“LOOK at what? ” said Edmund.
“Look at the device on the gold, ” said Caspian.
“A little hammer with a diamond above it like a star, ” said Drinian.“Why, I've seen that before.”
“Seen it! ” said Caspian. “Why, of course you have. It is the sign of a great Narnian house. This is the Lord Octesian's arm-ring.”
“Villain, ” said Reepicheep to the dragon, “have you devoured a Narnian lord? ” But the dragon shook his head violently.
“Or perhaps, ” said Lucy, “this is the Lord Octesian, turned into a dragon—under an enchantment, you know.”
“It needn't be either, ” said Edmund. “All dragons collect gold. But I think it's a safe guess that Octesian got no further than this island.”
“Are you the Lord Octesian? ” said Lucy to the dragon, and then, when it sadly shook its head, “Are you someone enchanted—someone human, I mean? ”
It nodded violently.
And then someone said—people disputed afterward whether Lucy or Edmund said it first—“You're not—not Eustace by any chance? ”
And Eustace nodded his terrible dragon head and thumped his tail in the sea and everyone skipped back (some of the sailors with ejaculations I will not put down in writing) to avoid the enormous and boiling tears which flowed from his eyes.
Lucy tried hard to console him and even screwed up her courage to kiss the scaly face, and nearly everyone said “Hard luck” and several assured Eustace that they would all stand by him and many said there was sure to be some way of disenchanting him and they'd have him as right as rain in a day or two. And of course they were all very anxious to hear his story, but he couldn't speak. More than once in the days that followed he attempted to write it for them on the sand. But, this never succeeded. In the first place Eustace (never having read the right books) had no idea how to tell a story straight. And for another thing, the muscles and nerves of the dragon-claws that he had to use had never learned to write and were not built for writing anyway. As a result he never got nearly to the end before the tide came in and washed away all the writing except the bits he had already trodden on or accidentaly swished out with his tail. And all that anyone had seen would be something like this—the dots are for the bits he had smudged out—