The Exploits of Moominpappa (Moominpappa's Memoirs) (6 page)

'All right,' Snufkin said.

''Bye, Father,' said Moomintroll.

Moominpappa remained on the verandah. He sat thinking for a while, then he took out his memoir-pen and continued the story of his youth.

*

The next morning the Hemulen Aunt was devastatingly cheerful. At six o'clock we awoke to her trumpeting:

'Good morning! Good morning!! Good morning, everybody!!! And what are our plans for today? What about a little sock-darning contest on deck in the sunshine? I've looked in your sea-chests, you know. Or a nice history quiz? Good, good, good! And what's the fare today? Something healthy, I hope?'

(I think we liked her better when she was angry.)

'Goffee,' said the Muddler.

'Porridge,'
said the Hemulen Aunt. 'Coffee's for the old and shaky.'

'I knew a chap once who died of porridge,' mumbled the Joxter. 'It stuck in his throat and choked him.'

'I wonder what your parents would say if they saw you take coffee first thing in the morning,' said the Hemulen Aunt. 'But I suppose you're badly brought up. Or not brought up at all. Or born impossible to bring up.'

'I'm born under special stars,' I said. 'I was found in a small shell padded with velvet'

'My parents were lost in a spring-cleaning! Excuse me!' said the Muddler.

'When I last heard from my family it was at war with a park keeper,' said the Joxter.

'Hmph,' said Hodgkins. (By which I suppose he meant that parents are best discussed either when you're quite small or else old and shaky enough to be allowed coffee in the morning.)

The Hemulen Aunt looked at us over her glasses.

'From now on I'm going to take care of you,' she said.

'You needn't,' we all shouted.

But she shook her head and said cheerfully: 'It's simply my Hemulic Duty. Now I'll go and prepare a little multiplication contest for you all!'

When the Hemulen Aunt had vanished into her cabin we curled up under the sun tent on foredeck and tried to comfort each other. We left
The Oshun Oxtra
to take care of herself for a while.

'By my tail!' I said. 'I'll never save anybody in the dark again!'

'Too late now,' said the Joxter. 'One of these days she'll throw my pipe overboard and put me to work. I'm sure there are no limits to what she'll do.'

'Maybe we'll meet the Groke again?' the Muddler said hopefully. 'Or just somebody else who'll be so kind as to eat her? Excuse me! Was that rude of me?'

'H'm,' said Hodgkins.

We sat silent.

'If only I'd be a great man,' I said. 'Great and famous. Then I needn't take any notice of her.'

'How does one get famous?' the Joxter asked.

'Oh, just by doing something that nobody else has been able to do.'

'For instance?' asked the Joxter.

'Inventing a flying houseboat,' said Hodgkins with shining eyes.

'I believe it's a bore to be famous,' said the Joxter. 'Perhaps it's fun at first, but then I suppose you get used to it, and soon you're sick of it. Like on a merry-go-round.'

'What's that?' I asked.

'Don't you know?' said Hodgkins. 'Very interesting invention. I'll show you the principle of the thing.'

He produced a pencil and some paper.

(Hodgkins knew all about motors and engines! He liked them, too. I've always felt a little awed by them. A water-wheel is all right, but there I draw the line. Even a zipper is a bit suspicious. The Joxter's grandfather once had a pair of trousers with a zipper, and one day the zipper stuck, for ever.) I was about to express some such thoughts to my friends when a curious sound made us turn round.

It was a low, half-muffled howl, like somebody bellowing through a tin tube. Its tone was definitely menacing.

Hodgkins looked over the railing and uttered the single ominous word: 'Niblings!'

Here a short explanation may be necessary, even if these are well-known facts to all sensible people.

While we were having a rest in the shade under the sun tent
The Oshun Oxtra
had slowly drifted down to the river mouth where the Niblings lived. The Nibling is a social animal and detests being alone. He lives under river beds, digging tunnels with his teeth and forming rather happy colonies. He's almost as good at building things as I am. He's rather good-natured, except that he cannot keep himself from chewing and gnawing at things, particularly strange and unknown things.

And the Nibling has one bad habit: he's fond of chewing

off noses if they're too long (for his taste). So we felt a little nervous, for obvious reasons.

'Keep in the tin!' shouted Hodgkins to the Muddler.

The Oshun Oxtra
stopped and lay quite still in a great swarm of Niblings. They looked us over in silence, treading water and fanning their whiskers.

'Please make way for us,' Hodgkins said.

But the Niblings only drew closer around the houseboat, and then a couple of them started to climb the side. They had suckers on their feet.

When the first Nibling poked its head over the railing the Hemulen Aunt appeared on deck again.

'What's all this?' she asked. 'Who're those fellows? I can't have them coming aboard to disturb our multiplication contest.'

'Don't frighten them! They'll be angry,' Hodgkins said.

'
I'm angry,
' said the Hemulen Aunt. 'Away, away! Be off with you!' And she knocked the nearest Nibling over its head with her umbrella handle.

