The Sea Fairies - Lyman Frank Baum (golden son ebook .TXT) š
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Edited by Charles Aldarondo (aldarondo@yahoo.com)
TO JUDITH OF RANDOLPH MASSACHUSETTS
THE SEA FAIRIES
BY L. FRANK BAUM
AUTHOR OF THE EMERALD CITY OF OZ, DOROTHY AND THE WIZARD IN OZ, OZMA OF OZ, THE ROAD TO OZ, THE LAND OF OZ, ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY JOHN R. NEILL
THE oceans are big and broad. I believe two-thirds of the earthās surface is covered with water. What people inhabit this water has always been a subject of curiosity to the inhabitants of the land. Strange creatures come from the seas at times, and perhaps in the ocean depths are many, more strange than mortal eye has ever gazed upon.
This story is fanciful. In it the sea people talk and act much as we do, and the mermaids especially are not unlike the fairies with whom we have learned to be familiar. Yet they are real sea people, for all that, and with the exception of Zog the Magician they are all supposed to exist in the oceanās depths.
I am told that some very learned people deny that mermaids or sea-serpents have ever inhabited the oceans, but it would be very difficult for them to prove such an assertion unless they had lived under the water as Trot and Capān Bill did in this story.
I hope my readers who have so long followed Dorothyās adventures in the Land of Oz will be interested in Trotās equally strange experiences. The ocean has always appealed to me as a veritable wonderland, and this story has been suggested to me many times by my young correspondents in their letters. Indeed, a good many childred have implored me to āwrite something about the mermaids,ā and I have willingly granted the request.
Hollywood, 1911.
L. FRANK BAUM.
TROT AND CAPāN BILL
āNobody,ā said Capān Bill solemnly, āever sawr a mermaid anā lived to tell the tale.ā
āWhy not?ā asked Trot, looking earnestly up into the old sailorās face.
They were seated on a bench built around a giant acacia tree that grew just at the edge of the bluff. Below them rolled the blue waves of the great Pacific. A little way behind them was the house, a neat frame cottage painted white and surrounded by huge eucalyptus and pepper trees. Still farther behind thatāa quarter of a mile distant but built upon a bend of the coastāwas the village, overlooking a pretty bay.
Capān Bill and Trot came often to this tree to sit and watch the ocean below them. The sailor man had one āmeat legā and one āhickory leg,ā and he often said the wooden one was the best of the two. Once Capān Bill had commanded and owned the āAnemone,ā a trading schooner that plied along the coast; and in those days Charlie Griffiths, who was Trotās father, had been the Captainās mate. But ever since Capān Billās accident, when he lost his leg, Charlie Griffiths had been the captain of the little schooner while his old master lived peacefully ashore with the Griffiths family.
This was about the time Trot was born, and the old sailor became very fond of the baby girl. Her real name was Mayre, but when she grew big enough to walk, she took so many busy little steps every day that both her mother and Capān Bill nicknamed her āTrot,ā and so she was thereafter mostly called.
It was the old sailor who taught the child to love the sea, to love it almost as much as he and her father did, and these two, who represented the ābeginning and the end of life,ā became firm friends and constant companions.
āWhy hasnāt anybody seen a mermaid and lived?ā asked Trot again.
āāCause mermaids is fairies, anā aināt meant to be seen by us mortal folk,ā replied Capān Bill.
āBut if anyone happens to see āem, what then, Capān?ā
āThen,ā he answered, slowly wagging his head, āthe mermaids give āem a smile anā a wink, anā they dive into the water anā gets drownded.ā
āSāpose they knew how to swim, Capān Bill?ā
āThat donāt make any diffārence, Trot. The mermaids live deep down, anā the poor mortals never come up again.ā
The little girl was thoughtful for a moment. āBut why do folks dive in the water when the mermaids smile anā wink?ā she asked.
