Mary Poppins Comes Back

  Jane thought how often she had eaten haddock for breakfast and felt a little guilty.

  “I’m sorry—” she began to say, when a loud rough voice interrupted her.

  “Move along, please! Don’t block up the sea-lanes! Why can’t you keep your fins to yourself!” A huge Cod shouldered his way between them, lashing out with his tail in all directions.

  “Cluttering up the Ocean like this! It’s disgraceful! I’ll be late for the Party!” He flung out an angry glance at the children. “And who are you, anyway?” he demanded.

  They were just about to tell him their names when the Trout swam up beside the Cod and whispered in his ear.

  “Oh, I see! Well, I hope they’ve got money to pay for their tickets!”

  “Well – no,” Jane fumbled in her pocket.

  “Tch, tch, tch! It’s always the way. No method in anyone’s madness. Here!” The Cod whisked a couple of flat white discs from a pocket under his tail. “Sand Dollars,” he explained importantly. “I always keep a few about me. Never know when I may need ’em.” He tossed the dollars at the children and floundered away through the coral.

  “Silly Old Codger!” remarked the Trout. “You needn’t worry about your tickets. You’re Guests of Honour! You’ll get in free.”

  Jane and Michael looked at each other in surprise. They had never before been guests of honour and they felt very proud and superior.

  “Who’ll get in free, I’d like to know? Nobody’s going to get in free, while I’m around in the Ocean. Nor out, either, if it comes to that!” a grating, saw-like voice informed them.

  Jane and Michael spun round. A pair of staring eyes met theirs. A wide mouth smiled a horrible smile; and a set of hairy, hungry feelers reached out in every direction. It was an Octopus.

  “Yum, yu-u-um!” said the Octopus, leering at Michael. “Bobby Shafto’s fat and fair – and just what I need for my Supper!” He reached out one of the dreadful feelers and Michael gave a squeak of terror.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” the Trout said quickly. And he whispered a word to the Octopus as Jane whisked Michael away.

  “What? Speak up, can’t you? I’m hard of hearing! Oh, I see. They belong to – all right, all right!”

  The Octopus drew in his feeler regretfully. “We are always delighted,” he went on loudly, “to have among us at High Tide anybody belonging to—”

  “What in the Sea is all that chatter? I never get a moment’s peace!” a querulous voice broke in.

  The children turned in its direction. But all they saw was one small claw waving from inside a shell.

  “That’s the Hermit Crab!” the Trout explained. “Lives by himself and does nothing but grumble. Shuts up like a clam if anyone speaks to him. But, come! We must hurry. The music’s starting.”

  And off he darted through the walls of water. Soft sounds of music came to their ears as they followed him through a tunnel of rock. A faint glow shone at the end of the tunnel and the music grew louder as they swam towards it. Then suddenly their eyes were dazzled as a flood of brilliance broke upon them. They had reached the end of the shadowy tunnel and before them was the loveliest sight the children had ever seen.

  There lay the stretching floor of the sea, sown with soft lawns of greenest sea-weed. It was threaded with paths of golden sand and dappled with flowers of every colour; white ocean daisies and pink sea-poppies and lilies and roses of red and yellow. Up from the sand stretched trees of coral, and plumes of sea-fern lolled on the water. The dark rocks glittered with shining shells and one of them, the largest of all, was covered with mother-of-pearl. Behind this rock lay a deep dark cavern, as black as the sky on a moonless night. And far within it faint lights twinkled as though stars shone in the depths of the sea.

  Jane and Michael, at the tunnel’s edge, looked out and gasped with delight.

  Nothing in that bright scene was still. The rocks themselves seemed to bow and swing in the endless ripple of water. The small fish fluttered like butterflies between the swaying flowers. And festoons of sea-weed, slung from the coral, were hung with a thousand swinging lights.

  Chinese lanterns! thought Jane to herself. But, looking closer, she saw that the lights were really luminous fish. They hung by their mouths from the strings of sea-weed and lit up the lawns with their brightness.

  The music was playing more loudly now. It came from a little terrace of coral where several Crabs were playing on fiddles. A Flounder was puffing out its cheeks and blowing down a conch shell, while Cornet fish played on silver cornets and a Bass beat time on a big bass drum. About the players swam the bright sea-creatures, darting between the rock and the coral and leaping and plunging in time with the music. Mermaids, in necklaces of pearl, swam daintily round among the fish. And the silver sheen of tail and fin went sparkling everywhere.

