by Tove Jansson
‘Did you ever see so much luggage!’ said Snufkin. ‘And the poor chap was quite exhausted. Oh, isn’t it wonderful not to own anything!’ And he threw his old green hat up gaily in the air.
‘I don’t know about that,’ said Sniff, gazing lovingly at his little jewelled dagger. ‘It’s nice to have beautiful things that really belong to you.’
‘Now we must get on,’ said Moomintroll. ‘They’re waiting for us at home, and I’m sure that can’t be much fun.’
On the way they met crowds of fleeing creatures; some walking, some driving, some riding, and some even taking their houses with them on wheelbarrows. They all kept glancing fearfully at the sky and hardly anyone had time to stop and talk.
‘It’s strange,’ said Moomintroll, ‘but it seems to me that we aren’t as afraid as any of these people, although we’re going to the most dangerous place of all, and they’re leaving it.’
‘That’s because we are so extremely brave,’ said Sniff.
‘H’m,’ said Moomintroll. ‘I think,’ he mused, ‘it must be because we’ve sort of got to know the comet. We were the first ones to find out that it was coming. We’ve seen it grow from a tiny dot to a great sun… How lonely it must be up there, with everybody afraid of it!’
The Snork maiden put her paw into Moomintroll’s. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘if you’re not afraid, I’m not either!’
Soon they stopped by the wayside to have lunch, and there sat a Hemulen with a stamp album on his lap.
‘All this fuss and rush!’ he was muttering to himself. ‘Crowds of people everywhere, and not one of them can tell me just what it’s all about.’
‘Good morning,’ said Moomintroll. ‘I suppose you aren’t by any chance a relation of the Hemulen we met in the Lonely Mountains? He collected butterflies.’
‘That must have been my cousin on my father’s side,’ answered the Hemulen. ‘He is very stupid. We don’t even know each other now. I broke off our relationship.’
‘Why was that?’ asked Sniff.
‘He had no interest in anything but his old butterflies,’ said the Hemulen. ‘The earth could crack under his feet and it wouldn’t bother him.’
‘That’s exactly what’s going to happen now,’ said the Snork. ‘To be precise, at 8.42 tomorrow evening.’
‘What?’ said the Hemulen. ‘Well, as I said, there has
been a tremendous fuss going on here. I had been sorting my stamps for a whole week and all my perforations, watermarks and so on were in different piles, when what happens? Somebody goes off with the table I am working on. Somebody else snatches the chair from under me. Then the very house disappears. And here I sit with my stamps in a complete muddle, and nobody has bothered to tell me what it’s all about.’
‘Listen now, Hemul,’ said Snufkin slowly and clearly. ‘It’s about a comet that is going to collide with the earth tomorrow.’
‘Collide?’ said the Hemulen. ‘Has that anything to do with stamp-collecting?’
‘No, it hasn’t,’ said Snufkin. ‘It has to do with a comet – a wild star with a tail. And if it comes here there won’t be much of your stamp-collection left.’
‘Heaven protect me!’ gasped the Hemulen, and with this somewhat illogical request he gathered up his dress (a hemulen always wears a dress – nobody knows why – perhaps they have never thought of trousers), and asked what he should do next.
‘Come with us,’ said the Snork maiden. ‘We’ve found a cave where both you and your stamp-collection can hide.’
And that was how the Hemulen joined the party returning to Moomin Valley. Once they had to go back several miles to look for a rare stamp that had fluttered out of his album, and once he had a quarrel with the Snork (who insisted that it was a ‘dispute’ though anybody could see that it was a quarrel) about something that somebody had forgotten to do. But on the whole they got on quite well with the Hemulen.
They had left the country road long ago and reached a
great wood of silver poplars and oaks with a few plum trees dotted about, when Sniff stopped and listened.
‘Can you hear anything?’ he asked.
Very, very faintly they heard a whirring, buzzing sound. It came nearer and nearer until they were deafened by the roar. The Snork maiden held Moomintroll’s paw very tight.
‘Look!’ screamed Sniff.
