The Cuttle-fish, like all things of a wicked type, had no brains at all, and so was completely taken in. And the Crab, chuckling to itself, went safely on its way as quickly as possible round the corner, to consider what was best to do to extricate Tissemao from her awful position.
In a moment it had made its mind up. Going up to a large cavern that stood in its own grounds to the south-west of the mighty forests of sea-weeds, it lifted its claws and gently knocked at the door. In a moment it opened, and a great Sword-fish thrust its tremendous spiked nose out, and said:
“Hallo! What’s up now? I was just having a nap; you are the second person who has knocked at my door this afternoon and disturbed me.”
The old Crab bowed, and apologized profusely as it saw the Sword-fish’s angry face. Then the Crab said:
“I have come to you, knowing well that you are a friend of the helpless and are fair-dealing in all your mighty battles with that weapon, that sword which is fixed on your face.”
“Well, make haste. What is it?” said the Sword-fish, who, being powerful, was used to soft, flattering speeches from old crabs and other helpless things that were at his mercy under the deep sea.
Then the old Crab at once told the Sword-fish all that he had seen while he had been passing the door of the Cuttle-fish’s cave. The Sword-fish, who was fond of Cuttle-fish as a breakfast-dish, became most indignant as he listened to the Crab’s comments on the morals of the Cuttle-fish. Then, without further parley, they both sallied forth to rescue Tissemao. Arriving outside the cavern, the Crab gently knocked at the Cuttle-fish’s door, as prearranged, and said:
“Good evening, Mr. Cuttle-fish; I’ve called to see you because you are so lonely.”
The Cuttle-fish, who was persuading Tissemao to give him just one kiss, rushed to the door, and said:
“Clear out of this; I’m busy.”