Chapter 6
One day, Tom had a very strange adventure. It was a clear still September night, and the moon shone so brightly down through the water, that he could not sleep, though he shut his eyes as tight as possible. So at last, he came up to the top, and sat upon a little point of rock, and looked up at the broad yellow moon, and wondered what she was, and thought that she looked at him. He watched the moonlight on the rippling river, and the black heads of the firs. He listened to the owl’s hoot, and the fox’s bark, and the otter’s laugh. He smelt the soft perfume of the wafts of heather honey off the grouse-moor far above. He felt very happy, though he could not tell the season. You, of course, would have been very cold sitting there on a September night, without the least bit of clothes on your wet back; but Tom was a water-baby, and therefore felt cold no more than a fish.
Suddenly, he saw a beautiful sight. A bright red light moved along the riverside, and threw down into the water a long taproot of flame. Tom, curious little rogue that he was, must need go and see what it was; so he swam to the shore, and met the light as it stopped over a shallow run at the edge of a low rock.
And there, underneath the light, lay five or six great salmon, looking up at the flame with their great goggle eyes, and wagging their tails, as if they were very much pleased at it.
Tom came to the top, to look at this wonderful light nearer, and made a splash.
And he heard a voice say:
“There was a fish rose.”
He did not know what the words meant but he seemed to know the sound of them, and to know the voice which spoke them He saw on the bank three great two-legged creatures, one of whom held the light, flaring and sputtering, and another a long pole. And he knew that they were men, and was frightened, and crept into a hole in the rock, from which he could see what went on.
The man with the torch bent down over the water, and looked earnestly in. Then he said:
“Take that muckle fellow, lad; he’s owner fifteen pounds: hold your hand steady.”
Tom felt that there was some danger coming. He longed to warn the foolish salmon, who kept staring up at the light as if he was bewitched. But before he could make up his mind, down came the pole through the water. There was a fearful splash and struggle, and Tom saw that the poor salmon was speared right through, and was lifted out of the water.
And then, from behind, there sprang on these three men three other men. There were shouts, and blows, and words which Tom recollected to have heard before. He shuddered and turned sick at them now, for he felt somehow that they were strange, and ugly, and wrong, and horrible. And it all began to come back to him. They were men. They were fighting; savage, desperate, up-and-down fighting, such as Tom had seen too many times before.
He stopped his little ears, and longed to swim away He was very glad that he was a water-baby, and had nothing to do any more with horrid dirty men, with foul clothes on their backs, and foul words on their lips. But he dared not stir out of his hole. While the rock shook over his head with the trampling and struggling of the keepers and the poachers.
All of a sudden, there was a tremendous splash, and a frightful flash, and a hissing, and all was still.
For into the water, close to Tom, fell one of the men who held the light in his hand. Into the swift river he sank, and rolled over and over in the current. Tom heard the men above run along, seemingly looking for him; but he drifted down into the deep hole below. There he lay quite still, and they could not find him.
Tom waited a long time, till all was quiet. Then he peeped out, and saw the man lying. At last, he screwed up his courage and swam down to him. “Perhaps,” he thought, “the water has made him fall asleep, as it did me.”
Then he went nearer. He grew more and more curious, he could not tell the reason. He must go and look at him. He would go very quietly, of course. So he swam round and round him, closer and closer. As he did not stir, at last, he came quite close and looked him in the face.
The moon shone so bright that Tom could see every feature. As he saw, he recollected, bit by bit, that it was his old master, Grimes.
Tom turned pale, and swam away as fast as he could.
‘Oh dear me!’ he thought, ‘now he will turn into a water-baby. What a nasty troublesome one he will be! And perhaps he will find me out, and beat me again.’
So he went up the river again a little way, and lay there the rest of the night under an alder root. But, when morning came, he longed to go down again to the big pool, and see whether Mr. Grimes had turned into a water-baby or not.
