THE TURTLE SWAM SO FAST THAT MR. LOBSTER’S FEELERS WERE BLOWN OUT BEHIND HIM.
Whenever they came to a great rock or a hill the turtle pointed his head up and they sailed up over without the slightest effort. Mr. Lobster realized that such obstacles would have delayed him seriously if he had been crawling along the bottom in his usual fashion. For some time after they started he was so busy hanging on to the edge of the turtle’s shell that he scarcely had a chance to look around, but as soon as he got used to the speed he began to enjoy the experience tremendously.
“It is just the way the birds sail through the air,” he said to himself, remembering how he had watched the sea gulls when he had been ashore. “I suppose that I am the first lobster ever to travel this way. It seems to me there is always something new to learn, and I do hope I never get too old to enjoy new things.”
The turtle, without slowing up in the least, turned his neck around so that he was facing Mr. Lobster and said, “Easy, isn’t it? Just hang on and go where you want to without any trouble. Nothing like it, I say. Nothing like it.”
“I thought you said you didn’t believe in hurrying,” remarked Mr. Lobster.
“Hurrying? Who said I was hurrying? This is just the way I go when I am wandering about. What I call cruising speed, you know. You lobsters don’t know anything about speed, if you don’t mind my saying so. Would you like to have me hurry?”
“No, thank you. I’m afraid I would not have any breath left if you went any faster,” said Mr. Lobster quickly.
“Just a little dash of speed?” asked the turtle.
“Oh, no, thank you!”
“Well, if you insist. But some time I would like to show you some real speed. Just for fun, you know. I wouldn’t think of hurrying except for fun. Have to think of my nerves, you know. Never know when they’ll kick up if you’re not careful.”
So they went on and on at the same speed until late in the afternoon, when the turtle slowed up considerably and began to look around as though he had entered a region he had known before.
Soon he called out to Mr. Lobster.
“I know where we are now,” he said, “and we are coming to a fine cave.” He went up over a tremendous rock, then down to the bottom on the other side and stopped. “Have a look around,” he said. “If you don’t like this one I’ll show you some others. No hurry, you know. No hurry at all. We’ll wander about for another day or two if you’d like to, and I’ll show you all the caves in the neighborhood.”
Mr. Lobster straightened out his feelers in front of him for the first time since he had started his ride. Then he crawled down from the turtle’s back and looked around him. Sure enough, there was a small cave under the big rock they had just come over. He crawled to the entrance, explored it with his feelers very carefully, then turned around and backed in. He always preferred to back into a strange cave. Then, if there wasn’t room enough to turn around after he got in, he could still crawl out easily and see what he was doing. The dangerous thing was to have to come out of a cave backwards, because he never knew what kind of fish might be waiting around a cave entrance.
When he found himself inside this cave he was pleased to see that it had a smooth, sandy floor and just enough room for him to turn around in comfortably. And there were rock walls on all sides, which made it seem safe. He decided at once that he could be nearly as happy here as he had been in his other home near shore. So he went out to the turtle again and told him that the cave was all right.
“That’s fine, that’s fine,” said the talkative creature. “Though I did sort of hope we could wander about a bit more. I find I like your company, if you don’t mind my saying so. But if you’re satisfied, I might just as well start for Bermuda. The weather looked cold, and I guess there’s no use hanging around in these parts any longer.”
“I am very grateful to you,” said Mr. Lobster with his customary courtesy. “You have been very kind to me, and you have done me a great service.”
“Glad you feel that way, of course,” said the turtle, “but don’t let it worry you. Pleasure for me to meet you, you know. I’ve enjoyed the little trip myself. And any time you’re out exploring or happen to be around an island, look for me and maybe we’ll meet again. Don’t forget—there’s nothing like exploring and islands!”
With that last bit of advice he started off. Soon he was out of sight, and Mr. Lobster realized that he was alone again, that not even the sculpin could bother him here, and that his winter in deep water had really begun.
After being with such a friendly creature as the talkative turtle Mr. Lobster felt somewhat lonely, although he had been accustomed to living alone for years and years. He knew that the winter would seem very quiet and un-exciting after his summer with Mr. Badger and Mr. Bear.
“Oh, well,” he said to himself, “a fact is a fact, and no getting around it. So there’s nothing to do but settle down and wait for spring.”
And that is just what he did.
Three Good Friends Meet Again
THERE IS very little to be said about Mr. Lobster’s winter, for life in the dark, deep part of the ocean, where his new cave was, turned out to be very quiet and unexciting. Mr. Lobster explored the territory surrounding his cave, discovered where the small fish and sea clams lived, and did some traveling. But mostly he preferred to spend a restful winter, waiting for warm weather and the time when he could return to his home near shore. He did make one new friend, a large old horseshoe crab who had lived in those parts for many years, but as the crab was a born wanderer and often disappeared for days or weeks at a time, they did not see each other very often.
But winter, like all the other things of nature, cannot stay forever. It must change and give way to spring, so that life can begin again, and all things and creatures under the sun and in the great waters can feel the new year and be glad and eager to grow and move and have new experiences.
