The Sea Fairies

"Or scrubbin'," added Cap'n Bill.

"The crabs," said Merla, "are second cousins to the lobsters, although much smaller in size. There are many families – or varieties – of crabs, and so many of them live in one place near here that we call it Crabville. I think you will enjoy seeing these little creatures in their native haunts."

They now approached a kelp bed, the straight, thin stems of the kelp running far upward to the surface of the water. Here and there upon the stalks were leaves, but Trot thought the growing kelp looked much like sticks of macaroni, except they were a rich, red-brown color.

It was beyond the kelp – which they had to push aside as they swam through it, so thickly did it grow – that they came to a higher level, a sort of plateau on the ocean's bottom. It was covered with scattered rocks of all sizes, which appeared to have broken off from big shelving rocks they observed near by. The place they entered seemed like one of the rocky canyons you often see upon the earth.

"Here live the fiddler crabs," said Merla; "but we must have taken them by surprise, it is so quiet."

Even as she spoke there was a stirring and scrambling among the rocks, and soon scores of light green crabs were gathered before the visitors. The crabs bore fiddles of all sorts and shapes in their claws, and one big fellow carried a leader's baton. The latter crab climbed upon a flat rock and in an excited voice called out:

"Ready, now – ready, good fiddlers. We'll play Number 19 – Hail to the Mermaids. Ready! Take aim! Fire away!"

At this command every crab began scraping at his fiddle as hard as he could, and the sounds were so shrill and unmusical that Trot wondered when they would begin to play a tune. But they never did; it was one regular mix-up of sounds from beginning to end. When the noise finally stopped the leader turned to his visitors and, waving his baton toward them, asked:

"Well, what do you think of that?"

"Not much," said Trot, honestly. "What's it all about?"

"I composed it myself!" said the Fiddler Crab. "But it's highly classical, I admit. All really great music is an acquired taste."

"I don't like it," remarked Cap'n Bill. "It might do all right to stir up a racket New Year's Eve, but to call that screechin' music – "

Just then the crabs started fiddling again, harder than ever, and as it promised to be a long performance they left the little creatures scraping away at their fiddles, as if for dear life, and swam along the rocky canyon until, on turning a corner, they came upon a new and different scene.

There were crabs here, too – many of them – and they were performing the queerest antics imaginable. Some were building themselves into a pyramid, each standing on edge, with the biggest and strongest ones at the bottom. When the crabs were five or six rows high they would all tumble over, still clinging to one another, and, having reached the ground, they would separate and commence to build the pyramid over again.

Others were chasing one another around in a circle, always moving backward or sidewise, and trying to play "leapfrog" as they went. Still others were swinging on slight branches of seaweed, or turning cart wheels, or indulging in similar antics.

Merla and the earth people watched the busy little creatures for some time before they were themselves observed; but finally, Trot gave a laugh when one crab fell on its back and began frantically waving its legs to get right-side-up again. At the sound of her laughter they all stopped their play and came toward the visitors in a flock, looking up at them with their bright eyes in a most comical way.

"Welcome home!" cried one, as he turned a back somersault and knocked another crab over.

"What's the difference between a mermaid and a tadpole?" asked another, in a loud voice, and without a pause continued: "why, one drops its tail and the other holds on to it. Ha, ha! Ho, ho! Hee-hee!"

"These," said Merla, "are the clown crabs. They are very silly things, as you may already have discovered; but for a short time they are rather amusing. One tires of them very soon."

"They're funny," said Trot, laughing again. "It's almost as good as a circus. I don't think they would make me tired; but, then, I'm not a mermaid."

The clown crabs had now formed a row in front of them.

"Mr. Johnsing," asked one, "why is a mermaid like an automobile?"

"I don't know, Tommy Blimken," answered a big crab in the middle of the row. "Why do you think a mermaid is like an automobile?"

"Because they both get tired," said Tommy Blimken. Then all the crabs laughed, and Tommy seemed to laugh louder than the rest.