So he went very carefully, peeping round all the rocks, and hiding under all the roots. Mr. Grimes lay there still. He had not turned into a water-baby. In the afternoon Tom went back again. He could not rest till he had found out what had become of Mr. Grimes. But this time, Mr. Grimes had gone. Tom made up his mind that he was turned into a water-baby.
He might have made himself easy, poor little man Mr. Grimes did not turn into a water-baby, or anything like one at all. He could not know that the fairies had carried him away, and put him, where they put everything which falls into the water, exactly where it ought to be.
Then Tom went on down, for he was afraid of staying near Grimes. As he went, all the vale looked sad. The red and yellow leaves showered down into the river. The flies and beetles were all dead and gone; the chill autumn fog lay low upon the hills, and sometimes spread itself so thickly on the river that he could not see his way. But he felt his way instead, following the flow of the stream, day after day, past great bridges, past boats and barges, past the great town, with its wharfs, and mills, and tall smoking chimneys, and ships which rode at anchor in the stream. Now and then, he ran against their hawsers, and wondered what they were. He peeped out, and saw the sailors lounging on board smoking their pipes. He ducked under again, for he was terribly afraid of being caught by man and turned into a chimney-sweep once more. He did not know that the fairies were close to him always, shutting the sailors’ eyes lest they should see him, and turning him aside from all foul and dangerous things. Poor little fellow, it was a dreary journey for him. More that once, he longed to be back in Vendale, playing with the trout in the bright summer sun. But it could not be. What has been once can never come over again. And people can be little babies, even water-babies, only once in their lives.
But Tom was always a brave, determined little English boy, who never knew when he was beaten. On and on he held, till he saw a long way off the red buoy through the fog. And then he found, to his surprise, the stream turned round, and running up inland.
It was the tide, of course. But Tom knew nothing of the tide. He only knew that in a minute more the water, which had been fresh, turned salt all round him. And then there came a change over him. He felt strong, and light, and fresh. He gave, he did not know the reason, three skips out of the water, a yard high, and head over heels, just as the salmon do when they first touch the noble rich salt water.
He did not care now for the tide being against him. The red buoy was in sight, dancing in the open sea; and to the buoy he went. He passed great shoals of bass and mullet, leaping and rushing in after the shrimps, but he never heeded them, or they him. Once he passed a great black shining seal, who was coming in after the mullet. The seal put his head and shoulders out of water, and stared at him. And Tom, instead of being frightened, said, “How do you do, sir; what a beautiful place the sea is!” And the old seal, instead of trying to bite him, looked at him with his soft sleepy winking eyes. He said, “Good tide to you, my little man; are you looking for your brothers and sisters? I passed them all at play outside.”
“Oh, then,” said Tom, “I shall have play-fellows at last,” and he swam on to the buoy, and got upon it (for he was quite out of breath) and sat there, and looked round for water-babies. But there were none to be seen.
The sea-breeze came in freshly with the tide and blew the fog away. The little waves danced for joy around the buoy, and the old buoy danced with them. The gulls laughed like girls at play, and the sea-pies, with their red bills and legs, flew to and fro from shore to shore, and whistled sweet and wild. And Tom looked and looked, and listened. He would have been very happy, if he could only have seen the water-babies. Then when the tide turned, he left the buoy, and swam round and round in search of them, but in vain. Sometimes he thought he heard them laughing. But it was only the laughter of the ripples. And sometimes he thought he saw them at the bottom but it was only white and pink shells. And once he was sure he had found one, for he saw two bright eyes peeping out of the sand. So he dived down, and began scraping the sand away, and cried, “ Don’t hide; I do want someone to play with so much!” And out jumped a great turbot with his ugly eyes and mouth all awry, and flopped away along the bottom, knocking poor Tom over. And he sat down at the bottom of the sea, and cried salt tears from sheer disappointment.
Tom sat upon the buoy long days, long weeks, looking out to sea, and wondering when the waterbabies would come back. Yet they never came.
Then he began to ask all the strange things which came in out of the sea if they had seen any. Some said, “Yes,” and some said nothing at all.
He asked the bass and the pollock; but they were so greedy after the shrimp that they did not care to answer him a word.