Suddenly the red sky was darkened by a cloud of flying creatures that first sank, and then dived straight into the wood.
‘It’s a swarm of grass-hoppers!’ cried the Snork. They all hid behind a stone and looked cautiously out at the wild green bandits that swarmed in their millions amongst the branches.
‘Have the grass-hoppers gone mad?’ whispered the Snork maiden.
‘We – will – eat!’ chanted the nearest grass-hopper.
‘We – are – eating!’ sang another. ‘We – are – eating!’ chorused all the other grass-hoppers who were gnawing, tearing and biting at everything in sight.
‘It makes me hungry to look at them,’ said the Hemulen. ‘This is even worse than the last fuss. I do hope they don’t eat stamp-albums.’
‘Can any of you see that grass-hopper musician who was drinking beer at the dance?’ asked Snufkin.
‘He was the tame, meadow sort,’ answered the Snork. ‘These are wild Egyptian grass-hoppers.’
It was quite fascinating to see how fast they ate. In a short while the poor trees were naked. Not a leaf was left – not even a blade of grass.
Moomintroll sighed. ‘I have heard that grass-hoppers always ravage the country before any great catastrophe,’ he said.
‘What’s a catastrophe?’ asked Sniff.
‘It’s something as bad as it can possibly be,’ said Moomintroll. ‘Like earthquakes, and tidal waves, and volcanoes. And tornadoes. And plagues.’
‘In other words – “fuss”,’ said the Hemulen. ‘One never has any peace.’
‘What was it like in Egypt?’ squeaked Sniff to the nearest grass-hopper.
‘Oh, short rations you know,’ he sang. ‘But look out, little friends, beware of the great wind!’
‘We – have – eaten!’ sang all the grass-hoppers, and with a burst of chirping and croaking the whole swarm rose from the bare skeleton of the wood.
‘What dreadful creatures!’ exclaimed Snufkin, and the little procession trudged dejectedly on through the silent desolation that the grass-hoppers had made.
‘I’m thirsty!’ wailed the Snork maiden. ‘Aren’t we nearly there yet? Snufkin, do play the Higgely-piggely song. It’s just how I feel now.’
‘The mouth-organ is broken,’ protested Snufkin. ‘There are only a couple of notes that will play at all.’
‘Then let’s have it with them,’ said the Snork maiden, and Snufkin played:
Higg – –, pig – –,
Path – – wigg – –,
– – – four.
Almost – –
On little – –;
– – – door.
‘I didn’t think much of that,’ said the Hemulen. And they plodded on, their feet more tired than ever.
Meanwhile far off in Egypt a tornado had been born, and now it was flying on black wings across the desert, whistling ominously as it went, whirling up sticks and straws, and growing blacker and stronger every minute. It began sweeping trees away and lifting the roofs from the houses in its path. Then it threw itself across the sea and, climbing over the mountains, came at last to the place where the Valley of the Moomins lay.
Sniff, who had long ears, heard it first. ‘It must be another swarm of grass-hoppers,’ he said.
They all raised their noses and listened.
‘It’s the storm this time,’ said the Snork maiden. And she was right. It was the great storm the grass-hopper had warned them about.
The heralds of the tornado came howling through the bare tree trunks. They tore off Moomintroll’s medal and blew it right into the top of a fir tree, they bowled Sniff over four times and tried to ta
ke Snufkin’s hat away from him. The Hemulen clutched his stamp album, cursing and
muttering, and the whole lot of them were blown through the wood and out on to an open moor.
‘This ought to be arranged a little better,’ shouted the Snork. ‘A fine wind like this and nothing to sail with!’
‘Nothing to sail in either,’ said Snufkin, ‘which is more important.’
They crept down under the roots of a tree to discuss things.
‘I made a glider when I was small,’ said Moomintroll. ‘It flew very well…’
‘A balloon wouldn’t be such a bad idea,’ said the Snork maiden. ‘I had a sausage one once. Yellow.’
