‘Miss Cod, indeed!’ mouthed the codfish. ‘Tommy, Walter, Archibald, Augustus, Percy, Angela, Peter, William, and Mary, come here this minute.’
And Mrs. Cod sailed off, wriggling her fins indignantly, followed by her family, which dawdled indolently behind, opening and shutting their mouths.
I wonder if they all belong to her, thought Raphael. They look more like a school of fish on a lecture tour or an outing.
He was regretting that he had not asked her more about life under the sea, and where he might find the King or the President of the ocean, when a small voice fluted in his ear:
‘Do I understand, young man, that you would like to see the President?’
‘MISS COD, INDEED!’ MOUTHED THE CODFISH
Again Raphael, startled, looked helplessly about. He was not yet accustomed to the semi-twilight of the ocean. All he saw were the rocks down which he had tumbled, and the lacy branches of the seaweed which pulsed slowly back and forth with the ocean current. He looked up, but could see nothing except long rays of green light which filtered in broad bands through the water.
‘Do I understand, young man, that you would like to see the President?’ repeated the voice patiently.
Then Raphael discovered a sea horse hovering like a humming bird so close to his ear that he had to turn his head to see him. He balanced upright like a ribbed celluloid toy, and held a branch of green weed in his tail.