CHAPTER V.
Preparations for my first voyage. The elder Baron selects the port from which I am to sail. Description of port No Man’s Port. How I escaped its quicksands, Whirlpool and Thor’s Hammer. Becalmed on the Southern Seas, I rescue my ship in a wonderful way. Land ho! Something about a beautiful Island. I leave my ship and start for the interior. How I fell in with some most extraordinary beings. Description of them. They leave me to go and request permission of their chief to present me at his court. How I thought myself attacked by a band of gigantic beings. My strange mistake. They prove to be the same beings I had met the day before. What had caused the transformation. The land of the Wind Eaters. I am conducted to the court of Ztwish-Ztwish. More about the curious people. The Chief’s affection for me. The bursting of the babies. Go-Whizz becomes my enemy. I grow thin. Queen Phew-yoo wants me to marry Princess Pouf-fâh. To regain my flesh I teach the Wind Eaters to catch fish. Terrible accident resulting from a fire I had kindled. Go-Whizz demands my death. Ztwish-Ztwish refuses. The furious brawler tries to slay the Chief and is himself slain, by Ztwish-Ztwish. To avoid the marriage with Pouf-fâh, I send Bulger back to the ship, and then escape in the night. Too weak to bear the fatigue, I am overtaken. Enmeshed in the nets of the Wind Eaters and nearly beaten to death. Bulger rescues me. The relief party from my ship come up with me. I reach the coast, and after a short rest, sail for home.
BULGER HELPS ME WITH MY PACKING.
BULGER HELPS ME WITH MY PACKING.
BULGER HELPS ME WITH MY PACKING.
I threw myself now heart and soul into the task of making ready for my first voyage.
Bulger was not slow to understand what all the hurry-skurry meant.
He was delighted at the prospect of a trip to distant lands where life had less monotony about it. By the hour he would sit and watch me at my labors and, from time to time, to please him, I pointed out articles lying here and there about the room and bade him fetch them, which he invariably did, with many manifestations of pleasure at being permitted to help his little master.
In fact, everybody lent a hand most kindly, so that, to my great satisfaction, I was left more time for the study of navigation.
My poor mother, the gracious baroness, would not permit anyone else to mark my clothing. With her own slender, white fingers she worked the crest and initials of my wardrobe.
There was a matter which I turned over in my thoughts for several days, to wit: What national garb I should adopt.
After long and mature deliberation I resolved to attire myself in Oriental dress. I did so for several reasons. It had been a favorite garb of mine.
Its picturesque grace appealed to my love of the beautiful, while on the other hand, its ease and lightness made it very agreeable to one of extreme suppleness of limb and elasticity of step. While the old manor house was being literally turned topsy-turvy and everybody, from cook to chambermaid, set by the ears, the elder baron was by no means idle. He took good care, among other things, that I was well provided with wholesome reading matter, and brought me several books of maxims, precepts, reflections, thoughts and studies, which he requested me to thrust into the empty corners of my chests, “for,” said he, and that, too, with a great show of reason, “thou wilt have many idle hours on thy hands in calm weather. It behooves thee to feed thy mind lest its wonderful development be checked and thou become as an ordinary child, with no thoughts above games and picture books.” My poor mother, the gracious baroness, added to this stock of good literature by presenting me with a small volume entitled: “The Straight Road to Good Health; or, Everybody His Own Doctor.” As to my medicine chest, I gave that my personal supervision, for I was always skilled in the art of reading all kinds of symptoms and was gifted with the rare faculty of knowing almost instinctively what remedy to give for a certain ailment, without first experimenting upon the patient by trying one thing after another, as is the custom with most people who pretend to heal sickness.
TRUE PORTRAITS OF BULGER AND ME; I AS I APPEARED IN MY ORIENTAL DRESS.
TRUE PORTRAITS OF BULGER AND ME; I AS I APPEARED IN MY ORIENTAL DRESS.
TRUE PORTRAITS OF BULGER AND ME; I AS I APPEARED IN MY ORIENTAL DRESS.
Everything was going well now, and I was in the best of spirits, when the elder baron came to me with a proposal which, for some reason, I can hardly tell why, displeased me, although it would seem that it ought to have had the opposite effect. He proposed to precede me, by a week or ten days, to the North Sea, in some port of which I intended to purchase and fit out a swift, staunch vessel, purchase the vessel himself, give his personal attention to fitting her out and shipping a crew of picked men.
What could I do?
If I refused his offer, it would have been tantamount to a confession of distrust on my part.
Can he have in mind any project to thwart my scheme?
O, perish the thought!
But I must confess that I did not accept his proffered services without serious misgivings.
This sudden anxiety on the part of the elder baron to hurry my departure, after having opposed it so long and so vigorously, made me a little uneasy in my mind.