  “Oh!” cried Jane and Michael together, for it seemed the only thing to say.

  “Well, here you are at last!” said a booming voice, as a big Bronze Seal came flapping towards them. “You’re just in time for the Garden Party.” He offered a flipper to each of the children and waddled along between them.

  “Do you often give Garden Parties?” asked Michael. He was wishing he too could live in the sea.

  “Oh, dear me, no!” the Seal replied. “Only when High Tide falls on – I say! I say! Were you invited?” He broke off to speak to a large grey shape. “I was told no whales were to be admitted!”

  “Get out! Get out! No whales allowed!” came a chorus of fishy voices.

  The Whale gave a flick of his monstrous tail and darted between two rocks. He had a large pathetic face and great sad eyes which he turned on the children.

  “It’s the same each time,” he said, shaking his head. “They say I’m too big, and I eat too much. But, after all, I’ve a very large frame and I have to keep up my strength. Can’t you persuade them to make an Exception? I do want to see the Distant Relative!”

  “Whose distant relative?” Jane began, when the Seal interrupted loudly.

  “Now, don’t be pathetic, Whale. Get moving! Remember the last Unfortunate Incident. He ate up all the Sardine Sandwiches,” the Seal said to Jane behind his flipper.

  “No Admission Except on Business. All Riff-Raff keep outside the gates. Off with you, now. Swim along! No nonsense!”

  A fish with a sharp sword on his nose came bustling across the lawns.

  “I never have any fun!” blubbered the Whale, as the Seal and the Swordfish chased him away.

  Jane felt very sorry for him. “But, after all,” she said, turning to Michael, “he does take up a lot of space!”

  But Michael was no longer beside her. He had swum away with one of the Mermaids, who was dabbing at her face with a little pink sponge.

  “Well, skirts, I suppose. And blouses and boots,” Jane heard him saying as she swam towards them.

  The Mermaid turned to Jane and smiled. “I was asking him about fashions up there –” she nodded upwards through the sea – “and he says they are wearing blouses and boots.” She spoke the words with a little laugh as though they could not be true.

  “And coats,” Jane added. “And galoshes, of course!”

  “Galoshes?”The Mermaid raised her eyebrows.

  “To keep our feet dry,” Jane explained.

  The Mermaid gave a trill of laughter. “How very extraordinary!” she said. “Down here, we prefer to keep everything wet!” She turned on her tail to swim away, when a clear voice suddenly hailed her.

  “Hullo, Anemone!” it cried. And out from behind a bed of lilies a silver shape came leaping. At the sight of the children it stopped in mid-water and stared at them with its great bright eyes. “Why, Bless my Sole!” it cried in surprise. “Whoever caught those creatures?”

  “Nobody,” tinkled the Mermaid gaily, as she giggled and whispered behind her hand.

  “Oh, really? How very delightful!” said the fish, with a supercilious smile. And, flicking his tail, he swam up to the children.


  “I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m the Deep-Sea Salmon,” he explained, preening his silver fins. “King of the Fish, you know, and all that. I dare say you’ve heard of me now and again!” Indeed, by the way he swaggered and preened, you would have thought there was nothing else worth hearing about!

  “Refreshments! Refreshments!” said a gloomy voice, as a Pike, with the air of an elderly butler, came hovering past with a tray.

  “Help yourself!” said the Salmon, bowing to Jane. “A Sardine Sandwich or a Salted Shrimp? Or Jelly – the fishy kind, of course! And what about you?” he turned to Michael. “Some Sea-Cow milk or Barnacle Beer? Or perhaps you’d prefer just Plain Sea Water!”

  “I was given to h’understand, your ’Ighness, that the h’young gentleman h’wished for Port!” The Pike stared before him gloomily as he held out the tray towards them.

  “Then Port he shall have!” said the Salmon imperiously as he whisked a dark red drink from the tray.

  With a start of surprise, Michael remembered his wish. He took the glass and sipped it eagerly. “It’s igzackly like Raspberry Fizz!” he cried.