Just then a baby tornado dived under the tree roots and took hold of the Hemulen’s stamp album, whirling it high up in the air. With a howl of anguish he leapt to his feet and set off after his treasure. He staggered and fluttered, and the wind got under his wide skirt and carried him off over the heather. He flapped away like a great kite.
The Snork looked thoughtfully after him and said: ‘I think I’ve got an idea. Follow me all of you.’
They found the Hemulen some distance away, sitting and moaning to himself quite overcome with despair.
‘Hemul,’ said the Snork. ‘This is all a terrible catastrophe, but will you be kind enough to lend us your dress for a short time. We want to make a balloon out of it.’
‘Oh! My stamp collection!’ wailed the Hemulen.’ My life’s work, my magnificent collection! Rare, unique, irreplaceable! The best in the world!’
‘Listen, take off your dress for a minute will you?’ said the Snork.
‘What?’ said the Hemulen. ‘Take off my dress?’
‘Yes,’ they all shouted. ‘We want to make a balloon out of it.’
The Hemulen went red with anger. ‘Here I sit in distress,’ he said, ‘after a terrible accident caused only by your rotten old catastrophe. And now you want to take my dress!’
‘Listen,’ said the Snork. ‘We’ll save your stamp album if you’ll only do what we say. But hurry up! This is only the beginning of the tornado – like a gale warning. When the real thing comes it’s safest to be up in the air.’
‘I don’t care a straw about your tornado or your comet,’ shouted the Hemulen who had worked himself up into a real rage. ‘When it concerns my stamps…’
But he got no farther, for they all threw themselves on top of him and in a twinkling they had pulled his dress over his head. It was a very large dress with a frill round the bottom, which he had inherited from his aunt. They only had to tie up the neck and the armholes and it made a perfect balloon.
The Hemulen cursed and muttered fiercely, but nobody paid any attention to him, because away on the horizon they could see the real tornado approaching. It looked like a great spiral-shaped cloud, and it came whirling over the forest with a wild howling roar, rooting up the trees and throwing them down like match-sticks.
‘Hold on with all your might,’ shouted Moomintroll, and they all caught hold of the frill on the Hemulen’s dress, and knotted their tails together for safety’s sake. The tornado had arrived!
For quite a long time they could neither hear nor see. But the Hemulen’s dress lifted them up, higher and higher, and carried them over the moor, over mountain tops and dried up lakes, on and on, and twilight came, and then darkness, before the tornado lost its breath and died. At last they came to rest and found the balloon had hitched itself up in a tall plum tree.
‘Well, strike me pink!’ exclaimed Moomintroll. ‘Are you all still here?’
‘I’m here,’ said the Hemulen, ‘and I wish to point out now, before anything else happens, that I will not join in these childish games in future. If you will fool about like this you must do it without me.’
This time they all felt too exhausted to start explaining everything to the Hemulen again.
‘I’m still here, and I’ve got my looking-glass too,’ said the Snork maiden.
‘And I’ve got my hat,’ said Snufkin, ‘and the mouth-organ.’
‘But my exercise book might be anywhere,’ said the Snork miserably, ‘and I had written down everything that has to be done when a comet comes. Now what are we going to do?’
‘Well never mind that now,’ said Moomintroll. ‘Where’s Sniff?’
‘Here,’ piped a feeble voice, ‘if it really is me and not some poor bit of wreckage left over by the storm.’
‘It’s you all right,’ said the Hemulen. ‘I’d know your squeak anywhere. And perhaps I could have my dress back now.’
‘Why, certainly,’ said Moomintroll. ‘And thank you for the loan of it.’
The Hemulen grumbled and puffed as he pulled his dress over his head, but luckily he couldn’t see in the dark how the tornado had treated it!
They spent the night in the plum tree, very close together, and they were so tired after their journey that they didn’t wake up till twelve o’clock the next day.
CHAPTER 11
Which is about a coffee-party, the flight to the cave and the arrival of the comet.
THE seventh of October was windless and very hot. Moomintroll woke up and gave a huge yawn. Then he shut his mouth with a snap and his eyes opened very wide.
‘Do you realize what today is?’ he asked.
