to my ear, and then I hear the sound, the sound of the sea."

"Yes," said the Skipper, taking up another shell from one of the
shelves, a tiger cowry, rich with purple and brown. "The sound of the
sea; that is a good thing. Listen here, young gentleman, and tell me
what the tiger say to you of the sea."

He held the shell to the boy's ear, and saw the colour and the light
come like a wave into his face. They were silent for a moment; then the
child spoke, low and dreamily.

"It doesn't say words, you know!" he said. "It's just a soft noise, like
what the pine-trees make, but it sounds cool and green and--and wet. And
there are waves a long way off, curling over and over, and breaking on
white beaches, and they smell good and salt. And it seems to make me
know about things down under the sea, and bright colours shining through
the water, and light coming 'way down--cool, green light, that doesn't
make you wink when you look at it. And--and I guess there are lots of
fishes swimming about, and their eyes shine, too, and they move just as
soft, and don't make any noise, no more than if their mother was sick in
the next room. And on the ground there seem to be like flowers, only
they move and open and shut without any one touching them. And--and--"

Was the boy going into a trance? Were the dark eyes mesmerizing him, or
was all this to be heard in the shell? The Skipper took the shell gently
from his hand, and stroked his hair once or twice, quickly and lightly.
"That will do!" he said. "The young gentleman can hear truly. All these
things are under the sea, yes, and more, oh, many more! Some day you
shall see them, young gentleman; who knows? But now comes Franci to make
the dinner. Will Señor Colorado dine with the Skipper from the Bahamas?