Borrowed Eyes And Ears

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Title:     Borrowed Eyes And Ears
Author: Enys Tregarthen [More Titles by Tregarthen]

In a lane where red-stemmed tamarisks grew lived another Wise Woman. She was a nice old body, as many of her kind were, and, like them, was well acquainted with the healing properties of herbs and blossoms--revealed to them, it was said, by the fairies. But this Wise Woman was not at all liked; nobody seemed to know why, except that she could do many wonderful things her neighbours could not, and was, moreover, very ugly. People were even afraid of her, and never went near her cottage unless they wanted to buy her herb physic, ointments, and that sort of thing. But there was one who was not afraid of her at all, and that was a dear little girl called Bessie Jane Rosewarne, the only child of a farmer who lived near Tamarisk Lane.

This little maid had a kind heart, especially for those who were lonely or sad; and when she knew how lonely the poor old Wise Woman was, she often went to see her, and took her little presents in the shape of fruit and flowers.

Annis, as the old woman was called, soon got to be very fond of the kind-hearted child; and to show how she appreciated her kindness she used to tell her stories about the Small People and the dear little brown, winking Piskeys, whom she seemed to know very intimately.

Bessie Jane was always interested in the Wee Folk, particularly the cliff ones and the sea-fairies, and expressed a great desire to see them.

Early one afternoon the child brought her old friend a basket of red currants and a cup of cream; and when she had set her gifts on the table, the Wise Woman went to her dresser and took from it a very small shrimping-net, or what looked like a shrimping-net.

'It is a present I have made for you, dear little maid,' she said.

'What is it for?' asked the child, when she had thanked Old Annis for her gift. 'It looks like a shrimping-net, only its meshes are so fine--as fine as gossamer--that I am afraid it will not bear even the weight of a baby-shrimp!'

'It is stronger than it looks,' said the Wise Woman, with a curious look in her sloe-black eyes. 'Its meshes are made out of Piskey-wool, which the Small People spun on their own little spinning-wheels, and which they gave me to mesh into a net. Its hoop and handle I cut from an ash-tree, where the Wee Folk gather to hold their gammets [46] in the moonshine.'

[Footnote 46: Games.]

'Did you really?' cried little Bessie Jane. 'How very interesting! I shall go down to Harlyn Bay at once and catch shrimps in the great pool under the shadow of the cliffs there.'

'It will catch something nicer than shrimps, I hope,' said Old Annis, following the child to the door. 'Whatever you catch in it, my dear, don't let it get out of the net until it promises to lend you its eyes and its ears for a night and a day.'

'I don't think I want anyone's eyes and ears but my own,' laughed the little maid as she went down Tamarisk Lane, which led to Harlyn Bay, swinging the shrimping-net as if it were a common net, and not spun from Piskey-wool by the Small People and made by a Wise Woman.

The bay, with its great beach of golden sand, its many hillocks--silvery-blue in places with sea-holly, and green with clumps of feathery tamarisk--lay open before her as she came out of the lane. There were many gulls on the wing to-day, white as the waves that broke gently over the rocks and against the sides of the cliffs. She looked about her, as was her wont, when she reached the beach, but there was nobody on the bar save an old man with his donkey, its panniers full of sand, coming up the beach on the way back to Higher Harlyn, where he lived.

Bessie Jane made straight for the pool of which she had spoken. It was a very deep pool, full of sea-anemones, shrimps, and lovely seaweed, and in the centre of the pool was a rock, in the shape of an arch, covered with mussels.

As the child was about to dip her net into the pool, she saw a streak of silver dancing up and down in the clear water.

She watched it for a minute, and then she thought she would try and catch it, and leaning over the pool, she put her shrimping-net under the whirling brightness and caught it. Looking into the net to see if it were a fish, to her great delight she saw it was like one of the tiny sea-fairies Old Annis had told her about. It was a most beautiful little creature; its eyes were the colour of the Cornish sea at its bluest, and its hair, which was a pale shade of gold, was sprinkled all over with sunbeams. It had no clothes on save a little green shift!

'Oh, you dear little darling!' cried Bessie Jane, after gazing at the lovely atom sitting in her shrimping-net. 'I came down here to this bay to catch shrimps, and I do believe I've caught a sea-fairy instead!'

'You have,' piped the little creature in the most silvery of voices; 'and woe is me that I am the first of the sea-fairies to be caught in a net!'

