The Missing Prince

CHAPTER III. – PROFESSOR CRAB

GOOD gracious! whatever am I to do now?” thought Boy, for the tide was rising higher and higher every moment, and there seemed to be no possible way of getting back to the shore again. He had just decided to return to Sand Castle and see if he could not find something to make a raft of when he noticed a very large Crab in a white waistcoat and dark blue coat carrying a goldheaded cane in one claw, and walking rapidly towards him.

As soon as he perceived Boy he exclaimed in a delighted voice, —

“Why! Bless me, what a charming little human creature! How do you do, my dear sir?”

Boy, staring at him in great surprise, replied that he was “quite well, thank you,” and was just going to ask the Crab if he could suggest a way back to the shore, when a great wave rolled up unexpectedly and carried Boy and the Crab off their feet, destroying about half of Sand Castle, and washing away most of the toy trees which were in the garden.

“Very refreshing, sir, isn’t it?” remarked the Crab, smoothing down his coat as the wave receded, leaving them on the wet sand.

Boy, drenched to the skin, was spluttering and gasping for breath, and could not reply for a moment or two, but at last he managed to say, “I think it is horrid, and I am sure I shall be drowned soon if this sort of thing goes on much longer. Do you know how I can get back to the shore?” he panted.

“You can’t get back,” said the Crab decidedly.

“Oh dear me! then I shall certainly be drowned!” cried Boy in alarm.

“What nonsense!” remarked the Crab. “That’s what all the human creatures say directly they get a little wet. It’s all affectation, my dear sir, I assure you. Why, look at me. I’m just as comfortable in the water as out of it, and so would you be if you would only try it. Here comes another wave. Now don’t be frightened and don’t let yourself be carried away; just stop on the sand and let the water go over you – give me your claw;” and grasping Boy’s hand He held him, down while the wave passed over their heads. For a moment Boy could not breathe, but presently having swallowed a great mouthful of salt water, he found to his great surprise that he could breathe just as well under the water as out of it.

“There, what did I tell you?” remarked the Crab pleasantly, when Boy had partially recovered from his fright; for there is no disguising the fact that he had been frightened, although he was a brave little fellow, too. “Come along,” continued the Crab, “you had better come and see my school now you have got so far.”

“Your school!” exclaimed Boy. “Do you keep a school?”

“Yes,” replied the Crab, “I am the Head Master of Drinkon College.”

“What a funny name!” said Boy smilingly.

“Not at all,” replied the Crab; “no funnier than Eaton – Eaton on land and Drinkon under the sea, you know.”

Boy thought about this as they proceeded along the hard sand under the water, and then he noticed to his great surprise a number of fishes about his own size, in short jackets and deep collars, and wearing College caps, swimming in their direction.

“These are some of my scholars,” remarked the Crab as they came in sight – the fishes, swimming in a perfectly upright position, raised their caps when they saw the Crab, and one of them said very politely, —

“Good-morning, Professor.”

“Good-morning,” replied the Crab as they swam past. Just then a curious-looking little creature covered all over with little prickly spikes called out rudely, – “Yah! old Professor Crab – who caned the Oyster?” and scuttled away behind some seaweed.

“That,” said the Crab, “is one of the Sea Urchins; they are very rude and ill behaved. I do not allow my scholars to associate with them.”

“Are you really a Professor?” asked Boy, who felt greatly impressed with the Crab’s importance.

“I’m afraid I am,” said the Crab. “All schoolmasters are, you know – whether they admit it or not.”

“What do you mean?” exclaimed Boy. “I don’t think my schoolmaster is a Professor; at any rate he does not call himself one.”

“Ah, that’s his artfulness,” said the Crab. “A professor,” he explained, “is one who professes to know more than he really does, and all schoolmasters do that more or less, whether they admit it or not – they are obliged to; however, let’s change the subject; it is a painful one.”

Boy was greatly surprised at this admission on the part of the Crab, but he was too much interested in his strange surroundings to think much about it.

They were walking along a roadway with great seaweeds planted at regular intervals on either side, and in the distance Boy could see the outlines of some great buildings.

“Why, there are some houses!” he exclaimed in surprise.

