Alexander Belyaev - The Amphibian

He wanted to show his new home to somebody. Anybody. Suddenly he remembered Leading. Good old Leading!

Ichthyander took up his winding shell, surfaced and blew through it. Soon he could hear the familiar snorting.

When the dolphin had joined him, Ichthyander embraced his friend.

“Come with me, Leading,” he said, “I’ll show you my new home. And you’ve never before seen a table or a Chinese vase.” Then, ordering the dolphin to follow him, he dived down.

But the dolphin turned out to be a troublesome guest. Big and awkward, it raised such a commotion in the cave that the vases tottered and all but fell down. Then it managed to brush a leg of the table with its nose, overturning the table and sending the vases to the floor. On land that would have been the end of them, here nothing had happened, save for the frightened crab, which scurried

out sidewise with an amazing speed.

“How awkward you are,” Ichthyander said as he pushed the table to the back of the cave and picked up the vases.

Then he went to the dolphin’s side and put both his arms round him.

“Stay with me here, Leading,” he said.

But soon the dolphin began shaking its head and showing other signs of unrest. It could not stay underwater for long spells. It needed air. So with one powerful thrust of its fins the dolphin swam outside and up to the surface.

Even Leading can’t live with me underwater, Ichthyander thought sadly, alone again. Only fish, but they are shy and silly.

And he sank back on his stone couch. The sun had set; it was dark in the cave. The water in it rose and fell a little with a soothing effect.

Soon, tired with the day’s excitement and work, Ichthyander was lulled to sleep.

Olsen was on board a big launch, looking over the rail into the water. The sun had just risen but it was already high enough for its slanting rays to pierce like blue-tinted search-lights to the very bottom of the shallow cove. A few Indians were crawling over the white-sand sea-floor. Every now and then they came up for a good breath of air and then plunged back. Olsen kept an eye on them. It was hot, in spite of the early hour. By and by he felt he could do with a dip or two, undressed quickly and dived overboard. Olsen had never done any pearl-diving before but he soon found that he could stay underwater longer than the professionals. So he joined the divers, thrilled to be doing something that was quite new to him.

Back at the bottom for a third time Olsen saw two Indians, working side by side, suddenly jump up and swim desperately to the surface as if a pack of sharks or sawfish were after them. Olsen fronted round. Swiftly coming to him with strong frog-wise thrusts was a queer silver-scaled creature, half-man, half-frog, with enormous bulging eyes and webbed paws.

Before Olsen had time to rise from his knees the monster was near him and holding him by his arms with its frog-like paw. Scared as he was Olsen realized that the creature had a human face, whose good looks were only marred by a pair of bulging glittering eyes. The queer creature, apparently forgetting all about being underwater, began speaking to him. Olsen could not hear a word. He only saw lips moving in speech. With its two front paws the creature had a tight grip on Olsen’s arm. Olsen pushed against the bottom and went up, using his free arm. The monster trailed behind, not letting go of his other arm. On surfacing Olsen dung to the gunwale with his free hand, hooked it with his leg, clambered into the boat and, with one strong push, sent the half-man, half-frog, splashing into the water. The Indians in the boat had jumped into the water and were swimming shorewards for all they were worth.

Ichthyander swam back to the boat.

“Listen, Olsen,” he said in Spanish, “I must speak to you about Gutierrez.”

Fantastic as it all seemed at the moment Olsen had enough good judgement to realize that it was a human being and not a monster he was dealing with.

“Well, I’m listening,” he said.

Ichthyander scrambled into the boat, sat down cross-legged in the bows and crossed his paws on his chest.

Why, it’s goggles he’s got on, Olsen thought, after a good look at the stranger’s face.

“My name’s Ichthyander. I got a necklace for you from the sea-bottom once.”

“But then you had a man’s eyes and hands.”

Ichthyander smiled and shook his frog-like paws.

“Gloves,” he said briefly.

“That’s what I thought.”

From the shelter of some rocks on the shore the curious Indians watched them speak, though no words carried across to them.

“Do you love Gutierrez?” Ichthyander asked after a short pause.

“Yes,” Olsen said simply.

Ichthyander heaved a deep sigh.

“Does she love you?”

“She loves me too.”

“But doesn’t she love me?”

“That’s her business,” Olsen shrugged his shoulders.

“How do you mean? Why, she’s your bride.”

Though Olsen looked surprised he still retained his calm.

“No, she’s not.”

“You’re lying! “ Ichthyander flared up. “I myself heard a swarthy man on horseback call her a bride.”

“My bride?”

Ichthyander was confused. No, the swarthy man had not said that Gutierrez was Olsen’s bride. But surely a young girl like Gutierrez could not be the bride of that dark-faced ugly old man? Surely that could not be so? The swarthy man must be her relative. Ichthyander decided to try another tack.

“What were you doing here? Pearl-diving?”

“I must confess I don’t like your questions,” Olsen said morosely. “Had I not known a little about you from Gutierrez I should’ve pushed you off the boat and that’s that. And keep your hand from your knife. I can smash your head with an oar before you so much as raise your hand. But I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you that I was indeed looking for a pearl.”

“The big pearl that I threw into the sea? Gutierrez told you about it?”

Olsen nodded.

Ichthyander exulted.

“There you are. Why, I told her you wouldn’t refuse it. I said she should take it and give it to you. She refused point-blank and now you’re looking for it.”

“Yes, because now it belongs to the ocean, not you. If I find it I’ll owe it only to myself.”

“Do you love pearls that much?”

“I’m no woman to love trinkets,” retorted Olsen.

“But you can-what’s the word now-yes, sell it, get lots of money for it.”

Olsen nodded again.

“So you love money?”

“What are you trying to get at?” Olsen asked, somewhat annoyed.

“I must know what Gutierrez made you a present of her pearls for. You were going to marry her, weren’t you?”

“No, I wasn’t,” said Olsen. “Even if I was it’s too late anyway. She is already married.”

The blood drained from Ichthyander’s face.

“Surely not to that swarthy one,” was all he could say.

“Yes. She has married Pedro Zurita.”

“But she… I thought she loved me,” Ichthyander said softly.

Olsen was looking at him sympathetically as he lighted up his short pipe.

“Yes, I think she loved you. But you jumped into the sea before her very eyes and drowned, or at least that was what she thought.”

Ichthyander looked up at Olsen in amazement. It was true he had never told Gutierrez he could live underwater. But it had never entered his head that she could take his leap for suicide.

“I saw her last night,” went on Olsen. “Your death has upset her terribly. She was to blame for it, she said.”

“But why did she have to marry another one so soon? She — 1 saved her life. Yes, I did! For a long time I thought she looked like the girl I had pulled out of the sea once. I brought her ashore and hid myself behind some rocks. Then that dark-skinned fellow came — I knew him at the first glance-and tried to convince her it was he who had saved her life.”