supper time,” said Billy at last. “Have you thought of anything?”
“Not a single thing,” said Philip.
“Well, don’t sweat over it any more,” said Billy; “just stay with us and have a jolly time. You’re sure to think of something. Or else Lucy will. We’ll act charades tonight.”
They did. The rest of the islanders were an extremely jolly lot, and all the M.A.’s came out of their huts to be audience. It was a charming evening, and ended up with hide-and-seek all over the castle.
To wake next morning on a bed of soft, dry, sweet-smelling seaweed, and to know that the day was to be spent in having a good time with the jolliest set of children she had ever met, was delightful to Lucy. Philip’s delight was dashed by the knowledge that he must, sooner or later, think. But the day passed most agreeably. They all bathed in the rock pools, picked up shell-fish for dinner, played rounders in the afternoon, and in the evening danced to the music made by the M.A.’s who most of them carried flutes in their pockets, and who were all very flattered at being asked to play.
So the pleasant days went on. Every morning Philip said to himself, “Now today I really must think of something,” and every night he said, “I really ought to have thought of something.” But he never could think of anything to take away the fear of the gentle islanders.
It was on the sixth night that the storm came. The wind blew and the sea roared and the castle shook to its very foundations. And Philip, awakened by the noise and the shaking, sat up in bed and understood what the fear was that spoiled the happiness of the Dwellers by the Sea.
“Suppose the sea did sweep us all away,” he said; “and they haven’t even got a boat.”
And then, when he was quite far from expecting it, he did think of something. And he went on thinking about it so hard that he couldn’t sleep any more.
And in the morning he said to the parrot:
“I’ve thought of something. And I’m not going to tell the others. But I can’t do it all by myself. Do you think you could get Perrin for me?”
“I will try with pleasure,” replied the obliging bird, and flew off without further speech.
That afternoon, just as a picnic tea was ending, a great shadow fell on the party, and next moment the Hippogriff alighted with Mr. Perrin and the parrot on its back.
“Oh, thank you,” said Philip, and led Mr. Perrin away and began to talk to him in whispers.
“No, sir,” Mr. Perrin answered suddenly and aloud. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t think of it.”
“Don’t you know how?” Philip asked.
“I know everything as is to be known in my trade,” said Mr. Perrin, “but carpentry’s one thing, and manners is another. Not but what I know manners too, which is why I won’t be a party to no such a thing.”
“But you don’t understand,” said Philip, trying to keep up with Mr. Perrin’s long strides. “What I want to do is for you to build a Noah’s ark on the top of the highest tower. Then when the sea’s rough and the wind blows, all the Sea-Dwellers can just get into their ark and then they’ll be quite safe whatever happens.”
“You said all that afore,” said Mr. Perrin, “and I wonder at you, so I do.”
“I thought it was such a good idea,” said poor Philip in gloom.
“Oh, the idea’s all right,” said Mr. Perrin; “there ain’t nothing to complain of ’bout the idea.”
“Then what is wrong?” Philip asked impatiently.
“You’ve come to the wrong shop,” said Mr. Perrin slowly. “I ain’t the man to take away another chap’s job, not if he was to be in the humblest way of business; but when it comes to slapping the government in the face, well, there, Master Pip, I wouldn’t have thought it of you. It’s as much as my place is worth.”
“Look here,” said Philip, stopping short in despair, “will you tell me straight out why you won’t help me?”
“I’m not a-going to go building arks, at my time of life,” said Mr. Perrin. “Mr. Noah’d break his old heart, so he would, if I was to take on his job over his head.”
“Oh, you mean I ought to ask him?”
“’Course you ought to ask him. I don’t mind lending a hand under his directions, acting as foreman like, so as to make a good job of it. But it’s him you must give your order to.”
The parrot and the Hippogriff between them managed to get Mr. Noah to the castle by noon of the next day.
“Would you have minded,” Philip immediately asked him, “if I’d had an ark built without asking you to do it?”
“Well,” said Mr. Noah mildly, “I might have been a little hurt. I have had some experience, you know, my Lord.”
“Why do you call me that?” Philip asked.
“Because you are, of course. Your deed of slaying the lions counts one to you, and by virtue of it you are now a Baron. I congratulate you, Lord Leo,” said Mr. Noah.
He approved of Philip’s idea, and he and Perrin were soon busy making plans, calculating strains and selecting materials.
Then Philip made a speech to the islanders and explained his idea. There was a great deal of cheering and shouting, and every one agreed that an ark on the topmost tower would meet a long-felt want, and that when once that ark was there, fear would for ever be a stranger to every gentle island heart.
And now the great work of building began. Mr. Perrin kindly consented to act as foreman and set to work a whole army of workmen—the M.A.’s of course. And soon the sound of saw and hammer mingled with the plash of waves and cries of sea-birds, and gangs of stalwart M.A.’s in their seaweed tunics bent themselves to the task of shaping great timbers and hoisting them to the top of the highest tower, where other gangs, under Mr. Noah’s own eye, reared a scaffolding to support the ark while the building went on.
The children were not allowed to help, but they loved looking on, and almost felt that, if they looked on earnestly enough, they must, in some strange mysterious way, be actually helping. You know the feeling, I daresay.
The Hippogriff, who was stabled in the castle, flew up to wherever he was wanted, to assist in the hauling. Mr. Noah only had to whisper the magic word in his ear and up he flew. But what that magic word was the children did not know, though they asked often enough.
And now at last the ark was finished, the scaffolding was removed, and there was the great Noah’s ark, firmly planted on the topmost tower. It was a perfect example of the ark-builder’s craft. Its boat part was painted a dull red, its sides and ends were blue with black windows, and its roof was bright scarlet, painted in lines to imitate tiles. No least detail was neglected. Even to the white bird painted on the roof, which you must have noticed in your own Noah’s ark.
A great festival was held, speeches were made, and every one who had lent a hand in the building, even the humblest M.A., was crowned with a wreath of fresh pink and green seaweed. Songs were sung, and the laureate of the Sea-Dwellers,
