most unreasonable of girl children,” said Mr. Noah; “we are in danger and you wish him to be here to share it?”

“Oh, we
are
in danger, are we?” said Lucy quickly. “I thought you said I wasn’t to be alarmed.”

“No more you are,” said Mr. Noah shortly; “of course you’re in danger. But there’s me. And there’s the ark. What more do you want?”

“Nothing,” Lucy answered in a very small voice, and the two made their way to a raised platform overlooking the long inclined road which led up to the tower on which the ark had been built. A long procession toiled slowly up it of animals in pairs, urged and goaded by the M.A.’s under the orders of the Lord High Islander.

The wild wind blew the flames of the torches out like golden streamers, and the sound of the waves was like thunder on the shore.

Down below other M.A.’s were busy carrying bales tied up in seaweed. Seen from above the busy figures looked like ants when you kick into an ant-hill and the little ant people run this way and that way and every way about their little ant businesses.

The Lord High Islander came in pale and serious, with all the calm competence of Napoleon at a crisis.

“Sorry to have to worry you, sir,” he said to Mr. Noah, “but of course your experience is invaluable just now. I can’t remember what bears eat. Is it hay or meat?”

“It’s buns,” said Lucy. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Noah. Of course I ought to have waited for you to say.”

“In my ark,” said Mr. Noah, “buns were unknown and bears were fed entirely on honey, the providing of which kept our pair of bees fully employed. But if you are sure bears
like
buns we must always be humane, dear Lucy, and study the natural taste of the animals in our charge.”

“They love them,” said Lucy.

“Buns and honey,” said the Lord Islander; “and what about bats?”

“I don’t know what bats eat,” said Mr. Noah; “I believe it was settled after some discussion that they don’t eat cats. But what they
do
eat is one of the eleven mysteries. You had better let the bats fast.”

“They
are
, sir,” said the Lord High Islander.

“And is all going well? Shall I come down and lend a personal eye?”

“I think I’m managing all right, sir,” said the Lord High Islander modestly. “You see it’s a great honour for me. The M.A.’s are carrying in the provisions, the boys are stowing them and also herding the beasts. They are very good workers, sir.”

“Are you frightened?” Lucy whispered, as he turned to go back to his overseeing.

“Not I,” said the Lord High Islander. “Don’t you understand that I’ve been promoted to be Lord Vice-Noah of Polistarchia? And of course the hearts of all Vice-Noahs are strangers to fear. But just think what a difficult thing Fear would have been to be a stranger to if you and Philip hadn’t got us the ark!”

“It was Philip’s doing,” said Lucy; “oh,
do
you think he’s all right?”

“I think his heart is a stranger to fear, naturally,” said the Lord High Islander, “so he’s certain to be all right.”

When the last of the animals had sniffed and snivelled its way into the ark—it was a porcupine with a cold in its head—the islanders, the M.A.’s, Lucy and Mr. Noah followed. And when every one was in, the door of the ark was shut from inside by an ingenious mechanical contrivance worked by a more than usually intelligent M.A.

You must not suppose that the inside of the ark was anything like the inside of your own Noah’s ark, where all the animals are put in anyhow, all mixed together and wrong way up as likely as not. That, with live animals and live people, would, as you will readily imagine, be quite uncomfortable. The inside of the ark which had been built under the direction of Mr. Noah and Mr. Perrin was not at all like that. It was more like the inside of a big Atlantic liner than anything else I can think of. All the animals were stowed away in suitable stalls, and there were delightful cabins for all those for whom cabins were suitable. The islanders and the M.A.’s retired to their cabins in perfect order, and Lucy and Mr. Noah, Mr. Perrin and the Lord High Islander gathered in the saloon, which was large and had walls and doors of inlaid mother-of-pearl and pink coral. It was lighted by glass globes filled with phosphorus collected by an ingenious process invented by another of the M.A.’s.