SOUR AND CIVIL
Once again King Winwealth wished to hear a story told by the wonderful chair, and orders were given for Snowflower to bring it to the King's hall. She again brought the chair and laid her head on the cushion, saying: "Chair of my grandmother, tell me a story." The voice from under the cushion at once said: "Listen to the story of Sour and Civil."
Once upon a time there stood upon the seacoast of the west country a small village of low cottages, where no one lived but fishermen. All round it was a broad beach of snow-white sand, where nothing was to be seen but gulls and other seabirds, and long tangled seaweeds cast up by the tide that came and went night and day, summer and winter.
There was no harbour or port on all that shore. Ships passed by at a distance, with their white sails set, and on the land side there lay wide grassy downs, where peasants lived and shepherds fed their flocks. There families never wanted for plenty of herrings and mackerel; and what they had to spare the landsmen bought from them at the village markets on the downs, giving them in exchange butter, cheese, and corn.
The two best fishermen in that village were the sons of two old widows, who had no other children, and happened to be near neighbours. Their family names were short, for they called the one Sour and the other Civil. They were not related to one another so far as I ever heard. But they had only one boat, and always fished together, though their names expressed the difference of their natures—for Civil never used a hard word where a soft one would do, and when Sour was not snarling at somebody, he was sure to be grumbling at everything.
Nevertheless they agreed very well, and were lucky fishers. Both were strong, active, and of good courage. On winter's night or summer's morning they would steer out to sea far beyond the boats of their neighbours, and never came home without some fish to cook and some to spare. Their mothers were proud of them, each in her own way—for the saying held good, "Like mother, like son". Dame Civil thought the whole world didn't hold a better than her son; and her boy was the only creature at whom Dame Sour didn't scold and frown.
The village was divided in opinion about the young fishermen. Some thought Civil the better; some said, without Sour he would catch nothing. So things went on, till one day about the fall of winter, when mists were gathering darkly on sea and sky, and the air was chill and frosty, all the boat-men of the hamlet went out to fish, and so did Sour and Civil.
That day they had not their usual luck. Cast their nets where they would, not a single fish came in. Their neighbours caught boatfuls, and went home, Sour said, laughing at them. But when the sea was growing crimson with the sunset, their nets were empty, and they were tired. Civil himself did not like to go home without fish—it would hurt the high opinion formed of them in the village. Besides, the sea was calm and the evening fair, and, as a last attempt, they steered still farther out, and cast their nets beside a rock which rose rough and grey above the water, and was called the Merman's Seat—from an old report that the fishermen's fathers had seen the mermen, or sea-people, sitting there on moonlight nights.
Nobody believed that rumour now, but the villagers did not like to fish there. The water was said to be very deep, and sudden squalls were apt to trouble it. But Sour and Civil were right glad to see by the moving of their lines that there was something in their net, and gladder still when they found it so heavy that all their strength was required to draw it up.
Scarcely had they landed it on the Merman's Seat, when their joy was changed to sorrow, for besides a few starved mackerel, the net held nothing but a huge ugly fish as long as Civil (who was taller than Sour), with a large snout, a long beard, and a skin covered with prickles.