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1RE PARTIE







If you shut your eyes and are a lucky
one, you may see at times a shapeless
pool of lovely pale colours suspended
in the darkness; then if you
squeeze your eyes tighter, the pool
begins to take shape, and the colours
become so vivid that with another
squeeze they must go on fire. But just
before they go on fire you see the
lagoon. This is the nearest you ever get
to it on the mainland, just one
heavenly moment; if there could be two
moments you might see the surf and hear
the mermaids singing.



The children often spent long summer
days on this lagoon, swimming or
floating most of the time, playing the
mermaid games in the water, and
so forth. You must not think from this
that the mermaids were on friendly
terms with them: on the contrary, it
was among Wendy’s lasting regrets
that all the time she was on the island
she never had a civil word from
one of them. When she stole softly to
the edge of the lagoon she might
see them by the score, especially on
Marooners’ Rock, where they loved
to bask, combing out their hair in a
lazy way that quite irritated her; or
she might even swim, on tiptoe as it
were, to within a yard of them, but
then they saw her and dived, probably
splashing her with their tails, not
by accident, but intentionally. They
treated all the boys in the same way,
except of course Peter, who chatted
with them on Marooners’ Rock by the
hour, and sat on their tails when they
got cheeky.
It must also have been rather pretty to
see the children resting on a rock
for half an hour after their mid-day
meal. Wendy insisted on their doing



this, and it had to be a real rest even
though the meal was make-believe.
So they lay there in the sun, and their
bodies glistened in it, while she sat
beside them and looked important.





2ÈME partie




It was one such day, and they were all
on Marooners’ Rock. The rock was
not much larger than their great bed,
but of course they all knew how not
to take up much room, and they were
dozing, or at least lying with their
eyes shut, and pinching occasionally
when they thought Wendy was not
looking. She was very busy, stitching.



While she stitched a change came to the
lagoon. Little shivers ran over
it, and the sun went away and shadows
stole across the water, turning it
cold. Wendy could no longer see to
thread her needle, and when she looked
up, the lagoon that had always hitherto
been such a laughing place
seemed formidable and unfriendly.






It was not, she knew, that night had
come, but something as dark as
night had come. No, worse than that. It
had not come, but it had sent that
shiver through the sea to say that it
was coming. What was it?



There crowded upon her all the stories
she had been told of Marooners’
Rock, so called because evil captains
put sailors on it and leave them
there to drown. They drown when the
tide rises, for then it is submerged.



Of course she should have roused the
children at once; not merely
because of the unknown that was
stalking toward them, but because it
was no longer good for them to sleep on
a rock grown chilly. But she was
a young mother and she did not know
this; she thought you simply must
stick to your rule about half an hour
after the mid-day meal. So, though
fear was upon her, and she longed to
hear male voices, she would not
waken them. Even when she heard the
sound of muffled oars, though her
heart was in her mouth, she did not
waken them. She stood over them to
let them have their sleep out. Was it
not brave of Wendy?



It was well for those boys then that
there was one among them who could
sniff danger even in his sleep. Peter
sprang erect, as wide awake at once
as a dog, and with one warning cry he
roused the others.



He stood motionless, one hand to his
ear.



«Pirates!» he cried. The others came
closer to him. A strange smile was
playing about his face, and Wendy saw
it and shuddered. While that
smile was on his face no one dared
address him; all they could do was to
stand ready to obey. The order came
sharp and incisive.
«Dive!»




                                       «The Mermaids’
Lagoon», Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie, 1911.