Before setting out for the North Sea to purchase a ship for me, the elder baron entered my apartment, and spoke as follows:
“Pardon me, little baron, for interrupting thy labors, for I perceive that thou art deep in the study of navigation.”
“Speak, Baron,” said I, looking up, with a mischievous smile, “that right belongs to thee.”
“I have a last request to make,” he continued, in his usual calm manner, “nor is it a matter of very great importance. Rather is it a whim, more than aught else. Thou knowest from my lips, and from the perusal of our family chronicles, that we were in ancient time very large land owners on the coast of the North Sea. We controlled several ports, were extensively engaged in trade, sending out at least a score of ships in a twelvemonth. One of the ports of our domain was a famous one, famous for the extraordinary character of its inlet and outlet currents, channel, etc. It was said of this port that it was more dangerous than the open sea, that vessels were really safer out of it than in it. I know not how much of truth may be in all this, but I do know that oneman, an ancestor of ours, not only sailed into it, but safely out again, for thou must know that the channel by which a vessel gained admission to this port could not be used to leave it again, as the irresistible current always flowed the one way, namely, from the sea into this mysterious basin. To leave it, the bold mariner must trust his bark to another channel, and therein lurked the danger.
“It would gratify me greatly, little baron, if thou couldst prove to the world that, no matter how difficult, other captains once found, and now find it, to sail out of this port, yet to thee it offered no insurmountable obstacles, and therefore, am I come to ask thee to set sail from this port!”
“It is called?” I asked carelessly, as I turned to a chart of the North Sea.
“Port No Man’s Port,” replied the baron.
“I like its name,” said I. “Order my ship to await me there!”
The elder baron arose, and bending his body with stately grace, withdrew. I accompanied him to the door and dismissed him with most respectful obeisance.
“Port No Man’s Port,” I answered. “Ah, here is the chart!” The descriptive text reads as follows:
“Abandoned for many years; ingress easy; egress so dangerous as to mean fatal injury, if not destruction, to sailing craft; outer channel blocked by a fearful whirlpool and swinging rock called “Thor’s Hammer;” inner basin extremely dangerous from constantly shifting sands; closed by order of the Royal Ministry of Commerce and Marine.” Upon finishing the reading of these words I sprang up and began to pace the floor, wildly and half unconsciously.
The blood rushed in upon my brain. I was obliged to halt and cling to the back of a tall oak chair, or I should have staggered and fallen to the ground.
Bulger was greatly alarmed and sent up a suppressed howl of grief. I spoke to him as calmly as I could to comfort him.
After a few moments the vertigo passed off and my mind cleared up completely.
“Nay, it is impossible,” I whispered, “the elder baron could not be guilty of bad faith to me! Away with such a thought! He errs through thoughtlessness and lack of experience. He little knows the terribly dangerous character of the task he is setting me. To him, the talks of shipwreck and death within Port No Man’s Port are but the legends of old-time sailor-life. He has not the faintest suspicion that his request, so lightly made, exposes his only child, son and heir to a princely fortune and honored name, either to be engulfed by these shifting sands, sucked down to destruction by this fearful whirlpool, or crushed by a blow from Thor’s Hammer.
“And yet why murmur?
“It is too late to protest. Already the elder baron has proclaimed to the world the, to him proud piece of news, that his son was about to renew the old-time glories of his family! I must do one of two things: Face these dangers like a man of cool, calm courage, or condemn myself to a life of dull and listless activity, the magnate of a province and not the hero of two worlds!
“No! the die is cast!
“I have said it and it is as good as done!
“My ship sails from Port No Man’s Port, or this little body feeds its fish that day!”
Doubtless my eyes brightened, and my cheeks took on a glow of crimson hue, for Bulger, who had been listening to my soliloquy with a most pained expression on his face, as he vainly tried to get at the meaning of my words, now broke out into a very lively succession of barks, bounding and springing about the room in the wildest merriment. He knew only too well that some terrible struggle had been going on in my mind.
Now he realized that all was well. Faithful creature, if he could only tell his love, how he would put all human lovers to blush!