  “Good!” said the Salmon conceitedly, as though he had made the Port himself. “Now, how would you like to look at the Catch? They’re probably reeling the last ones in and we’ll just have time if we hurry!”

  “I wonder what has been caught!” thought Jane, as they darted along beside the Salmon. The sea-lanes by now were crowded with fish who were leaping towards the lawn.

  “Now! Now! Remember whom you’re pushing!” said the Salmon in a haughty voice as he scattered them right and left. “My Fins and Flippers! Look at those children!” He pointed to a group of Sea-Urchins who were tumbling noisily by. “Schoolmaster! Keep an eye on your pupils! This Ocean’s becoming an absolute Bear-Garden!”

  “Eh what?” said an absent-minded fish who was floating along with his nose in a book. “Here, Winkle and Twinkle! And you too, Spiky! Behave – or I shan’t let you go to the Party!”

  The Urchins looked at each other and grinned. Then they solemnly swam along with the Schoolmaster, looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths.

  “Ah, here we are!” cried the Salmon gaily, as he led the children round a cluster of coral.

  On a large flat rock sat a row of fish, all solemnly staring upward. Each fish held a fishing-rod in his fin and watched his line with an earnest gaze as it ran up through the water.

  “The Angler-fish,” the Salmon explained. “Talk softly! They don’t like to be disturbed.”

  “But. . .” whispered Jane, looking very surprised, “the lines are going upwards!”

  The Salmon stared. “Where else would they go?” he wanted to know. “You could hardly expect them to go downwards, could you? Bait!” he added, pointing to several water-proof bags that were filled with pastry tarts.

  “But – what do they catch?” whispered Michael hoarsely.

  “Oh, humans, mostly,” the Salmon replied. “You can get almost anyone with a Strawberry Tart. They’ve taken a pretty good catch already. Look at them squirming and twitching!”

  He flicked his tail at a nearby cave and the children gasped with astonishment. For there, looking very cross and disgruntled, stood a cluster of human beings. Men in dark goggles and summer hats were shaking their fists and shouting and stamping. Three elderly ladies were waving umbrellas, and a younger one in rubber boots was wringing her hands in despair.

  “Well, how do you like it?” jeered the Salmon, peering in at the cave with his great bright eyes. “I must say you look extremely funny! Exactly like a fish out of water!”

  The humans all gave a furious snort and turned their backs on the Salmon. And at the same moment, from somewhere above, a wild cry rent the sea.

  “Let me go, I say! Take this hook out at once! How dare you do such a thing to me!”

  One of the Angler-fish, smiling quietly, stood up on his tail and reeled in his line.

  “Take it out, I tell you!” came the voice again.

  And down through the sea, with a rush of bubbles, came a most extraordinary figure. Its body was clothed in a thick tweed coat; a grey veil floated from the hat on its head; and upon its feet were thick wool stockings and large-size button boots.

  Michael opened his mouth and stared and made a gargling noise.

  “Jane! Do you see? I believe it’s—”

  “Miss Andrew!” said Jane, who was gargling too.

  And Miss Andrew indeed it was. Down she came, coughing and choking and shouting. And an Angler-fish jerked the hook from her mouth and pushed her towards the cave.

  “Outrageous! Preposterous!” she spluttered. “Just as I was catching a fish for my dinner. How was I to know that tart had a hook on it! You villains!” She shook her fist at the Anglers. “I shall write to The Times! I shall have you fried!”

  “Look at her writhing!” crowed the Salmon. “She’s a whopper! She’ll wriggle for hours and hours.”

  Jane felt that Miss Andrew deserved all she got, but she looked at the other strangers anxiously. How terrible, she thought to herself, if she had been caught – or Michael.

  “What will the Anglers do with them?” she asked the Salmon earnestly.

  “Oh, throw them back again, of course! We only catch them for sport, you know. They’re far too tough for eating.”

  “Hey! Come along, Salmon!” called the Seal from the distance. “We can’t let the children miss the Greeting. And she’s due to arrive any minute.”

  Jane looked at Michael in silent question. Who could she be? An important Mermaid? Or perhaps the Queen of the Sea!

  “Kippers and Catfish! I’d forgotten! Come on, you two!” cried the Salmon.

