Читать книгу The Cradle Ship - Edith Howes - Страница 7

Table of Contents

Close above the trees sailed the Cradle Ship, while the twins hung over the edge to see what lay below. Flowers and fruit from every country grew here together, and all seasons were in full swing at once. One grape vine was hung with ripe grapes; the next was only blossoming. One almond tree was white with bloom, the next hid green almonds under its summer suit of leaves, the next was scattering ripe nuts on the ground.

"I should like to eat some of those almonds," said Twin. "May we gather some?"

The fairies looked at him in horror, and Mother shook her head at him.

"Not in Babyland," she said. "You mustn't eat the babies here."

A wonderful look came into her eyes.

"No one in this ship shall be hungry while in Babyland!" she said slowly; and so strong was her fairy power that until they reached home again not one of the family felt any wish to eat.

A slender fairy, white and delicate as a snow-flake, floated to the ship and sat on its edge, close to Win.

"We are coming to my tree," she said. "Look, there it is, covered with blossoms as white as my wings. How they glisten in the sun, my pretty silky blossoms! You can hear the hum of the bees as they carry the father-pollen to the waiting mother-pistils. Deep in each blossom lie my seed-babies. The shining petals will fall away, but little green balls will be left swelling round the babies while they grow. At last the tree will stand gleaming with plums, hanging in rich clusters that weigh the branches almost to the ground. And in the middle of each plum will lie the precious baby, grown into a nut, and cased for safety in a hard, thick shell. You should see my tree then. It will be splendid."

"It is splendid now," said Win, looking back at it. She glanced below. "Oh!" she cried. "What is that strange place down there?"

The fairies were all sighing and looking vexed, and Father and Twin were as puzzled as she was.

"It is That Dreadful Garden," said the fairy. "A shocking sight, isn't it?"

It was indeed a shocking sight. Everything that grew in it was blighted and twisted and ugly. The leaves were eaten away by caterpillars, almost to the skeleton, and the flowers were pale and ill and miserable. The tears came into Mother's eyes when she looked at the poor things.

"What is the matter with them?" asked Win.

"No care!" said the fairy. "No care!"

"But why do you have such a horrid place in Babyland?" asked Twin.

"We wouldn't have it here if we could help it," said the fairy sadly. "That garden is one of our great troubles. You must know that all fairies are not good—some are lazy and thoughtless. It is they who live in That Dreadful Garden. They take no care of their flower-babies, but leave them to grow up as best they may. And you see how the poor things suffer. But I can't bear to think about them," she said. "Let us talk of something else."

"I shall make some poetry about your plum babies," said Father.

"I was wondering when you were going to begin," said Mother.

"It has only just come into my head. It goes like this:

"Swinging and swaying, and swaying and swinging.

Rocked in the sunlit air,

Close to their mothers white babies are clinging,

Little seed-babies so fair.

"Glowing and gleaming, and gleaming and glowing,

Purple amongst the green,

Mothers rock on while babies are growing,

Babies that cannot be seen.

"Hiding and growing, and growing and hiding,

Babies are pretty and round.

Down through the branches the mothers go gliding,

Bearing their babes to the ground.

"Swinging and swaying, and swaying and swinging,

Rocked by the summer breeze,

Up from the ground the green babies are springing,

Springing as beautiful trees."

The fairy looked pleased, but before anything could be said the ship touched the ground and stopped. They had reached the Hall of Rose Petals.

It was a beautiful place. Walls and roof were of red rose petals, set edge to edge like little panes of ruby glass. There was no need of windows, for the light shone through the petals in a soft pink glow that made the fairies look even prettier than when they were outside.

The doors were flung widely open, and as Mother led the way into the hall the fairies all bowed to her as though she were a queen. The twins did feel proud to belong to her!

There were no seats; the family had to stand. The fairies did not want to sit; they were flying up and down every moment, so glad were they to be able to move. Indeed, it was a good thing there was a roof to the hall, for their flights would have taken them out of sight if there had not been, and their speeches would never have been heard.

One of them began to speak now, from her place in the air. Her wings fluttered all the time, and every now and then she took a short flight up and down again. The other fairies seemed quite used to it, but the twins thought it very strange, and Father whispered more than once, "I wish she would keep still."

"Sisters," she said, "we have met to talk of our grievances. Our first and greatest grievance is the lack of movement, both for ourselves and the plants in which we live. We may leave our homes only when a fairy-mother brings her little ones to Babyland"—she smiled down at Mother—"our plants may never leave them at all. Insects move, birds move, fishes move, animals move; why should not plants move? Why should they not walk or run or fly or swim? Why should they stay in one spot all their lives, able to live only if their food and water lies round about them, and depending on the wind or insects for the carrying of their pollen? Why should they not be free to search for better food if they have need of it, free to move from place to place to find the pollen they would choose?"

A columbine fairy shot up beside her.

"We must not waste our precious time over this old grievance," she said. "We have talked about it on other holidays, and we have always found that nothing can be done. Our plants are not made for freedom; they have neither legs nor wings nor fins. Certainly the baby seeds often travel long distances; they are winged to sail on the wind, or spiked to cling to moving animals, or flung far out to fresh soil by their careful mothers. But these movements last only for a little while. When the babies grow into plants they settle down to live a quiet life, and we must stay with them to care for them. All this cannot be helped; let us talk of things that can be helped.