As the hour drew near for me to bid adieu to the baronial hall, that good lady, the gracious baroness, my mother, suddenly thought of a thousand and one things which she deemed of the very greatest importance to me. She warned me that Iwas not to sleep in a draught; not to partake of freshly-baked bread; not to drink cold water while overheated; not to cut my finger nails too short; not to sleep with my mouth open; not to wear my underclothing longer than one week; not to neglect to brush my teeth; not to fail to have my hair cut with the new moon; not to strain my eyes reading by a poor light not to swallow my food without thoroughly chewing it; not to laugh while I had food in my mouth; not to attempt to stop a sneeze; not to neglect to pare my corns; not to pick my teeth with a metal point; not to examine the end of my nose without a looking-glass; not to eat meat without pepper, or vegetables without salt; not to exert myself after a hearty meal; not to stand upon my leg while it was asleep; not to walk so fast as to get a pain in my side; not to go to sleep until I had first rested on my right side; not to fail to take a pill if I saw flashes in the dark; not to neglect to tie a stocking around my neck in case my throat felt sore, etc., etc., etc. When the moment came to take leave of the gracious baroness, my good mother, I was deeply moved. All the servants and retainers, from indoors and out, filed in front of me, kissed my hand and showered blessings on me.
I may safely say that the only being present not moved to tears was Bulger. He was so anxious to get under way that he passed an hour or so racing from the manor house to the carriage and back again in a piteous endeavor to get the procession started.
Start we did, at last.
A hundred hands waved us a fond farewell.
The stately trees that shut in the baronial hall swayed solemnly. I was glad when we rolled out of the court yard for I needed rest and quiet.
My nerves had been on such a stretch for the past month that a change of scene brought me balm and relaxation.
My journey to the North Sea was quiet and uneventful.
I found my ship safely anchored in Port No Man’s Port, and the elder baron there in charge of her. He introduced me to the sailing-master, pressed me in his own loving arms, andwith a gracious smile and stately wave of the hand, seated himself in the family coach. His only adieu was:
“My son, thy wisdom comes to thee by inheritance. Thou couldst not have acquired it. Therefore, make a noble use of so noble a gift. Farewell!”
I bent my head in silence. The carriage rolled away. I stood alone. Nay, a true and loving friend was there. He looked up with his large, lustrous eyes, as if to say:
“Don’t be sad, little master. No matter who goes, I’ll stay by thee forever!”
Turning to my sailing-master, I ordered the ship’s launch to be manned, and began at once a survey of the mysterious port in which my ship lay anchored.
I found it to be a roomy basin, shut in by a rock-bound shore. In places the waters slept beneath black and glassy surfaces; in others, all was movement and commotion. Its waves came boiling and bubbling against the launch with swirling masses of white sand, shifting hither and thither, as if condemned to perpetual unrest.
The fact that my men, while fishing in different parts of the bay, often caught deep-sea fish, proved to me that Port No Man’s Port was traversed by a channel from four to six fathoms in depth.
The only difficulty would be to fix the boundaries of this constantly shifting path long enough to sail across the basin.
I next turned my attention to the whirlpool. It marked the junction of the outer channel with the basin of Port No Man’s Port.
Having purchased a number of condemned hulks for the purpose of testing the strength and fury of the whirlpool, I caused a strong hawser to be rigged to a capstan on shore, and was in this way enabled to let the launch approach within a ship’s length of the whirlpool with perfect safety. In truth, it was, when roused to the full measure of its fury by the intrusion of any large floating body, a sight to strike terror to the stoutest heart!
With a deep booming and rumble, its waters rose in tumultuouscommotion, boiling, bubbling, seething, till snow-white foam covered the pool like a mantle of bleached linen, then lifting the intruder, which in this case was one of the hulks that I had ordered to be launched upon them, these angered waters whirled it completely around. In an instant, as if exhausted by this tremendous effort, a mysterious calm sank upon the pool. The foam-sheet, broken in shreds, danced gently on the rippling bosom of the waters. All was peace, save that the hulk still lay trembling like an affrighted being in the lap of this resting monster!
For, look! It is aroused again. Faster and faster it whirls its prey. Deeper and deeper its now wide-opened jaws draw down the ill-fated hulk!
A terrible roar tells that the end is near!
’Tis gone!
Ay, but wait! It will give up its prey again!
Even now bits of plank float seaward, dancing on the rushing waters.
Soon the crumpled, broken, crushed remnants of that strong hulk will follow.
This watery monster doth not feed upon what he swallows! He destroys for the mere love of destruction. Night had come now. I returned to my ship. The shifting sands and the whirlpool had uncovered their horrors. But I feared them no more! Like the horse-tamer when he has at last succeeded in thrusting the steel bit between the champing and gnashing teeth of the wild young steed, I now felt that they were conquered.
“And now for Thor’s Hammer!” was my cry, as I sat down beside Bulger for a brief moment’s reflection.
The first streak of gray light in the east found me on deck.
“Thor’s Hammer” was a huge shaft of black, flinty rock, projecting about twenty feet out of the water and ending in a hammer-shaped head. It guarded the channel where it reached the sea, standing exactly in the middle, thus forcing a vessel to pass on one side or the other of it.
