The Crab That Played With the Sea

Before the far-off times, my dear, came the Time of the Very Beginnings, when the Eldest Magician was getting things ready. First he got the Earth ready, then the Sea, and then he told all the animals to come out and play.

'Elephant,' said the Magician, 'play at being an Elephant.' And Elephant played.

'Beaver,' said the Magician, 'play at being a Beaver.' And Beaver played.

'Cow,' said the Magician, 'play at being a Cow.' And Cow played.

'Turtle,' said the Magician, 'play at being a Turtle.' And Turtle played.

One by one, he taught every beast and bird and fish their game.

But while everyone was watching the play, one animal — a great big Crab named Pau Amma — scuttled sideways down to the sea, and slipped into the deep water. He did not want to be told what to play. He wanted to play his own game, alone.

Nobody saw him go, except one small girl-daughter, who was sitting on her father's shoulder. And she said nothing at all.

Time went by. The world settled into its games. But the Man came to the Eldest Magician one day and said, 'The sea does a strange thing. Once a day and once a night it rushes up my river and floods my house. Then it rushes back down, and there is nothing but mud, and my canoe is upset. Is that the play you told it to play?'

'No,' said the Eldest Magician. 'That is a new and a very bad play. Come, let us find who is making it.'

So the Man and the Magician and the little girl-daughter climbed into a canoe, and the sea itself pulled them out far, far away, until they came to the very heart of the sea. And there, at the bottom, was a great cave with the roots of a wonderful tree growing all around it.

The Eldest Magician reached down deep into the water. And at the touch of his hand, the whole sea rose up like water in a basin — because deep down in that cave sat Pau Amma the Crab, and he was so big that when he moved, the whole ocean moved.

'Pau Amma,' called the Magician. 'What are you doing?'

'I go out to look for my food,' Pau Amma called back, 'and I come home again. Leave me alone!'

'But when you go out,' said the Magician, 'the sea drains away and the little fishes die. And when you come home, the sea rushes up and floods the Man's house. You cannot play that game any more.'

'I did not know I was so important,' said Pau Amma proudly, and he laughed a great crabby laugh. 'I shall go out seven times a day, then!'

Well. That would not do at all.

The Eldest Magician made a magic with his little finger. And POP — Pau Amma's great hard shell fell off him like a husk off a coconut. There he sat, soft and squashy, at the bottom of the sea, ashamed and afraid.

'Give me back my shell,' begged Pau Amma. 'And I promise to be good.'

'I will give it back,' said the Magician, 'but you shall be small enough to hide under any stone. And once a year, on the twelfth month, your shell shall grow soft again — to remind you that even a great big crab can be humbled.'

Pau Amma agreed. And ever since that day, crabs are small enough to hide under stones. They lose their shells once a year, and grow new ones. And they do not play with the sea.

The sea still goes out and comes in. But it does that now because of the Moon, not because of Pau Amma. And that is why the tide keeps its regular time.