“I’m not a-going to go building arks, at my time of life,” said Mr. Perrin. “Mr. Noah’d break his old heart, so he would, if I was to take on his job over his head.”
“Oh, you mean I ought to ask him?”
“ ’Course you ought to ask him. I don’t mind lending a hand under his directions, acting as foreman like, so as to make a good job of it. But it’s him you must give your order to.”
The parrot and the Hippogriff between them managed to get Mr. Noah to the castle by noon of the next day.
“Would you have minded,” Philip immediately asked him, “if I’d had an ark built without asking you to do it?”
“Well,” said Mr. Noah mildly, “I might have been a little hurt. I have had some experience, you know, my Lord.”
“Why do you call me that?” Philip asked.
“Because you are, of course. Your deed of slaying the lions counts one to you, and by virtue of it you are now a Baron. I congratulate you, Lord Leo,” said Mr. Noah.
He approved of Philip’s idea, and he and Perrin were soon busy making plans, calculating strains and selecting materials.
Then Philip made a speech to the islanders and explained his idea. There was a great deal of cheering and shouting, and everyone agreed that an ark on the topmost tower would meet a long-felt want, and that when once that ark was there, fear would forever be a stranger to every gentle island heart.
And now the great work of building began. Mr. Perrin kindly consented to act as foreman and set to work a whole army of workmen—the M.A.’s of course. And soon the sound of saw and hammer mingled with the plash of waves and cries of seabirds, and gangs of stalwart M.A.’s in their seaweed tunics bent themselves to the task of shaping great timbers and hoisting them to the top of the highest tower, where other gangs, under Mr. Noah’s own eye, reared a scaffolding to support the ark while the building went on.
The children were not allowed to help, but they loved looking on, and almost felt that, if they looked on earnestly enough, they must, in some strange mysterious way, be actually helping. You know the feeling, I daresay.
The Hippogriff, who was stabled in the castle, flew up to wherever he was wanted, to assist in the hauling. Mr. Noah only had to whisper the magic word in his ear and up he flew. But what that magic word was the children did not know, though they asked often enough.
And now at last the ark was finished, the scaffolding was removed, and there was the great Noah’s ark, firmly planted on the topmost tower. It was a perfect example of the ark-builder’s craft. Its boat part was painted a dull red, its sides and ends were blue with black windows, and its roof was bright scarlet, painted in lines to imitate tiles. No least detail was neglected. Even to the white bird painted on the roof, which you must have noticed in your own Noah’s ark.
A great festival was held, speeches were made, and everyone who had lent a hand in the building, even the humblest M.A., was crowned with a wreath of fresh pink and green seaweed. Songs were sung, and the laureate of the Sea-Dwellers, a young M.A. with pale blue eyes and no chin, recited an ode beginning—
Now that we have our Noble Ark
No more we tremble in the dark
When the great seas and the winds cry out,
For we are safe without a doubt.At undue risings of the tide
Within our Ark we’ll safely hide,
And bless the names of those who thus
Have built a painted Ark for us.
There were three hundred and seventeen more lines, very much like these, and everyone said it was wonderful, and the laureate was a genius, and how did he do it, and what brains, eh? and things like that.
And Philip and Lucy had crowns too. The Lord High Islander made a vote of thanks to Philip, who modestly replied that it was nothing, really, and anybody could have done it. And a spirit of gladness spread about among the company so that everyone was smiling and shaking hands with everybody else, and even the M.A.’s were making little polite old jokes, and slapping each other on the back and calling each other “old chap,” which was not at all their habit in ordinary life. The whole castle was decorated with garlands of pink and green seaweed like the wreaths that people were wearing, and the whole scene was the gayest and happiest you can imagine.
And then the dreadful thing happened.
Philip and Lucy were standing in their seaweed tunics, for of course they had, since the first day, worn the costume of the country, on the platform in the courtyard. Mr. Noah had just said, “Well, then, we will enjoy this enjoyable day to the very end and return to the city tomorrow,” when a shadow fell on the group. It was the Hippogriff, and on its back was—someone. Before anyone could see who that someone was, the Hippogriff had flown low enough for that someone to catch Philip by his seaweed tunic and to swing him off his feet and on to the Hippogriff’s back. Lucy screamed, Mr. Perrin said, “Here, I say, none of that,” and Mr. Noah said, “Dear me!” And they all reached out their hands to pull Philip back. But they were all too late.
“I won’t go. Put me down,” Philip shouted. They all heard that. And also they heard the answer of the person on the Hippogriff—the person who had snatched Philip on to its back.
“Oh, won’t you, my Lord? We’ll soon see about that,” the person said.
Three people there knew that voice, four counting Philip, six counting the dogs. The dogs barked and growled, Mr. Noah said “Drop it”; and Lucy screamed,