Beneath the waters, this dread sentinel must have endedin a gigantic ball, which, in the flight of time had worn a socket for itself in the bed rock of the channel; for it swung loose and free, moved by every powerful billow from side to side, threatening swift destruction to any passing craft.
To speak frankly, the sight of this terrible engine of destruction appalled me! How shall I escape the vigilance of this gigantic sentinel, who knows no sleep, no rest, whose blows fall with like fury on friend or foe? How shall I lull him to repose for a few brief moments?
Determined to study closely the strength, the rapidity, and the character of the blows struck by “Thor’s Hammer,” I caused several huge structures of plank and timber to be erected near the position of this mighty sentinel of rock. One after the other I ordered them to be thrown into the channel.
At first, I was fairly paralyzed upon discovering that even the slight vortex caused by the drifting by of one of these wooden structures set the swinging rock in violent vibration and always towards the passing object.
Judging from the effect of Thor’s Hammer upon these floating masses of plank and timber, a single blow would suffice to crush the very life out of my ship in spite of her unusual staunchness.
I stood transfixed with dread forebodings. I could feel the beads of perspiration break from my forehead and trickle down my cheeks. Must I give up and return home, broken in spirits, humiliated, the butt of ridicule, the target of village wit, the subject of mirth and laughter in every peasant’s cottage?
Oh, no! It can not, it must not be!
Like a flash of lightning, a thought flamed across the dark horizon of my mind.
Am I not dreaming? Was it really so?
One of the wooden structures still remained. Controlling my emotion with great difficulty, I ordered it thrown into the channel and took up a favorable position to watch once again the wrath of the towering sentinel! In a few moments “Thor’s Hammer” felt the coming of the craft and bent itself in impotent rage beating the air with blows which fell faster andfaster! Ay, I was right! When once Thor’s Hammer had begun its labor of death and ruin, it turned not from its task, so long as there remained any object for it to spend its fury upon!
Nor was there any escape for the ill-fated craft until it had been pounded into flinders! Hanging over it, blow followed blow with fearful clash and clamor. Not until the poor remnant had drifted seaward, did that black and flinty shaft cease its furious swinging.
Turning to my sailing-master, who stood with his wondering eyes fixed full upon me, I called out in a calm and careless tone: “In three days, skipper, if the weather is clear, we leave Port No Man’s Port!”
A lump rose up in his throat, but he gulped it down, and cried out merrily:
“Ay, ay, sir.”
And what three busy days they were, too! My men were not long in catching something of the indomitable spirit of their new commander. I worked them hard, but I fed them well, served out grog with a liberal, but wise hand, and saw that all their wants were satisfied. In turn, their wonderment became admiration, and their admiration affection.
The first day all the hands that could be spared were set to work making fishing lines, with a good, stout hook at one end and a cork float at the other. The lines were cut about three fathoms in length, and the floats were painted a bright crimson. I then gave orders to rig three jury-masts, one midships, and one fore and aft.
My men set to work with a will, but I caught them several times in the act of tapping their foreheads and exchanging significant glances. But if this last order threw them into a brown study, my next had the effect of a bombshell exploding in their midst.
Sailing-master and all, they stood staring at me as if they were only waiting for me to annihilate them.
My order was to rig a steering gear under the figure-head. A coasting vessel, which I had sent for, now came sailingleisurely into Port No Man’s Port. I directed the skipper to pay her crew three months’ extra wages, and discharge them.
This done, my men were ordered to lash the coaster on our starboard side.
I verily believe that my whole plan, so carefully studied out, was at this point only saved from utter failure by the wisdom of my faithful Bulger.
The coaster had no sooner been lashed to our side than he sprang lightly over the railing, and began to amuse himself by gamboling up and down the clear deck. Suddenly he paused near one of the hatches and broke out into a most furious barking. I called to one of my officers to look sharp and see what the matter was. He reported in a few moments that one of the discharged seamen had been found concealed in the hold. When I threatened to put him in irons, he confessed that his design had been to cut the coaster loose as soon as our ship had drawn near to the whirlpool.
It was a narrow escape.
Dear, faithful Bulger, how much we owe thee for that discovery!
The third day dawned bright and fair.
The wind was most favorable, blowing strong off shore.
At the first glimmer of light, my men were astir and on the lookout for my appearance.
They greeted Bulger and me with three hearty cheers.
They had made up their minds that what I didn’t know, Bulger did! At last all was ready!
I nodded to the sailing-master, and in a moment or so the capstan began to revolve, and the merry “Yo, heave O!” of the men told me that the anchor had been started. Hundreds of the lines and floats, well-baited, were now cast overboard. Standing on the taffrail, glass in hand, I watched them closely and anxiously.
Imagine my joy at seeing several of these crimson floats disappear like a flash, rise again, and again vanish for an instant.
