by Tove Jansson
Moomintroll was speechless. Very pink in the face he advanced and bowed. The Snork Maiden curtsied shyly, and they were both rather embarrassed.
‘Look!’ said the Snork to his sister. ‘You haven’t seen what I’ve found!’ And he pointed proudly to a great pile of shimmering gold that lay on the sand.
The Snork Maiden’s eyes nearly popped out. ‘Real gold!’ she breathed.
‘And there’s lots more,’ boasted the Snork. ‘A mountain of gold!’
‘And I’m allowed to keep all the bits he drops!’ said Sniff, proudly.
Oh, how they admired each other’s finds there on the beach! The Moomin family had suddenly become rich. But the most precious things were still the ship’s figurehead and the little snow storm in the glass ball. The boat was indeed heavily laden when she sailed away from Lonely Island after the storm. Behind her floated a big raft carrying the driftwood they had collected. Their cargo consisted of the gold and the little snow storm, of the gorgeous big buoy, the boot, the dipper, the lifebelt and the raffia mat, and in the prow lay the figurehead gazing out to sea. Beside her sat Moomintroll with his paw on her beautiful blue hair. He was so happy!
The Snork Maiden couldn’t keep her eyes off them.
‘Oh, if only I were as beautiful as the Wooden Queen,’ she thought, ‘but I haven’t even got my fringe left.’ And she didn’t feel gay any more.
‘Do you like the Wooden Queen?’ she asked Moomintroll.
‘Very much!’ he answered without looking up.
‘But I thought you said you didn’t approve of girls with hair,’ said the Snork Maiden. ‘Besides she’s only painted!’
‘But so beautifully painted!’ said Moomintroll.
This was almost too much for the Snork Maiden. She stared down into the sea with a lump in her throat and went very pale. ‘The Wooden Queen looks so stupid!’ she said at last.
Then Moomintroll looked up.
‘Why are you so pale?’ he asked in surprise.
‘Oh, nothing in particular!’ she answered.
Then he clambered down from the prow and sat beside her, and after a while he said: ‘Do you know, the Wooden Queen looks terribly stupid actually.’
‘She does, doesn’t she?’ said the Snork Maiden, getting her colour back again.
‘Do you remember the golden butterfly we saw?’ asked Moomintroll, and the Snork Maiden nodded, tired and happy.
Far away Lonely Island lay flaming in the light of the sunset.
‘I wonder what you’re all thinking of doing with the Snork’s gold?’ said Snufkin.
‘I think we shall use it to decorate the edges of the flower beds,’ said Moominmamma, ‘only the big bits, of course, because the little ones look so rubbishy.’
Then in silence they watched the sun dive into the sea, and the colours fade to blue and violet, while The Adventure rocked gently homeward.
Chapter five
In which we hear of the Mameluke Hunt, and of how the Moominhouse is changed into a jungle.
IT was somewhere about the end of July and very hot in Moomin Valley. Not even the flies bothered to buzz. The trees seemed to be tired; the river was no longer fit for raspberry juice but flowed narrow and brown through the dusty countryside. The Hobgoblin’s Hat, which had been taken back into favour stood on the chest of drawers under the mirror.
Day after day the sun beat down on the little valley lying hidden between the hills. The small creeping things hid themselves in the cool darkness; the birds were silent, and Moomintroll and his friends got peevish and quarrelled amongst themselves.
‘Mother,’ said Moomintroll. ‘Find us something to do! We just quarrel, and it’s so hot!’
‘Yes, dear,’ said Moominmamma. ‘I’ve noticed that! And I should be glad to get rid of you for a bit. Can’t you go off to the cave for a few days? It’s cooler there, and you can swim and laze all day without disturbing anyone.’
‘Can we sleep in the cave, too?’ Moomintroll asked excitedly.
‘Certainly,’ said Moominmamma. ‘And don’t come home until you’re better tempered.’
It was very thrilling really to live in the cave. In the middle of the sandy floor they put a kerosene lamp, and then everyone dug a hole to fit himself and made a bed in it. The provisions were divided into six big equal portions, which included raisin-pudding and pumpkin jam, bananas, marzipan pigs and sweet maize, and a pancake as well for breakfast next day.