"There is that matter of stolen honey, for instance, from which so many of us suffer. As you know, we take the very greatest pains to see that our father-stamens and mother-pistils stand where the bee who pushes in for honey must touch them, to cross the pollen from flower to flower, so that the babies may be strong. But many a bee is too lazy to enter by the front door and take the honey in a proper manner; she bites a hole in the honey spur at the back of the flower and steals the honey. She never comes near the pollen. The honey is there to be given to her, but she would rather steal it than go to a little trouble to get it. She gets all and does nothing. It is not fair!"

"I always said those honey-spurs were a mistake," said a daisy fairy.

"Not at all," replied Columbine. "Where bees are not lazy the honey-spurs are a most successful plan for crossing. Don't you agree with me, Nasturtium?"

"Yes," said Nasturtium; "but the trouble is that bees so often are lazy. Especially humble bees. I have sometimes had to shorten my spur to little more than a point, so that they should be forced to go in at the front door."

Columbine took a quick flight and went on with her speech.

"Something should be done to put this matter right. Nothing is more important than the life and health of the babies, and for that we cannot do without our insect friends, any more than they can do without us. While we are free to move, some of us should go and ask the bees for a promise of better behaviour."

"Hear, hear!" said Foxglove and Larkspur and a number of others.

Canterbury Bell sprang high into the air and hung fluttering her wings.

"There is a greater grievance than that; one that troubles all of us," she said. "It is That Dreadful Garden."

The fairies were still and sad in an instant.

"It is becoming more and more dangerous," Canterbury Bell went on. "It has been so neglected that now every plant is diseased. Insects coming from that garden are bringing bad pollen to our flowers. Our babies will be ill and die, or they will grow up poor, stunted things that we shall be ashamed of. Indeed, if things go on as they are, you spurred flowers may well be glad if no bee enters by the front door to bring pollen from such an evil place. Something must be done. We must protect our babies."

There was a silence. Nobody seemed to have a plan.

"Why don't you send a message?" asked Mother. "Or go and show the lazy fairies what to do? Perhaps they don't know how to take care of their garden."

Everybody began to answer her at once.

"We have sent dozens of messages."

"They told us to mind our own business."

"We went last holiday, but they drove us away."

"They wouldn't listen to us."

"They said the garden was theirs, and they would do what they liked with it."

"They jeered at us for being anxious about our babies."

"I will go and see what I can do," said Mother. "I can't bear the thought of those poor, neglected children."

"Will you? Will you really?" asked the fairies. They crowded round Mother. "Oh, if you can make things better we shall be so glad, so very glad."

"I will go at once," said Mother.

"Come!" she said to Father and the twins. They followed her into the Cradle Ship, and she set it moving towards the Dreadful Garden. The flower fairies came flying after it.

The lazy fairies in the Dreadful Garden peeped out of their plants at their visitors. Most of them had untidy hair and unwashed faces.

"Fairies with dirty faces!" Win whispered in a shocked voice.

"And just look at their torn frocks!" said Twin.

"Good morning!" Mother called in her kind voice. "May we see your dear little babies?"

The lazy fairies looked at her, and then at one another, but nobody spoke.

Mother stepped out of the ship and stooped over a rose.

"Oh, the poor flowers!" she said. "They are all twisted and badly shaped. They will never open, and their seed-eggs must die."

The rose fairy's face grew very red, but she tossed her head and tried to look as if she didn't care.

Mother stooped still lower to a pansy bed.

"Sick little pansy babies!" she said. "So small and thin and white! How badly you have been treated!"

"Don't come meddling," the pansy fairies said. "These children don't belong to you."

"I should be ashamed to own such neglected children," said Mother quietly.

She stood up very straight and tall, and noticed everything in the garden: babies shrivelled and starved, babies sick and dying, babies dead and mildewed. The wonderful look came into her eyes, and the fairies shivered in fear, for they felt her mother power.

"Come to me!" she called; and the untidy fairies had to trail unwillingly from their plants, flying slowly on the holiday wings which they had been too lazy to use. When they all stood in front of her, Mother spoke:

"Your plants are bad enough," she said, "but your babies are worse. They are in a shocking state. Nothing in the whole world is of greater importance than healthy children, and yet you allow these to be always ill. You don't seem to understand that they need care and watchfulness—that you must work, work, Work if they are to grow up well and strong and safe from their enemies. All their lives are ruined, unless you give them a good start. Yet with you it is not work, work, work, but shirk, shirk, shirk. What are you going to do about it?"

The fairies looked at the ground and fidgeted. At last one said:

"Your power is stronger than ours. We shall have to do as you tell us."

"Good," said Mother. "Then here are my commands. Clear away the blight and the caterpillars; give your plants space and air and light; and remember that babies must have your care every day and all the day till they are big enough to look after themselves. And for goodness' sake wash your faces and make yourselves tidy," she said as she turned away.

The fairies were meek enough now. They hadn't a word to say, but they flew to their plants and began to work at once. The family left them as busy as bees.

"Thank you—thank you!" said the waiting flower fairies as the Cradle Ship returned over the garden wall. "We are most grateful."

"Now for the bees!" said Columbine.

"May we come with you?" asked Mother.

"We shall be most pleased to have you, if you will make yourselves small. Even I shall have to shrink before I can move about in the hive."

She dwindled as she spoke. In a second she stood no higher than a bee, though she was as perfectly made and as beautiful as before.