The Pirates in the Deep Green Sea (34 page)

Very unhappily they set out after breakfast, Timothy and Hew and Sam Sturgeon, with a large cake for Cully that Mrs. Matches had baked for the Captain's birthday—which happened to be that very day—and two Zulu assegais, that also
belonged to Captain Spens, as presents for William Button and Henry String. They would, thought Timothy and Hew, be very useful for pricking basking-sharks.

They crossed to the Hen, and as they approached the pool where Cully usually lay, they heard him singing; and heard another voice which they could not identify. They stopped to listen, and then, going down on their hands and knees, crawled to a ledge of rock, overgrown with seaweed, from which they could see the pool and Cully's companion, and hear the words of their song. Great was their surprise when they recognised his visitors, who were nine in number.

Opposite him, between William Button and Henry String, sat Miss Dildery, and on the seaward side of the pool were her eight nephews and nieces. They sat in a row, behaving very well, but they did not seem to be enjoying themselves. They looked like octopuses who had been compelled to dress-up for a party when they wanted to go paddling.

Miss Dildery was very busy, in a homely but elegant fashion, for with four of her arms she was embroidering two table-mats in gay colours, and with the other four she was winding two balls of bright silk from skeins that William Button and Henry String held for her, one on either side. And at the same time she was singing a duet with Cully, to which the eight little octopuses, with shrill voices and rather grim expressions, added a chorus. It went as follows:

You say that you love me—I'm sure that you do!

I myself feel exceedingly tender to you!

In your beautiful eyes I would drown when I look,

If I could be sure that you knew how to cook,

And I want to remind you, before we are wed,

That you always must bring me my breakfast in bed.

Breakfast in bed! That is what he desires!

A capable wife is the sort he admires,

And love doesn't last if it isn't well fed,

So remember to bring him his breakfast in bed!

You adore me, dear Cully—I know that you do!

And I am most deeply attracted to you!

To serve and attend you will be my delight

If you'll always admit my opinions are right!

Be sure to agree with whatever I've said,

And of course I shall bring you your breakfast in bed.

Admit she is right! That is what she desires!

A unanimous husband's the sort she requires,

So never look black, though she makes you see red,

Or she won't often bring you your breakfast in bed.

A bargain, dear Dilly! I promise, I do,

If you wait upon me, I shall listen to you!

If you do as I wish, you can say what you please—

Believe, if you like, that the moon's made of cheese—

You can think that black's white, you can stand on your head,

If only you'll bring me my breakfast in bed!

Stand on your head! He won't care at all!

Love cannot live but in Liberty Hall!

And with Freedom of Speech you can Butter your Bread,

If you faithfully bring him his breakfast in bed!

A bargain, my cabbage—
mon cher petit chou!

If you listen to me, I shall wait upon you!

I'll cook and I'll darn, and I'll nurse when you're ill,

If in all other matters I get my own will!

I shall not be driven, I must not be led,

If you want to make sure of your breakfast in bed.

She will not be driven! She'll have her own way!

If it's comfort you value, you'll just have to pay!

Good fortune's a jewel, but it hangs by a thread—

Oh, I wonder how long you'll get breakfast in bed!

There was a little pause when they had finished, and then Cully said, ‘The children sing very nicely, my dear, but a good voice isn't everything. Children ought to show respect for their elders—great respect, unfailing respect, loving respect!'

‘And they do!' Miss Dildery declared. ‘They've been very well brought up, and already they respect you deeply. —You do respect your Uncle Cully, don't you, children?'

‘Yes, Aunt Dildery,' they answered, and stared coldly at their elders.

‘Well, they don't look as if they did,' said Cully—and then Timothy and Hew and Sam Sturgeon stood up behind the ledge of rock, a few yards away, and Timothy and Hew shouted, ‘Good morning, Miss Dildery! How do you do?'

Miss Dildery dropped her table-mats and the two balls of coloured silk, and held out all her arms towards them. ‘My dear, dear friends!' she exclaimed. ‘Oh, what a pleasure to see you! Little did I think, when I had the joy of entertaining you at Coral Villa, that we should meet again on your own beautiful island! Life is so full of surprises, isn't it?'