āMermaids,ā he said gravely, āis the most beautiful creatures in the worldāor the water, either. You know what theyāre like, Trot, theyās got a lovely ladyās form down to the waist, anā then the other half of āemās a fish, with green anā purple anā pink scales all down it.ā
āHave they got arms, Capān Bill?ā
āāCourse, Trot; arms like any other lady. Anā pretty faces that smile anā look mighty sweet anā fetchinā. Their hair is long anā soft anā silky, anā floats all around āem in the water. When they comes up atop the waves, they wring the water outān their hair and sing songs that go right to your heart. If anybody is unlucky enough to be āround jesā then, the beauty oā them mermaids anā their sweet songs charm āem like magic; soās they plunge into the waves to get to the mermaids. But the mermaids havenāt any hearts, Trot, no moreān a fish has; so they laughs when the poor people drown anā donāt care a fig. Thatās why I says, anā I says it true, that nobody never sawr a mermaid anā lived to tell the tale.ā
āNobody?ā asked Trot.
āNobody a tall.ā
āThen how do you know, Capān Bill?ā asked the little girl, looking up into his face with big, round eyes.
Capān Bill coughed. Then he tried to sneeze, to gain time. Then he took out his red cotton handkerchief and wiped his bald head with it, rubbing hard so as to make him think clearer. āLook, Trot; aināt that a brig out there?ā he inquired, pointing to a sail far out in the sea.
āHow does anybody know about mermaids if those who have seen them never lived to tell about them?ā she asked again.
āKnow what about āem, Trot?ā
āAbout their green and pink scales and pretty songs and wet hair.ā
āThey donāt know, I guess. But mermaids jesā natcherly has to be like that, or they wouldnāt be mermaids.ā
She thought this over. āSomebody MUST have lived, Capān Bill,ā she declared positively. āOther fairies have been seen by mortals; why not mermaids?ā
āPāraps they have, Trot, pāraps they have,ā he answered musingly. āIām tellinā you as it was told to me, but I never stopped to inquire into the matter so close before. Seems like folks wouldnāt know so much about mermaids if they hadnāt seen āem; anā yet accordinā to all accounts the victim is bound to get drownded.ā
āPāraps,ā suggested Trot softly, āsomeone found a fotygraph of one of āem.ā
āThat might oā been, Trot, that might oā been,ā answered Capān Bill.
A nice man was Capān Bill, and Trot knew he always liked to explain everything so she could fully understand it. The aged sailor was not a very tall man, and some people might have called him chubby, or even fat. He wore a blue sailor shirt with white anchors worked on the corners of the broad, square collar, and his blue trousers were very wide at the bottom. He always wore one trouser leg over his wooden limb and sometimes it would flutter in the wind like a flag because it was so wide and the wooden leg so slender. His rough kersey coat was a pea-jacket and came down to his waistline. In the big pockets of his jacket he kept a wonderful jackknife, and his pipe and tobacco, and many bits of string, and matches and keys and lots of other things. Whenever Capān Bill thrust a chubby hand into one of his pockets, Trot watched him with breathless interest, for she never knew what he was going to pull out.
The old sailorās face was brown as a berry. He had a fringe of hair around the back of his head and a fringe of whisker around the edge of his face, running from ear to ear and underneath his chin. His eyes were light blue and kind in expression. His nose was big and broad, and his few teeth were not strong enough to crack nuts with.
Trot liked Capān Bill and had a great deal of confidence in his wisdom, and a great admiration for his ability to make tops and whistles and toys with that marvelous jackknife of his. In the village were many boys and girls of her own age, but she never had as much fun playing with them as she had wandering by the sea accompanied by the old sailor and listening to his fascinating stories.
She knew all about the Flying Dutchman, and Davy Jonesā Locker, and Captain Kidd, and how to harpoon a whale or dodge an iceberg or lasso a seal. Capān Bill had been everywhere in the world, almost, on his many voyages. He had been wrecked on desert islands like Robinson Crusoe and been attacked by cannibals, and had a host of other exciting adventures. So he was a delightful comrade for the little girl, and whatever Capān Bill knew Trot was sure to know in time.
āHow do the mermaids live?ā she asked. āAre they in caves, or just in the
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