“Nonsense!” shouted Pinocchio.
“That’s my opinion,” replied the Tuna, “and all opinions, as the tuna politicians say, deserve to be respected!”
“No matter what, I want to get out of here. I want to escape.”
“Escape then, if you can!”
“This Shark that swallowed us, is he very big?” asked the puppet.
“He’s more than a kilometer long—just imagine!—and that’s not counting his tail.”
As they were discussing these matters in the dark, Pinocchio thought he saw, far off in the distance, a faint glow.
“What in the world could that little light be, way off in the distance?” Pinocchio wondered aloud.
“It must be some companion in misfortune, waiting like us to be digested!”
“I want to go see. What if it turns out to be some old fish who can show me the way out?”
“I hope with all my heart that you’re right, dear puppet.”
“Goodbye, Tuna.”
“Goodbye, puppet, and good luck.”
“Where will we see each other again?”
“Who knows? Some things we shouldn’t even think about!”
35
AS SOON as Pinocchio said goodbye to his good friend Tuna, he began fumbling his way on tiptoes through the darkness of the Shark’s belly, putting one foot in front of the other, heading for the faint light he could see glowing far in the distance.
As he walked he could feel his feet sinking into puddles of slick, greasy water, which smelled so strongly of fried fish that it reminded him of the middle of Lent.
And the farther he went, the brighter and more distinct the glow became. He walked and walked until at last he reached it—and when he reached it, do you know what he found? I’ll give you a thousand guesses. He found a small dining table, on top of which stood a green glass bottle with a burning candle in its neck, and beside which sat a little old man, who looked so white he might have been made of snow, or whipped cream. The man was champing absentmindedly on some live minnows—so live they occasionally jumped right out of his mouth as he chewed.
This sight filled poor Pinocchio with such great and unexpected happiness that he was just a whit away from becoming delirious. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted to say a mountain of things. But instead he whimpered confusedly and stammered out a few broken and incoherent words. Finally he managed to let loose a shout of joy, and, opening his arms wide and flinging them around the little old man’s neck, he began to yell, “Oh, my dear daddy! I’ve finally found you again! From now on I won’t ever leave you again, not ever, not ever!”
“So my eyes are not deceiving me?” replied the little old man, rubbing his eyes. “So you really are my dear Pinocchio?”
“Yes, yes, it’s me, really me! And you’ve already forgiven me, haven’t you? Oh, my dear daddy, how good you are! And to think that I, on the other hand…Oh! but if you only knew what misfortunes have rained down on my head and how many things have gone wrong for me! The truth is, poor Daddy, that the day you sold your coat to buy me a spelling book so I could go to school, I ran off to see the puppet show, and the puppet master wanted to throw me on the fire to help roast his ram, and he was the one who ended up giving me five gold coins to bring to you, but I ran into the Fox and the Cat, who took me to the Red Crayfish Inn, where they ate like wolves, and when I left alone that night I ran into murderers who started chasing after me, and I ran and they chased, and I kept running and they kept chasing, until they hung me from a branch of the Great Oak, where the Beautiful Girl with Sky-Blue Hair sent a little carriage to fetch me, and when the doctors visited they said at once, ‘If he’s not dead, it’s a sign he’s still alive,’ and then a lie slipped out of my mouth and my nose started growing and wouldn’t fit through the door, which is why I went with the Fox and the Cat to bury the four gold coins, one of which I had spent at the inn, and the Parrot started laughing, and instead of two thousand coins I found none, causing the judge when he heard I’d been robbed to send me straight to jail, to reward the thieves, and as I was leaving I saw a nice bunch of grapes in a field, but I got caught in a trap and the farmer, who goodness knows had the right, put a dog collar on me so I could guard his henhouse, then recognized my innocence and let me go, and the Serpent, with the smoking tail, started laughing and burst a vein in his heart, and that’s how I went back to the house of the Beautiful Girl, who was dead, and the Pigeon saw me crying and said, ‘I saw your daddy building a boat to go looking for you,’ and I said, ‘Oh, if only I had wings, too!’ and he said, ‘Do you want to go see your daddy,’ and I said, ‘If only—but who will take me,’ and he said, ‘I’ll take you,’ and I said, ‘How,’ and he said, ‘Climb on my back,’ and so we flew all night, then in the morning all the fishermen looking out to sea told me, ‘There’s a poor fellow in a little boat who’s about to drown,’ and I recognized you right away even from that distance, because my heart told me, and waved to you to come back to shore—”
“I recognized you, too,” said Geppetto, “and I would gladly have come back to shore, but how? The sea was rough and a big wave flipped my boat over. Then when the terrible Shark saw me nearby in the water, he raced toward me, snatched me right up with his tongue, and gulped me down like a ravioli.”