“The first point is gained,” I cried out. “I have found the channel!”
Passing word quickly to the sailing-master who was in charge of the steering gear, my good vessel moved slowly out of Port No Man’s Port, stern first. Again and again the baited lines with their crimson floats were thrown overboard. The deep water fish that swarmed the ever-shifting channel kept steadily at work. As our ship advanced, they tugged at the lines and thus kept the tortuous course plainly marked out. Glass in hand, I watched the successful working of this part of my plan, with tingling veins and a bounding heart. A loud huzza from my men tell me that we have cleared the shifting sands. Ay, true it is! We have crossed the basin of Port No Man’s Port! Its dreaded quicksands swirl and roll in vain. It was not fated that they should engulf the Little Baron’s ship!
But see! The channel narrows! The waters grow black, and troubled. And hark!
Didn’t you hear that dull roar? I spring down from the taffrail! I pass among my men and drop here and there a word of encouragement. My perfect calmness impresses them. No merry “ay, ay, Sir!” goes up, but I see a response in their faces. It is: “We trust you little captain, speak!” The dull roar grows louder and louder.
The rapids catch us up and bear us along like chips on the foaming tide of a mountain stream. Our staunch vessel rocks like a toy boat. The coaster lashed to one side creaks and groans in its wild efforts to break away.
Calling Bulger to me I pass the line around him and lash him firmly to the main-mast, for I was fearful lest a sudden lurch might hurl him overboard. On, on, we speed through the frightened waters. The roar is deafening. I glance at my seamen. Their bronzed faces are blanched. They cling to the shrouds and stays. Their eyes are riveted upon me.
Look! the fearful whirlpool is dead ahead of us. It opens its foam-flecked jaws like some terrible monster. We leap into its very mouth. Are we lost? How can it be otherwise? As if our staunch vessel were a nutshell, the swirling, raging, whirling, battling, boiling waiters catch her up in their encircling arms, lift her high above the sea level, turn her completelyaround and drop her with such terrific force that great walls of water rise on all sides and threaten to engulf the frail wooden thing. But most wondrous change; mark how she floats upon a glassy pool! The foam dances in the sunlight on the rippling waves. All is peace where but a moment before nature raged with demoniac fury. Quick as thought I leap into the mizzen shrouds: “Cut away the jury-masts!” They fall overboard with a crash. My men work with a mad earnestness. They know too well that every instant may be their last. Our mainsail already hoisted is sheeted home without a word or a cry. We are too near death to sing! See! See! The wind fills the great sail! We move. The waters seem to scent our escape. They are awaking to new fury. A deep rumble from the very bowels of the earth calls upon them to arouse from their lethargy.
They reach out for us.
Too late! too late!
We sweep out of their reach. We are saved! We are saved! A shout goes up from two score throats, from which Fear now takes her hand!
Look back! As if robbed of its prey, the whirlpool awakes with redoubled fury.
A hundred arm-like streams of water gush forth and pour around our good ship in vain effort to draw her back into that terrible vortex.
We are drenched with clouds of spray and mist, as we slowly but steadily keep on our course. Would that we were safe upon the swelling tide of the open sea, for there is still another danger to be met.
Our channel suddenly narrows. I could toss a biscuit to the rocky wall, which shuts us in on both sides.
Again a deep silence falls upon ship and crew, broken only by a strange sound of rushing waters, bursting out and dying away as regularly as the swing of a pendulum. ’Tis Thor’s Hammer, beating the frightened waters into foam, as it sways from side to side.
In spite of my effort to appear calm, I can feel my heart beat faster.
A cold chill benumbs my hands. A glance ahead startles me like a blow from an unseen hand. There, with the morning sun resting on its hammer-shaped crest, swings that dreaded shaft of flinty rock, threatening instant destruction to any ship bold enough to attempt to pass it.
In accordance with my orders, every sail on the coaster had been set, and her helm lashed, so as to pass to the right of Thor’s Hammer.
“Courage, men!” I cried. “Stand by, all! Cut away the lashings! Cast off the tender!”
Then waving my hand to the skipper, our mainsail came down with a run. Everything worked like a charm. Our ship slowed up, while the coaster shot ahead to her destruction. See, how gallantly the doomed craft speeds on her way; for the breeze had freshened, and several gay streamers and flags, which my men had run up to the topmast, fluttered in the crisp morning air.
There! Did you not hear that crash?
Thor’s Hammer has struck her!
Blow follows blow!
Crash! Crash! Crash!
Now is our time, or never!
I was not caught napping. The moment we were clear of the coaster, I had ordered sails enough to be set to hold our ship steady on her course.