A little breeze came murmuring sadly across the lonely shore, while the sun sank in a red glow filling the cave with its last rays: a reminder of the mysterious darkness that was to come. Then Snufkin played his mouth-organ while the Snork Maiden laid her curly head in Moomintroll’s lap, and everyone began to feel comfy inside after the raisin-pudding. And as twilight came stealing into the cave a nice creepy feeling came over them.
Sniff pointed out for the hundredth time that it was he who had found the cave first, but for once nobody bothered to squash him. Then Snufkin lit the lamp and asked: ‘Shall I tell you something awful?’
The Hemulen immediately wanted to know how awful.
‘About as awful as this,’ said Snufkin, stretching out his arms as wide as possible, ‘if you’re any the wiser!’
‘No, I’m not!’ replied the Hemulen. ‘But go ahead, Snufkin, and I’ll tell you when I get frightened.’
‘Good,’ said Snufkin. ‘It’s a strange story, and I got it from the Magpie. Well, at the end of the world there lies a mountain so high it makes you dizzy even to think about it. It is as black as soot, as smooth as silk, terribly steep, and where there should be a bottom, there are only clouds. But high up on the peak stands the Hobgoblin’s House, and it looks like this.’ And Snufkin drew a house in the sand.
‘Hasn’t it got any windows?’ asked Sniff.
‘No,’ said Snufkin, ‘and it hasn’t got a door either, because the Hobgoblin always goes home by air riding on a black panther. He goes out every night and collects rubies in his hat.’
‘What did you say?’ asked Sniff, with his eyes popping out of his head. ‘Rubies! Where does he get them from?’
‘The Hobgoblin can change himself into anything he likes,’ Snufkin answered, ‘and then he can crawl under the ground and even down on to the sea bed where buried treasure lies.’
‘What does he do with all those precious stones?’ asked Sniff, enviously.
‘Nothing. He just collects them,’ said Snufkin. ‘Like the Hemulen collects plants.’
‘What was that?’ asked the Hemulen waking up in his hole.
‘I was saying that the Hobgoblin has a whole houseful of rubies,’ went on Snufkin. ‘They lie in heaps all over the place and are set into the walls like wild beasts’ eyes. The Hobgoblin’s House has no roof and the clouds that fly over it are as red as blood with the reflection of the rubies. His eyes are red, too, and they shine in the dark!’
‘Now I’m nearly frightened,’ said the Hemulen. ‘Do be careful how you go on.’
‘How happy he must be, this Hobgoblin,’ exclaimed Sniff.
‘He isn’t a bit,’ replied Snufkin, ‘and he won’t be until he finds the King’s Ruby. It’s almost as big as the black panther’s head, and to look into it is like looking at leaping flames. The Hobgoblin has looked for the King’s Ruby on all the planets, including Neptune – but he hasn’t found it. Just now he has gone off to the moon to search in the craters, but he hasn’t much hope of success, because in his heart of
hearts the Hobgoblin believes that the King’s Ruby lies in the sun, where he can never go because it is too hot.’
‘But is all this true?’ asked the Snork’s suspicious voice.
‘Think what you like,’ said Snufkin, carelessly, peeling his banana. ‘Do you know what the Magpie thinks? She thinks that the Hobgoblin had a tall, black hat, a hat that he lost when he went to the moon a couple of months ago.’
‘You don’t mean it!’ burst out Moomintroll, and the others made excited noises.
‘What’s th
at?’ enquired the Hemulen. ‘What are you talking about?
‘The hat,’ Sniff told him. ‘The tall, black hat I found last spring: the Hobgoblin’s Hat!’ Snufkin nodded, meaningly.
‘But suppose he comes back for his hat?’ asked a trembling Snork Maiden. ‘I shall never dare to look at his red eyes.’
‘We must talk to mother about this,’ said Moomintroll. ‘Is it far to the moon?’
‘Quite a distance,’ answered Snufkin. ‘Besides, it’s sure to take the Hobgoblin a long time to search through all the craters.’
There was an anxious silence for a time, while everybody thought about the black hat standing on the chest of drawers under the mirror at home.
‘Turn up the lamp a little,’ quavered Sniff.
Suddenly the Hemulen jumped and said: ‘Did you hear anything – there, outside?’
