Whilst Cyril and the Fish-King were talking about the price the crown might fetch were he obliged to part with it on account of his recent financial losses, Dulcie was so busy admiring the beautiful creatures swimming about, that she stumbled and fell before her companions could warn her that the Cable was lying in her path. She was soon up, and it was the Fish-King now who was lying prone on the ground, but his attitude was intentional; he was listening intently. At a sign from him they did likewise. The billows overhead were lashing up the spray, and through the rushing sound could be vaguely heard: "Number A. 1. Sea Power! Has that nice little venture proved successful, Sire?"
It was the Wizard's voice. The Twins stared at one another with startled eyes.
"No, thou Cabalistic One," shouted the Fish-King, and got up with an impatient sigh, so he didn't hear what sounded like the echo of mocking laughter which the children recognised before they rejoined him. "Some one's at the bottom of that business, I'll be bound," he grumbled. "I'm afraid I'm too green, and ye gods and little fishes alone know how I manage to be, for I've a fit of the blues often enough," and he glanced at the garment he wore. "Now come and inspect my Workhouse." He led them away in silence to a small lugger, also wrecked, commandeered by his Majesty.
"What a lot of residences you have, Sire," remarked Dulcie timidly, realising the situation.
"One must, if one is a royalty," he replied. "I have even more than the German Emperor. I've one for eating in. One for thinking in. One for not thinking in. And a host of others. There is one which takes me eighteen hours to reach, where I go at cradle time, where the waves hush me to sleep with their lullaby—you have heard it—'Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep,' eh?"
"Yes, yes," assented the Twins readily.
His glum face slightly relaxed, then he continued: "It's always a matter of interest to me when my ship comes home. I don't whistle for it; I squall for it. Look out for squalls, for I feel restless, and in my family carping is our form of humour."
Once inside the cabin of the lugger the Fish-King took an immense ruler, and sitting upon the table in front of a high heap of foolscap began ruling one wave after another. Absorbed in his occupation, his mouth tightly drawn down, he looked more than ever like a carp. He kept on ruling the waves, heeding neither the little coughs, the little fidgetings, or the little hints, entreaties, regrets, or excuses of the Twins, until, exasperated at his sudden and unaccountable oblivion to their existence, they murmured broken words of thanks for his past kindness, and, not a little indignant, they walked out of the cabin, jumped over the side of the ship, and swam upwards. They met many a quaint creature, and then diving below they rested in a quiet spot again amongst beautiful shells—at last in peaceful calmness at the bottom of the sea, alone with the heaving waves palpitating far above them.
Talking over the strange conduct of the Fish-King, it occurred to Cyril that the fact of parting from them risked reminding him of blubber, which he hated, as he had told them before, so he must have preferred ignoring them altogether, especially as he had work to do. But Dulcie thought perhaps they might see him again when he was not so busy.
"It must be rather jolly being a crowned head," mused Cyril; "I vote we have a shy at another catseye, so as to have a gorgeous crown and boss everything and everybody."