L. Frank Baum - Oz 25

by Pirates In Oz

  “I’ve suffered enough,” shuddered the Gnome King, coming cautiously out from his hiding place and staring regretfully back at the comfortable castle of Menankypoo. Afraid to show himself or venture near the city, Ruggedo gloomily considered the prospect of a night on the rocks. Then, suddenly bethinking himself of Clocker and the Conjurer’s cave, he slid like a small gray shadow along the seashore. The moon had come up bright and full, and by its white, silvery rays, Ruggedo easily found the yellow cross that marked the entrance to the cave. The Wise Man was sitting by the fire reading and looked up in mild surprise as Ruggedo burst impetuously upon him.

  “Pirates!” panted the Gnome King, waving his arms wildly, and in short, breathless sentences told all that had happened since he left the cavern. The Wise Man listened with close attention and when Ruggedo described the way the pirates had pushed the Menankypoos into the sea, he positively beamed with pleasure, for he had only wheels and washers where most of us wear our hearts. Perhaps, too, he felt slightly resentful at his long imprisonment in the conjurer’s cave. At any rate he seemed to find the whole story intensely amusing and his face behind its glass covering twinkled and twitched with enjoyment.

  “The pirates will take all the gold and treasure and leave nothing for us at all. What are we to do now?” groaned the gnome, throwing himself down on a heap of cushions opposite Clocker. It was ten minutes. past ten so he had to wait five long minutes before Clocker spoke. But the answer when it came was astonishing enough and well worth waiting for. “We must arouse the interest and ambition of the buccaneers, and with them to help us, conquer this Land of Oz about which you have told me,” directed the paper the cuckoo dropped into Ruggedo’s lap. “When we have conquered Oz and your former kingdom, we will destroy the pirates and rule over all these countries ourselves.”

  “But how?” gasped the Gnome King, looking up into the shining face of the Wise Man of kypoo. “If we so much as show our noses these pirates will shove us into the sea.” Wriggling with impatience he waited another quarter-hour for Clocker to explain. The Cuckoo Clock Man seemed to share Ruggedo’s restlessness and paced nervously up and down the cavern until it was time for him to strike.

  “We must coax, wheedle and flatter them,” counselled Clocker, when at last the cuckoo struck ten thirty. “We must promise to lead them to new and rich countries; pretend we are wizards, and come— we must go now, while they are in a good humor from their victory. Come, and you may depend on me!” The Gnome King looked somewhat doubtful as he read the Wise Man’s advice, but Clocker, without waiting for his consent, snatched Ruggedo by the arm and wrapping the conjurer’s cloak around them both, jumped into the fireplace. Before the Wise Man had ticked twice they were outside and striding along the beach toward the castle. The more Ruggedo considered Clocker’s plan the wiser it seemed to him and by the time they reached the city his usual arrogance and assurance had returned. Hurrying through the castle doors which had carelessly been left open they tramped boldly into the dining hall. The pirates were sitting around the table shouting out a lusty sea song. Stopping in the middle of a line they stared in stupefaction at the two figures in the doorway, for they were convinced that every living soul in the city had been tossed into the ocean.

  “Hail, brave conquerors of Menankypoo!” began Ruggedo, springing nimbly upon a chair and taking advantage of their short; shocked silence. “I, Ruggedo the Rough, former King of the Gnomes, and Clocker, my wise man and wizard, have come to help you to further conquests and victories. Attend, for I would speak with the chief and captain of this band!” So proudly and imperiously had the Gnome King spoken that the pirates were impressed in spite of themselves. There were a few mutters and calls of “Toss them in the sea, mates,” but no one made a move to do it.

  “Let’s hear what they have to say,” roared a black bearded buccaneer, thumping on the table with his dagger.

  “Aye! Aye! Let them speak,” rasped a red-headed rascal, jumping to his feet. “We’ve left our former chief for a softhearted lubber,” explained the red-head, addressing himself to the Gnome King. “I am Peggo the Red; there sits Binx the Bad, and One or the other of us will be chief before morning. Peggo paused, and such a look of jealousy and hatred passed between the two sea robbers that Ruggedo gave a bounce of alarm. At the same time a perfectly splendid idea popped into his wicked little head.