So a day came when even deep down in the ocean there was a feeling of change in the water. It would be impossible to say whether Mr. Lobster felt it first in the joints of his shell or in the ends of his long feelers. He did not know himself. Perhaps it was just a pleasant feeling that stole over him, a feeling that it was time for something to happen, something that would have a happy ending. Perhaps things under the ocean smelled different and new, the way the earth does when spring comes. Anyway, the minute Mr. Lobster woke up on this morning and crawled to the entrance of his cave he felt certain that it was time for him to move, and he was happy. He was immediately eager to return to his real home.
Of course he started at once. For several days he crawled along the bottom of the ocean, traveling not nearly so fast as he had on the talkative turtle’s back, but going steadily toward the west, where the shore was. And finally, late one afternoon as the light was fading, he saw a familiar sight which gave him the greatest joy. There were the two big rocks where his real home was. There was the seaweed garden with new green leaves sprouting and everything looking fine and fresh.
For several minutes he just stayed still, gazing at the place he loved.
“Coming home is such a wonderful feeling,” he said to himself. “So wonderful that I can’t describe it. I can only feel it.”
Then he entered his home, cleaned out a few old leaves of seaweed that had drifted in during the winter, and began one of the happiest nights of his life.
“I am glad now that I didn’t hibernate after all,” he thought, “because if I had, there wouldn’t have been any returning. And returning is what starts everything off right again. It sort of makes old things new, you are so glad to see them again.”
The next morning he went for a long crawl, looking over all that region which he knew so well, and getting even more pleasure from it than if it had been a brand new place he had never seen before. There were the hills and hollows where he had looked for breakfast many a time, and there were patches of seaweed and old shells that were almost as pleasant to see as old friends.
&nbs
p; Thinking it over as he returned home, he said to himself wisely: “Old things and places newly discovered are better than really new ones because there are memories to go with them. I am sure that is why I like this place better than any other, for there is nothing more pleasant than happy memories.”
For a few days he spent his time near home. This was the season when he usually shed his shell and grew larger, and he was waiting for the feeling that would tell him he must hide away until he had a new hard shell that would be sure protection. It was always easy to tell when the time had come, for he would feel like growing bigger, and when a lobster grows bigger he must get out of his old shell or else there is no way for his body to grow. When a lobster gets so big that he stops growing, he does not shed his shell again, because there is no need to.
This year Mr. Lobster knew that he was so big and so old that it would not be strange if he did not grow any more but kept his old shell for the rest of his life. But he wanted very much to have at least one more new shell, for he had not forgotten the large red spot on his old shell caused by his terrible experience before Mr. Bear became his friend.
“And besides,” he thought, “I do so much want to be sixty-nine years old. That will be a perfect age, and yet I can’t really say I am a year older unless I shed my shell; so if I don’t shed now I shall be only sixty-eight forever. And sixty-nine is the age of wisdom and serenity.”
So he waited patiently, although he was anxious to go up the river and find Mr. Badger and Mr. Bear.
After almost a week he was delighted one morning to wake up and feel like growing. He knew exactly what to do. He lay very quietly in the darkest, softest corner of his home and began first with his two big pincher claws. Slowly and carefully he drew those in toward his body, pulling them right out of the shells that covered them and not moving the heavy shells at all. Next he drew up all his feet the same way. When that was done the shells of his big claws and little claws were absolutely empty.
For several minutes he rested. Then he folded up his tail as tightly as possible and humped up his back so that his back shell and tail shell were very tight, like a piece of clothing that is too small. When they were as tight as could be, he just bent his back and spread his body and all his muscles, making them as big as possible.
Crack! The old shell split right down the middle of his stomach, clear to the end of it, and he pulled out his tail and crawled out of the old shell and over to the other side of his cave. The old shell was left behind on the sand, looking almost like another lobster there.
“Now,” he said to himself, “I am sixty-nine years old. I am very happy.”
Of course, now that he had no shell at all he dared not leave his home, for a lobster without his shell has no protection from large fish or other unpleasant creatures that might be hungry. So Mr. Lobster remained hidden in his home while his new shell, which was at first as soft as skin, grew hard.
It was several days before he was ready to go out. His new shell was a beautiful dark blue-green, without any red spots, and with only a suggestion of orange at the very edges. Mr. Lobster was indeed handsome, for a new shell is always perfect and shiny, and this shell was the best and shiniest he had ever had. And besides, although there were quite a few red lobsters in the ocean, he had always preferred to be a green one; so he was proud of his fine color.
He knew right away what he would do. First he would enjoy a pleasant crawl from his home to the place where the tide flowed into the river. Then he would go in with the tide, just as he had the summer before, and go ashore to find Mr. Badger and Mr. Bear.
When he had almost reached the place where the tide began, he felt a movement behind him in the water, as though someone were coming along in a great hurry. He stopped to look around, and there was the sculpin, that old fish who thought that he was the most important and superior creature in that part of the ocean.
“I believe it is Mr. Lobster,” said the sculpin in a not exactly friendly tone. He was looking hard at Mr. Lobster’s beautiful new shell.
“Good morning,” said Mr. Lobster cheerfully. He was perfectly aware how magnificent he was, and well pleased with himself to be in such excellent condition when the sculpin came along.
