CHAPTERXV.
The act of the Kantoon of the Happy Shark in ordering the summary execution of my rival was equivalent to an acknowledgment of my acceptance as his son-in-law.
It was a shock to me that Fidette neither expressed any regret nor exhibited any remorse at the untimely fate of the Portuguese.
A round of strange ceremonies then began, and continued for a month, during which time I had an opportunity of seeing all the Sargasson women. At a regular hour each afternoon they called in small groups to pay their respects to the prospective bride. I could not imagine how the information spread so rapidly among the communities. It seemed impossible that messengers could have been sent from ship to ship. I asked Fidette about it, and she explained that when a daughter of a Kantoon became engaged to be married notice was promptly sent to the Priest of the Sacred Fire, and the Sacred Light was flashed, signalizing the event. Every ship had a number, and was readily indicated.
But how was the news transmitted to the High Priest?
That was a mystery.
Not a single Sargasson woman came on board the Happy Shark that I did not see and carefully study. Withoutexception they were all undersized, though hardy specimens of humanity. Their complexions were nearly all dark, doubtless owing to their open-air life, and to the fact that they never failed to exhibit their reverence for the sun by passing a large part of each day, with uncovered heads, directly under his rays. I did not see any woman who was as handsome as Fidette. But there were many pretty faces among our visitors.
Their dress was most interesting to me. Sometimes it consisted merely of a few yards of sea-grass cloth, tastefully draped about their figures. In other cases the waists were made by gathering up a strip of the same material at the neck and above the hips. The arms were universally bare. Having no means of sewing, as we understand the term, the Sargasson women only tied or pinned their garments together. In the association of the various primitive colors that the sea-grass enabled them to employ they were very skillful.
There wasn’t any national costume, but there seemed to be uniformity about the dressing of the hair. I did not observe any substantial variation from one form. The women, young and old, wore their hair long, and twisted it into a hard knot, directly on top of their heads, where it was held in place by a few spines from the fin of the shark. These made very satisfactory hairpins. In addition to these hair ornaments, the women frequently wore one vertebra of the shark, highly polished and with its appendant rib. I never understood the significance of that adornment.
It would be unfair to describe any one type of Sargasson beauty. As I have said, nearly all were dark-skinned, either from tan or by inheritance. I saw, however, two fair Greek girls who called at our ship, but I was unable to learn from Fidette anything of their history, because she could not speak Greek, Turkish or Albanian, and the white-faced Greeks were not conversant with the languages of Western Europe. These twoladies were very becomingly dressed, and wore the only silk draperies that I saw during my stay in Sargasso. Their pretty bodies were wound in long, sleeveless garments, gathered at the waist by a simple cord. They wore in their hair, instead of the customary shark bone, a sprig of sea myrtle, very shiny and waxen.
The ladies were received on board the Happy Shark with much ceremony. They were formally announced in each case; the fish scale of pinkish hue was sent to the daughter of the Kantoon, after which the guests were shown into the cabin and remained standing during the formal interview, when the congratulations were presented and acknowledged.
The entire party then seated themselves and began to gossip—and the women of Sargasso were certainly the peers of any of our American wives, sisters or mothers in that social art.
It must be remembered, in justice to them, that this was the only opportunity during many months when they could talk over their neighbors’ affairs together. Every confidence poured into the ears of Fidette was dealt out to the other daughters of the Kantoons by her in turn, rapidly as the visitors came, strict regard being had to absolute truthfulness. The result was that little harm was done to anybody. It was demonstrated that truthful gossip does no injury. This chatter served to sustain mutual interest in each other. In most cases the gossip was utterly frivolous and harmless. This woman told Fidette about the illness of her cherished cray-fish; the next asked condolences upon the death of her pet octopus.
The octopus is the pug dog of the Sargasso! The young women affect and cultivate them as pets, much as our American girls do the hideous, black-nosed pug dog to which I have likened them. Indeed, the octopus is quite a companionable mollusk, once you understand him.
No food was offered the visitors, the theory beingthat food was provided in common, and each lady could readily obtain it on board her own ship. Many of the women had a fondness for schnapps, and inquired of Fidette if, in the capture of my ship, anything of the kind had been secured. They were always answered negatively.
One and all of the ladies, as they took their departure from the cabin were received on deck by a sturdy sailor, before whom they bowed their heads respectfully, and received the usual baptism of a bucket of sea water.
Drinking water, as I have explained, was caught in a tarpaulin roof that was constantly stretched across the deck. When a small cup of this pure liquid was handed to the visitor she was expected to take a sip of it, and then playfully to toss the contents into the face of her hostess, accompanying the graceful act with a gleeful shout of laughter. This was provocative of much merriment, and never gave offense.
If, during any of these visits, a rain storm came up, the ladies were never asked to remain on that account. Water had no terrors for them. Then, of course, in the canals of the Sargasso Sea, one had not any great fear of the waves.
The only restriction put upon Sargasson femininity that I discovered was that a woman must not weigh over two hundred pounds. If she developed adipose tissue exceeding that amount she was unceremoniously drowned. Under such circumstances death was always willingly accepted by the ladies themselves. They had little fear of death at any time, but their repugnance to obesity was inborn; the old women all possessed anti-fat remedies, the formulae of which they imparted to their daughters early in their lives.