'I hope you don't mind very much,' said Bessie Jane, looking uncomfortable. 'I have never seen a fairy before of any sort, and I have been longing to see a little sea-fairy like you. The Wise Woman who lives in Tamarisk Lane, near our farm, told me about the sea-fairies. It was she who made me the net, which she meshed her own self out of Piskey-wool spun by the dear Little People.'

'That explains my being caught in a net!' cried the little creature, with a sigh of relief. 'I do not mind so much now--that is, if you will put me back into the pool. You will do me that kindness, won't you? I and my little companions were playing Buck and Hide Away here in the bay when the tide was in, and as I was hiding under the rock in the pool where you netted me, the tide went out and left me behind. You see that great bar of sand'--pointing at it with her tiny pink finger, which was even a more delicate pink than the beautiful tamarisk blossom that makes Tamarisk Lane and all the other lanes near Harlyn Bay so pretty in the summer and autumn months--'it is a terrible thing to us little sea-fairies,' as Bessie Jane nodded. 'We have not the power to get over sand-bars. My companions are in a wisht [47] way about me, knowing all the dangers that beset us when we are cut off from the sea.'

[Footnote 47: Sad.]

'You must not be afraid of me,' Bessie Jane hastened to assure her, thinking the little sea-fairy's words were meant for her. 'I wouldn't hurt a hair of your bright little head. And if I can't do what you ask me, it is because I love you so much, and want to take you home to our farm. We live in such a dear old house! I would be ever so kind to you, and you should be my own dear little sister. It would be lovely to have you to play with!'

'I am sure you are very kind,' said the sea-fairy in a voice that trembled. 'But, dear little maid, I couldn't be happy anywhere away from my relations and friends, and I couldn't live out of the sea very long, and if you were to take me to your house and keep me there I should fade away and vanish with fretting.'

'Would you really?' cried Bessie Jane. 'Then I won't take you to my home. If you like, I'll carry you down the sand and put you back into the sea.'

'Oh, will you, dear little girl?' cried the tiny creature joyfully, her eyes growing as bright as her hair. 'I will be always grateful to you if you will. My little brothers and sisters and crowds of my friends are in the sea close to the shore watching me.'

'I can't see them,' said Bessie Jane, turning her gaze seaward. 'I can only see sun-sparks on the edges of the waves.'

'They are sea-fairies,' said the wee creature. 'You can't see their forms, of course, and you would not have seen me if I had not been caught in a net made out of Piskey-wool spun by the Small People and meshed by a Wise Woman. Will you please take me down to the sea now? It seems ages since the tide cut me off from my dear ones.'

'I will this very minute, if you will lend me your eyes and your ears for a night and a day,' answered Bessie Jane, remembering Old Annis's injunction.

'I will do what you ask gladly,' said the little sea-fairy, 'for I am very grateful for your kindness in offering to take me back to my friends. When you have put me into the sea a wave will bring to your feet a little red ball, which will contain my ears and my eyes, and which you must take to the Wise Woman, who will keep them until sunrise to-morrow.'

Bessie Jane carried the little sea-fairy very carefully down the sandy beach in the shrimping-net, and when she had put her into the sea, the water all around her broke into white fire, and a soft, sweet sound, like the coos of young pigeons, filled the air; and then, as the brightness enclosed the tiny creature, she disappeared--ears, eyes, and all!

'Oh, the sea-fairy has forgotten her promise,' cried Bessie Jane, gazing dolefully at the spot where she had sunk.

As she was speaking, a wavelet broke at her feet, and looking down, she saw a round ball of airy lightness and brightness lying on the sand. It was red as pools when the sun sets, and the child picked it up and looked at it, and through its almost transparent skin she saw a shadow of ears and a glimmer of something blue; and she took it to the Wise Woman, as the fairy had bidden her.

Old Annis smiled when the little girl told her what she had caught in the shrimping-net.

'It was what I had expected,' she said. 'Now, dear little maid, you must get up with the larks to-morrow and come here, and you shall then see what you will see.'

Bessie Jane got out of bed the minute she awoke the next day, which was just as the little skybirds were beginning to sing; and when she was dressed she hurried off to Tamarisk Lane.

Early though it was, the Wise Woman was also up, and when she saw her little friend coming, she went and opened her door.

The first thing the child saw as she came into the cottage were two tiny ears--smaller even than a harvest-mouse's ears--on the table, and near them two round eyeballs, with a sapphire spark in each of them.

