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without him; but with a "Good-bye, Wendy," he pushed her from the rock; and in a few minutes she
was borne out of his sight. Peter was alone on the lagoon.
The rock was very small now; soon it would be submerged. Pale rays of light tiptoed across the
waters; and by and by there was to be heard a sound at once the most musical and the most
melancholy in the world: the mermaids calling to the moon.
Peter was not quite like other boys; but he was afraid at last. A tremour ran through him, like a
shudder passing over the sea; but on the sea one shudder follows another till there are hundreds of
them, and Peter felt just the one. Next moment he was standing erect on the rock again, with that
smile on his face and a drum beating within him. It was saying, "To die will be an awfully big
adventure."
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Chapter 9 THE NEVER BIRD
The last sound Peter heard before he was quite alone were the mermaids retiring one by one to their
bedchambers under the sea. He was too far away to hear their doors shut; but every door in the coral
caves where they live rings a tiny bell when it opens or closes (as in all the nicest houses on the
mainland), and he heard the bells.
Steadily the waters rose till they were nibbling at his feet; and to pass the time until they made their
final gulp, he watched the only thing on the lagoon. He thought it was a piece of floating paper,
perhaps part of the kite, and wondered idly how long it would take to drift ashore.
Presently he noticed as an odd thing that it was undoubtedly out upon the lagoon with some definite
purpose, for it was fighting the tide, and sometimes winning; and when it won, Peter, always
sympathetic to the weaker side, could not help clapping; it was such a gallant piece of paper.
It was not really a piece of paper; it was the Never bird, making desperate efforts to reach Peter on
the nest. By working her wings, in a way she had learned since the nest fell into the water, she was
able to some extent to guide her strange craft, but by the time Peter recognised her she was very
exhausted. She had come to save him, to give him her nest, though there were eggs in it. I rather
wonder at the bird, for though he had been nice to her, he had also sometimes tormented her. I can
suppose only that, like Mrs. Darling and the rest of them, she was melted because he had all his first
teeth.
She called out to him what she had come for, and he called out to her what she was doing there; but
of course neither of them understood the other's language. In fanciful stories people can talk to the
birds freely, and I wish for the moment I could pretend that this were such a story, and say that Peter
replied intelligently to the Never bird; but truth is best, and I want to tell you only what really
happened. Well, not only could they not understand each other, but they forgot their manners.
"I want you to get into the nest," the bird called, speaking as slowly and distinctly as
possible, "and then you can drift ashore, but I am too - - tired to bring it
any nearer so you must try to swim to it."
"What are you quacking about?" Peter answered. "Why don't you let the nest drift as usual?"
"I want you " the bird said, and repeated it all over.
Then Peter tried slow and distinct.
"What are you quacking about?" and so on.
The Never bird became irritated; they have very short tempers.
"You dunderheaded little jay," she screamed, "Why don't you do as I tell you?"
Peter felt that she was calling him names, and at a venture he retorted hotly:
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"So are you!"
Then rather curiously they both snapped out the same remark:
"Shut up!"
"Shut up!"
Nevertheless the bird was determined to save him if she could, and by one last mighty effort she
propelled the nest against the rock. Then up she flew; deserting her eggs, so as to make her meaning
clear.
Then at last he understood, and clutched the nest and waved his thanks to the bird as she fluttered
overhead. It was not to receive his thanks, however, that she hung there in the sky; it was not even to
watch him get into the nest; it was to see what he did with her eggs.
There were two large white eggs, and Peter lifted them up and reflected. The bird covered her face
with her wings, so as not to see the last of them; but she could not help peeping between the feathers.
I forget whether I have told you that there was a stave on the rock, driven into it by some buccaneers
of long ago to mark the site of buried treasure. The children had discovered the glittering hoard, and
when in a mischievous mood used to fling showers of moidores, diamonds, pearls and pieces of eight
to the gulls, who pounced upon them for food, and then flew away, raging at the scurvy trick that had
been played upon them. The stave was still there, and on it Starkey had hung his hat, a deep
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