Already we drew near to Thor’s Hammer, which is fast battering the coaster to a shapeless mass. The sea is filled with bits of plank and broken timber. Thor’s Hammer bends to its dread work of destruction, unmindful of our presence.
What could withstand its terrible fury?
Those sturdy timbers yield like twigs.
Another minute, and we have the monster and his victim in our wake!
Now, now, we’re passing him! Our sails tremble from the very force of his breath! Our deck is strewn with splinters! The roar and crash are deafening. Thor’s Hammer bends for one last blow at the ribs and keel of its broken and disjointed victim!
Hurrah! Hurrah!
Our good ship dips to the deep roll of the ocean’s breast! We are on the open sea! Port No Man’s Port, farewell!
As my men looked back at the rocky gateway and the grim sentinel of Port No Man’s Port, they tossed their caps into the air and sent up cheer after cheer.
Bulger bounded about the deck, doing his best by most vigorous barking, to testify his admiration for his little master.
The sailing-master drew near; and, touching his cap and scratching the deck with the toe of his shoe, cried out gayly:
“Bravo! little Baron. That was splendidly done! I was sure we should never get through the shifting sands. And when they were passed, I was ready to swear the whirlpool would make short work of us. But when we sailed safely out of that, I drew near the tail rail ready to jump overboard, for I felt that nothing could save us from a blow from Thor’s Hammer. I’ve grown wrinkled and gray facing the storms of Neptune’s domain, but I never felt I had a master until now.”
I nodded and smiled, and quickly turned the conversation to some other topic.
“By the way, skipper,” said I, “remember, the very moment we clear the English Channel, turn her head southward!”
“Ay! ay! little Baron!” was the reply. Calling Bulger to me I now went below. I wanted to be alone. The fact of the matter is, I needed rest. The terrible strain on my nerves caused by the hopes and fears of the past few days, began to tell upon me.
Throwing myself upon a canopy, I fell into a deep sleep from which I was awakened by Bulger’s whining and crying.
The sailing-master was anxiously feeling my pulse.
I had slept three days and three nights. All this time Bulger had absolutely refused to leave my side or partake of food, although the skipper had tempted him with the daintiest morsels.
His joys knew no bounds as I sprang up and shook myself into shape.
“Where are we, master?” I cried.
“On the broad Atlantic, headed dead south, little Baron!” was the answer.
“Good! send me a rasher of bacon and some hard-tack. The Atlantic breeze has given me an appetite and, skipper,” I added, “a little broiled fowl for Bulger.”
“And now, for the land of warmth and sunshine!” I murmured, “now for the home of the orange and the palm! Cold winds like me not, I am a child of the tropics, born in a land where nature works and man plays. No chill blast ever whistled its sad tune over my cradle! Let those who will, spend one-half their lives waiting for mother Earth to wake from her Winter sleep! Freeze the body and you freeze the brain. I am of those who love flowers better than snowflakes. Glorious South land! I greet thee, thy child comes again to thy arms, oh, take him up kindly and lovingly!”
Southward, ever southward my good ship sped along. By day I paced the deck to watch the dolphins at play or to observe Bulger’s amazement when a stray flying fish fell fluttering on deck; by night, with my eyes fixed upon the blazing Southern Cross, I longed for the time to come when I should set foot upon some beautiful strand decked out with coral branch and shells of pearl, in whose limpid waters golden fish nestle mid sea plants of not less brilliant hue.
It was now three weeks since the last murmur of Thor’s Hammer had fallen on our ears.
My chronometer marked high noon. Every sail was set and our good ship careened as gracefully as a swallow that bent in its flight to touch the cool waters of some glassy lake. All of a sudden the wind fell, our ship stood still on the motionless sea, my pennant hung like a string. There was not air enough to lift the smoke from our galley fire. A strange mysterious stillness weighed upon the ship and sea. I knew too well what it betokened. One of those dreaded calms, more feared by the seamen that the buffeting gale, had overtaken us.
Our ship stood like one moored to a marble wharf!
And as the thought flashed across my mind that days, ay even weeks might pass ere the winds would lift themselves again to bear us on our way, a feeling of utter listlessness came over me. It required a great exertion for me to throw it off.
I dared not let my men see aught of discouragement in my face.
And yet, it was a hard task. Had I not been made of stern stuff, I would have wept to see my progress stayed at the very moment victory was almost within my grasp.
Again, as was the case, when the terrors of Port No Man’s Port rose, like demons of malignant might, to shut me forever in that rock-encircled basin, did my thoughts revert to home—to the elder baron and his gracious consort, my dear mother; to the servants and retainers of the baronial hall; to the villagers and tenantry. How, oh how should I be able to face them all, if I were forced to return home with the humiliating confession that my voyage had been a failure?