They stared towards the black mouth of the cave and listened. Soft pattering sounds – could it be a panther’s footsteps!
‘It’s only the rain,’ said Moomintroll. ‘The rain has come at last. Now we’ll sleep for a bit.’
And they crept into their sand-holes and pulled the blankets over them. Moomintroll put out the lamp and, with the rain whispering outside, he floated off to sleep.
*
The Hemulen woke up with a start. He had been dreaming that he was in a small, leaky boat, and the water had just reached his chin when, to his horror, the dream turned into real life. The rain had come through the roof during the night, and it had drained in absolute torrents into the poor Hemulen’s bed.
‘Misery me!’ he groaned. Then he wrung out his dress and went to look at the weather. It was the same everywhere – grey and wet and miserable. The Hemulen wished he felt like a bath, but he didn’t. ‘Yesterday it was too hot and now it’s too wet. I shall go in and lie down again,’ he said.
The Snork’s sand-hole looked quite dry.
‘Look!’ said the Hemulen, ‘it has rained in my bed.’
‘Bad luck,’ said the Snork, and turned over on his other side.
‘So I think I shall sleep in your hole,’ announced the Hemulen. ‘No snoring now!’
But the Snork only grunted a little and slept on. Then the Hemulen’s heart was filled with a desire for revenge, and he dug a trench between his own sand hole and the Snork’s.
‘That was most un-Hemulenish!’ said the Snork, sitting up in his wet blanket. ‘I’m amazed you had the brains to think of it.’
‘Well, I’m a bit surprised myself,’ said the Hemulen. ‘And now, what shall we do today?’
The Snork stuck his nose out of the mouth of the cave and looked at the sky and the sea. Then he said knowingly: ‘Fishing. Wake up the others while I go and get the boat in order.’ And he strolled down on to the wet sand and out on to the landing stage, which Moominpappa had built, sniffing the sea air. It was quite still; the rain was falling softly and each drop made a ring in the gleaming water. The Snork nodded to himself, and took out the longest fishing-line they had. Then he hauled out the landing-net and baited the hooks while he whistled Snufkin’s hunting song.
Everything was ready when the others came out of the cave.
‘Ah! There you are at last,’ said the Snork. ‘Hemul, take down the mast and put in the rowlocks.’
‘Must we fish?’ asked the Snork Maiden. ‘Nothing ever happens when we fish, and I’m so sorry for the little pike.’
‘Yes, but today something is going to happen,’ said her brother. ‘You sit in the bows where you’ll be least in the way.’
‘Let me help, too,’ squeaked Sniff, catching hold of the line. He leapt down on to the edge of the boat, which tipped up, and the line got all tangled with the rowlocks and the anchor.
‘Splendid!’ said the Snork sarcastically. ‘Quite splendid. Thoroughly accustomed to the sea. Peace in the boat and all that. Above all respect for other people’s work. Ha!’
‘Aren’t you going to scold him?’ the Hemulen asked, incredulously.
‘Scold? I?’ said the Snork, and laughed mirthlessly. ‘Has the captain anything to say? Never! Put out the line as it is – it might catch an old boot!’ And he retired into the stern and dragged a tarpaulin over his head.
‘Goodness gracious me!’ said Moomintroll. ‘You had better take the oars, Snufkin, while we unravel this mess. Sniff, you are an ass.’
‘I know,’ said Sniff, glad to have something to do. ‘Which end shall we begin?’
‘In the middle,’ said Moomintroll. ‘But don’t get your tail tangled up in it too.’
And Snufkin slowly rowed The Adventure out to sea.
*
While all this was happening, Moominmamma was bustling about feeling very pleased. The rain fell gently on the garden. Peace, order and quiet reigned everywhere.
‘Now everything will grow!’ said Moominmamma to herself. And oh! how wonderful to have her family safely away in the cave! She decided to do a bit of tidying up, and began collecting socks, orange peel, Moomintroll’s queer stones, bits of bark, and all sorts of odd things. In the wireless set she found some poisonous pink perennials that the Hemulen had forgotten to put into his plant press. Moominmamma twirled them into a ball while she listened thoughtfully to the soft murmur of the rain. ‘Now everything will grow!’ she said once again and without thinking what she was doing she dropped the ball into the Hobgoblin’s Hat. Then she went up to her room for a snooze (for Moominmamma dearly loves to snooze while the rain patters on the roof).