Poor sculpin! Of course, he was wearing his same old skin. He had had it for years, and each hard winter had made it look a little worse. So you can’t blame him if he felt somewhat unhappy and cross at the sight of Mr. Lobster’s gorgeous new shell.
“It’s just like every other morning as far as I can see,” said the sculpin.
“I have just gotten a new shell,” said Mr. Lobster, “and I am about to go in with the tide and travel up the river.”
The sculpin blew a bubble about the size of a loud grunt. Or perhaps it was a snort.
“I wouldn’t put on airs if I were you,” he said.
“Pardon me, but I am not doing anything of the kind,” said Mr. Lobster briskly. “I hope it is not wrong for me to enjoy a new shell while it is still new. I believe in taking simple pleasures as they come, and enjoying them to the full. Also, I am now sixty-nine years old, and I take some little pleasure in that.”
“I call that bragging,” protested the sculpin. “However, if you persist in going ashore on dry land this year as you did last, it is likely that you will never have another year to brag about.”
“Pardon me again,” said Mr. Lobster, and he spoke with considerable firmness, “but bragging is not what you say. It is how you say it. And I never say things in that unpleasant and superior manner. Now I must be going.”
“Are you going ashore?”
“Yes, I believe I am.”
“Will you never learn to stay in the ocean where you belong?” The sculpin spoke angrily.
“Let us be friendly,” said Mr. Lobster politely. “My curiosity will not allow me to stay in one place, you know. And my curiosity has brought me the greatest happiness. If we can be friends, I shall tell you all about what I discover ashore this year.”
With those words he began to crawl away from the sculpin. Soon he felt the flow of the tide and knew that he was started for the river.
He had made so many trips up the river the summer before that now he felt like an old hand at traveling with the tide. And how happy he was! He was back in the part of the ocean he loved; he had his own home again; and he was sixty-nine years old and beautiful to behold.
“I suppose very few people have so many things to be happy about as I have,” he said to himself as he went along. “And on top of everything I am on my way to see Mr. Badger and Mr. Bear. This is one of the times when everything is just perfect. I shall always remember this day, if there comes a time when I am discontented. A good day should always be stored away for future use.”
When he had gone so far up the river, a distance which he knew by his feelers must be right, he went to the top of the water very cautiously and looked out with just one eye. What he saw delighted him. For there on the bank were two familiar figures, Mr. Badger and Mr. Bear. They were looking intently down the river and did not see him at all.
Mr. Lobster felt a sudden trembling in the joints of his new shell. He was excited.
But instead of swimming over and speaking to his friends at once, he thought that he would surprise them. Mr. Badger always appreciated jokes and surprises. So he sank under water where they could not see him and then crawled along the bottom of the river until he was directly under the bank where Mr. Badger and Mr. Bear were sitting. Then he came to the surface very slowly and lay still, being so close to the bank that Mr. Badger and Mr. Bear did not know he was there.
For a moment he lay there listening.
“The tide is almost full,” said Mr. Badger, “and yet I see no signs of Mr. Lobster.”
“This is the third day we have waited here,” said Mr. Bear. “And I feel worse every day. I was really very fond of Mr. Lobster.”
“Well, aren’t you still fond of him?”
“You can’t be fond of anyone who isn
’t any more.” Mr. Bear’s tone was sad. “It’s always that way. All good things have to end.”
“That’s nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Badger. “Good things are always beginning. Thinking of the end just spoils things. I always think of the beginning.”
Mr. Bear sighed unhappily.
“Sometimes,” he said sadly, “even the beginning is bad. Now here is this summer beginning without Mr. Lobster, and that is very bad.”
“That’s nonsense, too!” Mr. Badger spoke sharply. “There isn’t any beginning to anything worthwhile until something good has happened. So this summer simply has not begun.”
Mr. Bear was silent.
Mr. Lobster thought that it would be mean to keep his friends waiting any longer. So he made a great splashing with his tail, and then he tried to make a sound like one of Mr. Bear’s growls.
“What was that?” exclaimed Mr. Badger.
“Trouble probably,” said Mr. Bear. “It sounded just like trouble. I’m going home.”
Then Mr. Lobster spoke.
“Good day, Mr. Badger. Good day, Mr. Bear.”
And he floated out where they could see him.
“Mr. Lobster!” cried Mr. Badger happily. “Playing a trick on us, as I live! Good for you! I knew you would come back! I knew it! Do come ashore!”
Mr. Lobster swam over to a low part of the bank and crawled up to the meadow beside Mr. Badger and Mr. Bear. The bright sun shone on his new shell, and he looked very imposing and bigger than ever before. He could not help feeling just a bit proud of his first appearance of the year before his two friends.
“A brand new shell!” exclaimed Mr. Badger.
“Yes, and I am sixty-nine years old now.” Mr. Lobster tried to speak with due modesty.
“And a great deal bigger, too,” said Mr. Badger quickly. “It’s a good thing I did not have to pull you out with my tail this time. I never could have done it. Never. Well, I’ve never been happier in my whole life than I am at this moment. Now there is a beginning to the summer.”
The Curious Lobster Page 15