As her glance rested on the wee eyes and ears, Old Annis called her to her side, and taking up the ears, she dropped them into the child's ears; then she took up the eyes, and putting some Wee Folk's glue on their back, she put them into Bessie Jane's pretty brown ones, and told her to look round her cottage.

The child did so, and saw to her amazement that it was full of Small People, including little Brown Piskey-men. They were all amusing themselves in various ways: some were running about the sanded floor; some were looking into the depths of a Toby jug full of milk; and some tickling Old Annis's large grey cat. The Piskeys were astride her fiddle-backed chairs and her settle, and winked at the sweet little maid whenever she turned her gaze their way, and they winked so funnily she could not have helped laughing to save her life. As she was looking at them, the Wise Woman told her if she wished to see the sea-fairies in Harlyn Bay she must go at once.

She did not at all want to go, for the Small People were most fascinating, she told the old woman, particularly the little brown winking Piskeys; but she went all the same.

As she walked down the lane to the bay, she looked through the tamarisk hedge into the common, and saw that somehow or other it looked different. There was a soft green light hanging over it, and where the sand was only the day before there was a multitude of most beautiful flowers of every colour and shade, the like of which she had never seen before. Amongst the flowers cows were feeding. The cows were ever so small, not bigger than rats. There were teeny tiny goats there, too, and dear little men in queer hats and coats looking after them. The cows and goats belonged to the Wee Folk, she supposed. It was all so delightfully different and odd, and she couldn't think how she had never noticed all this on the common before, till she remembered she was seeing through a sea-fairy's eyes.

As she climbed the cliffs overlooking the bay a sound of sweetest music stole upon her borrowed ears, and glancing to where the sound came, she saw that the edge of the low cliff was crowded with Small People, who were singing away like a choir of song-birds. Some of them were sitting on Piskey-stools, [48] some on the edge of the cliff, others were standing. In the background were a score or more of tiny musicians, with reeds, flutes, and other instruments of music in their hands. These last were quaintly dressed in poppy-coloured coats and speedwell-blue breeches, and on their dear little heads were blue three-cornered hats turned up with the same rich colour as their coats. The whole company of Wee Folk were delightful to look at as they were to listen to; and as for the tiny ladies of the party, they were, Bessie Jane told herself, little nosegays of wild-flowers, and if they had not been trilling and piping as she came upon them, she would have mistaken them for cliff-blossoms, so bright they looked in their lovely gowns of trefoil-gold and reds, thrift-pink, squill-blue, and all those exquisite colours that make the Cornish cliffs so beautiful in the late spring and early summer-time.

[Footnote 48: Mushrooms.]

The Small People saw the child, and seemed quite pleased to see her, for they smiled most graciously, and one of the little musicians took off his three-cornered hat and bowed like a courtier, and said he hoped she did not mind their singing, as it was their custom to sing a little impromptu song to their cousins--the sea-fairies--every beautiful morning in May, that being, he told her, the month of flowers and music.

Bessie Jane did not mind in the least. Indeed, she was delighted to think she had come in time to hear one of their little songs, only she was far too shy to say so.

She sat on the cliff where she could see the Wee Folk and Harlyn Bay at the same time. The sea was coming in, and was already under the cliff where she was sitting; as she looked down into the water she saw it was full of lovely little creatures, who were gazing up at her with all the eyes in their heads. They were sea-fairies, she could tell, by their resemblance to the dear little thing she had caught in her shrimping-net. They all wore little green shifts or shirts, through which their tiny pink bodies glowed like a rose, and all had sun-beamed hair and deep-blue eyes. Some of the sea-fairies were riding on the backs of the waves and tossing tiny spray-balls when she first saw them; others were darting in and out the sea-ripples as quick as sun-flashes, and playing over the inner bay in waves of light. A short distance out were a hundred or more little female sea-fairies dancing, and as they danced and held each other's hands they looked like tiny garlands of sunbeams. They were dancing to a sweet tune of their own, or perhaps to the music of the sea, which was full of lovely sounds to-day, and colour too--that wonderful ethereal blue which is only seen in a summer's dawn.

Whilst Bessie Jane was watching the sea-fairies, and wondering if the little friend she had put back into the sea were amongst them, and if she could see her without eyes, the Wee Folk on the cliff suddenly broke into music and song. The song was so wild and free and the music so sweet that the sea-fairies far out in the bay came close under the cliff and listened with the utmost joy, their tiny faces shining with pleasure, and their small bodies swaying in time to the rhythm of the song. As for the child, she thought it was the loveliest music she had ever heard. The song, which was accompanied by lutes, flutes, and reeds, and by the tapping of tiny feet and clapping of hands, was as follows:

'Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!
For the dark has fled
At the dawn's soft tread;
And the moon grows cold
In the sun's warm gold.
Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!

'Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!
For the sky's dear bird
O'er the waves is heard;
And the linnet's flute
Like a fairy's lute.
Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!

'Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!
For sandpipers play
By the pools to-day;
And kittiwakes laugh
As the light they quaff.
Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!

'Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!
For gulls are afloat
Like a silver boat;
And the curlews call
As their weird cries fall.
Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!

'Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!
For the waves clap hands
On the yellow sands;
And the sea-sprites dance
Where the sunbeams glance.
Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!

'Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!
For each little sprite
Is a rhythm of light;
And sweet are their lips
Like honey-bee's sips!
Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!

'Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!
For day has begun,
And high is the sun;
Now hasten away
To your dears and play!
Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!'

Bessie Jane held her breath until the music died away in the silver cadence of the morning sea, and the song was still in her ears, so that she was hardly conscious it was finished until she noticed the Small People had risen from the Piskey-stools and were leaving the cliff.

'You aren't going, are you, dear Little People?' she cried, forgetting her shyness in her dismay at their going so soon.

'Yes,' answered one of them. 'I hope you liked our song.'

'I did a terrible lot,' responded Bessie Jane, flushing to the roots of her pretty brown hair; 'your singing was lovely, and I should like to hear you sing every morning of my life! It was sweeter even than the thrush's song at sunset, I think.'

The Wee Folk were delighted at the child's praise; the small musicians beamed upon her, and the tiny ladies made her a deep curtsey, and then they all disappeared into the cliff.

She waited ever so long, hoping they would appear again and sing another song, but as they did not, she went down the cliff-path to the beach. At the ending of the song, all the sea-fairies had gone out into the bay to join the merry dancers, who were dancing away like a Bobby Griglan, [49] she told herself as she sent her glance over the sunlit waters to where they were. When she stood close to the waves all these little whirligigs came dancing shorewards, until they stopped only a few feet away and gazed at her curiously.

[Footnote 49: A fairy.]

When they found their tongues, which they quickly did, to her great delight they began talking to her. They thanked her for being so kind to their little companion in giving her back to them the day before, and said how glad they were she had repaid the little girl's kindness in lending Bessie Jane her eyes and ears for a night and a day, as they heard she had so much wanted to see the sea-fairies.

'Yes, I did,' replied Bessie Jane, 'and I am awfully grateful to that pretty little dear for the loan of her ears and eyes, but I am afraid it was very selfish of me to get her to lend them.'

'She was very glad to lend them for the time you asked,' the sea-fairies reassured her--'not only because you did her all that kindness, but because you have been so very good to the poor old Wise Woman, who loves all the Little People, sea-fairies and all,' they said.

It was a great surprise to Bessie Jane that the fairies should know about her kindness to poor Old Annis; and as she did not like being praised, she turned the conversation, and asked the dear little sea-sprites to tell her all about themselves, and what they did all day long, where they lived, and a hundred and one other questions which the sweet-voiced, sun-beamed little creatures seemed only too pleased to answer.

Amongst other interesting things, they told the child about their work. They said their chief happiness was to do good, and that their special work was to seek out all wounded things and take them down to the bottom of the sea, where they had a Place of Healing, and where they tended with gentle care all the poor, hurt creatures they found, until they were all healed and happy again. Another mission of theirs was to sing requiems over the poor drowned human beings, and to plant sea-lilies and other sea-flowers on their graves.

They were always busy, they told her, and when there was no special work for them to do they busied themselves with games, singing and dancing, and flashing in and out of the sea to make it beautiful with light. Their special time for merry-making and dancing was at sunset and sunrise, particularly sunset, for then the great sun went down into the sea to shine upon their lovely gardens, parks, and meadows under the sea where they lived, and where dear little fishes sang instead of birds!

It would fill pages to tell all those little sea-fairies told Bessie Jane, and which they told in such entrancing way that time flew. The tide came in and went out, and was again coming in, and the entranced child did not even notice it, or that the big white sun was wheeling down towards his setting.

