The fish were not the only creatures living in the pond. There were newts and snails, mussels and worms, beetles’ larvae, water-fleas, and all kinds of tiny things hardly big enough to be seen with the naked eye.
“Goodness me!” thought the little Water Sprite, “how shall I ever remember all their names? I can’t even count them.”
In some places there was thick mud on the ground. When the two water sprites swam low and touched it in passing, brownish clouds swirled up and the water grew dark. In some places there was gravel – they could see it gleaming a long way off. And in other places pond-grass grew. It drifted over the ground in long tufts, looking like a carpet made of nothing but water sprites’ hair.
Best of all the little Water Sprite liked the woods of waterweeds flourishing in the depths of the pond – ribbon-grass and hair-weed and water milfoil.
“Don’t go in there! You’ll get stuck!” cried Father Water Sprite, seeing the boy disappear head first into a thicket of stalks and leaves.
“Come back!” Father shouted after him. He tried to grab the runaway’s feet, but the boy was too quick for him. Father Water Sprite was left holding an empty left boot.
For a time there was a rustling, splashing noise in the thicket. Then it was quiet again.
Somewhere in the wood of clinging weeds the little Water Sprite squeaked: “Where am I?”
Father Water Sprite weighted the boot with a stone, to stop it floating away, and set out to look for his son.
Cyprian the Carp
The two water sprites played hide-and-seek in the wood of waterweeds until the boy was bright red in the face and gasping for breath. “We’d better stop now,” Father Water Sprite decided, “or you’ll overtire yourself and Mother will be cross when we come home.”
But the little Water Sprite begged, “Just once more!”
“Very well then, just one last game,” said Father Water Sprite. “But you won’t get round me a second time,” he added. “Then it’s time to go home.”
The little Water Sprite wanted to make it particularly difficult for his father to find him this time. So he burrowed in among the stalks of the waterweeds as far as he possibly could. But all of a sudden he was dismayed to discover that he was caught. The clinging weeds wouldn’t let go of him again.
He tried to struggle free, but it was no good. In fact, he only got tangled up in the green coils even more. Then the little Water Sprite was really frightened, and he shouted for help.
“Just you struggle!” replied his father. “I’m not going to help you out, no fear! Get out on your own – I’m leaving you where you are.”
Not that Father Water Sprite really meant it. He would never have gone away and left the little Water Sprite where he was! He only thought, it would do the rascal good to let him struggle away for a bit. He wouldn’t be so full of himself another time. In the end, when he saw that the boy really couldn’t get free by himself, he simply took him by the collar and pulled once or twice – and flop, he was out!
The little Water Sprite had been struggling hard, and he had to sit down. He felt so tired. He propped his head on his hands and panted. The tassel of the pointed red cap dangled in his face.
For some time Father Water Sprite watched him sitting like that, gasping for breath. Then he said reproachfully, “There now, that happened because you just wouldn’t stop. I should never have allowed it. Now how am I going to get you home? You can’t even stand up on your own two feet, let alone swim.”
“Leave me alone,” said the little Water Sprite wearily. “I must only have a little rest, then I’ll be all right again.”
But Father Water Sprite didn’t agree. Goodness knows what a difficult journey home they might have had if fate hadn’t sent Cyprian the carp to help them.
Unsuspectingly, Cyprian the carp came swimming along. He was already an old gentleman, with moss growing on his back, and he liked to blow contented bubbles while he swam. Every time he blew, an air bubble popped out of his round carp’s mouth. Then Cyprian would half-close his eyes and gaze after it. He didn’t notice anything until his nose almost bumped into the Water Sprite’s shoulder.
“Hello!” cried Cyprian in surprise, waving his fins. “What’s going on here? Looks to me as though someone’s in trouble …”
“Look, here’s Cyprian the carp!” cried Father Water Sprite. Pointing to his son, he explained sadly, “Too tired to swim home. If only I could think how to get him back!”
“Glug-glug,” said Cyprian the carp thoughtfully. Then he made Father Water Sprite tell him the whole story. He listened carefully till he had heard all about it.
“Hm,” he said at the end, “well, I seem to have come along just at the right time, glug – glug. I’ll take the little Water Sprite home on my back. All right? Glug – glug.”
“Do you really mean it?” cried Father Water Sprite in relief. “That would be wonderful!”
“Oh, come, you know me!” protested Cyprian, rather hurt. “If I say, ‘I’ll take the lad home’, then I will take him home. Any objections?”
“None at all,” said Father Water Sprite. “It’s extremely kind of you –”
“That’s all right,” Cyprian interrupted him. “One likes to help where one can. Don’t mention it. Just make sure the boy’s sitting up properly.”
The little Water Sprite had to sit up properly, and his father showed him how to hold on. Then he rode comfortably home on Cyprian the carp’s back.
“Enjoying yourself?” Cyprian asked after a while.
“Oh yes!” cried the little Water Sprite wholeheartedly. “Will you let me ride on your back again? Promise!”
“All right,” said the carp. “I promise.”
