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The Water-Babies | Charles Kingsley | |
Chapter VII |
Page 12 of 16 |
And there the good whales lay, the happy sleepy beasts, upon the still oily sea. They were all right whales, you must know, and finners, and razor-backs, and bottle-noses, and spotted sea-unicorns with long ivory horns. But the sperm whales are such raging, ramping, roaring, rumbustious fellows, that, if Mother Carey let them in, there would be no more peace in Peacepool. So she packs them away in a great pond by themselves at the South Pole, two hundred and sixty-three miles south-south-east of Mount Erebus, the great volcano in the ice; and there they butt each other with their ugly noses, day and night from year's end to year's end. But here there were only good quiet beasts, lying about like the black hulls of sloops, and blowing every now and then jets of white steam, or sculling round with their huge mouths open, for the sea-moths to swim down their throats. There were no threshers there to thresh their poor old backs, or sword-fish to stab their stomachs, or saw-fish to rip them up, or ice-sharks to bite lumps out of their sides, or whalers to harpoon and lance them. They were quite safe and happy there; and all they had to do was to wait quietly in Peacepool, till Mother Carey sent for them to make them out of old beasts into new. Tom swam up to the nearest whale, and asked the way to Mother Carey. "There she sits in the middle," said the whale. Tom looked; but he could see nothing in the middle of the pool, but one peaked iceberg: and he said so. "That's Mother Carey," said the whale, "as you will find when you get to her. There she sits making old beasts into new all the year round." "How does she do that?" |
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The Water-Babies Charles Kingsley |
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