A great lane of crimson fire stretched away on the blue-grey water from the outer bay to the horizon, and just as the sea-fairies had finished telling her all the wonders of their life and doings she saw coming towards her down this lane of rich light a tiny carriage in the shape of a scallop-shell, drawn by four little horses, two abreast, and white as sea-spray. As the tiny steeds sped onward and drew near, Bessie Jane saw leaning back in the carriage a sea-fairy with a bandage of red seaweed across her eyes and ears.

When the horses stopped, all the sea-fairies formed themselves in a circle round the carriage, and looked intently at the child on the shore.

As Bessie Jane noted all this, telling herself what handsome horses they were and what an elegant little carriage, and how beautiful it looked on the sun's pathway, a silvery voice, like the twitter of a baby lark low in its nest amongst the heather, piped from the carriage:

'Please give me back my eyes and my ears.'

'What eyes and ears?' asked the child, bewildered, for she had quite forgotten that she had got the sea-fairy's eyes and ears.

'Why, my own dear little eyes and ears that I lent you for a night and a day,' piped the sweet voice again.

'Must I give them back?' asked Bessie Jane.

'Indeed you must,' said the fairy. 'I have missed them oh so much! No beautiful vision have I seen, no lovely sounds have I heard, since I lent them to you yesterday afternoon. I waited until the sun had put on his flame-coloured robe before coming for them.'

'How can I give you back your eyes and your ears?' asked the child helplessly. 'The Wise Woman put them in, and she isn't here to take them out.'

'Say, "Little Blue Eyes, go back to your homes," and, "Little Pink Ears, return to your places," and they will do as you tell them,' answered the little fairy.

Bessie Jane, though very reluctant to give back what had given her so much pleasure, knew she would be dreadfully selfish if she did not do as she was told, and after gazing full five minutes on the wonderful sight--the circle of sea-fairies, the wee white horses, and scallop-shaped carriage, the like of which she might never see again--and letting her last gaze rest on her first friend waiting so patiently for the return of her eyes and ears, her clear young voice rang out:

'Dear Little Blue Eyes, go back to your homes; dear Little Pink Ears, go back to your holes.'

As she spoke a blue spark leapt out of her eyes, followed by a whizzing of something pink, and when she opened her eyes again, the radiant circle of sea-fairies round the mother-of-pearl carriage, the dazzling white steeds with flowing manes and tails, were all gone, and she only saw the usual sights of eventide on the beach: the gulls flying over the hillocks and across the sands to their sleeping-places in the cliffs; a man driving the cows up the bay to be milked; the stems of the tamarisk on the hedges, scarlet in the sun-glow; and the vast luminous sky over it all. Beautiful as everything was, it was not nearly so beautiful, Bessie Jane thought, as were those little sea-fairies and horses on the pathway of crimson fire!

She stood close to the edge of the water till the line of light was gone, and then she turned away from the sea and went up the beach towards Tamarisk Lane, to tell Old Annis what she had heard and seen.

As she was going up, she met the same old man and his donkeys she had seen the day before. He was coming down for his last pannier of sand. He stopped and spoke to her, and asked why she was looking so happy.

'I have seen the Small People,' answered the child, 'and the dear little fairies that live in the sea.'

'You don't mean to say so?' cried the old man. 'You are a lucky little maid to have seen all they little dears!' as Bessie Jane nodded. ''Tis not often folks do see 'em nowadays; but they did backalong, my mother told me. What was 'em like, Miss Bessie Jane?'

'I cannot stop to tell you now,' said the child. 'It is rather late, and I want to go and see the Wise Woman in Tamarisk Lane. You are late getting sand, arn't you?'

'Iss fy, I be. 'Tis for your father--Maister Rosewarne--and I must make haste and get it. My donkey do want his supper, and so do I.'

Old Annis was at her cottage gate watching for her little friend's return, and when the child came up she listened with the greatest interest to all she had to tell her, and said how pleased she was that she had seen and heard so much.

'It is a reward,' she added, 'for being so kind to a poor lonely old woman.'

Bessie Jane never saw any more of the Little People, and never went shrimping again with the shrimping-net made by a Wise Woman out of Piskey-wool spun by the Small People, for the simple reason she lost the net the day after she saw the dear Wee Folk and the sea-fairies with her borrowed eyes. How she lost it, or where, she did not know, and the Wise Woman, wise as she was, could not tell her. But she was ever afterwards grateful for having seen them, especially the sea-fairies, and she showed her gratitude by being kinder than ever to her poor, lonely old friend.

[The end]
Enys Tregarthen's short story: Borrowed Eyes And Ears

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