CHAPTER IX
Here follows the true story of Sir Muscovy Drake, the Lady Blanche, andMiss Malardina Crippletoes.
Phoebe's flock consisted at first mostly of Brown Mallards, but a friendgave her a sitting of eggs warranted to produce a most beautiful varietyof white ducks. They were hatched in due time, but proved hard to raise,till at length there was only one survivor, of such uncommon grace andbeauty that we called her the Lady Blanche. Presently a neighbour soldPhoebe his favourite Muscovy drake, and these two splendid creatures by"natural selection" disdained to notice the rest of the flock, butforming a close friendship, wandered in the pleasant paths of duckdomtogether, swimming and eating quite apart from the others.
In the brown flock there was one unfortunate, misshapen from the egg,quite lame, and with no smoothness of plumage; but on that very account,apparently, or because she was too weak to resist them, the otherstreated her cruelly, biting her and pushing her away from the food.
One day it happened that the two ducks--Sir Muscovy and Lady Blanche--hadcome up from the water before the others, and having taken their repastwere sitting together under the shade of a flowering currant-bush, whenthey chanced to see poor Miss Crippletoes very badly used and crowdedaway from the dish. Sir Muscovy rose to his feet; a few rapid wordsseemed to pass between him and his mate, and then he fell upon the otherdrake and the heartless minions who had persecuted the helpless one,drove them far away out of sight, and, returning, went to the cornerwhere the victim was cowering, her face to the wall. He seemed towhisper to her, or in some way to convey to her a sense of protection;for after a few moments she tremblingly went with him to the dish, andhurriedly ate her dinner while he stood by, repulsing the advances of thefew brown ducks who remained near and seemed inclined to attack her.
When she had eaten enough Lady Blanche joined them, and they went downthe hill together to their favourite swimming-place. After that MissCrippletoes always followed a little behind her protectors, and thusshielded and fed she grew stronger and well-feathered, though she wasalways smaller than she should have been and had a lowly manner, keepinga few steps in the rear of her superiors and sitting at some distancefrom their noon resting-place.
Phoebe noticed after a while that Lady Blanche was seldom to be seen, andSir Muscovy and Miss Crippletoes often came to their meals without her.The would-be mother refused to inhabit the house Phoebe had given her,and for a long time the place she had chosen for her sitting could not befound. At length the Square Baby discovered her in a most ideal spot. Alarge boulder had dropped years ago into the brook that fills our duck-pond; dropped and split in halves with the two smooth walls leaning awayfrom each other. A grassy bank towered behind, and on either side of theopening, tall bushes made a miniature forest where the romantic mothercould brood her treasures while her two guardians enjoyed the water closeby her retreat.
All this happened before my coming to Thornycroft Farm, but it was I whonamed the hero and heroines of the romance when Phoebe had told me allthe particulars. Yesterday morning I was sitting by my open window. Itwas warm, sunny, and still, but in the country sounds travel far, and Icould hear fowl conversation in various parts of the poultry-yard as wellas in all the outlying bits of territory occupied by our featheredfriends. Hens have only three words and a scream in their language, butducks, having more thoughts to express, converse quite fluently, sofluently, in fact, that it reminds me of dinner at the Hydropathic Hotel.I fancy I have learned to distinguish seven separate sounds, each variedby degrees of intensity, and with upward or downward inflections like theChinese tongue.
In the distance, then, I heard the faint voice of a duck calling as ifbreathless and excited. While I wondered what was happening, I saw MissCrippletoes struggling up the steep bank above the duck-pond. It was thequickest way from the water to the house, but difficult for the littlelame webbed feet. When she reached the level grass sward she sank down amoment, exhausted; but when she could speak again she cried out, a sharpstaccato call, and ran forward.
Instantly she was answered from a distant knoll, where for some reasonSir Muscovy loved to retire for meditation. The cries grew lower andsofter as the birds approached each other, and they met at the cornerjust under my window. Instantly they put their two bills together andthe loud cries changed to confiding murmurs. Evidently some hurriedquestions and answers passed between them, and then Sir Muscovy waddledrapidly by the quickest path, Miss Crippletoes following him at a slowerpace, and both passed out of sight, using their wings to help their feetdown the steep declivity. The next morning, when I wakened early, myfirst thought was to look out, and there on the sunny greensward wherethey were accustomed to be fed, Sir Muscovy, Lady Blanche, and theirhumble maid, Malardina Crippletoes, were scattering their own breakfastbefore the bills of twelve beautiful golden balls of ducklings. Thelittle creatures could never have climbed the bank, but must have startedfrom their nest at dawn, coming round by the brook to the level at thefoot of the garden, and so by slow degrees up to the house.
Judging from what I heard and knew of their habits, I am sure theexcitement of the previous morning was occasioned by the hatching of theeggs, and that Lady Blanche had hastily sent her friend to call SirMuscovy, the family remaining together until they could bring the babieswith them and display their beauty to Phoebe and me.