Just So Stories Read online

  ‘Taffy, dear, I’ve a notion that your Daddy’s

  daughter has hit upon the finest thing that there

  ever was since the Tribe of Tegumai took to using

  shark’s teeth instead of flints for their spear-heads.

  I believe we’ve found out the big secret of the world.’

  RUDYARD KIPLING

  Just So Stories

  INTRODUCED BY

  JONATHAN STROUD

  Illustrations by RUDYARD KIPLING

  PUFFIN

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  puffinbooks.com

  First published 1902

  Published in Puffin Books 1987

  Reissued in this edition 2008

  3

  Introduction copyright © Jonathan Stroud, 2008

  Endnotes copyright © Penguin Books, 2008

  All rights reserved

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way

  of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior

  consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar

  condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  978-0-14-191801-3

  INTRODUCTION BY

  JONATHAN STROUD

  Here’s how I came to love the Just So Stories. Most nights when I was small, my mother read to me at bedtime. My father did so rarely, and when he did it was a notable event. I would be as quiet as I could (I was a wriggly child), while he brought out a book that had been his favourite as a boy. This was the Just So Stories, and it soon became a shared delight between us. I lay silent in the half-dark, listening to my dad’s voice as he carried me to far-off places and far-off times, back near the beginning of the world.

  The tales explain how things began. They are comical accounts, and my father told them all with gusto. So I would close my eyes and grin as he related how the Leopard got his spots and the Camel got his hump; I would chuckle (a little uncomfortably) at the scritchy, itchy tale of how the Rhinoceros got his skin. And best of all – by far the best – I would squirm with delight at the wicked escapades of the Elephant’s Child, one of the funniest stories ever written.

  Each tale is full of marvels, but the real magic in them is their language, which explodes like fireworks in your ears. It thrums with a uniquely twirly dancing rhythm that sweeps you up like a magic carpet; it is crammed with sensuous lists of remote, exotic places that conjure the wonders of the wide, wide world. And it is packed with beautiful phrases. Where else can you visit ‘the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees’, or meet the Cat that Walked by Himself, ‘waving his wild tail and walking by his wild lone’? It is like listening to the chanting of a spell.

  The power of this spell is strongest when spoken aloud. The Just So Stories are intimate and playful, made for sharing. They began as stories told to Kipling’s daughter, Josephine, and the fun he had is evident in the way he messes about with words, altering them, compressing them, making up new ones. He fills the pictures (which he drew) with hidden codes and pictograms (the image of Noah’s ark occurs often, placed within an ‘A’: this is ‘ark-A, or ‘RK’ – Kipling’s initials) and adds long captions stuffed with extra jokes.

  There is a hidden sadness in the book as well. Josephine died when she was only six, and Kipling recalls her in the Taffy stories and poems, about a cave-girl and her father who work together to invent writing. Of course, Kipling cannot truly recover his daughter – there is a limit to the potency of words – but he can fix their love so that it is remembered always. Shared things have that power.

  Contents

  How the Whale got his Throat

  How the Camel got his Hump

  How the Rhinoceros got his Skin

  How the Leopard got his Spots

  The Elephant’s Child

  The Sing-Song of Old Man Kangaroo

  The Beginning of the Armadillos

  How the First Letter was Written

  How the Alphabet was Made

  The Crab that Played with the Sea

  The Cat that Walked by Himself

  The Butterfly that Stamped

  How the Whale got his Throat

  IN the sea, once upon a time, O my Best Beloved, there was a Whale, and he ate fishes. He ate the starfish and the garfish, and the crab and the dab, and the plaice and the dace, and the skate and his mate, and the mackereel and the pickereel, and the really truly twirly-whirly eel. All the fishes he could find in all the sea he ate with his mouth – so! Till at last there was only one small fish left in all the sea, and he was a small ‘Stute Fish, and he swam a little behind the Whale’s right ear, so as to be out of harm’s way. Then the Whale stood up on his tail and said, Tm hungry.’ And the small ‘Stute Fish said in a small ‘stute voice, ‘Noble and generous Cetacean, have you ever tasted Man?’

  ‘No,’ said the Whale. ‘What is it like?’

  ‘Nice,’ said the small ‘Stute Fish. ‘Nice but nubbly.’

  ‘Then fetch me some,’ said the Whale, and he made the sea froth up with his tail.

  This is the picture of the Whale swallowing the Mariner with his infinite-resource-and-sagacity, and the raft and the jack-knife and his suspenders, which you must not forget. The buttony-things are the Mariner’s suspenders, and you can see the knife close by them. He is sitting on the raft, but it has tilted up sideways, so you don’t see much of it. The whity thing by the Mariner’s left hand is a piece of wood that he was trying to row the raft with when the Whale came along. The piece of wood is called the jaws-of-a-gaff. The Mariner left it outside when he went in. The Whale’s name was Smiler, and the Mariner was called Mr Henry Albert Bivvens, A.B. The little ’Stute Fish is hiding under the Whale’s tummy, or else I would have drawn him. The reason that the sea looks so ooshy-skooshy is because the Whale is sucking it all into his mouth so as to suck in Mr Henry Albert Bivvens and the raft and the jack-knife and the suspenders. You must never forget the suspenders.

