ark!” And the black night that pressed round the castle was loud with the wild roar of waves and the shriek of a tumultuous wind.
Lucy ran to the door of her room. But suddenly she stopped.
“My clothes,” she said. And dressed herself hastily. For she perceived that her own petticoats and shoes were likely to have better wearing qualities than seaweed could possess, and if they were all going to take refuge in the ark, she felt she would rather have her own clothes on.
“Mr. Noah is sure to come for me,” she most sensibly told herself. “And I’ll get as many clothes on as I can.” Her own dress, of course, had been left at Polistopolis, but the ballet dress would be better than the seaweed tunic. When she was dressed she ran into Philip’s room and rolled his clothes into a little bundle and carried it under her arm as she ran down the stairs. Half-way down she met Mr. Noah coming up.
“Ah! you’re ready,” he said; “it is well. Do not be alarmed, my Lucy. The tide is rising but slowly. There will be time for every one to escape. All is in train, and the embarkation of the animals is even now in progress. There has been a little delay in sorting the beasts into pairs. But we are getting on. The Lord High Islander is showing remarkable qualities. All the big animals are on board; the pigs were being coaxed on as I came up. And the ant-eaters are having a late supper. Do not be alarmed.”
“I can’t help being alarmed,” said Lucy, slipping her free hand into Mr. Noah’s, “but I won’t cry or be silly. Oh, I do wish Philip was here.”
“Most unreasonable of girl children,” said Mr. Noah; “we are in danger and you wish him to be here to share it?”
“Oh, we are in danger, are we?” said Lucy quickly. “I thought you said I wasn’t to be alarmed.”
“No more you are,” said Mr. Noah shortly; “of course you’re in danger. But there’s me. And there’s the ark. What more do you want?”
“Nothing,” Lucy answered in a very small voice, and the two made their way to a raised platform overlooking the long inclined road which led up to the tower on which the ark had been built. A long procession toiled slowly up it of animals in pairs, urged and goaded by the M.A.’s under the orders of the Lord High Islander.
The wild wind blew the flames of the torches out like golden streamers, and the sound of the waves was like thunder on the shore.
Down below other M.A.’s were busy carrying bales tied up in seaweed. Seen from above the busy figures looked like ants when you kick into an ant-hill and the little ant people run this way and that way and every way about their little ant businesses.
The Lord High Islander came in pale and serious, with all the calm competence of Napoleon at a crisis.
“Sorry to have to worry you, sir,” he said to Mr. Noah, “but of course your experience is invaluable just now. I can’t remember what bears eat. Is it hay or meat?”
“It’s buns,” said Lucy. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Noah. Of course I ought to have waited for you to say.”
“In my ark,” said Mr. Noah, “buns were unknown and bears were fed entirely on honey, the providing of which kept our pair of bees fully employed. But if you are sure bears like buns we must always be humane, dear Lucy, and study the natural taste of the animals in our charge.”
“They love them,” said Lucy.
“Buns and honey,” said the Lord Islander; “and what about bats?”
“I don’t know what bats eat,” said Mr. Noah; “I believe it was settled after some discussion that they don’t eat cats. But what they do eat is one of the eleven mysteries. You had better let the bats fast.”
“They are, sir,” said the Lord High Islander.
“And is all going well? Shall I come down and lend a personal eye?”
“I think I’m managing all right, sir,” said the Lord High Islander modestly. “You see it’s a great honour for me. The M.A.’s are carrying in the provisions, the boys are stowing them and also herding the beasts. They are very good workers, sir.”
“Are you frightened?” Lucy whispered, as he turned to go back to his overseeing.
“Not I,” said the Lord High Islander. “Don’t you understand that I’ve been promoted to be Lord Vice-Noah of Polistarchia? And of course the hearts of all Vice-Noahs are strangers to fear. But just think what a difficult thing Fear would have been to be a stranger to if you and Philip hadn’t got us the ark!”
“It was Philip’s doing,” said Lucy; “oh, do you think he’s all right?”
“I think his heart is a stranger to fear, naturally,” said the Lord High Islander, “so he’s certain to be all right.”
When the last of the animals had sniffed and snivelled its way into the ark—it was a porcupine with a cold in its head—the islanders, the M.A.’s, Lucy and Mr. Noah followed. And when every one was in, the door of the ark was shut from inside by an ingenious mechanical contrivance worked by a more than usually intelligent M.A.
You must not suppose that the inside of the ark was anything like the inside of your own Noah’s ark, where all the animals are put in anyhow, all mixed together and wrong way up as likely as not. That, with live animals and live people, would, as you will readily imagine, be quite uncomfortable. The inside of the ark which had been built under the direction of Mr. Noah and Mr. Perrin was not at all like that. It was more like the inside of a big Atlantic liner than anything else I can think of. All the animals were stowed away in suitable stalls, and there were delightful cabins for all those for whom cabins were suitable. The islanders and the M.A.’s retired to their cabins in perfect order, and Lucy and Mr. Noah, Mr. Perrin and the Lord High Islander gathered in the saloon, which was large and had walls and doors of inlaid mother-of-pearl and pink coral. It was lighted by glass globes filled with phosphorus collected by an ingenious process invented by another of the M.A.’s.
“And now,” said Mr. Noah, “I beg that anxiety may be dismissed from every mind. If the waters subside, they leave us safe. If they rise, as I confidently expect them to do, our ark will float, and we still are safe. In the morning I will take soundings and begin to steer a course. We will select a suitable spot on the shore, land and proceed to the Hidden Places, where we will consult the oracle. A little refreshment before we retire for what is left of the night? A captain’s biscuit would perhaps not be inappropriate?” He took a tin from a locker and handed it round.
“That’s A1, sir,” said the Lord High Islander, munching. “What a head you have for the right thing.”
“All practice,” said Mr. Noah modestly.
“Thank you,” said Lucy, taking a biscuit; “I wish.…”
The sentence was never finished. With a sickening suddenness the floor of the saloon heaved up under their feet, a roaring surging battering sound broke round them; the saloon tipped over on one side and the whole party was thrown on the pink silk cushions of the long settee. A shudder seemed to run through the ark from end to end, and “What is it? Oh! what is it?” cried Lucy as the ark heeled over the other way and the unfortunate occupants were thrown on to the opposite set of cushions. (It really was, now, rather like what you imagine the inside of your Noah’s ark must be when you put in Mr. Noah and his family and a few hastily chosen animals
