CHAPTER X: The Lobster Quadrille
Merman Finnick sighed deeply and drew the back of one arm across his eyes. He looked at Prim and tried to speak, but for a minute or two, sobs choked his voice.
"Same as if he had a bone in his throat," said the Gryphon, and the creature set to work shaking Finnick and slapping him on the back.
At last, the Merman recovered his voice and with tears running down his cheeks, he went on again, "You may not have lived much under the sea—"
"I haven't," injected Prim.
"And perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster?"
Prim began to say, "I once tasted—" but checked herself hastily and said, "No, never"
"So you can have no idea what a delightful thing a Lobster Quadrille is."
"No, indeed," said Prim. "What sort of a dance is it?"
"Why," said the Gryphon, "you first form into a line along the sea-shore—"
"Two lines!' cried the Merman. "Seals, turtles, salmon, and so on. Then, when you've cleared all the jelly-fish out of the way—"
"That generally takes some time," interrupted the Gryphon.
"You advance twice—"
"Each with a lobster as a partner!" cried the Gryphon.
"Of course," the Merman said, "advance twice, set to partners—"
"Change lobsters, and retire in same order," continued the Gryphon.
"Then, you know," the Merman went on, "you throw the—"
"The lobsters!" shouted the Gryphon bounding into the air.
"As far out to sea as you can—"
"Swim after them!" screamed the Gryphon.
"Turn a somersault in the sea!" cried Finnick flapping his tail wildly about.
"Change lobsters again!" yelled the Gryphon at the top of its voice.
"Back to land again, and that's all the first figure," said the Merman suddenly dropping his voice, and the two creatures who had been jumping about like mad things all this time, settled down again very sadly and quietly, and looked at Prim.
"It must be a very pretty dance," said Prim timidly.
"Would you like to see a little of it?" asked the Merman.
"Very much indeed," replied Prim.
"Come, let's try the first figure!" said the Merman to the Gryphon. "We can do without lobsters, you know. Which of us shall sing?"
"Oh, you sing," said the Gryphon. "I've forgotten the words. I'll dance since I have legs and all."
So the Gryphon began solemnly dancing round and round Prim, every now and then treading on her toes when he passed too close, and waving his forepaws to mark the time while the Merman sang this, very slowly and sadly:
'Will you walk a little faster?' said a whiting to a snail.
'There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?
'You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!'
But the snail replied 'Too far, too far!' and gave a look askance—
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.
'What matters it how far we go?' his scaly friend replied.
'There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France—
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?'
"Thank you, Finnick, it's a very interesting dance to watch," said Prim, feeling very glad that it was over at last, "and I do so like that curious song about the whiting."
"Oh, as to the whiting," said the Merman, "they—you've seen them, of course?"
"Yes," replied Prim. "I've often seen them at dinn—" she checked herself hastily.
"I don't know where Dinn may be," said the Merman, "but if you've seen them so often, of course you know what they're like."
"I believe so," Prim replied thoughtfully. "They have their tails in their mouths, and they're all over crumbs."
"You're wrong about the crumbs," said the Merman; "crumbs would all wash off in the sea. But they have their tails in their mouths, and the reason is—" here, Finnick yawned and shut his eyes. "Tell her about the reason and all that," he said to the Gryphon.
"The reason is," said the Gryphon, "that they would go with the lobsters to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had to fall a long way. So they got their tails fast in their mouths. So they couldn't get them out again. That's all."
"Thank you," said Prim. "It's very interesting. I never knew so much about a whiting before."
"I can tell you more than that, if you like," said the Gryphon. "Do you know why it's called a whiting?"
"I never thought about it," said Prim. "Why?"
"It does the boots and shoes," the Gryphon replied very solemnly.
Prim was thoroughly puzzled. "Does the boots and shoes?" she repeated in a wondering tone.
"Why, what are your shoes done with?" asked the Gryphon. "I mean, what makes them so shiny?"
Prim looked down at them and considered a little before she gave her answer. "They're done with blacking, I believe. That's what the older gentlemen in the Hob once told me."
"Boots and shoes under the sea," the Gryphon went on in a deep voice, "are done with a whiting. Now you know."
"And what are they made of?" Prim asked in a tone of great curiosity.
"Soles and eels, of course," the Gryphon replied rather impatiently. "Any shrimp could have told you that."
"If I'd been the whiting," said Prim, whose thoughts were still running on the song, "I'd have said to the porpoise, 'Keep back, please; we don't want you with us.'"