  ‘One at a time is enough,’ said the ‘Stute Fish. ‘If you swim to latitude Fifty North, longitude Forty West (that is Magic), you will find, sitting on a raft, in the middle of the sea, with nothing on but a pair of blue canvas breeches, a pair of suspenders (you must not forget the suspenders, Best Beloved), and a jack-knife, one shipwrecked Mariner, who, it is only fair to tell you, is a man of infinite-resource – and-sagacity’.

  So the Whale swam and swam to latitude Fifty North, longitude Forty West, as fast as he could swim, and on a raft, in the middle of the sea, with nothing to wear except a pair of blue canvas breeches,
a pair of suspenders (you must particularly remember the suspenders, Best Beloved), and a jack-knife, he found one single, solitary shipwrecked Mariner, trailing his toes in the water. (He had his Mummy’s leave to paddle, or else he would never have done it, because he was a man of infinite-resource-and-sagacity)

  Then the Whale opened his mouth back and back and back till it nearly touched his tail, and he swallowed the shipwrecked Mariner, and the raft he was sitting on, and his blue canvas breeches, and the suspenders (which you must not forget), and the jack-knife. He swallowed them all down into his warm, dark, inside cupboards, and then he smacked his lips – so, and turned round three times on his tail.

  But as soon as the Mariner, who was a man of infinite-resource-and-sagacity, found himself truly inside the Whale’s warm, dark, inside cupboards, he stumped and he jumped and he thumped and he bumped, and he pranced and he danced, and he banged and he clanged, and he hit and he bit, and he leaped and he creeped, and he prowled and he howled, and he hopped and he dropped, and he cried and he sighed, and he crawled and he bawled, and he stepped and he lepped, and he danced hornpipes where he shouldn’t, and the Whale felt most unhappy indeed. (Have you forgotten the suspenders?)

  So he said to the ‘Stute Fish, ‘This man is very nubbly, and besides he is making me hiccup. What shall I do?’

  ‘Tell him to come out,’ said the ‘Stute Fish.

  So the Whale called down his own throat to the shipwrecked Mariner, ‘Come out and behave yourself. I’ve got the hiccups.’

  ‘Nay, nay!’ said the Mariner. ‘Not so, but far otherwise. Take me to my natal-shore and the white-cliffs-of-Albion, and I’ll think about it.’ And he began to dance more than ever.

  ‘You had better take him home,’ said the ‘Stute Fish to the Whale. ‘I ought to have warned you that he is a man of infinite-resource-and-sagacity’.

  So the Whale swam and swam and swam, with both flippers and his tail, as hard as he could for the hiccups; and at last he saw the Mariner’s natal-shore and the white-cliffs-of-Albion, and he rushed half-way up the beach, and opened his mouth wide and wide and wide, and said, ‘Change here for Winchester, Ashuelot, Nashua, Keene, and stations on the Fitchbmg Road’; and just as he said ‘Fitch’ the Mariner walked out of his mouth. But while the Whale had been swimming, the Mariner, who was indeed a person of infmite-resource-and-sagacity, had taken his jack-knife and cut up the raft into a little square grating all running criss-cross, and he had tied it firm with his suspenders (now you know why you were not to forget the suspenders!), and he dragged that grating good and tight into the Whale’s throat, and there it stuck! Then he recited the following Sloka, which, as you have not heard it, I will now proceed to relate –

  ‘By means of a grating

  I have stopped your ating.’

  For the Mariner he was also an Hi-ber-ni-an. And he stepped out on the shingle, and went home to his Mother, who had given him leave to trail his toes in the water; and he married and lived happily ever afterward. So did the Whale. But from that day on, the grating in his throat, which he could neither cough up nor swallow down, prevented him eating anything except very, very small fish; and that is the reason why whales nowadays never eat men or boys or little girls.

  The small ‘Stute Fish went and hid himself in the mud under the Door-sills of the Equator. He was afraid that the Whale might be angry with him.

  The Sailor took the jack-knife home. He was wearing the blue canvas breeches when he walked out on the shingle. The suspenders were left behind, you see, to tie the grating with; and that is the end of that tale.

  Here is the Whale looking for the little ‘Stute Fish, who is hiding under the Door-sills of the Equator. The little ‘Stute Fish’s name was Tingle. He is hiding among the roots of the big seaweed that grows in front of the Doors of the Equator. I have drawn the Doors of the Equator. They are shut. They are always kept shut, because a door ought always to be kept shut. The ropy-thing right across is the Equator itself; and the things that look like rocks are the two giants Moar and Koar, that keep the Equator in order. They drew the shadow-pictures on the Doors of the Equator, and they carved all those twisty fishes under the Doors. The beaky-fish are called beaked Dolphins, and the other fish with the queer heads are called Hammerheaded Sharks. The Whale never found the little ‘Stute Fish till he got over his temper, and then they became good friends again.