At once all the Niblings turned to look at the Hemulen Aunt. It was obvious that they contemplated her nose. When they had contemplated it long enough they emitted once more their curious muffled tin-tube bellow. And then everything happened very quickly.

Thousands of Niblings came swarming aboard. We saw the Hemulen Aunt lose her balance, and in a few seconds, wildly waving her umbrella, she was carried away on a living carpet of hairy Nibling backs. With a loud scream she tipped over the railing and disappeared. A moment later there wasn't a single Nibling to be seen.

All was silent, and
The Oshun Oxtra
continued on its course.

'Well,' said the Joxter. 'Why didn't you rescue her?'

My chivalry prompted me to rush to her aid, but my bad and natural instincts told me it wouldn't be of any use.

'It's too late now,' I mumbled. And so it was.

'Mphm,' said Hodgkins a little uncertainly.

'And that's that,' said the Joxter.

'A sorry end,' I said.

'Excuse me, was that my fault?' asked the Muddler. 'I said, didn't I, that I hoped somebody would be so kind as to eat her?'

Well - what would you have done?

I had saved her life once, and a Groke really is something very much worse than a Nibling. Niblings aren't so bad, in fact.... Perhaps she would enjoy the change? Perhaps she would even look nicer with a small nose?

The sun shone peacefully, and we started to scrub the deck. It was quite sticky from the Niblings' suckered feet. Then we brewed enormous quantities of good, black, strong coffee.

The Oshun Oxtra
seemed to be surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of small, flat islands.

'There's no end of them,' I said. 'Where are we going?'

'Anywhere... Nowhere... said the Joxter, and filled his pipe. 'What about it? We're all right, aren't we?'

Yes, of course. But still...

Great talent and an unquiet heart are often combined. My heart has always longed for new places and new acquaintances.

I sat in the prow looking ahead, while I pondered over my experiences so far. They were as follows:

1. Try to have your Moomin babies born at an astro-logically suitable moment, and give them a romantic entry into the world.

2. People do not like to hear about Hemulens when they have other things to do.

3. You never can tell what aneroid barometers may be caught in any net.

4. Never paint a coffee tin simply because there's some paint left over.

5. All big animals are not dangerous.

6. All small animals are not afraid.

7. Try to avoid saving people in the dark.

While I sat sorting out these remarkable truths of life the houseboat rounded the last of the small islands - and suddenly my heart took a jump straight into my throat and stuck there.

Before us lay the Ocean, blue, wide and glittering!

'Hodgkins!' I shouted. 'Ocean ahead!'

'It's too big!' said the Muddler and vanished into his tin. 'Excuse me! It tickles my eyes ana I don't know what to think!'

The Joxter came on deck and wondered. He had nevar seen the Ocean before.

'How blue it is,' he said. 'Let's steer straight ahead and just roll and sleep and never arrive anywhere!'

'You're talking like a Hattifattener,' Hodgkins said.

'A what?' I asked.

'A Hattifattener,' answered Hodgkins. 'Never seen one? No peace, no rest. Always travelling. Travel and travel without a word. Dumb.'

'How strange,' I said. 'What a curious world it is.'

'Indeed,' said Hodgkins.

We found a harbour in a little round cove like a polished tub between the towering rocks and cliffs.

And then we went ashore to gather sea-shells. The beach was full of red and yellow sea-weed, of transparent jelly-fish and crabs and sea-urchins.

We admired the sand that was elegantly raked in little wavy stripes by the sea spooks. We climbed up and down among the cliffs that were smooth as silk and quite warm in the basking evening sun. The Muddler went wading along the beach to look for curious pebbles.

I'm sure my son Moomintroll has inherited my taste for beaches. I feel proud of him when he goes pearl-diving or cave-discovering or salvaging wreckage! But to be out at sea and to have only the horizon before one's eyes is often a little tedious to Moomins. We like changing things, all that is unexpected and strange and mixed-up, like beaches, and sunsets, and spring.

Now evening came, very slowly and carefully, to give the day ample time to go to bed. Small clouds lay strewn

over the sky like dabs of pink whipped cream. They were reflected in the ocean that rested calm and smooth. It looked quite harmless. 'Have you ever seen a cloud really close?' I asked.

'No,' said Hodgkins. Damp and chilly, I expect.'

'I think they're more like blanc-mange,' said the Joxter. We sat talking on a rock. The air was filled with the tang of sea-weed and of something else that could only have been the ocean smell.

I felt so happy that I wasn't even afraid it wouldn't last

'Don't you feel good?' I asked.

'Rather,' Hodgkins answered. (I knew by that that he was exceedingly and enormously happy.)

In that moment I caught sight of a whole flotilla of small ships putting out to sea. Light as butterflies they went gliding away over their own reflections. All were manned by a silent crew: little grey-white beings huddled close together and staring out towards the horizon.

'Hattifatteners,' Hodgkins said.

'Hattifatteners!' I whispered excitedly. 'Putting out on their endless voyages...'

'Mind you don't touch them if there's a thunderstorm about,' said Hodgkins. 'Makes them electric. Sting like nettles.'

'They used to live a wicked life,' said the Joxter.