THE WATER BABIES
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?"
"That's her concern, not mine," said the old whale, and yawned so wide (for he was very large) that there swam into his mouth 943 sea-moths, 13,846 jelly-fish no bigger than pins' heads, a string of scalpæ nine yards long, and forty-three little ice-crabs, who gave each other a parting pinch all round, tucked their legs under their stomachs, and determined to die decently, like Julius Cæsar.
"I suppose," said Tom, "she cuts up a great whale like you into a whole shoal of porpoises?"
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