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34 - The Adventures of Pinocchio - Carlo Collodi · Classic Adventure Books Library

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  Chapter thirty four, Pinocchio is thrown into the sea, eaten by fishes,
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  and becomes a marionette once more. As he swims to land, he is
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  swallowed by the terrible shark. Down into the sea. Deeper and deeper sank
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  Pinocchio. And finally, after fifty minutes of waiting, the man on the
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  cliff said to himself, by this time, my poor little lame donkey must
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  be drowned up with him, and then I can get to work on my
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  beautiful drum. He pulled the rope which he had tied to Pinocchio's leg,
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  pulled and pulled and pulled, and at last he saw a peer on the
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  surface of the water. Can you guess what? Instead of a dead donkey,
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  he saw very much alive marionette, wriggling and squirming like an eel.
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  Seeing that wooden marionette, the poor man thought he was dreaming, and sat
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  there with his mouth wide open and his eyes popping out of his head.
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  Gathering his wits together, he said, and the donkey I threw into the
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  sea, I am that dog donkey, answered the marionette, laughing, you
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  I ah, you little cheat. Are you poking fun at me? Poking
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  fun at you, Not at all, dear master, I am talking seriously.
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  But then, how is it that you, who a few minutes ago
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  were a donkey, are now standing before me a wooden marionette. It may
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  be the effect of salt water. The sea is fond of playing these tricks.
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  Be careful, marionette, be careful. Don't laugh at me. Woe
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  will be to you if I lose my patience. Well, then, my
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  master, do you want to know my whole story? Untie my leg,
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  and I can tell it to you better. The old fellow, curious to
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  know the true story of the marionette's life, immediately untied the rope which held
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  his foot. Pinocchio, feeling free as a bird of the air, began
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  his tail. Know then that once upon a time I was a wooden marionette,
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  just as I am to day. One day I was about to become
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  a boy, a real boy. But on account of my laziness and my
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  hatred of books, and because I listened to bad companions, I ran away
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  from home. When beautiful morning I awoke to find myself changed into a donkey,
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  long ears, gray coat, even a tail. What a shameful day
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  for me? I hope you will never experience one like it. Dear master.
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  I was taken to the fair and sold to a circus owner who tried
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  to make me dance and jump through the rings. One night, during a
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  performance, I had a bad fall and became lame. Not knowing what to
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  do with a lame donkey, the circus owner sent me to the market place,
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  and you bought me. Indeed I did, and I paid four cents
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  for you. Now who will return my money to me? But why did
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  you buy me? You bought me to do me harm, to kill me,
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  to make a drumhead out of me. Indeed I did. And now
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  where shall I find another skin? Never mind, dear master, there are
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  so many donkeys in this world. Tell me, impudent little rogue, does
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  your story end here? One more word, answered the marionette, and I
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  am through. After buying me, you brought me here to kill me,
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  but feeling sorry for me, you tied a stone to my neck and threw
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  me to the bottom of the sea. That was very good and kind of
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  you to want me to suffer as little as possible. And I shall remember
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  you always, and now my fairy will take care of me, even if
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  you your fairy. Who is she? She is my mother, and like
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  all mothers who love their children, she never loses sight of me, even
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  though I do not deserve it. And to day, this good fairy of
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  mine, as soon as she saw me in danger of drowning, sent a
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  thousand fishes to the spot where I lay. They thought I was really a
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  dead donkey, and began to eat me. What great bites they took.
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  One ate my ears, another my nose, a third my neck and my
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  mane. Some went at my legs, and some at my back. And
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  among the others there was one tiny fish, so gentle and polite that he
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  did me the great favor of eating even my tail. From now on,
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  said the man, horrified. I swear I shall never go and taste fish.
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  How I should enjoy opening a mullet or a white fish, just to
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  find there the tail of a dead donkey. I think as you do,
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  answered the marionette, laughing. Still, you must know that when the fish
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  finished eating my donkey coat, which covered me from head to foot, they
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  naturally came to the bones, or rather, in my case, to the
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  wood, for as you know, I am made of very hard wood.