“And how long have you been trapped in here?” asked Pinocchio.
“From that day on—it must be two years now. Two years, my dear Pinocchio, that seem like two centuries!”
“And how have you managed to get by? And where did you find the candle? And the matches for it—who gave them to you?”
“I’ll tell you the whole story. You see, that same storm that flipped my boat over also sank a merchant ship. The sailors were all rescued, but the ship went to the bottom, and this same Shark, who had an excellent appetite that day, after swallowing me, swallowed that ship, too.”
“What? Swallowed it whole?” asked Pinocchio, amazed.
“In a single gulp. And the only thing he spit back out was the mainmast, which got stuck in his teeth like a fishbone. Luckily for me, that ship was supplied not only with tins of preserved meat but also hardtack, which is ship bread, bottles of wine, raisins, cheese, coffee, sugar, tallow candles, and boxes of wax matches. Thanks to these gifts from heaven, I’ve been able to get by for two years. But now I’m down to the last crumbs—the pantry’s empty and this candle that you see burning is the last one I have.”
“And then?”
“And then, my dear, we’ll both be left in the dark.”
“In that case, dear Daddy,” said Pinocchio, “there’s no time to lose. We must quickly think how to escape.”
“Escape? How?”
“We’ll escape through the Shark’s mouth and swim away across the sea.”
“That sounds great, my dear Pinocchio, except that I don’t know how to swim.”
“So? You can climb onto my back, and I’m such a good swimmer that I’ll bring you safe and sound back to shore.”
“You’re dreaming, my boy!” replied Geppetto, shaking his head and smiling sadly. “Do you really think a puppet like you, barely a meter tall, could possibly be strong enough to swim with me on your back?”
“Try it and you’ll see! Anyway, if it’s written in the stars that we’re going to die, at least we’ll have the consolation of dying in each other’s arms.”
And without another word, Pinocchio took the candle, and as he went ahead to light the way, he said to his daddy, “Follow me, and don’t be scared.”
And so they trekked from one end of the Shark’s belly to the other. But when they came to the point where the monster’s roomy throat began, they thought it wise to stop and look around and wait for the right moment to escape.
You see, since the Shark was quite old and suffered from asthma and heart palpitations, he had to sleep with his mouth open. So when Pinocchio stood on the edge of the Shark’s throat and looked up, he could see, through that enormous gaping mouth, a nice chun
k of starry sky and some lovely moonlight.
“This is the right moment to escape,” he whispered, turning to his daddy. “The Shark is sleeping like a log, the sea is calm, and it’s almost as light as day. So come on, Daddy, follow me and soon we’ll be saved.”
Wasting no time, they climbed up the sea monster’s throat, and once they reached his vast mouth, they began to tiptoe across his tongue—a tongue so wide and so long that it looked like a garden path. They were about to hurl themselves into the sea with a great leap, but just at that very moment the Shark sneezed, and sneezed so violently that Pinocchio and Geppetto were knocked backward and flung once more to the bottom of the monster’s belly.
When they landed with a crash, their candle went out and father and son were left in the dark.
“Now what?” asked Pinocchio, looking serious.
“Now, my boy, we’re done for.”
“Why? Give me your hand, Daddy, and be careful not to slip!”
“Where are you taking me?”