“Of course,” replied Professor Crab. “What did you suppose we lived in?”

“I had no idea that fishes built houses before,” said Boy, “except sticklebacks; I know they build a kind of nest with sticks and things, because I have seen pictures of them in my Natural History book.”

“My dear sir,” remarked the Professor, “those were in the old days, before fishes became civilised: you might as well refer to the time when human creatures dwelt in caves and huts. No, my dear sir, the spread of education has extended to us also, and we have now as fine cities under the sea as any on land.”

Boy was just going to reply when his attention was attracted by a party of Lobsters on bicycles rushing past them, all dressed alike in dark green and yellow. One dear little one riding along gallantly at the end of the procession amused Boy very much indeed, and he was still watching him when he heard a voice exclaiming, “Cab, sir?” and, turning around, beheld the most curious vehicle you can possibly imagine: two sea-horses were attached to a kind of carriage made out of a large shell mounted on two wheels, and were driven by a small crayfish, wearing a top hat, who was perched up behind.

“Yes, I think we will ride,” said Professor Crab, mounting the steps of this strange conveyance, and beckoning Boy to follow. Boy was delighted to do so, and was charmed with the curious little carriage as the coachman cracked his whip and they bowled quickly along. Presently they passed a large building looking like a Station, and Professor Crab told him that it was the Terminus of the Submarine Steam Navigation Company, and told the cabman to stop a moment so that Boy might watch one of the boats which was just starting out of the Station. A very curious affair it turned out to be: shaped like an enormous Cigar, with a screw propeller at one end of it a deck on top with rails around it, on which a number of various kinds of fishes were sitting about on deck-chairs, chatting and reading, while through the large plate-glass windows, of which, there was one on either side of this curiously-shaped boat, Boy could see a number of other fishes making themselves comfortable in the luxuriously furnished saloon. As soon as it floated away out of sight the cabman whipped up his horses again, and off they started once more, and did not stop until they reached some large gates with a board over them, on which was painted in gold letters:

DRINKON COLLEGE,

Principal: Professor Crab.

The Professor paid the cabman, who touched his hat, and then, followed by Boy, entered a large building just through the gates. A long corridor ran right through the building, and through the glass doors at the end Boy could see a number of the scholars at play.

“Would you like to join them while I give the First Class in Molluscs their singing lesson?” asked the Professor.

Boy said that he should, and passing out into the playground, was soon surrounded by a number of young fishes, all dressed in College suits similar to those Boy had seen before.

“What’s your name?” asked one, as soon as he came up to Boy, and before he could answer another one had asked, “What’s your father? and how much pocket money do you have a week?” while a third demanded, “Where did you go for your holiday last year?”

Boy thought he had better answer one question at a time, so he replied, “Oh, I went to Broadstairs and had such a jolly time, and one day I went out in a boat and caught such a lot of – ” (Fortunately he remembered just in time to prevent himself from saying “such a lot of fish” as he had at first intended.)

“Such a lot of what?” asked one of the little fishes curiously.

“Oh – er – er – such a lot of – er – er – things, shells, you know, and er – er – seaweed,” stammered Boy, feeling very confused.

“Rather funny to go out in a boat to catch seaweed, wasn’t it?” remarked one of the fishes suspiciously. “What did you catch really?”

Boy could not think what to say, but at last he thought that he could see a way out of the difficulty, and said, “Oh, I caught a crab.”

The fishes looked horrified.

“Oh! I don’t mean a really truly crab,” Boy hastened to say. “I mean when your oars stick in the water and you can’t draw them out again; that’s called ‘catching a crab,’ you know, and that’s the kind I mean, of course.”

The fishes did not seem quite satisfied though, and stood staring at him suspiciously for some time, till at last one of them said, – “Can you play cricket?”

“Yes, rather,” said Boy proudly. “I’m going to be captain of our eleven next term if Traddles doesn’t come back again.”

“Who’s Traddles?” demanded one of the fishes.

“Oh! a fellow at our school,” said Boy. “He’s eleven and ever so much taller than me; but I can bowl better than him any day.”

“Come on then, let’s have a game,” said one of the fishes, leading the way to the end of the playground where a single wicket was pitched.

