Читать книгу The Adventures of Peterkin - Gilbert W. Gabriel - Страница 6

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AWHALE! Yes, it was a big, black, hungry whale! And it was drawing closer and closer to Peterkin’s pumpkin boat every time he blinked.

Peterkin could see its forked tail now and its great, darkly gleaming sides. Once it disappeared completely under the foam, and when it rose again, it was so near that Peterkin saw its ugly little eyes and a white row of jagged teeth. Whenever it flashed its tail and fins, there was a great churning of water, and the Pumperkin would roll and rock so fiercely that it almost dumped its poor owner into the ocean.

The whale, I’m sure, did not know what to make of it. The whale was used to boats, of course—but boats with sails and pointed prows and sailors in the rigging. While here was something round and fat, and such a golden yellow! No bow it had, nor stern, nor sails, nor flags, nor rudder. “Is it really and truly a boat?” thought the whale. Well, this would have to be looked into very closely!

So the big whale came puffing and fountaining up to the little Pumperkin.

“Oh, oh,” it sighed, “what a pretty thing to frisk with! Just like a play-toy! Here’s where I have my day’s fun!” And with that it dived deep under the pumpkin boat and came up on the other side. “Haw, haw,” it chuckled—as only a whale can chuckle—“what bully good sport! Just to look at that little man who is peeking out over the side of this yellow ball! Just to see how surprised he looks to find me over here, where he didn’t expect me to be! Haw, haw!” And the whale gave another frolicsome wiggle to his tail—nearly upsetting the Pumperkin again.

As for Peterkin, he was chattering with fear. He did not know what was coming next! Perhaps the whale was about to swallow him for breakfast. Yes, yes, it was surely up to some mischief, was this black whale. For it had disappeared again. Oh, what now?

True, the playful whale had taken another dive under the bottom of the pumpkin. But it didn’t bother to come up on the other side. It just stayed there under water, directly beneath the Pumperkin.

“Haw, I wonder what would happen if I should squirt my fountain into the air?” thought the whale—and being a whale, it had to take a long while to think it over. In the dreadful pause, Peterkin trembled so hard that his stove and his bed and all the furniture took to rattling, too.

Then, suddenly, the Pumperkin, Peterkin and all, shot fifty feet high into the air! Up, up, like a bubble at the top of a mighty geyser, it rose with the stream of the whale’s fountain. For the wink of an eye, it seemed to hang there—then down it came again—down with a spatter and splash into the trough of the sea!

Peterkin could stand it no longer. He screamed aloud—with such a scream as the whale had never heard. It was a scream to make every fish in the sea shudder along its fins.

“Oh, dear me!” sighed the whale, “I have made an enemy. I’ve been hurting somebody’s feelings, I fear. I should have been very glad to make a breakfast of that little man and his yellow bubble, if only he hadn’t minded and had acted cheerfully about it. But now, since he’s so cross and cranky, I shall punish him by going away and never looking at him again. So there!”

Which was just what the big whale did. And it never could understand why the little man clapped his hands and laughed with delight when he saw it dwindle away into the waves of the distance.