The Nine-Eyed Lamprey
A mill-pond may not be very large, but a little Water Sprite can find plenty to do there all the same. Particularly if he happens to be very inquisitive and fond of poking his nose into everything – exploring every corner, looking under every stone, investigating every hole in the mud.
Mother Water Sprite didn’t like it when Father let the little Water Sprite wander round the pond on his own. However, the Water Sprite said, “After all, he’s a boy. A boy has to get used to going about by himself. Besides, I can’t spend all my time taking him out. I’ve got other things to do.”
That just suited the little Water Sprite. He liked swimming round the pond on his own, best of all. He was out all day and every day. Soon he knew the names of all the fish and the snails and the mussels. Whenever he met Cyprian the carp he was allowed a short ride through the water on his back. He played catch with the minnows and pulled the frogs’ long legs. Sometimes he caught a few newts for fun, put them in his pointed red cap and let them struggle about there for a bit.
Every day the little Water Sprite took a different corner of the pond and explored it, in case there was anything there he had missed so far.
That was how he came to the cave where he found the creature with all the eyes. It was dark in the cave, and at first he thought the creature was a huge, pale worm. Then he saw the fins on its back, so he could tell it was a fish. A fish with a long row of round, round eyes, one behind the other, on each side of his body.
“What are you staring at?” the fish asked the little Water Sprite. “Don’t you know I’m the nine-eyed lamprey? How do you like me?”
The little Water Sprite wanted to answer, “You’re ugly – I’m afraid of you!” But he didn’t. Instead he asked, “Nine-eyed …?”
“Oh, I know you’re envious,” said the nine-eyed lamprey. “You might as well admit it.”
“Envious?” the little Water Sprite asked in surprise. “Whatever for?”
“Because of all my eyes, of course. You’ve only got two, so far as I can see.” The nine-eyed lamprey wriggled closer. “Only two eyes! How miserable!”
“I’m quite happy with two eyes,” said the little Water Sprite. “They’re all I need.”
“Well, let’s hope so,” said the lamp
rey. “But surely you’re not swimming off again already? Stay here a bit longer.”
“Sorry – I’m in a hurry,” said the little Water Sprite quickly, and he said good-bye. He was longing to get out of the cave. He had seen quite enough of the nine-eyed lamprey; all he wanted now was to swim home as fast as he could.
“You’re welcome to have some of my eyes!” the lamprey called spitefully after him. “They’re all blind except for two. What good are blind eyes? I want to give them away, do you hear? Give – them – away!”
The little Water Sprite didn’t answer. He put his fingers in his ears as he swam. If only he were safe at home, where he could forget about the fish with all the eyes! He kept thinking about it; it made him feel sick.
That night he dreamt that the fish with all the eyes came into his bedroom. He couldn’t cry out, he couldn’t move his arms or legs, he lay as stiff and helpless as one of the bedposts; and whatever the fish did, he had to put up with it.
He heard it say, “Here you are – a few of the blind eyes I can’t use! One here – another there – another there …”
And he could feel the horrible fish fixing its round, ugly eyes on him. One on his forehead, one on each cheek, and one on his chin.
“Where shall we put the next? The next goes on the tip of your nose, my little friend! There now, let’s have a look at you … Splendid! Almost like a real nine-eyed lamprey.”
“No!” the little Water Sprite screamed. “Take your eyes off my face. Take them away! I can move again now, I can –”
“What on earth is the matter, boy?” Father Water Sprite was bending over the bed. “You’re yelling as if you were being murdered! Have you had a nightmare?”
“It was dreadful!” groaned the little Water Sprite, quite beside himself. “It was awful – I was turning into a nine-eyed lamprey!”
“A lamprey?” Father Water Sprite repeated. He made him tell the whole story. Then he stroked the little Water Sprite’s hair.
“Do you know what?” he said. “I think you’d better sleep in my bed with me for the rest of the night. But we won’t let Mother know about the nine-eyed lamprey and your nightmare. Or she’ll be telling me again that you’re still too small to go wandering round the pond by yourself.”
No Webbed Fingers
The days passed by. Every day the sun shone over the mill-pond a little longer, and every day the little Water Sprite grew a little older.
One day Father Water Sprite said, “Come with me, my boy. We’re going to swim to the bank. It’s time you had a look outside the pond.”
So they swam to the bank, and for the first time in his life the little Water Sprite put his head above water. But he ducked down again at once.
“What did you do that for?” asked Father Water Sprite.
The little Water Sprite rubbed his eyes.
“It’s dazzling,” he said. “Is it always so bright up there?”
“It’s always bright when the sun shines,” replied Father Water Sprite. “But you’ll soon get used to it. Just keep your eyes half-closed when you come up. It will be all right then. Or better still, put your hands in front of your eyes – like this.” He showed the little Water Sprite how to shield his eyes with his hands.
They came up for the second time.
The little Water Sprite peered cautiously through the webbing between his fingers.
So far he knew only the warm, greeny-gold twilight of the mill-pond. The strong sunlight hurt his eyes. But gradually, very gradually they got used to it, and he stared round, full of curiosity. “Oh, look at the funny little fishes over there!” he cried.
“Those aren’t fishes,” said Father Water Sprite. “Those are a couple of dragonflies.”
