CHAPTERV.
I was awakened at sunrise by the sailor who had attended me before. He brought me a tin cup filled with a thick, brown decoction, intended to serve the purpose of coffee, and two biscuits from the store of supplies we had brought in the launch.
The drink was not palatable, but I soon discovered that it had a very exhilarating effect upon my system, and I afterward learned that it was made from the leaves and twigs of a small parasitic plant that grew upon the water and upon branches of the floating trees. It probably came from Brazil originally, but it was very prolific, and spread over a wide area of the Sargasson sod.
The Sargassons were scrupulously honest. Everything that I had contributed to the outfit of the launch, even to the smallest biscuit, was reserved for me. It was very fortunate that such was the case; otherwise, I do not think I would have survived the first few days, before I became accustomed to the peculiar food of this people.
As soon as I had drunk the coffee, or tea, my companion in the launch called to pay his respects. He opened the door of my prison cell with his own hands, and invited me to step out into the fresh air.
As I stood beside him I could scarcely control the rage I felt toward the fellow. I saw how slender and insignificant he was compared with me, and I could have strangled him in his tracks. He doubtless divined thethought in my mind, and took an early opportunity to apprise me that the punishment for murder among the Sargassons was drowning in a horrible form. Half a dozen strong men would seize the murderer and crowd him head foremost into a barrel of water, holding him there, despite his struggles, until he slowly suffocated.
After a few turns up and down the deck, we were waited upon by the attendant sailor, and I was informed that I was to have an audience with the Kantoon, or commander, of the vessel. He made his habitation in the captain’s cabin; but I was instructed that he “would be visible” upon the upper deck, astern, over his cabin, and that I might approach him there.
My companion cautioned me especially against any exhibition of temper. He declared that anger was utterly unrecognized among the Sargassons, and if I exhibited any ferocity, it would probably be mistaken for madness, and I would forthwith be drowned without ceremony or hope of intervention on anybody’s part.
So cautioned, I climbed the ladder and passed behind a screen of flowering plants. These grew luxuriantly in a row of boxes that resembled gun cases. The earth in which they grew had been brought from the hold, where it had been placed for ballast in some far-away port.
In the centre of the deck, standing in a barrel of water, was the Kantoon. His grizzly gray beard was carefully trimmed, and his leather cap rested upon his head in a jaunty fashion. In his hand he held a large telescope, with which, when I approached him, he was scanning the distant horizon. I divined instantly that he was looking in the direction of the Caribas; for, with the naked eye, I was able to detect the presence of smoke in the western sky.
I experienced a genuine emotion of hope. If my officers and crew only had sense enough to get up steam, go to sea and abandon me, I would be glad. There would remain some hope of rescue, and I would not sufferthe humiliation of having my ship fall into the hands of a class of pirates more heartless than any I had ever read about.
At this instant the Kantoon turned, and, seeing me, said, with a grimace that was filled with chimpanzinity:
“Morning, Senor Captaine. Es usted very good, aujourd’hui? Sitzen sie down.”
“I thank you, captain, but I prefer to stand,” was my snappish reply.
“No me burla!” the Kantoon exclaimed, in an ill-tempered voice, despite the statement of my instructor to the contrary. “Quando, I say, ‘Sitzen sie;’ you squat!”
“But, captain”——
“Io sono the Kantoon de cette ship.”
“But, Kantoon, I see no chair upon which to be seated.”
“Quel difference? Sit upon the deck.”
I seated myself as gracefully as possible upon the damp planks, curling my feet under me, a la Turc, and for more than an hour the Kantoon and I conversed upon general subjects relating to the sea.
He adhered to his horribly incongruous polyglot language. So far as I could make out, he actually spoke no one language with even a show of correctness, but his vocabulary of phrases and words from the Continental languages and English was enormous. There was hardly any thought that he could not express clearly in that way. A keen ear and ready mind were required to follow him.
Above, I have indicated in a few brief sentences his mode of speech. The Kantoon never hesitated a moment for a word. He selected them with reference to the context. Gender, conjugation and declension were things utterly unknown to his system of grammar. I soon discovered that he knew more Portuguese and Spanish than any of the other languages, and accounted for that on the ground that he had been associated with Spanish sailors more than any others.
After a little time, I grew to a better understanding of the polyglot language. I recollected that I had attended a performance of the great Salvini in New York, in which I had heard “Hamlet” rendered in very much the same fashion as the Kantoon spoke to me. The members of the cast associated with the distinguished Italian tragedian knew only the English tongue, while Salvini spoke in Italian. It seemed a trifle incongruous to me, in far-away New York, to hear Hamlet give the “Instructions to the Players” in sonorous Italian—a language they did not understand. No experience is wasted in this world, and the recollection of that season of Anglo-Italian tragedy prepared me for conversation on the Happy Shark.
The Kantoon then proceeded to explain to me at great length the organization of the ship. Early in the interview he was kind enough to announce to me that when I had become tractable enough and thoroughly reconciled to being grafted upon the Sargasson family tree, he would give me a station on board ship and an attendant to wait upon me.
This was encouraging, but I could not drive from my mind the fate of my crew and the terrible calamity that overshadowed my ship. Therefore, I fear I did not listen as attentively as I should have done to the ethical history of the Sargassons, shuddering meanwhile at the thought that I would have plenty of time in which to make this study for myself.
