“I’ve got your voice box,” Don told him. “Want me to fasten it on for you?”
Sir Isaac politely refused. Don handed the instrument to the fidgeting tendrils and the dragon arranged it to suit him. He then ran over the keys as a check, producing sounds like frightened ducks. Satisfied, he began to speak in English: “I am enriched by the debt you have placed upon me.”
“It was nothing,” Don answered. “I ran into the mate a couple of decks forward and be asked me to fetch it along.”
“I do not refer to this artificial voice, but to your ready help when I was in distress and peril. Without your quick wit, your willingness to share mud with an untested stranger, and in passing your knowledge of the true speech, I might have lost my chance to attain the happy death.”
“Shucks,” Don answered, feeling somewhat pink, “it was a pleasure.” He noticed that the dragon’s speech was slow and somewhat slurred, as if his tentacles lacked their customary dexterity. Besides that, Sir Isaac’s talk was more pedantic than ever and much more Cockney-flavored—the voder was mixing aspirates with abandon and turning the theta sound into “f”; Don felt sure that the Earthman who had taught him to speak must have been born in earshot of Bow Bells.
He noticed as well that his friend could not seem to make up his mind which eye he wanted to use on him. He kept waggling one after another at Don, as if seeking one which would let him focus better. Don wondered if Sir Isaac had overestimated the proper size of a medicinal dose.
“Permit me,” the Venerian went on, still with ponderous dignity, “to judge the worth of the service you have done me.” He changed the subject. “This word ‘shucks’—I do not recognize the use you made of it. Husks of plants?”
Don struggled to explain how little and how much “shucks” could mean. The dragon thought it over and tapped out an answer. “I believe that I gain a portion of understanding. The semantic content of this word is emotional and variable, rather than orderly and descriptive. Its referent is the state of one’s spirits?”
“That’s it,” Don said happily. “It means just what you want it to mean. It’s the way you say it.”
“Shucks,” the dragon said experimentally. “Shucks. I seem to be getting the feel of it. A delightful word. Shucks.” He went on, “The delicate nuances of speech must be learned from the living users thereof. Perhaps I may return the favor by helping you in some small wise with your already great mastery of the speech of my people? Shucks.”
This confirmed Don’s suspicion that his own whistling had become so villainous that it might do for popcorn vending but not for regular communication. “I certainly would appreciate a chance to brush up,” he answered. “I haven’t had a chance to speak ‘true speech’ for years—not since I was a kid. I was taught by a historian who was working with my father on the (whistled) ruins. Perhaps you know him? His name was ‘Professor Charles Darwin.’ ” Don added the whistled or true version of the Venerian scholar’s name.
“You ask me if I know (whistled)? He is my brother; his grandmother, nine times removed, and my grandmother, seven times removed, were the same egg. Shucks!” He added, “A learned person, for one so young.”
Don was a bit taken aback to hear “Professor Darwin’ described as “young”; as a child he had classed him and the ruins as being about the same age. He now had to remind himself that Sir Isaac might see it differently. “Say… that’s nice!” he answered. “I wonder if you knew my parents? Dr. Jonas Harvey and Dr. Cynthia Harvey?”
The dragon turned all eyes on him. “You are their egg? I have not had the honor of meeting them but all civilized persons know of them and their work. I am no longer surprised at your own excellence. Shucks!”
Don felt both embarrassment and pleasure. Not knowing what to say he suggested that Sir Isaac coach him for a while in “true speech,” a suggestion to which the dragon readily assented. They were still so engaged when the warning signal sounded and a voice from the control room sang, out, “Strap down for acceleration! Prepare to match trajectories!”