“Your innings,” he cried, handing Boy a bat.

Boy thought this was a very curious way of beginning a game, and he was more surprised still when, without the slightest warning, all the rest of the fishes began throwing balls at him as hard as they could, hitting him pretty sharply in several places, and of course knocking the bails off the stumps at once.

“How’s that, Umpire?” they shouted all together.

The fish who had handed Boy the bat promptly replied “Out,” and the others threw their caps up into the air excitedly and called out that they had won the game.

“That’s not the way to play cricket,” cried Boy, throwing down his bat in disgust.

“Who says it isn’t?” demanded one of the fishes, coming up to him.

“I say so,” maintained Boy stoutly.

“Very well, then I’ll fight you for it,” declared the fish, throwing off his coat.

“I’m sure you won’t,” said Boy, laughing at the very idea.

“Yah! cowardy, cowardy custard,” cried the fishes, dancing around him. “Afraid to fight; dear little mammy’s baby.”

Boy very wisely determined not to heed their taunts and walked back to the College, leaving the quarrelsome little fishes to themselves.

The sound of music from one of the class-rooms told him where he should find the Professor, and looking in at the window he saw the Crab standing beside a blackboard with notes on it waving a bâton, while a number of Oysters in rows were singing with their shells wide open.

“Come in,” he cried, when he saw Boy, and Boy went round to the door and entered the room.

“We have nearly finished,” said Professor Crab. “Perhaps you would like to hear the Molluscs sing.”

“Very much indeed,” said Boy, taking a seat on one of the forms.

The Crab counted “One, two, three,” beating time with his bâton, and the Oysters started singing the following song: —

Boy was very pleased indeed with this song, which the First Class in Molluscs sang very well, and clapped vigorously.

“I’m glad you like their singing,” said the Professor, looking pleased at Boy’s approval.

“That will do for to-day,” he added, dismissing the class, and the Oysters went out of the room in single file, each one making a little bow as he passed the Professor.

“Now what shall we do with ourselves for the rest of the day?” said the Crab, when they had all gone, for there is a half-holiday, you know. Would you like to go for a trip to Zum?” he asked.

“Oh yes, please,” answered Boy, who remembered that that was where One-and-Nine said that they should meet again.

So Professor Crab put his hat on, and after locking the class-room door set out with Boy for the Station of the Submarine Navigation Company.

CHAPTER IV. – M.D. AND THE DOCTOR’S BILL

THEY found a boat waiting when they reached the Station, and Professor Crab having purchased the tickets they went on board the singular conveyance. They had hardly taken their seats amongst a number of respectably dressed fishes when the bell rang and they were off.

Before they had proceeded far, Boy noticed a sudden rush to the great window at one side of the boat, and joining the crowd he heard some one say, “There goes the Prince of Whales.”

Looking eagerly out of the window, he saw a whale very nicely dressed in a perfectly-fitting frock-coat and wearing a beautifully glossy new top hat; he had a gold-headed umbrella tucked under one fin, and was followed by a crowd of small fishes who were evidently trying to attract his attention, but of whom he was not taking the slightest notice. He raised his hat, though, and bowed very affably as the crowd on the boat cheered him.

“His Marine Highness is looking very well, isn’t he?” inquired a gentlemanly-looking Whiting of Boy, as the Prince of Whales disappeared from view.

“Very well indeed,” replied Boy; “he seems to be very popular,” he added.

“Oh yes, he is,” replied the Whiting. “He is a capital fellow, and does an immense amount of good. He is on his way now to open the New Home for Distressed Barnacles, I believe.”

An American King Crab, sitting near, remarked in a loud voice that he “didn’t believe in Princes.”

“I guess we can do without them 011 our side of the herring pond,” he said contemptuously, and then went over to speak to a small Oyster who was sitting the other side of the boat. Boy was rather interested in the King Crab, never having seen one of these curious-looking creatures before, so he walked over too, just in time to hear him say to the Oyster, —

“Native of these parts, 1 presume, stranger?”

The Oyster bowed.

“Wal, no offence to you, but I guess we’ve got Oysters over our side of the Atlantic that could knock you into fits. Why, we’ve got’em so big over there that it takes two men and a boy to swallow one of them.”