*
Meanwhile in the depths of the sea lay the Snork’s long fishing-line… waiting. It had already waited two hours and the Snork Maiden was getting desperately impatient.
‘Anticipation is the best part,’ Moomintroll told her. ‘There might be something on every hook you know.’ (This fishing-line had lots of hooks.)
The Snork Maiden sighed a little. ‘Anyway you know that when you sink the line it has bait on it, and when you haul it up it has a fish –’
‘But there might be nothing at all,’ said Snufkin.
‘Or there might be an octopus,’ said the Hemulen.
‘Girls never understand these things,’ said the Snork. ‘Now we can begin to pull it up. But nobody must make a sound. Be quiet everyone.’
The first hook came up.
It was empty.
The second hook came up.
It was empty, too.
‘It only shows that the fish go deep, and are awfully big,’ said the Snork. ‘Quiet now everybody!’
He pulled up four more empty hooks and said: ‘This is a cunning one. He’s eaten up all our bait. Gosh! He must be huge!’
Everybody leant over the side and peered down into the black depths.
‘What sort of fish do you think it is?’ asked Sniff.
‘A Mameluke at least,’ said the Snork. ‘Look! Ten more empty hooks.’
‘Dear, dear,’ said the Snork Maiden, sarcastically.
‘Dear, dear to you,’ said her brother, angrily and went on hauling. ‘Be quiet – otherwise you’ll frighten him away.’
Hook after hook came up twisted with seagrass and seaweed. No fish: absolutely nothing at all.
Suddenly the Snork shouted. ‘Look out! It gave a pull! I’m absolutely sure it gave a pull.’
‘A Mameluke!’ squeaked Sniff.
‘Now you must keep calm,’ said the Snork, who felt anything but calm himself. ‘Dead silence. Here he comes!’
The tight line had suddenly gone limp, but far down in the mysterious green depths gleamed something white. Was it the Mameluke’s pale belly? Something huge and terrible seemed to rise up from the strange underwater scene. It was green and mushy like the stem of a great jungle plant, and it slid up under the boat.
‘The landing-net!’ screamed the Snork. ‘Where’s the landing-net?’
At the same moment the air was filled with noise and flying foam. A terrific wave caught The Adventure up on its crest and dashed the fishing line down on the deck. Then suddenly all was
still again.
Only the broken line dangled sadly over the side, and a huge whirl in the water marked where the monster had passed.
‘Now who said it was a pike?’ the Snork asked his sister, bitterly. ‘I shall never get over this as long as I live!’
‘This is where it broke,’ said the Hemulen holding up the line. ‘Something told me it was too thin.’
‘Oh, do shut up,’ said the Snork, and hid his face in his paws.
The Hemulen wanted to say something, but Snufkin kicked him on the shins. They all sat in hopeless silence. Then the Snork Maiden said, rather timidly: ‘What do you think about having another try? We could use the painter for a line.’
The Snork grunted. After a while he said: ‘And what about the hooks?’
‘Your pocket-knife,’ said the Snork Maiden. ‘If you open the blade and the corkscrew and the screwdriver and the instrument-for-taking-stones-out-of-horses’-hooves, he’s sure to catch on to something.’
The Snork took his paws away from his eyes and said: ‘Yes, but we haven’t any bait.’
‘Pancake,’ said his sister.
The Snork considered this for a time, while they all held their breath with excitement.
At last he said: ‘Of course if the Mameluke eats pancake, then…’ And everyone knew that the hunt would go on.
They tied the pocket-knife firmly to the painter with a bit of wire that the Hemulen had in his skirt-pocket, they stuck the pancake on the knife, and dropped the whole lot overboard.
Now the Snork Maiden’s blood was up and she was as excited as the others.
‘You are like Diana,’ said Moomintroll, admiringly.
‘Who’s that?’ she asked.
‘Goddess of the chase!’ he replied. ‘As beautiful as the Wooden Queen and as clever as you!’
‘Hm,’ said the Snork Maiden.
At that moment The Adventure keeled over a little. ‘Hush!’ said the Snork. ‘He’s nibbling!’ There was another twitch – this time more violent and then came a furious jerk that knocked them all over.