Bulger was the first to catch a glimpse of the shadow on my brow. He turned his dark lustrous eyes full upon me so pleadingly as if to say: “Oh, little master, what aileth thee? May I not do aught to drive the dark melancholy from thy face? Thou knowest how I love thee. Teach me to help thee. My life is thine. Thy grief weighs like lead on my heart. Speak to me little master!” Tenderly and lovingly I stroked his head, and spoke in softest tones to him. He was rejoiced, but still he sat and watched me, for it was impossible to deceive him by feigning to be lighthearted and unconcerned.
The second week found us lying like a log in a millpond, our sails unvisited by the faintest breath of air; the sea sunken into a sleep that seemed like death. Despair sat on the faces of my men. “Rouse thee, little baron!” I murmured to myself as I paced my cabin floor, “where is thy boasted cunning? Where is thy vaunted wisdom? Nevermore say that thou art a man of projects, quick to devise, and quick to perform! Thou hast lost thy hold on the spoke of fortune’s wheel!”
“Thinkest thou so?” cried I in answer to my own thoughts.
“Follow me, we shall see!” With a bound I cleared the gangway. The sailing-master lay asleep on the deck. The men in groups, here and there, looked the very picture of despair. Rousing the skipper with a vigorous tug at his belt, aided by Bulger’s frantic outburst of barking, I called out:
“Avast! there, skipper. Asleep from overwork? Pipe all hands on deck!” The men came up in lively fashion, greatly amused by my cut at the sailing-master, who stood rubbing his eyes, half dazed by my sudden outburst. “Send me the ships carpenter!” I continued; and catching up a piece of chalk I drew the plan of a large box or chest, nearly as long as our ship’s breadth of beam, and gave the carpenter directions to build it of the strongest planks to be had on board. He and his assistants were soon at work.
Turning then to the cook I ordered him to kill the pigs and fowls we had shipped for our own supply of fresh meat, bidding him to be careful and not lose a drop of the blood.
These orders fairly drove my men wild with curiosity.
The sailing-master drew near and attempted to get some explanation from me but in vain. I was too deep in thought to speak.
The long box was ready in a few hours. Word now went up that I was about to abandon the ship and strive to reach land by rowing, and that this long box was to hold the provisions.
The sailing-master again fixed his gaze inquiringly upon me. I pretended not to notice his beseeching looks. The cook by this time had the fresh meat in readiness. Under my directions it was all transferred to the long chest, the blood poured over it, and the box securely closed with a heavy plate-glass lid, made up of several pieces shipped for the purpose of restoring broken lights. By this time the men had grown so excited over this mysterious box and its still more mysterious contents, that I was obliged to order them to fall back so that the carpenter and his assistants might go on with their work without interruption.
The next step was to weight the long chest with lead and to attach hoisting tackle to each end by strong iron rings. When all was ready I called out to my men to stand by and lower itover the stern rail. Stationed so that I could watch the lowering of the long box, I was careful to sink it about three feet under water and then lash it firmly to the ship’s stern. I had scarcely given the word to lower away on all the sails when the ship began to move! The effect on my men was indescribable. Some turned pale and stood as if transfixed with fear. Others laughed in a wild maniac-like way. Others, who had their wits about them, rushed to the stern taffrail to fathom the mystery.
A glance was enough!
It was a simple thing after all.
Gradually the others recovered their reason, and hastened to join their companions and gaze down into the waters where I had lashed the long box, with its glass lid and strange contents. Meanwhile our good ship moved faster and faster through the sluggish, listless waters. A ringing cheer, three times repeated, went up when the mystery was fully solved.
Mystery?
Hear then what this mystery consisted of!
In the first days of this dead calm, which settled like a terrible blanket spread over us by the hands of some unseen monster, to check our advance, I had noticed that the waters swarmed with sharks of extraordinary length; that these fierce demons of the deep hung about our vessel in shoals of countless numbers, attracted by the garbage thrown overboard, and, doubtless, too, by the odor of the many living beings on board the ship.
When, at times, a particularly large supply of garbage fell into the water, so fierce was the onslaught of these ravenous monsters, that they actually jarred the ship as they struck against its sides or stern, locked together like advancing cohorts of trained soldiery.
Upon this hint I acted. If, as I reasoned, I can only control this now wild force, why may I not make use of it to rescue my ship from a worse danger than raging storm? For far better would it be to face the howling blast and foam-crested wave than to perish from thirst, chained to the open sea by this breathless calm.
Now, however, all was changed.