‘The comet!’ whispered Sniff.
My goodness, it was big! The red had turned to yellowish-white now, and round it was a circle of dancing flames. The wood seemed to be waiting, breathless… The ants were in their ant hills, the birds in their nests, and every one of the little creeping things of the forest, who had not already left the place, had found somewhere to hide.
‘What’s the time?’ asked Moomintroll.
‘Ten past twelve,’ answered the Snork.
Nobody said another word. They clambered down the tree and set off as fast as they could towards home.
Only the Hemulen went on making small, angry noises to himself, about the stamps and the ruined dress in turns.
‘Be quiet now,’ said the Snork.’ We have more important things to think about.’
‘Do you think the comet will reach Moomin Valley before us?’ whispered the Snork maiden.
‘We’ll get there in time,’ said Moomintroll. But he looked worried.
The swarm of grass-hoppers had certainly not been this way, because the wood was green again, and the slope in front of them was white with flowers.
‘Would you like a flower to put behind your ear?’ asked Moomintroll.
‘Good gracious, no!’ answered the Snork maiden. ‘I’m much too worried to think about things like that.’
Meanwhile Sniff had gone ahead, and suddenly they heard him give a shout of excitement.
‘Some new fuss I suppose,’ said the Hemulen.
‘Hi! Hullo Hurry up!’ shrieked Sniff. ‘Run! Gome on!’ And he put his paws in his mouth and gave a piercing whistle.
They set off at a run through the trees, Moomintroll in
front. As he ran he sniffed, and a delicious smell of baking bread floated up to him. The trees thinned out – and Moomintroll stopped suddenly with a shout of surprise and happiness.
There below him lay the Valley of the Moomins. And in the middle amongst the plum and poplar trees, stood a blue Moominhouse, as blue and peaceful and wonderful as when
he had left it. And inside his mother was peacefully baking bread and cakes.
‘Now everything is going to be all right,’ said Moomintroll happily, and he was so overcome that he had to sit down.
‘There’s the bridge!’ said the Snork maiden, ‘and there’s the poplar tree you talked about that is so good to climb. What a beautiful house it is!’
Moominmamma was in the kitchen decorating a big cake with pale yellow lemon peel and slices of crystalized pear. The words ‘To my darling Moomintroll’ were written round it in chocolate, and on the top there was a glittering star of spun sugar.
Moominmamma was whistling softly to herself, and now and then she looked out of
the window.
Moominpappa was wandering nervously from room to room getting thoroughly in the way. ‘They should be here soon,’ he said, ‘it’s half-past one.’
‘They’ll be here all right,’ said Moominmamma confidently. ‘Wait a moment while I take away the cake! Sniff shall have the basin to lick out – he always has it.’
‘If he comes,’ said Moominpappa, and sighed deeply.
At that moment the Muskrat came and sat down in a corner.
‘Well, what about the comet?’ asked Moominmamma.
‘It’s coming nearer,’ said the Muskrat. ‘This is a time for weeping and wailing, sure enough. But of course that sort of thing doesn’t affect a philosopher like me.’
‘Well, I hope you’ll take good care of your whiskers when the time comes,’ said Moominmamma kindly. ‘It would be a pity to get them singed. Will you have a ginger-nut?’
‘Well, thank you – perhaps a small one,’ said the Musk-rat. When he had eaten eight ginger-nuts he said: ‘Young Moomintroll seems to be coming down the hill, accompanied by the strangest looking party. I don’t know if that interests you at all.’
‘Moomintroll?’ screamed Moominmamma. ‘Why didn’t you say so before V And she rushed out, closely followed by Moominpappa.
There they were, running across the bridge! First Moomintroll and Sniff, then Snufkin, then the Snorks, and last of all the Hemulen, who had not got over his bad temper.
They all fell into each other’s arms and Moominmamma burst out: ‘My darling Moomin-child, I thought I should never see you again!’
‘You should have seen me fighting with the poisonous bush!’ said Moomintroll. ‘Snip! Off came one arm! Snap! Off came another, and in the end there was only a stump left!’