"How do the crabs in the sea know anything 'bout auto'biles?" asked Trot.

"Why, Tommy Blimken and Harry Hustle were both captured once by humans and put in an aquarium," answered the mermaid. "But one day they climbed out and escaped, finally making their way back to the sea and home again. So they are quite traveled you see, and great favorites among the crabs. While they were on land they saw a great many curious things, and so I suppose they saw automobiles."

"We did, we did!" cried Harry Hustle, an awkward crab with one big claw and one little one. "And we saw earth people with legs – awfully funny they were; and animals called horses, with legs; and other creatures with legs; and the people cover themselves with the queerest things – they even wear feathers and flowers on their heads, and – "

"Oh, we know all about that," said Trot; "we live on the earth ourselves."

"Well, you're lucky to get off from it and into the good water," said the Crab. "I nearly died on the earth; it was so stupid, dry and airy. But the circus was great. They held the performance right in front of the aquarium where we lived, and Tommy and I learned all the tricks of the tumblers. Hi! Come on, fellows, and show the earth people what you can do!"

At this the crabs began performing their antics again; but they did the same things over and over, so Cap'n Bill and Trot soon tired, as Merla said they would, and decided they had seen enough of the crab circus. So they proceeded to swim farther up the rocky canyon, and near its upper end they came to a lot of conch shells lying upon the sandy bottom. A funny looking crab was sticking his head out from each of these shells.

"Here are the hermit crabs," said one of the mermaids. "They steal these shells and live in them, so no enemies can attack them."

"Don't they get lonesome?" asked Trot.

"Perhaps so, my dear. But they do not seem to mind being lonesome. They are great cowards, and think if they can but protect their lives there is nothing else to care for. Unlike the jolly crabs we have just left, the hermits are cross and unsociable."

"Oh, keep quiet and go away!" said one of the hermit crabs, in a grumpy voice. "No one wants mermaids around here." Then every crab withdrew its head into its shell, and our friends saw them no more.

"They're not very polite," observed Trot, following the mermaid as Merla swam upward into the middle water.

"I know, now, why cross people are called 'crabbed'," said Cap'n Bill. "They've got dispositions jes' like these 'ere hermit crabs."

Presently, they came upon a small flock of mackerel, and noticed that the fishes seemed much excited. When they saw the mermaid they cried out:

"Oh, Merla! what do you think? Our Flippity has just gone to glory!"

"When?" asked the mermaid.

"Just now," one replied. "We were lying in the water, talking quietly together when a spinning, shining thing came along and our dear Flippity ate it. Then he went shooting up to the top of the water and gave a flop and – went to glory! Isn't it splendid, Merla?"

"Poor Flippity!" sighed the mermaid. "I'm sorry, for he was the prettiest and nicest mackerel in your whole flock."

"What does it mean?" asked Trot. "How did Flippity go to glory?"

"Why, he was caught by a hook, and pulled out of the water into some boat," Merla explained. "But these poor, stupid creatures do not understand that; and when one of them is jerked out of the water and disappears they have an idea he has gone to glory – which means to them some unknown, but beautiful sea."

"I've often wondered," said Trot, "why fishes are foolish enough to bite on hooks."

"They must know enough to know they're hooks," added Cap'n Bill, musingly.

"Oh, they do," replied Merla. "I've seen fishes gather around a hook and look at it carefully for a long time. They well know it is a hook, and that if they bite the bait upon it they will be pulled out of the water. But they are curious to know what will happen to them afterward, and think it means happiness, instead of death. So finally, one takes the hook and disappears, and the others never know what becomes of him."

"Why don't you tell 'em the truth?" asked Trot.

"Oh, we do. The mermaids have warned them many times, but it does no good at all. The fish are stupid creatures."

"But I wish I was Flippity," said one of the mackerel, staring at Trot with his big, round eyes. "He went to glory before I could eat the hook myself."

"You're lucky," answered the child. "Flippity will be fried in a pan for some one's dinner. You wouldn't like that, would you?"