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  After the first few bites those greedy fish found out that the wood was not
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  good for their teeth, and afraid of indigestion, they turned and ran here
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  and there, without saying good bye or even as much as thank you to
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  me Here, dear master, you have my story. You know now why
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  you found a marionette and not a dead donkey when you pulled me out of
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  the water. I laugh at your story, cried the man angrily. I
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  know that I spent four cents to get you, and I want my money
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  back. Do you know what I can do. I'm going to take you
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  to the market once more and sell you as dry firewood. Very well,
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  sell me. I am satisfied, said Pinocchio. But as he spoke,
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  he gave a quick leap and dived into the sea, swimming away as fast
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  as he could. He cried out, laughing, good bye master. If
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  you ever need a skin for your drum, remember me. He swam on
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  and on. After a while, he turned around again and called, louder
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  than before, goodbye master. If you ever need a piece of good dry
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  firewood, remember me. In a few seconds, he had gone so far
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  he could hardly be seen. All that could be seen of him was a
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  very small black dot moving swiftly on the blue surface of the water, A
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  little black dot which now and then lifted a leg or an arm in the
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  air. One would have thought that Pinocchio had turned into a porpoise playing in
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  the sun. After swimming for a long time, Pinocchio saw a large rock
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  in the middle of the sea, a rock as white as marble. High
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  on the rock stood a little goat, bleating and calling and beckoning to the
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  marionette to come to her. There was something very strange about that little goat.
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  Her coat was not white or black or brown as that of any other
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  goat, but as a deep, brilliant color that reminded one of the hair
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  of the lovely maiden. Pinocchio's heart beat fast and then faster and faster.
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  He redoubled his efforts and swam as hard as he could toward the white rock.
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  He was almost half way over when suddenly a horrible sea monster stuck its
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  head out of the water, an enormous head with a huge mouth wide open,
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  showing three rows of gleaming teeth, the mere sight of which would have
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  filled you with fear. Do you know what it was? That sea monster
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  was no other than the enormous shark, which has often been mentioned in this
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  story, and which, on account of its cruelty, has been nicknamed the
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  Attila of the sea by both fish and fishermen. Poor Pinocchio, the sight
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  of that monster frightened him almost to death. He tried to swim away from
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  him, to change his path to escape, but that immense mouth kept coming
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  nearer and nearer. Hasten, Pinocchio, I beg you bleeded the little goat
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  on the high rock, and Pinocchio swam desperately with his arms, his body,
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  his legs, his feet. Quick, Pinocchio, The monster is coming
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  nearer. Pinocchio swam faster and faster, and harder and harder. Faster,
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  Pinocchio, the monster would get you there. He is there, he is
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  quick. Quicker, you were lost. Pinocchio went through the water like a
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  shot, swifter and swifter. He came close to the rock. The goat
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  leaned over and gave him one of her hoofs to help him out of the
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  water. Alas it was too late. The monster overtook him, and the
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  marionette found himself in between the rows of gleaming white teeth. Only for a
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  moment, however, for the shark took a deep breath, and as he
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  breathed, he drank in the marionette as easily as he would have sucked an
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  egg. Then he swallowed him so fast that Pinocchio, falling down into the
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  body of the fish, lay stunned for half an hour. When he recovered
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  his senses, the marionette could not remember where he was. Around him,
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  all was darkness, a darkness so deep and so black that for a moment
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  he thought he had put his head into an inkwall. He listened for a
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  few moments and heard nothing. Once in a while, a cold wind blew
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  on his face. At first, he could not understand where that wind was
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  coming from, but after a while he understood that it came from the lungs
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  of the monster. I forgot to tell you that the shark was suffering from
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  asthma, so that whenever he breathed, a storm seemed to blow. Pinocchio
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  at first tried to be brave, but as soon as he became convinced that
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  he was really and truly in the shark's stomach, he burst into sobs and
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  tears. Help help, he cried, Oh, poor me, Will someone
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  come to save me? Who is there to help you, unhappy boy,
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  said a rough voice, like a guitar out of tune. Who is talking,
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  said Pinocchio, frozen with terror. It is I a poor tunny swallowed
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  by the shark at the same time as you. And what kind of a
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  fish are you? I have nothing to do with fishes. I am a
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  marionette. If you are not a fish, why did you let this monster
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  swallow you? I didn't let him. He chased me and swallowed me without
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  even a by your leave? And now what are we to do here in
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  the dark? Wait until the shark has digested us both, I suppose.
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  But I don't want to be digested, shouted Pinocchio, starting to sob.
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  Neither do, I, said the tunny. But I am wise enough to
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  think that if one is born a fish, it is more dignified to die
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  under the water than in the frying pan. What nonsense, cried Pinocchio.
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  Mine is an opinion, replied the tunny, and opinion should be respected.
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  But I want to get out of this place. I want to escape.
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  Go if you can. Is this shark that has swallowed us very long?
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  Asked the marionette, his body not counting the tail, is almost a mile
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  long. While talking in the darkness, Pinocchio thought he saw a faint light
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  in the distance. What can that be, he said to the Tunny,
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  some other fish waiting as patiently as we to be digested by the shark.
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  I want to see him. He may be an old fish and may know
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  some way of escape. I wish you all good luck, dear Marionette,
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  goodbye honey, goodbye Marionette, and good luck. When shall I see you
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  again? Who knows? It is better not to think about it? End
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  of Chapter thirty four.