“We have to try again. Come with me and don’t be scared.”
And so Pinocchio took his daddy by the hand, and they tiptoed again up to the monster’s throat. From there they walked the entire length of his tongue and clambered over the three rows of teeth. Before making the big leap, the puppet said to his daddy, “Climb onto my back and hold on as tight as you can. I’ll take care of the rest.”
As soon as Geppetto had a firm grip on his son’s back, good Pinocchio leapt into the water and began swimming, full of confidence. The sea was smooth as oil. The moon was shining in all its brilliance, and the Shark went on sleeping—a slumber so deep that not even a cannon could have woken him.
36
AS PINOCCHIO swam swiftly toward the beach, he realized that his daddy, who was clinging to his back with his legs in the water, was trembling uncontrollably, as if the poor man were suffering from malarial fever.
Was he trembling from cold or from fear? Who can say? Perhaps a little of both. But Pinocchio, thinking he was trembling from fear, tried to comfort him by saying, “Don’t worry, Daddy! In a few minutes we’ll reach shore and be safe.”
“But where is this blessed shore?” asked the little old man, growing more and more anxious, squinting like a tailor threading a needle. “Here I am looking in every direction and I can’t see anything but sky and sea.”
“But I can see the shore, as well,” said the puppet. “For your information, I’m like a cat—I can see better by night than by day.”
But poor Pinocchio was only pretending to be in good spirits—in fact he was losing hope. He was running out of strength and breath. He couldn’t go on much longer, and the shore was still far away.
He swam until he had no breath left, then he turned his head toward Geppetto and stammered out these words: “Oh Daddy, help me—I’m dying!”
Both father and son were by now on the verge of drowning, when they heard a voice that sounded like an out-of-tune guitar: “Who’s dying?”
“I am—and my poor daddy!”
“I recognize that voice! You’re Pinocchio!”
“That’s right—and you?”
“I’m the Tuna, your cell mate from the Shark’s belly.”
“How did you manage to escape?”
“I followed your example. You showed me the way, and I escaped after you did.”
“My dear Tuna, you’ve arrived in the nick of time! I beg you, for the love you bear your little tuna children: help us, or we’re done for.”
“Gladly, with all my heart. Grab hold of my tail, both of you, and let me pull you. We’ll reach the shore in just a few minutes.”
Geppetto and Pinocchio, as you might imagine, accepted this invitation at once. But instead of holding on to his tail, they decided it would be more comfortable to climb right onto his back.
“Are we too heavy?” Pinocchio asked.
“Heavy? Not in the least. I feel like I have a couple of conch shells on my back,” replied the Tuna, who was as big and strong as a young bull.
When they reached shore, Pinocchio jumped off first so he could help his daddy get down. Then he turned to the Tuna, and in a voice full of emotion he said, “My friend, you saved my daddy! No words of mine can ever thank you enough! But at least let me give you a kiss, as a sign of my eternal gratitude!”
The Tuna lifted his snout out of the water and Pinocchio, kneeling on the ground, gave him a heartfelt kiss right on the mouth. The poor Tuna, not used to such spontaneous and genuine displays of affection, was so moved that he started crying like a baby, and embarrassed to be seen in such a state, he plunged his head back under the water and vanished.
By this time the sun was up.
As he offered his arm to Geppetto, who was so tired he could barely stand, Pinocchio said, “Just lean on my arm, dear Daddy, and let’s be on our way. We’ll walk ever so slowly, like ants, and when we get tired we’ll rest awhile beside the road.”
“And where are we supposed to go?” asked Geppetto.
“We’ll look for a house or a hut, where someone might give us, out of charity, a mouthful of bread and a little straw for our bed.”
After no more than a hundred paces they saw, sitting by the roadside, two ugly mugs begging for handouts.
It was the Cat and the Fox. But they had changed so much that they were scarcely recognizable. The Cat, you see, had pretended for so long to be blind that eventually he really did go blind. And the Fox was now old, mangy, and completely paralyzed on one side—he had even lost his tail. That’s how it goes. That wicked thief, after falling on very hard times indeed, found himself one fine day forced to sell his beautiful tail to a traveling salesman, who bought it because he needed a flyswatter.