“But they’re swimming,” the little Water Sprite objected.
“No,” Father Water Sprite said, “they’re flying. That’s different. A lot of things are different up here.”
“Specially the water,” said the little Water Sprite brightly. “That’s different too, haven’t you noticed? Clearer and warmer and thinner –”
“But it isn’t water!” Father replied, smiling.
“What is it, then?” asked the boy, bewildered.
“It’s air,” said Father.
“Air?” the boy repeated. “What’s that?”
“Air is stuff you can’t swim in,” Father Water Sprite explained.
He made the little Water Sprite a path through the reeds on the bank, and the little Water Sprite followed him.
Once past the reeds, the little Water Sprite opened his eyes very wide indeed. He was seeing a field for the first time in his life, and flowers, and a tree. And it was the first time he had ever felt the wind blow, ruffling his hair.
Nothing up here was the same as down in their pond. Everything he saw was new and strange. He asked his father lots of questions, and his father explained it all as well as he could.
Suddenly the little Water Sprite pointed. “A water sprite!” he cried joyfully. “What a huge one!”
“Where?” asked Father Water Sprite, half-closing his eyes so as to see better.
“Over there,” said the boy. He pointed to a figure just coming over the hill. “Can’t you see him?”
“Yes, I can see him,” said Father, “but he’s not a water sprite.”
“There are several!” said the boy. “It must be a whole family. They’re coming down the hill in a line. I’ll shout to them –”
“No, don’t do that,” Father Water Sprite warned him. “Those are men. They mustn’t see us. This way – we’ll creep into the reeds.”
They both crept into the reeds.
The humans – a man, a woman and two children – passed quite close to them, but they never saw either the big water sprite or the little one.
The two water sprites, however, could see the humans all the better from their hiding place. The little Water Sprite was astonished to find how large men were. And their hair wasn’t green.
“They haven’t got webbed fingers, either,” whispered Father Water Sprite. “Some of them can swim, it’s true, but they swim very slowly. And when they dive into the water they have to come up again at once.”
“How peculiar,” said the little Water Sprite thoughtfully. “Why?”
“Because they’re only men,” said Father Water Sprite. “They can’t live in the water.”
Then the little Water Sprite felt sorry for the men. “I’m glad I’m a water sprite,” he said to himself.
The Little Green Houses
After this the little Water Sprite was always allowed to go with his father when he went on land. When he knew his way round a bit, Father Water Sprite sometimes let him go up alone.
“But don’t run off too far,” the little Water Sprite’s parents told him. Above all, he must take special care not to be seen by grown up men. He had to promise his parents that.
On the bank of the mill-pond stood an old willow tree. It stooped down over the pond, its lowest twigs almost touching the water.
As it stooped so low, the little Water Sprite could climb the old willow easily. “This is a good hiding place,” he thought. “When I sit up here in the branches I can look over to the mill on one side, and on the other side I can see as far as the roofs of the humans’ village. But nobody sees me. Even if someone did look up it wouldn’t matter. I would just drop down into the pond, and that would be that.”
The little Water Sprite often climbed the old willow tree. He would sit astride a branch kicking his legs in the air and waiting for the wind to come and shake the branch. He liked that. Even if there was no wind, it was still fun – he would shake the branch himself then.
The little Water Sprite was never bored when he was in his lookout post in the old willow. He could watch the miller and his two lads dragging heavy sacks of grain to the mill-house. He could see the miller’s wife feeding hens and pigeons in the yard, and the two maids rinsing out the washing or scalding the big wooden butter-churn.
> Over on the highroad men went to work and women went to market. He saw the schoolchildren running to the village every morning, and soon after the midday bell he saw them come back again. Sometimes a farm cart trundled along the road. He could hear the rumble of the wheels from a long way off. When the driver cracked his whip really loud, the little Water Sprite clicked his tongue and thought, “I wish I could have a go at that some time!”
Yes, there was always something over there on the highroad for the little Water Sprite to watch. But how he stared when the little green houses came driving along one day!
There were three of the little houses. They had real doors and windows, they were painted green, and they stood on wheels. A shaggy little horse trotted in front of each house, and a big, rough-haired dog slunk along behind the last one. He was chained to the house by a ring through his nose.
Three men with wide-brimmed hats drove the horses. A fourth man walked beside the hairy dog, tapping him with a stick from time to time.
The little Water Sprite was surprised to see houses on wheels. He wanted to have a closer look.
But while he was still wondering whether to jump down from the tree and run over to the road, the little green houses turned into the meadow and came towards the mill-pond. They stopped right in front of the old willow.
Dry Feet
The gypsies unharnessed the horses and bound their forefeet together with cords. Then they let the horses free to hobble where they wanted. They hobbled a little way into the meadow with their bound feet and began to graze.
Meanwhile some women and children had climbed out of the little green houses. They all had brown faces and brown shoulders and brown legs. The women had shiny earrings, and the children wore ragged shirts. All of them, even the men, had long coal-black hair. They looked quite different from any of the men the little Water Sprite had seen so far.
The Little Water Sprite Page 2