Timothy introduced Sam Sturgeon, and Hew asked her, ‘Are you going to look after Cully now?'

Miss Dildery blushed all over—coral pink and rose pink in some places, pillar-box red in others—and, looking shyly at Cully, murmured, ‘You tell them, dear.'

‘She thinks it would be a good thing if we got married,' said Cully in an off-handed way. ‘What's in your basket, Timothy?'

‘A cake,' said Timothy.

Miss Dildery was displeased, as well she might be, by Cully's manner. She said shrilly, ‘He's been pleading with me to marry him for years and years, and when I heard how brave he'd been, and how terribly injured he was, I hadn't the heart to refuse him any longer. So I took the earliest chance to
come and tell him so. We travelled by basking-shark—so comfortably! The children did enjoy it—didn't you, children?'

‘We were sick,' said one of the little octopuses.

‘Not all the time,' said Miss Dildery. ‘And in any case it was well worth a little discomfort to make your poor uncle so happy.'

‘Are you going to live at Coral Villa?' asked Timothy.

‘Coral Villa is going to be the happiest house in all the sea,' said Miss Dildery.

‘How is Dingy?' asked Hew.

‘Horace,'
said Miss Dildery firmly. ‘You mean Horace. Horace is splendid, quite splendid, and very, very happy. The children adore him—don't you, my dears?'

‘Except when he ties us into knots,' said one of the little octopuses.

‘He plays with them,' explained Miss Dildery, ‘and sometimes they don't quite understand the rules of the game.'

Cully had been looking fixedly at the basket on Timothy's arm, and now he asked, ‘What sort of a cake is it?'

They had wrapped it up carefully in a napkin and brown paper, and when Timothy undid it and Cully saw that it was a birthday cake, magnificent in white sugar icing, his spirits revived and he suddenly became as cheerful as he had been when the boys first met him.

‘What a lovely cake!' he exclaimed. ‘Oh, I
do like birthday cake! There's nothing better, is there? But it won't keep, I'm afraid, it looks far too rich, so we'd better cut it now, in case it goes bad. You've got a knife, Mr. Sturgeon, haven't you? —Oh, Dilly, my dear, take the children down to the water and play with them for a little while, will you? I shall be busy for half an hour or so. We've a great deal to talk about.'

‘But you must give the children some cake!' said Miss Dildery. ‘They adore birthday cake, and so do I.'

‘It's very bad for children,' declared Cully, ‘and you shouldn't eat sweet things at all. They make you fat.'

‘Nonsense' said Miss Dildery. ‘Cut
nine
slices, Mr. Sturgeon please, and then the children and I will go and have a little picnic, and leave you to talk.'

‘Thin ones,' whispered Cully anxiously. ‘Thinner than that—much thinner!'

It was a large cake, fortunately, and after good
slices had been cut for Miss Dildery and the eight little octopuses, and for William Button and Henry String, there was still half of it left for Cully. He enjoyed himself immensely, and talked as vigorously as he ate.

‘She's a fine octopus, isn't she?' he said. ‘I'm very fond of her, we've been friends for years, but I'd never marry her so long as I could swim. Oh no! No, no, no, no! I was always glad to see her when we met, and I enjoyed thinking about her when we were two or three thousand miles apart. But I didn't want to live with her all the time, not when I could swim for myself. Why should I? —But it's different now, of course. Quite, quite different! It was devotion to duty that undid me. I became a hero, and now, in consequence of that, I've got to get married. Oh dear! Dear, dear, dear me! —Do be careful, boys, if ever you're tempted to behave like a hero. You may lose a leg or an arm, all the ladies for miles around will fall in love with you, and if you've lost a leg you won't be able to run away. One thing leads to another, and a crippled hero is bound to be married whether he likes it or not. —Don't say that's the last slice, Mr. Sturgeon? Well, well! It was a beautiful cake, and there'd have been almost enough if it hadn't been for all those children. —You'll come and see us in Coral Villa, won't you, if ever you travel under the sea again? I shall be a quiet, respectable, married octopus, but we'll talk about old times, and I dare say we'll enjoy ourselves in
one way or another. I
think
—I'm not quite sure—but I
think
she's a very good cook.'