On, on, our good ship went, with ever-increasing speed, gliding noiselessly and swiftly through the mirror-like waters. My device worked far better than I had dared to dream, for, as the fresh blood began to trickle through the crevices of the long box, the ravenous sea monsters were almost maddened by its smell and taste. The largest and fiercest pressed forward in serried ranks, tossing their smaller companions high in the air, as they took up their places with wild and eager search for prey which lured them on, ever so near them, and still ever beyond their reach.
No sooner did the foremost ranks of this army of myrmidons of the deep show signs of fatigue than long lines of fresh and eager recruits darted forward, hurling their exhausted fellows right and left, like bits of cork, and took up the task of following the ever-retreating prey, which, although giving out its life blood, and plainly visible to them, yet seemed to know no tiring, and sped onward, and ever onward before the wild, tumultuous attack of their pushing, plunging cohorts!
The moon now shone like a plate of burnished silver on the blue walls of heaven, and the deep silence of the sleeping waters was broken by the splash of those mighty bodies, glistening in her light, as they toiled and struggled to urge our vessel on its way.
I could not sleep.
Wrapped in a woolen cloak, to shield me from the insidious dews of the tropics, I threw myself on deck, with Bulger’s head pillowed on my lap.
Something whispered to me that if those hunger-stricken marauders of the deep would only keep to their task till the morning sun streaked the east, my cheek would feel the breath of coming winds.
And so it turned out. With the first glimmer of daylight I caught sight of a ripple on the lake-like bosom of the ocean. At that very moment, too, I noticed that our ship was slowing up. I sprang up on the taffrail. Lo! our allies had abandoned us. Not a single follower of that riotous camp was in sight!Ah, little did they dream how they had saved ship and crew! How limitless is man’s selfishness! The beasts of the field, the monsters of the deep must minister to his pleasure, obey his commands. I had pointed out the ripple in the water and when the first sturdy breath of wind reached us we were in readiness to receive it. Every sail was set.
My heart leaped with joy as our ship drew up to the wind, obeying her helm like a thing of life!
And that was the way I saved my ship and crew from a worse danger than storm-lashed billows. From this time on, all went well. Scarcely a week had gone by when I was startled by a cry which sounded sweeter to my ears than voice of monarch to courtier.
“Land ho! Dead ahead!”
Seizing my glass I sprang up into the main-shrouds, and turned my gaze in the direction indicated. Ay, true it was! There it lay before us, rising from the ocean with gentle slope, its heights crowned with trees of many-colored foliage, its shores ending in long stretches of snow-white beach.
Above the unknown land hung a purple mist of a deep rich tint, like the cheek of a ripe plum. As we drew near a landlocked harbor seemed to welcome us. Not a sound or sign of life, however, came to break the deep repose which enveloped the bay and shore.
Slowly and in stately bearing our good ship sailed into the harbor and cast anchor. The radiant beauty of the land now burst upon me. Ten thousand shells of pearly tints and hues glistened on the white sands, while in the limpid waters, sea-flowers and foliage of deepest crimson swayed gently with the tide. Up the sloping banks nature seemed to be holding high carnival. No shrub or bush or tree was content to wear simple green. Each waved some blossom of richest radiance in the soft and balmy air. Here and there, a brooklet came tumbling down the hillside, rippling, purling and splashing over the moss-grown rocks in its bed. The air was heavy with the fragrance of this vast garden so beautiful and yet so silent and deserted.
The next day, leaving my sailing-master in command, I set out on a tramp, accompanied solely by my faithful Bulger. My idea was to see if this island, for such I thought it to be, contained anything quaint and curious. The further I advanced into the interior of this fair land of bright flowers, purling brooks, clear skies and perfumed air, the more was I astonished to find that neither vine, shrub, brush, nor tree bore any berry or fruit to feed upon; and though it was just such a land of brooks, flowers and balmy air as some dweller of the far-away North might dream about; yet was it untrodden by the foot of man, for, rare indeed is it that the people of the tropics are willing to prepare any other food for themselves than that which nature spreads before them.
I now began to be thankful that I had supplied myself plentifully with dried fruits before leaving my ship to set out for a tour of the island, for such it seemed to me to be.
At this moment Bulger halted, and raising his nose in the air, sniffed hard and long, and then fixed his dark eyes on me as much as to say: “Take care, little master, some sort of living creatures are approaching!” I had hardly time to draw one of my pistols and give a hasty glance at its priming when with strange cries and stranger movements a dozen or more beings of the human species sprang out of the thicket with noiseless steps, and surrounded us. I raised the fire-arm, which I held grasped in my right hand, ready to stop the advance of this band of most curious creatures, by slaying their leader; for, judging by the forbidding aspect of their faces and the terrible condition of their bodies, apparently reduced by the dread pangs of hunger, to mere sacks of skin hung on frames of bone, which methought rattled at every step they took, I anticipated an instant attempt on their part to strike us down and eat us.