  When the cabin port-holes are dark and green

  Because of the seas outside;

  When the ship goes wop (with a wiggle between)

  And the steward falls into the souptureen,

  And the trunks begin to slide;

  When Nursey lies on the floor in a heap,

  And Mummy tells you to let her sleep,

  And you aren’t waked or washed or dressed,

  Why, then you will know (if you haven’t guessed)

  You’re ‘Fifty North and Forty West!’

  How the Camel got his Hump

  Now this is the next tale, and it tells how the Camel got his big hump.

  In the beginning of years, when the world was so new-and-all, and the Animals were just beginning to work for Man, there was a Camel, and he lived in the middle of a Howling Desert because he did not want to work; and besides, he was a Howler himself. So he ate sticks and thorns and tamarisks and milkweed and prickles, most ‘scruciating idle; and when anybody spoke to him he said ‘Humph!’ Just ‘Humph!’ and no more.

  Presently the Horse came to him on Monday morning, with a saddle on his back and a bit in his mouth, and said, ‘Camel, O Camel, come out and trot like the rest of us.’

  This is the picture of the Djinn making the beginnings of the Magic that brought the Humph to the Camel. First he drew a line in the air with his finger, and it became solid; and then he made a cloud, and then he made an egg – you can see them at the bottom of the picture – and then there was a magic pumpkin that turned into a big white flame. Then the Djinn took his magic fan and fanned that flame till the flame turned into a Magic by itself. It was a good Magic and a very kind Magic really, though it had to give the Camel a Humph because the Camel was lazy. The Djinn in charge of All Deserts was one of the nicest of the Djinns, so he would never do anything really unkind.

  ‘Humph!’ said the Camel; and the Horse went away and told the Man.

  Presently the Dog came to him, with a stick in his mouth, and said, ‘Camel, O Camel, come and fetch and carry like the rest of us.’

  ‘Humph!’ said the Camel; and the Dog went away and told the Man.

  Presently the Ox came to him, with the yoke on his neck, and said, ‘Camel, O Camel, come and plough like the rest of us.’

  ‘Humph!’ said the Camel; and the Ox went away and told the Man.

  At the end of the day the Man called the Horse and the Dog and the Ox together, and said, ‘Three, O Three, I’m very sorry for you (with the world so new-and-all); but that Humph-thing in the Desert can’t work, or he would have been here by now, so I am going to leave him alone, and you must work double-time to make up for it.’

  That made the Three very angry (with the world so new-and-all), and they held a palaver, and an indaba, and a punchayet, and a pow-wow on the edge of the Desert; and the Camel came chewing milkweed most ‘scruciating idle, and laughed at them. Then he said ‘Humph!’ and went away again.

  Presently there came along the Djinn in charge of All Deserts, rolling in a cloud of dust (Djinns always travel that way because it is Magic), and he stopped to palaver and pow-wow with the Three.

  ‘Djinn of All Deserts,’ said the Horse, ‘is it right for any one to be idle, with the world so new-and-all?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ said the Djinn.

  ‘Well,’ said the Horse, ‘there’s a thing in the middle of your Howling Desert (and he’s a Howler himself) with a long neck and long legs, and he hasn’t done a stroke of work since Monday morning. He won’t trot.’

  ‘Whew!’ said the Djinn, whistling, ‘that’s my Camel, for all the gold
in Arabia! What does he say about it?’

  ‘He says "Humph!"’ said the Dog; ‘and he won’t fetch and carry.’

  ‘Does he say anything else?’

  ‘Only "Humph!"; and he won’t plough,’ said the Ox.

  ‘Very good,’ said the Djinn. ‘I’ll humph him if you will kindly wait a minute.’

  The Djinn rolled himself up in his dustcloak, and took a bearing across the desert, and found the Camel most ‘scruciatingly idle, looking at his own reflection in a pool of water.

  ‘My long and bubbling friend,’ said the Djinn, ‘what’s this I hear of your doing no work, with the world so new-and-all?’

  ‘Humph!’ said the Camel.

  The Djinn sat down, with his chin in his hand, and began to think a Great Magic, while the Camel looked at his own reflection in the pool of water.

  ‘You’ve given the Three extra work ever since Monday morning, all on account of your ‘scruciating idleness,’ said the Djinn; and he went on thinking Magics, with his chin in his hand.

  ‘Humph!’ said the Camel.

  ‘I shouldn’t say that again if I were you,’ said the Djinn; ‘you might say it once too often. Bubbles, I want you to work.’

  And the Camel said ‘Humph!’ again; but no sooner had he said it than he saw his back, that he was so proud of, puffing up and puffing up into a great big lolloping humph.

  ‘Do you see that?’ said the Djinn. ‘That’s your very own humph that you’ve brought upon your very own self by not working. Today is Thursday, and you’ve done no work since Monday, when the work began. Now you are going to work.’

  ‘How can I,’ said the Camel, ‘with this humph on my back?’