During this “Month of The Visitation” I one day noticed that the Kantoon’s face bore evidence of anxiety. He believed he had detected spies upon his vessel, under the guise of visitors. He was right, because the fame ofFidette’s beauty had spread everywhere. Who had circulated the report? Naturally all statements made by visitors of her own sex pronounced her prim and homely. Already there were rumors of a social revolt against Fidette’s right to be called the most beautiful woman in the Community. The gossips asserted that she was a treacherous, despicable girl; and one of the old dames even went so far as to declare that Fidette was a vampire, and had drunk the blood of her lover before his body had been thrown unto the sea. Indeed, there was no limit to the horrible things said about Fidette by the women of Sargasso.
Knowing Fidette’s gentle character, despite the manner in which she had allowed her father to summarily dispose of the Portuguese trombone player, I gave no heed to the malicious tales put in circulation by the gossips of her own sex. I believed her to be gentle, pure and lovable. As our engagement was now acknowledged, Fidette insisted upon my saluting her with a kiss every time we encountered each other in public. She had a very cunning, and to me attractive, way of putting up her pouting face again and again, as she accompanied the act by saying “More!” and “Encore!”
The real cause of the Kantoon’s anger toward Fernandez was not generally apparent, I admit; but eventually he took me into his confidence.
When I responded to his invitation to meet him upon the upper deck I found there, as a special mark of confidence and favor, a second barrel of sea water close beside the Kantoon’s tub. Understanding at a glance the delicate character of the tribute paid me, I clambered into the cask without waiting to have it suggested to me, and we stood facing each other in our respective tubs for several hours, going over the offensive rumors that had been put in circulation by the Sargasson women, and that had finally reached the Kantoon’s ears.
Then we discussed my future and Fidette’s. Withoutattempting a reproduction of the polyglottic character of the Kantoon’s language, the following may be set down:
In all frankness, he began, Fidette had made a mistake in preferring me to the Portuguese. The Kantoon (Fidette’s father) was the son of an Oporto sailing master. Fidette’s mother, as we know, was a New Orleans creole.
The propriety of the lover’s taking off was not questioned for a moment. His life was forfeit by the Sargasson code. And yet, by these Sargasson people, the trombone was held to be a sacred instrument, and this young man had devoted his life to its study. It was just their standard of music.
The Kantoon informed me that a rebellion was fomenting, the first that had occurred since the great Chin-Goone outbreak in 1816, which grew out of a concerted plot on the part of 200 Kantoons to organize an expedition to go to St. Helena, rescue Napoleon and make him the Emperor of Sargasso.
Napoleon was the only great figure in history thoroughly known and respected by the Sargassons. They regarded him in much the same light as the ancient Greeks and Romans did Hercules. To them he was rather more God than man. His imperious and impulsive character filled them with the wildest admiration.
When these 200 Kantoons organized there was only one fearless young commander, Chin-Goone, who stubbornly opposed the project. He did not want Sargasso opened to the world. He defied the entire 200! Armed with the only ship’s auger in the community, at dead of night he scuttled 100 ships occupied by the leaders of the Napoleonic movement. These vessels, their Kantoons and their crews all went to the bottom.
The movement failed, and for one year this young dare-devil Kantoon was, apparently, the most popular man in all the Community. But he thoroughly understoodhis fate under the Sargasson law. He knew that he must die on the anniversary of his act. He enjoyed himself as much as he could, and when the day arrived, accompanied by his hardy crew, he visited the stately vessel of the High Priest and submitted quietly and without resistance to being triced up and cast into the sea.
Recurring to the situation that confronted us now, the Kantoon was very grave, and said that the entire company of the vessel on which had dwelt Fidette’s late lover, the Portuguese, had risen in rebellion because of the young man’s execution.
They had secured the co-operation of twelve other crews, and a night attack for the abduction of Fidette and her summary punishment was highly probable.
The method of punishing a young woman who had been treacherous to her lover was quite peculiar. The false sweetheart was compelled to live, but lines of age and crows’ feet were tattooed into her face. Her hair was bleached white, like an old woman’s, and every vestige of her youth was destroyed.
Such an outrage, of course, the Kantoon was determined to prevent, and I was quite as resolutely opposed to it.
We agreed to double the watch, and to be prepared to take “boarders” at any moment.
Nights of sleepless anxiety followed.
I recollect that during the Virginius troubles we were beating down the Windward Channel one Winter’s night on board the United States frigate Wabash. I was a member of the ship’s company. We had been at sea for several weeks, and did not know whether or not war with Spain had been declared. Suddenly, in the moonlight, we made out a large Spanish man-of-war, about one mile off, on our starboard bow. The men were called to quarters. The decks were sanded down. The powder magazine was opened, and every gun on boardwas loaded with shell or solid shot. For half an hour, in the silence of the night, every man stood at his post, awaiting a signal to open fire. Even the surgeon had his knives, his saws and artery forceps ready on the wardroom table.
The great steel ship, that could have sunk our wooden craft in a minute’s time, passed.
Not a sound on board! Not a moving light! Only silence—and suspense.
The memory of that moonlight night in the Windward Channel was renewed every night on board the Happy Shark.