Gobbolino the Witch's Cat

They left the ropes and six or seven of them ran to seize Gobbolino but he slipped out of their hands and leapt on to the cookhouse roof.

The cook, still busy with his pans in spite of the ship’s rolling, put out a hand to pull him inside, but Gobbolino made a leap and gained the Captain’s bridge. The Captain clutched him by the scruff of his neck. Gobbolino gave a wriggle, the ship plunged again, and they fell to the ground in a heap.

Gobbolino found his feet first and sprang up the remaining mast, up, up, up to the cross-trees, and there was not a man reckless enough to follow him there in such a tempest.

The sailors stood below wringing their hands, for they felt sure that at any moment their kitten would be flung into the sea, while the sea witch flew round the ship in ever-widening circles, and the next bank of storm clouds moved up to swallow the sun.

Even if the sea witch saw him crouching there in the rigging, it meant nothing to her that a small dark cat had been foolish enough to climb the mast with the ship breaking to pieces beneath him.

But Gobbolino could not let her vanish in this fashion:

“Mistress! Oh, mistress!” he cried above the storm. “Don’t you know me? Have you never met Grimalkin my mother, nor Sootica my little sister, nor my mistress the witch who lived in the cavern under the Hurricane Mountains? Oh, mistress! Oh, mistress! It is Gobbolino, the witch’s kitten, who is calling to you! For my mother’s sake, don’t leave me to drown on this miserable ship! Have mercy! Have mercy!”

The sea witch heard his pitiful cries and wheeled suddenly, just as she was preparing to fly away out of sight.

“Is it true what you say?” she cried above the storm. “If you are really a witch’s kitten, what are you doing on board this ship?”

“The sailors took me aboard!” piped Gobbolino. “I couldn’t escape – how could I, so far from the shore?”

“Witch’s kittens swim like seals!” said the sea witch suspiciously, creeping nearer and nearer the ship, but careful not to let her shadow fall upon the deck.

“It was so far to the shore, mistress, that I was afraid!” said Gobbolino, anxiously watching the bank of cloud drawing nearer and nearer the sun. “Oh, take me on your broomstick, kind mistress, and carry me back to the cave in the Hurricane Mountains! You would not let a witch’s kitten die, kind mistress?”

“Jump into the sea and swim!” said the sea witch. “When the ship is gone down I will pick you up on my broomstick and take you home again.”

“It is so far and so deep!” sobbed Gobbolino. “I am afraid! I am afraid!”

“And, oh, my goodness!” he thought to himself. “In one more minute the sun will be gone, and then nothing that I can do will save us!”

So he clung to the rigging with all his might and main, sobbing:

“Oh! Oh! Oh! The wind is pulling me off! I shall fall on the deck and be smashed into a thousand pieces, and what will my mother Grimalkin say, and my little sister Sootica, and my mistress the witch? I am falling! I am falling!”

“I will save you! Be ready to spring upon my broomstick as I pass!” cried the sea witch angrily as the ship wallowed once more into the depths of a wave, and the rim of the sun touched the bank of cloud.

Gobbolino crouched on the mast as the ship rose again, watching, watching the deck.

The anxious sailors, who had heard his pitiful mewing, but could not understand all that he said, stood watching too, each one ready to plunge into the sea to save him if he should fall.

The sunlight began to fade.

“Oh, my goodness, if it is already too late!” said Gobbolino, and now he saw the cruel reef of rocks rearing to the ship’s bows.

“Be ready!” shrieked the sea witch almost in his ear. “Spring!”

But as she passed him like a streak of summer lightning her shadow fell for one moment on the deck, and in that moment Gobbolino sprang, not on her broomstick, but right on to the shadow of her head, crying loudly:

“Fiddlesticks to you, ma’am!” – and with a shriek of rage the sea witch was gone.

“Traitor! Traitor!” she cried, as the wind swallowed her up and then a dead calm fell on the sea.

A ship’s length from the reef the Mary Maud lay becalmed, as if at anchor. The last storm clouds raced northward while the sun shone out of a hot blue sky.

The sea sparkled like a still lagoon, and far below, Gobbolino could see brown weed moored to rock terraces, pretty fishes, crabs, and eels, as clearly as if they swam in an aquarium.

All traces of the storm were gone.

Gobbolino looked about him in bewilderment. The sailors too seemed dazed and uncertain – they gathered in little groups, talking uneasily and peeping at Gobbolino.

“It was no seabird, I tell you!” he heard them whisper. “It was a witch!”

“He was talking to her! I heard him plainly!”

“He said he was a witch’s kitten! Can you believe it?”

“No wonder she followed the ship and would not let us alone! We mighty nearly perished, I can tell you!”