I did, however, pay sufficient attention to glean the following brief outline of the Kantoon’s narrative:
The Sargasson people date back more than three hundred years, the Kantoon explained. He believed that they had their origin in the loss of the Spanish Armada, when many of the great galleons, escaping the destruction that England intended for all, put to sea in a disabled condition, intending to go to the Spanish possessions in America, refit, and return laden with stores. They were caught in the Central Atlantic whirlpool and nevercould make their escape. The navigation of the sea at that time was very poorly understood, and many ships that left port with chivalrous ambitions landed in the Seaweed Sea, never to escape.
The Sargassons became a hardy race, growing in numbers by the accessions of new ships; but they did not assume the features of a social community until, early in the present century, a slave ship containing several hundred Africans—who had mutinied under the leadership of a former chief and, without any knowledge of the mariner’s compass, had sailed almost into the heart of the Sargasson continent, bringing remnants of their families with them—swelled the population. The negro women who came in that ship intermarried with the Portuguese and Spaniards, developing in time a race quite similar to the lower types of the Mexican and Central American peoples.
Wars had followed among them for the possession of the Sacred Light and for the establishment of certain holy days. While they had no religion, as we understand it, they believed in a divine creator, called the Grand Kantoon, who ruled the sea and the sky. But, naturally, all tradition of the existence of dry land had vanished, and as one after another ships sank from decay or the overloading of barnacles, the Sargassons captured others in the possession of the different races, heartlessly destroying every vestige of the preceding community.
The life of a ship was found to be about fifty years.
These bloody encounters were crowded with horrors of the most indescribable character. The natural fear of death originally had inspired the most desperate attack and most stubborn defense. As no one knew at what hour a neighboring craft might show signs of dissolution, it behooved the commander of each vessel to be always on guard, ever alert to repel surprise. Mutiny was of rare occurrence. United by the tie of mutualhopelessness, every member of each ship’s company knew his only safety lay in union and fidelity to its other members.
During the last fifty years, the Kantoon explained, a pathetic and charming philosophy had prevailed among the people of the floating continent. It was regarded as a matter of social ethics that the fate of each ship’s company was identified with the life of its own craft; that the intrusion of strangers from other vessels was neither sought nor permitted; that there should be no sort of intercourse between the people of the various ships, except on the few sacred days in each year.
When the Kantoon of a ship was informed that his vessel was gradually filling with water, and that all efforts to stop the leak or save the hulk were fruitless, it became his grave duty to call together the community over which he presided, and, while they sang the death chant, to go to the realms of a future life with resignation.
This religious idea solved a great many problems in ethics that had previously given trouble among the Sargassons. It was especially sad to the young generation; but the children accepted their fate with the same stolid indifference as the grown people. Of course, it often happened that a young girl or a sturdy lad, whose vitality was great, rebelled at the Draconian law; but, as escape was impossible, they rarely evinced any outward signs of their rebellious spirits. If they did, they were seized by subordinates of the ship, on the order of the Kantoon, and with a few yards of seagrass rope were firmly lashed to some part of the ship, or to the heaviest article that could be found on board. They then suffered the humiliation of having exposed their weakness. In case the vessel did not sink as soon as was expected, the fettered prisoners were permitted to die of starvation. There was no hope of pardon. If, by any chance, the leak were repaired, they were tossed into the sea, bound hand and foot, and became a prey to the sharks.
In a general way, the Kantoon, who had already taken a serious interest in my future, explained the origin and forms of the sacred ceremonies of his people. These will be dwelt upon in their place in the narrative.
Finally, motioning me to rise, the Kantoon clambered out of his official barrel of water and strode away to his cabin, without the formality of saying good-bye. I returned to prison of my own accord, and, the door being open, I pulled it shut.
I wished to be alone with my remorse.
I can say truthfully that, after this long conversation with the Kantoon, I felt more unhappy, more dissatisfied with my fate than before. I was so irrational and ill tempered that I berated all so-called explorers of the sea, like Cook, Magellan, Sir John Franklin, Sir Francis Drake and others, who only skimmed around the edges of the Atlantic and never penetrated this wilderness of water and grass, where they might have discovered something that would have been of interest and value to the world—that, too, after Columbus had discovered, located and named it for them!
When I thought of all the millions of treasure and the precious lives that had been wasted in the attempted and futile explorations of the Arctic regions, I felt that money and human life had been wantonly thrown away.
In this wretched state of mind I remained all the rest of the day. I have forgotten whether I was fed or not.
As darkness fell again upon the heaving meadows, I incidentally overheard a conversation just outside my door between two members of the ship’s company that threw me into an agony of mind. One of the men spoke Spanish and the other French, but I readily understood them. The purport of their conversation was that the Caribas was to be taken by surprise that night and its officers and crew captured and destroyed.
No possibility existed of giving warning to my faithful fellows. The thought did suggest itself that I couldpossibly escape from my prison, secure one of the boats and reach the Caribas before the invaders. In my journeys around the ship, however, I had not seen any signs of small craft. To avoid any possibility of escape, my companion, Gray, had sent the Secor launch he owned to another part of the community—I knew not where.
In vain did I attempt to release myself from my prison cell, but I found that, in closing the door, the bolt had fallen on the outside, securely locking me in. Loud calls for my former companion, the cause of all my misery, and for the Kantoon himself, received no attention. My presence on the ship was ignored, and the silence throughout the entire vessel was ominous.
How I prayed for moonlight! I hoped that the approach of the pirates might be detected by at least one watchful man in my ship’s company; but the sky overhead was full of clouds, and soon became as black as ink.
A heavy mist began to fall, and every condition seemed excellent for a night attack on the ill-fated Caribas.