“Oh, Pinocchio,” shouted the Fox in a whiny voice, “have a little pity on these two poor invalids.”
“Invalids!” repeated the Cat.
“So long, charlatans!” replied the puppet. “You fooled me once, but I’ll never fall for your tricks again!”
“But it’s true, Pinocchio, now we really are poor and wretched!”
“Wretched!” repeated the Cat.
“If you’re poor, you deserve it. Remember the proverb that says: Stolen money never bears fruit. Goodbye, charlatans!”
“Have mercy on us!”
“… on us!”
“Goodbye, charlatans! Remember the proverb that says: The devil’s flour turns out to be chaff.”
“Don’t leave us alone!”
“… lone!” repeated the Cat.
“Goodbye, charlatans! Remember the proverb that says: He who steals his neighbor’s cloak will die without a shirt.”
With these words, Pinocchio and Geppetto resumed their calm walk down the road, until, after another hundred paces or so, they saw, at the end of a path, in the middle of the fields, a nice hut made entirely of straw, but with a roof covered with terra-cotta tiles.
“Someone must live in that hut,” Pinocchio said. “Let’s go and knock.”
They went, and they knocked at the door.
“Who is it?” said a little voice inside.
“We’re a poor father and a poor son, with nothing to eat and no place to stay,” replied the puppet.
“Turn the key and the door will open,” said the little voice.
Pinocchio turned the key, and the door opened. Once inside, they looked around but saw no one.
“Hello? Where is the owner of this hut?” Pinocchio asked, surprised.
“I’m up here!”
Father and son quickly looked up at the ceiling, and there, sitting on a beam, they saw the Talking Cricket.
“Oh, my dear little Cricket!” said Pinocchio, in a friendly voice.
“So now you’re calling me your ‘dear little Cricket’ are you? Do you recall trying to drive me out of your house by throwing a wooden mallet at me?”
“You’re right, dear Cricket! Now you can drive me out, you can even throw a wooden mallet at me—but have mercy on my poor d
addy.”
“I’ll have mercy on the father and also on the son. But I wanted to remind you of the cruel treatment I received, to show you that in this world, whenever possible, we should treat others kindly, if we wish to be treated with similar kindness in our hour of need.”
“You’re right, dear Cricket, you’re absolutely right, and I’ll never forget the lesson you’ve taught me. But tell me, how did you manage to buy yourself this beautiful hut?”
“This hut was given to me yesterday by a charming goat, whose fleece was the most beautiful sky-blue color.”
“And where did the goat go?” asked Pinocchio, extremely curious.
“I don’t know.”
“And when will she be back?”
“She won’t ever be back. She was extremely distressed when she left yesterday, and she seemed to be bleating these words: ‘Poor Pinocchio—now I’ll never see him again! The Shark must have devoured him by now!’”
“She really said that? Then it was her! It was her! It was my dear Fairy!” yelled Pinocchio, sobbing and heaving uncontrollably.
After a good cry, he dried his eyes and prepared a nice bed of straw for old Geppetto to lie down on. Then he asked the Talking Cricket, “Tell me, dear Cricket, where can I find a glass of milk for my poor daddy?”
“Three fields away there’s a man named Giangio who has a small farm with some cows. Go to him and you’ll find the milk you seek.”
Pinocchio rushed to the house of the farmer named Giangio. But the farmer said, “How much milk do you want?”
“I want a full glass.”
“A glass of milk costs a nickel. You can pay me the nickel first.”
“I don’t have even a penny,” said Pinocchio, thoroughly embarrassed and dejected.
“That’s bad, my puppet,” replied the farmer. “If you don’t have even a penny, then I don’t have even a swallow of milk.”
“Oh well!” said Pinocchio, turning to leave.
“Just a moment,” said Giangio. “You and I can work out something. Are you willing to turn a donkey wheel?”