M
MARY FRANCES awoke with a start, and rubbed her eyes.
“Surely I heard somebody call,” she said.
Again came the call, “Land ahoy! Land ahoy!”
“Why, that is what they called out on Columbus’ ship when they discovered America!” thought Mary Frances, hurriedly dressing. “I wonder if we are discovering anything.”
It was just getting light as she ran out on deck. At first she did not see any living thing except the dolphin, which was swimming ahead of the boat. She gazed around on the water. It was a deep blue color.
“It looks like the tub of bluing water when Nora rinses the clothes,” she thought. “I wonder if it will color anything?” She ran to the railing, dipped up a pailful and dropped in her handkerchief. “Just clear water,” she said; and hung it up to dry.
“Land ahoy!” came the call once more. Mary Frances looked up at the sails. There was the cat. He was sitting on the rope ladder, and holding his forepaws like a telescope. As soon as he saw Mary Frances, he pointed ahead and shouted, “Land ahoy!” Then she saw a dim outline of coast.
The cat scrambled down the rigging, and ran up to her. “Story Island! See!” he said.
“Why,” exclaimed Mary Frances, “why, how long have I been asleep? I thought you said something about a year!”
“Ha, ha!” laughed the cat. “A year and a day, I said, andthat it nearly is. You have been asleep just three hundred and sixty-five days and some hours.”
“Have I really?” exclaimed Mary Frances; then hearing a sudden splash in the water, “Oh, what was that? Was it the pirate?”
“That? That wasn’t anything to be afraid of—just some flying fish,” answered the cat.
“Do they really have wings?” asked Mary Frances.
“They certainly do. Come, let us look into the water and see if there are any near the boat,” said the cat.
“Oh, oh, oh,” exclaimed Mary Frances, “what a beautiful fish I see! It has a tail of gold and a head of blue—turquoise blue. Isn’t it beautiful! See it, there!”
“Yes, I do,” said the cat; “it is an angel fish.”
“An angel fish! That’s just the right name for it,” said Mary Frances.
“Yes, I believe somebody who tasted one named it that,” said the cat.
“Surely nobody would eat such a beautiful creature,” Mary Frances said.
The cat smiled. “Its beauty is more than skin deep,” he said.
“Well, I wouldn’t eat anything so lovely,” said Mary Frances.
“That reminds me of a rhyme a fish taught me,” said the cat.
“That sounds mighty fishy,” thought Mary Frances, but she did not say anything.
“Shall I say it for you?” and without waiting to hear, he went on:
“Oh, mother, if you lived down in the seaAnd a fish you had to be,What kind of fish would be your wish?My own would be—an angel fish.“With nose of loveliest turquoise blue,And tail-wings of yellowest golden hue—I’m sure my most angelic wishIs to be an angel fish.“Don’t you suppose when fishes dieTheir dream is never toward the sky;But if they’re good, their dearest wishIs to be an angel fish?”
“Oh, mother, if you lived down in the seaAnd a fish you had to be,What kind of fish would be your wish?My own would be—an angel fish.“With nose of loveliest turquoise blue,And tail-wings of yellowest golden hue—I’m sure my most angelic wishIs to be an angel fish.“Don’t you suppose when fishes dieTheir dream is never toward the sky;But if they’re good, their dearest wishIs to be an angel fish?”
“Oh, mother, if you lived down in the seaAnd a fish you had to be,What kind of fish would be your wish?My own would be—an angel fish.
“Oh, mother, if you lived down in the sea
And a fish you had to be,
What kind of fish would be your wish?
My own would be—an angel fish.
“With nose of loveliest turquoise blue,And tail-wings of yellowest golden hue—I’m sure my most angelic wishIs to be an angel fish.
“With nose of loveliest turquoise blue,
And tail-wings of yellowest golden hue—
I’m sure my most angelic wish
Is to be an angel fish.
“Don’t you suppose when fishes dieTheir dream is never toward the sky;But if they’re good, their dearest wishIs to be an angel fish?”
“Don’t you suppose when fishes die
Their dream is never toward the sky;
But if they’re good, their dearest wish
Is to be an angel fish?”
“Just Some Flying Fish,” Answered the Cat
“Just Some Flying Fish,” Answered the Cat
“That is a pretty angelic wish, I’ll say,” added the cat. “Oh, there are some of the flying fish,” pointing to a distance from the boat.
“They are not anything like as pretty as the angel fish,” said Mary Frances.
“Oh, see the whale spouting!” exclaimed the cat, running to the other side of the boat.
And Mary Frances saw the long fountain of water shooting up in the air.
“My,” said the cat, “if I could just catch that whale, I could feed every hungry cat I ever heard of.”
“Why, how big is it?” asked Mary Frances.
“It’s twenty times as long as half again, and double the quarter wide,” said the cat.
“How large is that, if you please?” asked Mary Frances.
“If the length is multiplied by the thickness and then by breadth, it will give the correct volume,” said the cat; “at least, that’s according to tickle.”
“Tickle?” asked Mary Frances. “What is tickle?”
“Tickle is short for arithmetickle,” replied the cat.
“Oh?” said Mary Frances, “we don’t call it arithmetickle; we called it arithmetic.”
“That is nothing like so pretty a name,” said the cat, “and you get the same result.”
“But the size of the whale—” said Mary Frances, “what is it?”
“Can’t you do a simple little problem like that—when I’ve given you the rule?” asked the cat.
Mary Frances did not like to say that she had to give it up.
“Let bygones be bygones,” said the cat, “and look up ‘whales’ in the dictionary when you reach the island.”
“Oh, yes,”exclaimedMary Frances. “Oh, I can see—I think I can see some houses! Oh, look, Cat, look! They are pure white!”
“Don’t you know why?” asked the cat.
“I suppose they are painted,” said Mary Frances.
“Painted, me whiskers!” exclaimed the cat. “They are not painted. They are made of coral.”
“What is coral?” asked Mary Frances.
“Come, I will show you,” said the cat, leading the way to the middle of the deck.
He lifted a wooden cover. Underneath was a deep box. The bottom of the box was made of glass.
“Now, you can see the bottom of the sea,” said the cat. “See? See? See the bottom of the sea?”
“Oh, look at those white trees!” cried Mary Frances, gazing down into the clear water through the glass.
The cat laughed. “They are not trees,” he said; “they are coral formations;” and he told her about the tiny coral insects which build coral growth by fastening their tiny shell bodies to each other.
“Do they know they are making trees?” asked Mary Frances.
“Oh, my, no,” said the cat. “They just grow naturally, like any other babies. Sometimes they make fan-like forms, or sponge-shaped ones.”
“Did they build the white houses over on the island?” asked Mary Frances.
“Of course not,” said the cat; “what a curious question. They live only in the sea. The houses are up in the air—but they built the island.”
“Not that big island!” exclaimed Mary Frances.
“You have not contradicted me before,” said the cat. “If you know all about it——”
“I beg your pardon,” said Mary Frances, very humbly. “Will you please tell me the rest?”
“They rest on the bottom of the ocean,” said the cat. “The houses are made of the coral which is dug out of the cellars,” he went on. “But, come, let us get ready; we are getting near port,” and he began to wash his face and smooth back his whiskers.
Mary Frances took the hint, and went into the cabin.
She tidied her hair, and put on a fresh ribbon, and when she went on deck, she took her pocket mirror with her.