  He went before them, leaping and curving, a silver shape in the silver water. Beside them a Sea-horse trotted swiftly. And fish swam in and out among them as they hurried towards the lawns.

  “Hullo, Jane and Michael!” piped a friendly voice. “Remember me – in your goldfish bowl? I’m back at home now. Give my love to your Mother!” The Goldfish smiled and darted away before they had time to answer.

  The music was louder than ever now. Each moment the crowd on the lawns grew thicker, as fish and mermaids, urchins and seals went meeting and greeting each other.

  “What a crush! One might as well be tinned!” said the Salmon, threshing his tail.

  “Refreshments! Refreshments!” the Pike called hoarsely.

  “Yo, ho, ho! And a bottle of rum!” a familiar voice answered. And Admiral Boom came plunging past and seized a glass from the tray. Beside him swam Mrs Boom’s dove-like figure. And, floundering in their wake, came Binnacle.

  “Shiver my timbers! Ahoy there, messmates! For I’m bound for the Rio Grande!” bawled the Admiral.

  The Pike stared after him, shaking his head. “’Ooligans – that’s what they are!” he said gloomily. “I h’really don’t know h’what the h’Ocean’s coming to!”

  “Ah, there you are, children!” the Bronze Seal cried, as he shouldered his way through the shouting throng. “Hang on to my tail and I’ll pull you through. Excuse me! Let me pass, please, fish! These are Jane and Michael, the Guests of Honour!”

  The fish drew back and stared at them. Polite murmurs of welcome sounded amid the noise. The Seal pushed the crowd aside with his flippers and dragged the children after him to the rock of shining pearl.

  “We’re just in time for the Greeting!” he panted. They could hardly hear his booming voice because of all the shouting and laughter.

  “What greeting?” Jane was about to ask, when, all of a sudden, the shouting ceased. The music and laughter died away and a deep hush fell upon the sea. Each fish in the crowd was as still as stone. The swaying flowers stood quiet in the water. Even the tide itself was still.

  “He’s coming!” said the Seal in a whisper, as he nodded towards the cave.

  “He’s coming!” the watching creatures echoed. And Jane and Michael held their breath and watched with the waiting fish.


  Then, out from the black mysterious cave, a withered head emerged. A pair of ancient sleepy eyes blinked at the dazzle of lights. Two wrinkled flippers stretched from the darkness and a domed black shell heaved up behind them.

  The children clutched the Bronze Seal’s flippers.

  “Who is it?” whispered Jane in his ear. She thought it might be a tortoise, perhaps, or a strange kind of turtle.

  “The Terrapin,” the Seal replied gruffly. “The oldest and wisest thing in the world.”

  Inch by inch on trembling flippers the Terrapin crept to the pearly rock. His eyes beneath the half-closed lids were like two small black stars. He gazed at the assembled creatures for a moment. Then lifting his withered, ancient head, the Terrapin smiled, and spoke.

  “My friends,” he began majestically, in a voice like an old, cracked bell, “I greet you, creatures of the Sea! And I wish you a happy High-Tide Party!”

  He bowed his withered head to the rock and all the fish bowed humbly in the water.

  “This is a great occasion for us all,” the Terrapin went on quietly. “I am glad indeed to see tonight so many old acquaintances.” His black-star gaze swept the crowded lawns, as though in one glance he recognised every creature in the sea. “But surely,” the wrinkled brows went up, “there is one of us missing!”

  The Seal glanced round towards the tunnel and his voice boomed out with a cry of triumph.

  “She is here, my lord! She has just arrived!”

  As he spoke a clamour of voices rose and the creatures clapped and cheered. At the same moment, to the children’s amazement, a figure that was strangely familiar appeared at the edge of the tunnel. There it stood, dressed in its best blue coat and the straw hat trimmed with daisies. Then, dainty and graceful, neat and prim, it swooped across the shining gardens. The cheering rose to a roar of joy as it landed upon the Terrapin’s rock.

  “Welcome, Mary Poppins!” cried a thousand happy voices.

  She waved her parrot umbrella in greeting, then she turned and curtsied to the Terrapin.

  For a long moment he gazed at her, as though his ancient glittering eyes were looking into her heart. Then he waved his little naked head and gave her a friendly smile.