"They were obliged to have him with them," the Merman said. "No wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise."
"Wouldn't it really?" asked Prim in a tone of great surprise.
"Of course not," said Merman Finnick. "Why, if a fish came to me and told me he was going a journey, I should say 'With what porpoise?'"
"Don't you mean 'purpose'?" asked Prim.
"I mean what I say," the Merman replied in an offended tone.
And the Gryphon added "Come, let's hear some of your adventures."
"I could tell you my adventures, beginning from this morning," said Prim a little timidly. "But it's no use going back to yesterday because I was a different person then."
"Explain all that," said the Merman.
"No, no! The adventures first," said the Gryphon in an impatient tone. "Explanations take such a dreadful time."
So Prim began telling them her adventures from the time when she first saw Beetee. She was a little nervous about it just at first; however, when Finnick and the Gryphon got so close to her, one on each side, and opened their eyes and mouths so very wide, she began to gain courage as she went on.
Her listeners were perfectly quiet till she got to the part about her repeating "You are old, President Snow" to the Caterpillar with the words all coming different, and then the Merman drew a long breath, and said "That's very curious."
"It's all about as curious as it can be," said the Gryphon.
"It all came different," the Merman repeated thoughtfully. "I should like to hear her try and repeat something now. Tell her to begin." Finnick looked at the Gryphon as if he thought it had some kind of authority over Prim.
"Stand up and repeat ''Tis the voice of the sluggard'," said the Gryphon.
How the creatures order one about and make one repeat lessons! thought Prim; I might as well be at school at once. However, she got up and began to repeat it, but her head was so full of the Lobster Quadrille that she hardly knew what she was saying, and the words came very queer indeed:
"'Tis the voice of the Lobster; I heard him declare,
'You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.'
As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose
Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.
When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark,
And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark,
But, when the tide rises and sharks are around,
His voice has a timid and tremulous sound."
"That's different from what I used to say when I was a child," said the Gryphon.
"Well, I never heard it before," said the Merman, "but it sounds uncommon nonsense."
Prim said nothing. She had sat down with her face in her hands, wondering if anything would ever happen in a natural way again.
"I should like to have it explained," said the Merman.
"She can't explain it," said the Gryphon hastily. "Go on with the next verse."
"But about his toes?" the Merman persisted. "How could he turn them out with his nose, you know?"
"It's the first position in dancing," said Prim, who was dreadfully puzzled by the whole thing and longed to change the subject.
"Go on with the next verse," the Gryphon repeated impatiently. "It begins 'I passed by his garden.'"
Prim did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all come wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice:
"I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye,
How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie—
The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,
While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat.
When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon,
Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon:
While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl,
And concluded the banquet—"
"What is the use of repeating all that stuff," the Merman interrupted, "if you don't explain it as you go on? It's by far the most confusing thing I ever heard."
"Yes; I think you'd better leave off," said the Gryphon, and Prim was only too glad to do so.
"Shall we try another figure of the Lobster Quadrille?" the Gryphon went on. "Or would you like the Merman to sing you a song?"
"Oh, a song please, if Finnick would be so kind." Prim replied eagerly.
Put off by her quick response, the Gryphon said in a rather offended tone, "Hmm! No accounting for tastes. Sing her 'Annie's Song', will you, old fellow?"
The Merman sighed deeply and began, in a voice sometimes choked with sobs, to sing this:
"Lovely Annie, so tame and kind,
Will you be forever be mine?
Who for such dainties would not stoop?
Love of the morning, beautiful Annie!
Love throughout my day, beautiful Annie!
Beau—ootiful Ann—ie!
Beau—ootiful Ann—ie!
Loo—ove of the e—e—evening,
My beautiful, beautiful Annie!
"Lovely Annie! Who cares for the rich,
Famous, or any other dish?
Who would not give all else for you
I live for only my beautiful Annie?
I live for only my beautiful Annie?
Beau—ootiful Ann—ie!
Beau—ootiful Ann—ie!
Loo—ove of the e—e—evening,
My beautiful, beauti—ful Annie!"
"Chorus again!" cried the Gryphon
Finnick had just begun to repeat it when a cry of "The trial's beginning!" was heard in the distance.
"Come on!" cried the Gryphon, and taking Prim by the hand, it hurried off without waiting for the end of the song.
"What trial is it?" Prim panted as she ran.
But the Gryphon only answered "Come on!" and ran the faster while more and more faintly came, carried on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words:
"Loo—ove of the e—e—evening,
My beautiful, beautiful Annie!"