The Lilac Fairy Book Part 26

About midnight the fisherman sat up, and said to his wife:

'Dost thou hear anything?'

'No,' said she.

'I think the twirling of the weatherc.o.c.k on the roof bodes ill,' said he; 'we shall have a storm.'

'Oh, it is nothing but your fancy,' said his wife.

Matte lay down, but soon rose again.

'The weatherc.o.c.k is squeaking now,' said he.

'Just fancy! Go to sleep,' said his wife; and the old man tried to.

For the third time he jumped out of bed.

'Ho! how the weatherc.o.c.k is roaring at the pitch of its voice, as if it had a fire inside it! We are going to have a tempest, and must bring in the net.'

Both rose. The summer night was as dark as if it had been October, the weatherc.o.c.k creaked, and the storm was raging in every direction. As they went out the sea lay around them as white as snow, and the spray was das.h.i.+ng right over the fisher-hut. In all his life Matte had never remembered such a night. To launch the boat and put to sea to rescue the net was a thing not to be thought of. The fisherman and his wife stood aghast on the doorstep, holding on fast by the doorpost, while the foam splashed over their faces.

'Did I not tell thee that there is no luck in Sunday fis.h.i.+ng?' said Matte sulkily; and his wife was so frightened that she never even once thought of Ahti's cows.

As there was nothing to be done, they went in. Their eyes were heavy for lack of slumber, and they slept as soundly as if there had not been such a thing as an angry sea roaring furiously around their lonely dwelling.

When they awoke, the sun was high in the heavens, the tempest had ceased, and only the swell of the sea rose in silvery heavings against the red rock.

'What can that be?' said the old woman, as she peeped out of the door.

'It looks like a big seal,' said Matte.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HOW The Sea-Fairies Brought a COW for MAIE]

'As sure as I live, it's a cow!' exclaimed Maie. And certainly it was a cow, a fine red cow, fat and flouris.h.i.+ng, and looking as if it had been fed all its days on spinach. It wandered peacefully up and down the sh.o.r.e, and never so much as even looked at the poor little tufts of gra.s.s, as if it despised such fare.

Matte could not believe his eyes. But a cow she seemed, and a cow she was found to be; and when the old woman began to milk her, every pitcher and pan, even to the baler, was soon filled with the most delicious milk.

The old man troubled his head in vain as to how she came there, and sallied forth to seek for his lost net. He had not proceeded far when he found it cast up on the sh.o.r.e, and so full of fish that not a mesh was visible.

'It is all very fine to possess a cow,' said Matte, as he cleaned the fish; 'but what are we going to feed her on?'

'We shall find some means,' said his wife; and the cow found the means herself. She went out and cropped the seaweed which grew in great abundance near the sh.o.r.e, and always kept in good condition. Every one, Prince alone excepted, thought she was a clever beast; but Prince barked at her, for he had now got a rival.

From that day the red rock overflowed with milk and junkets, and every net was filled with fish. Matte and Maie grew fat on this fine living, and daily became richer. She churned quant.i.ties of b.u.t.ter, and he hired two men to help him in his fis.h.i.+ng. The sea lay before him like a big fish tank, out of which he hauled as many as he required; and the cow continued to fend for herself. In autumn, when Matte and Maie went ash.o.r.e, the cow went to sea, and in spring, when they returned to the rock, there she stood awaiting them.

'We shall require a better house,' said Maie the following summer; 'the old one is too small for ourselves and the men.'

'Yes,' said Matte. So he built a large cottage, with a real lock to the door, and a store-house for fish as well; and he and his men caught such quant.i.ties of fish that they sent tons of salmon, herring, and cod to Russia and Sweden.

'I am quite overworked with so many folk,' said Maie; 'a girl to help me would not come amiss.'

'Get one, then,' said her husband; and so they hired a girl.

Then Maie said: 'We have too little milk for all these folk. Now that I have a servant, with the same amount of trouble she could look after three cows.'

'All right, then,' said her husband, somewhat provoked, 'you can sing a song to the fairies.'

This annoyed Maie, but nevertheless she rowed out to sea on Sunday night and sang as before:

Oh, Ahti, with the long, long beard, Who dwellest in the deep blue sea, A thousand cows are in thy herd, I pray thee give three unto me.

The following morning, instead of one, three cows stood on the island, and they all ate seaweed and fended for themselves like the first one.

'Art thou satisfied now?' said Matte to his wife.

'I should be quite satisfied,' said his wife, 'if only I had two servants to help, and if I had some finer clothes. Don't you know that I am addressed as Madam?'

'Well, well,' said her husband. So Maie got several servants, and clothes fit for a great lady.

'Everything would now be perfect if only we had a little better dwelling for summer. You might build us a two-story house, and fetch soil to make a garden. Then you might make a little arbour up there to let us have a sea-view; and we might have a fiddler to fiddle to us of an evening, and a little steamer to take us to church in stormy weather.'

'Anything more?' asked Matte; but he did everything that his wife wished. The rock Ahtola became so grand and Maie so great that all the sea-urchins and herring were lost in wonderment. Even Prince was fed on beefsteaks and cream scones till at last he was as round as a b.u.t.ter jar.

'Are you satisfied now?' asked Matte.

'I should be quite satisfied,' said Maie, 'if only I had thirty cows. At least that number is required for such a household.'

'Go to the fairies,' said Matte.

His wife set out in the new steamer and sang to the sea-king. Next morning thirty cows stood on the sh.o.r.e, all finding food for themselves.

'Know'st thou, good man, that we are far too cramped on this wretched rock, and where am I to find room for so many cows?'

'There is nothing to be done but to pump out the sea.'

'Rubbis.h.!.+' said his wife. 'Who can pump out the sea?'

'Try with thy new steamer, there is a pump in it.'

Maie knew well that her husband was only making fun of her, but still her mind was set upon the same subject. 'I never could pump the sea out,' thought she, 'but perhaps I might fill it up, if I were to make a big dam. I might heap up sand and stones, and make our island as big again.'

Maie loaded her boat with stones and went out to sea. The fiddler was with her, and fiddled so finely that Ahti and Wellamos and all the sea's daughters rose to the surface of the water to listen to the music.

'What is that s.h.i.+ning so brightly in the waves?' asked Maie.

'That is sea foam glinting in the suns.h.i.+ne,' answered the fiddler.

'Throw out the stones,' said Maie.

The people in the boat began to throw out the stones, splash, splash, right and left, into the foam. One stone hit the nose of Wellamos's chief lady-in-waiting, another scratched the sea queen herself on the cheek, a third plumped close to Ahti's head and tore off half of the sea-king's beard; then there was a commotion in the sea, the waves bubbled and bubbled like boiling water in a pot.