Nautilus | Page 6

should not ask all the questions he liked.
They were wonderful eyes, those of the Skipper. Most black eyes are
wanting in the depths that one sounds in blue, or gray, in brown, more
rarely in hazel eyes; they flash with an outward brilliancy, they soften
into velvet, but one seldom sees through them into the heart. But these
eyes, though black beyond a doubt, had the darkness of deep, still water,
when you look into it and see the surface mantling with a bluish gloss,
and beneath that depth upon depth of black--clear, serene,
unfathomable. And when a smile came into them,--ah, well! we all
know how that same dark water looks when the sun strikes on it. The
sun struck now, and little John felt warm and comfortable all through
his body and heart.
"The bottom of the sea?" said the Skipper, taking up a shell and
polishing it on his coat-sleeve. "Yes, that is a fine place, Colorado. You
mind not that I call you Colorado? It pleases me,--the name. A fine
place, truly. You have never seen the sea, young gentleman?"
The boy shook his head.
"Never, really!" he said. "I--I've dreamed about it a great deal, and I
think about it most of the time. There's a picture in my geography book,
just a piece of sea, and then broken off, so that you don't see any end to
it; that makes it seem real, somehow, I don't know why.
"But I've heard the sound of it!" he added, his face brightening.
"There's a shell in Mr. Scraper's parlour, on the mantelpiece, and
sometimes when he goes to sleep I can get it for a minute, and hold it to
my ear, and then I hear the sound, the sound of the sea."
"Yes," said the Skipper, taking up another shell from one of the shelves,
a tiger cowry, rich with purple and brown. "The sound of the sea; that is
a good thing. Listen here, young gentleman, and tell me what the tiger
say to you of the sea."

He held the shell to the boy's ear, and saw the colour and the light come
like a wave into his face. They were silent for a moment; then the child
spoke, low and dreamily.
"It doesn't say words, you know!" he said. "It's just a soft noise, like
what the pine-trees make, but it sounds cool and green and--and wet.
And there are waves a long way off, curling over and over, and
breaking on white beaches, and they smell good and salt. And it seems
to make me know about things down under the sea, and bright colours
shining through the water, and light coming 'way down--cool, green
light, that doesn't make you wink when you look at it. And--and I guess
there are lots of fishes swimming about, and their eyes shine, too, and
they move just as soft, and don't make any noise, no more than if their
mother was sick in the next room. And on the ground there seem to be
like flowers, only they move and open and shut without any one
touching them. And--and--"
Was the boy going into a trance? Were the dark eyes mesmerizing him,
or was all this to be heard in the shell? The Skipper took the shell
gently from his hand, and stroked his hair once or twice, quickly and
lightly. "That will do!" he said. "The young gentleman can hear truly.
All these things are under the sea, yes, and more, oh, many more! Some
day you shall see them, young gentleman; who knows? But now comes
Franci to make the dinner. Will Señor Colorado dine with the Skipper
from the Bahamas? Welcome he will be, truly."
Little John started, and a guilty flush swept over his clear face.
"I forgot!" he cried. "I forgot all about everything, and Cousin Scraper
will be home by this time, and--and--I'll have to be going, please; but
I'll come again, if you think I may."
The Skipper had raised his eyebrows at the name of Scraper, and was
now looking curiously at the boy. "Who is that you say?" he asked.
"Scraper, your cousin? And of your father, young gentleman,--why do
you not speak of him?"
"My father is dead," replied little John. "And my mother too, a good

while ago. I don't remember father. Mother----" he broke off, and
dropped his eyes to hide the tears that sprang to them. "Mother died a
year ago," he said; "ever since then I've lived with Cousin Scraper. He's
some sort of kin to father, and he says he's my guardian by law."
"His other name?" suggested the dark man, quietly. "For example,
Endymion?"
"Why, yes!" cried John, raising his honest blue eyes in wonder. "Do
you know