The Horrible Octopus 1 29 



the flesh. I stooped and felt a long whip-like tentacle 

 twisted round my right leg. I tore it off, a feeling of 

 nausea making me quite giddy. But no sooner had I 

 removed one snaky thing than another held me, and 

 another and another. It is true the water was shallow, 

 only reaching to my hips, but I began to feel as if I 

 must be dragged under, drowned, and devoured by 

 this horrible thing, whatever it was. 



Fortunately I retained some presence of mind, 

 and drawing my sheath-knife, I reached down cau- 

 tiously to where I felt the main body of the thing, and 

 avoiding my bare feet I stabbed steadily into the 

 central part of the beast, the body, as I supposed. 

 And I was quite successful, for presently I felt the clutch 

 of the tentacles round my legs relax, I saw the water 

 all distained with something which I then thought 

 was blood, but now know as sepia, and I smelt the 

 strong odour of stale musk, which all cuttle-fish have 

 if you meddle with them. Also I felt strangely sick 

 and ill. AH a-tremble, at which I felt much ashamed, 

 and more so when, on forcing myself to pick up the 

 body of the thing, I saw that it was quite insignificant 

 in size. Its body proper was not much larger than 

 my two fists, while its eight tentacles were about 

 twenty inches in length. But the whole creature 

 looked so diabolical, an appearance which its colour, 

 a light brown splashed with reddish spots, materially 

 helped. And I felt quite certain, too, that, had I been 

 laid hold of in water out of my depth by one of these 

 creatures, only a miracle could have saved me from 

 drowning. 



Fortunately it is not the practice of the Octopus 

 to swim about in mid-water, but only to crawl clammily 

 about the bottom, dragging itself along by its quivering 

 clutching arms, which stick to everything they touch 