“I’ve heard my Uncle say,” remarked Boy pleasantly, that most things in America are on a very large scale; I suppose he must have been thinking of those oysters.”

“Yes, Siree, I guess your Uncle’s right. I reckon that our country is going to lick creation before long,” said the American King Crab, walking away and looking very pleased.

“There, now you’ve made him happy,” said the Oyster, laughing.

“Why, what have I done?” asked Boy innocently.

“Why, Americans are always very glad to hear their country praised, you know,” said the Oyster; “let’s come on deck and hear the singing.”

Boy very readily followed him on to the deck where they found a crowd gathered around a couple of Soles with black faces, dressed in nigger costumes, who were singing to the accompaniment of a guitar the following song: —

Great applause followed the singing and presently some one called out, “Sing the Alphabet song.”

“Yes, yes,” cried several fishes at once, “Alphabet song, Alphabet song.”

So the two Soles bowed and commenced as follows: —

Quite a crowd of fishes had gathered round the two Soles while they were singing this song, and after it was all over one of them went round with his hat and collected pennies just as the real niggers do. Boy noticed while this was going on that the boat was gradually rising to the surface of the sea, and presently he found that the deck was above the water and that he was breathing air again. He could see that they were approaching a Quay with a number of very quaint, old-fashioned buildings beyond it. A great crowd of people were gathered close to the edge of the Quay, and were pointing excitedly at something in the water, and as the boat drew nearer to the shore Boy could hear a number of directions being shouted at once.

“Throw him a rope.”

“Nonsense! He is insensible, and wouldn’t see it.”

“Well, you swim out to him then.”

“Sha’n’t! Do it yourself.”

“Throw stones at him and try and float him ashore that way.”

This last direction seemed to find most favour, and everybody began throwing stones at the object, whatever it was, in the water.

The boat had now come quite close to the Quay, and Boy could see that it was poor One-and-Nine who was attracting all this attention. He was floating on the top of the water with his eyes shut and half the paint washed off one side of his head He looked the picture of misery, but Boy was very glad to find that he was still alive, for he opened his eyes and feebly cried, “Don’t throw with such hardness,” whenever a stone accidentally hit him, which was very frequently, for you see there were such a number of people throwing them Boy felt very sorry for his old companion, and as soon as the boat reached the Quay he ran ashore and hurried to the place where they were trying to land the poor Wooden Soldier.

They had just succeeded in dragging him ashore with a boat-hook when Boy reached the crowd, and a fussy little gentleman was telling the people to “stand back and give him air.”

“Who is that gentleman?” asked Boy of one of the crowd standing near him.

“Why, the M.D., of course,” was the reply.

Boy being still in doubt ventured to ask what these letters stood for, and was informed that they stood for Mad Doctor. “All doctors are mad, you know,” said his informant; “that’s why they are obliged to put those letters after their names.”

Boy had never heard of this before, though he had often wondered what the letters meant. He tried to get nearer to One-and-Nine, and just caught a glimpse of the M.D. bending over him, and heard the Wooden Soldier explaining something about “The wetness of the water.”

“Yes, yes, my poor fellow,” the M.D. was saying. “Don’t try to talk. Has he any friends here?” he asked, looking round.

“Yes,” cried Boy, “I know him,” and the crowd immediately parted and made way for him to get nearer.

“Ah!” said the M.D., looking at Boy over the top of his gold-rimmed glasses. “There’s, nothing much the matter with him except a slight attack of ‘Water on the grain;’” and the M.D. passed his hand over the Wooden Soldier’s head where the paint was washed off. “A little Enamel will soon set that right; go and fetch some,” he continued, turning to a small boy in buttons standing near him. The boy hurried off and soon returned, bearing a large tin of green Enamel and a brush. Boy looked at him in amazement when he came back, for he seemed to have grown several inches taller in the few minutes that he had been away. No one else, though, seemed to have noticed it, and the M.D. took the brush and began to paint the side of One-and-Nine’s head green.

The Wooden Soldier sighed once or twice, and then sat up and looked around him.

“Well, my man, how do you feel now?” said the M.D. kindly.