But he remembered his promise. He threw a net about it, and dragged it back to the boat.
The mussels dispersed and let the boat down again into the water—and he rowed home, towing the evil fish in the net by a line.
He beached the boat, and looked along the shore. The shore looked a very odd colour. And well it might, for every bit of the sand was covered with purple-gray mussels. They had all come up out of the sea—leaving just one little bit of real yellow sand for him to beach the boat on.
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‘Now,’ said millions of sharp thin little voices, ‘Kill him, kill him!’
Sep drew his sword and waded into the shallow surf and killed the evil fish with one strong stroke.
Then such a shout went up all along the shore as that shore had never heard; and all along the shore where the mussels had been, stood men in armour and men in smock-frocks and men in leather aprons and huntsmen’s coats and women and children—a whole nation of people. Close by the boat stood a King and Queen with crowns upon their heads.
‘Thank you, Sep,’ said the King, ‘you’ve saved us all. I am the King Mussel, doomed to be a mussel so long as that wretch lived. You have set us all free. And look!’
Down the path from the shore came running his own Princess, who hung round his neck crying his name and looking at him with the most beautiful eyes in the world.
‘Come,’ said the Mussel King, ‘we have no son. You shall be our son and reign after us.’
‘Thank you,’ said Sep, ‘but this is my father,’ and he presented the old fisherman to His Majesty.