The flow of words was stopped by Gunner Boles, who suddenly appeared out of the sea and came stumbling up the weedy rocks, shaking water-drops from his red whiskers.

‘It's time to go, Cully,' he said. ‘Timothy and Hew, my dears, we've got to say good-bye. —I've seen my orders, Sam, and it's an easy job for me this time. I'm going to have a spell of duty at the Admiral's court, and these two worthless, good-for-nothing, young Powder Monkeys are coming with me. Though why Davy Jones should want them about his house, I can't think.'

‘You've handed over the knot, have you?' asked Sam.

‘To a good man,' said Gunner Boles. ‘My relief's a good sailor and a good man, and he'll look after the knot well enough. But I don't suppose you'll ever see him, Sam.'

‘No, it isn't likely,' said Sam, ‘unless you've trouble again at the bottom of the sea.'

‘I don't want any more trouble,' said Gunner Boles. ‘I want a quiet life, and peace to smoke my pipe and contemplate the wonders of the deep. That's all I ask for. —Now then, Cully, heave yourself out of that pool. Show a leg, my lad.'

‘Don't be ridiculous,' said Cully. ‘You know perfectly well that I'm quite incapable of doing a hand's turn for myself, and I don't ever intend to try. I've earned my rest!'

‘I shall look after him,' said Miss Dildery. ‘It is my duty and my privilege!'

She made her nephews and nieces take hold of his arms, one on each, and haul together. They were strong little creatures, and pulled Cully out of the pool without much trouble. Then he said good-bye to Timothy and Hew and Sam Sturgeon, shaking hands with all of them at the same time, and Miss Dildery thanked them very prettily for having been the means of bringing her and Cully together again.

‘We owe our happiness entirely to you,' she said, and blushed like a fine sunset.

The little octopuses pulled Cully down to the sea, and swam with him to the basking-shark that was waiting a couple of hundred yards away. Miss Dildery swam beside them, and turned round at least a dozen times to wave to Timothy and Hew.

William Button and Henry String were very pleased with their Zulu assegais, and Sam had brought a new pipe for Gunner Boles. The Gunner had told him, a few days before, that they could keep the Shell, which he had left in Captain Spens's bedroom on the night of their party, on condition that no one ever listened to it but themselves. And now he made them promise again to remember that.

‘For it's a great secret that it tells,' he said, ‘and it wouldn't do at all if everybody got to know about it. So take care of the Shell, boys, and don't forget the sailors under the sea!'

‘We'll never forget,' they answered, and very sadly indeed they watched him, and William Button and Henry String, wade out into the calm green water, and then, as neatly as seals, dive down into the depths. When they were a hundred yards away Gunner Boles came up to the surface, his bald head shining in the sun and his red whiskers gleaming like fire, and waved to them, once, twice, and again. And that was the last they saw of him.

‘And now,' said Timothy as they walked up the short drive that led to Popinsay House, ‘life is going to be very dull.'

‘Your mother doesn't think so,' said Sam, and pointed to three men who were working on the roof of the house, renewing slates and repairing the chimneys. There were other men painting the windows, and inside were paper-hangers and carpenters, as busy as they could be. All over the island, indeed, people were painting their doors and papering their walls and planting fine flowers in their gardens, for Captain Spens had discovered that everyone in Popinsay was a descendant of some sort, or married to a descendant, of one or other of the men who had sailed with Aaron Spens, and therefore entitled to a share of the treasure according to Aaron's old agreement with his crew. Many people did not get very much, but what they got they quickly spent with great enjoyment.

‘No,' said Sam, ‘your mother isn't going to find life dull for the next few months—and your new gardeners won't have much time for idling, not if I know her.'

There had been no gardener at Popinsay House for many a year, but now there were two. They
were hard at work, and Timothy and Hew and Sam Sturgeon stood for a couple of minutes to watch them. They were two of the ugliest men that anyone in Popinsay had ever seen, but they were hard workers and very grateful to Captain Spens for employing them. He had found them in the cellar one day. They were afraid, they said, to stay any longer in the shed where the grave-digger kept his tools, and they could think of no other hiding-place. So they had returned to the cellar where once they had been prisoners, because they had been given plenty to eat there, and usually a newspaper to read. The new gardeners were Pott and Kettle.