  “Let me be your chief while ashore,” proposed the Gnome King. “I know this country and all about land battles. The kingdoms around here are small and poor and not worthy of such valiant fighters. Follow me and I will lead you to the marvelous Kingdom of Oz where there are more princesses, more jewels and magic treasures than you have seen in all your voyaging.” Binx and Peggo exchanged a quick, greedy glance and then stared suspiciously at the. ugly old gnome. While they were trying to make up their minds the Wise Man of Menankypoo struck eleven. The sudden opening of the little door in Clocker’s forehead and the piercing screeches of the cuckoo threw the company into wildest confusion and when the wooden bird darted straight at Peggo and placed a slip of paper in his hands the buccaneers cringed and grew pale beneath their whiskers.

  “Do as the Gnome King suggests,” read Peggo, the paper trembling like a leaf in his shaking fingers. “Ruggedo is both bold and relentless. With his help and my counsel you can conquer the mighty Kingdom of Oz and become rich and powerful as emperors !”

  “W-e-ll s-shall we do it?” stammered Peggo, looking uncertainly down at Binx.

  “Yes!” roared Binx, the first of the pirates to recover his composure, and who was now thoroughly convinced that the Wise Man was a wizard. “Let’s do it!” and jumping up he whispered long and earnestly in Peggo’s red ear.

  “I have heard of Oz,” wheezed Binx excitedly.

  “It is indeed as rich and wonderful as he says. Well, then, let these two help us with their magic until we have conquered Oz. Then we can do away with them and keep everything for ourselves.” Peggo nodded grimly. This would settle the matter of their long rivalry, too. If neither he nor Binx was chief, there would be no need for a quarrel. “After we have conquered Oz will be time enough for that,” reflected Peggo. Once the conquest of Oz was accomplished the greedy pirate meant not only to destroy Binx but the rest of the band as well. But naturally he said nothing of this to his comrades.

  “All in favor of the Gnome King for chief cry aye!” yelled Peggo, banging on the table.

  “Aye! Aye!” shouted all the pirates, their. eyes popping out at the prospect of so much riches, and drawing Ruggedo and Clocker into their midst, they clamored to hear. more about the wonderful Kingdom of Oz. So, taking out his tablet and pencil, the Gnome King drew them a rough map of that odd, oblong and enchanting country ruled over by the little princess and fairy, Ozma of Oz. With two lines Ruggedo divided the oblong into triangles and in each triangle printed the name of the country it rep-resented. The north land, he told them, was the purple

  kingdom of the Gillikins, the eastern triangle the powerful yellow empire of the Winkies, the red southlands of Oz belonged to the Quadlings, while to the west lay the blue country of the Munchkins. In the exact center of the map, where all the triangles met Ruggedo drew a circle to show the location of the capital and the gnome explained how Ozma ruled from the Emerald City over all four countries of Oz.

  The very sound of the Emerald City made the pirate’s prick up their ears, and Clocker had struck five times before they had had enough of it. Warming to his subject, the Monarch of Menankypoo described in glowing sentences the fairy capital with its emerald encrusted streets, buildings and palaces. He told them about the famous Scarecrow of Oz, a live man of straw whose magic brains and surprising cleverness had raised him to one of the highest positions at Ozma’s court; and about the Tin Woodman, Emperor of the Winkies, who spent most of his time in the Emerald City. The axe of Nick Chopper had been enchanted and one at a time he had severed his arms, legs and finally his head. But after each accident, Nick had had himself repaired by
a tin-smith and had finally become a tin woodman so bright

  and unusual that Ozma had made him an emperor. There was Tik tok, too, a copper machine man, who, when wound up, could talk, walk and even think. Ruggedo told them about the Patchwork Girl, a mischievous maiden magically constructed and brought to life, who could make funnier verses than any of the poets in Oz. The Cowardly Lion, the Hungry Tiger and the Iffin were not forgotten, nor the three little mortal girls, Dorothy, Bettsy and Trot, who had come to live with Ozma in the Royal Palace. The gnome grew especially bitter as he told them about Dorothy, for Dorothy was the girl who had taken his belt in the first place and caused him more trouble than all the rest of Ozma’s councillors put together.

  “But what of the army?” asked Birix. “Has this Ozma of Oz a large, well trained force of fighting men?” Ruggedo had to laugh at the thought of Ozma’s army, for as most of us well know it consists of one tremendously tall soldier with green whiskers, a soldier so timid he has never been known to fire off his gun. The pirates roared over the grand army of Oz but grew more thoughtful when Ruggedo told about the Wizard and his many magical devices.

  “Not only has Ozma my magic belt, with which she can transform anybody into any shape she wishes and transport him anywhere, but she has a wonderful fan that can blow away an army, a magic picture that tells her everything she wishes to know and so many wishing pills and thinking powders that almost nothing is too difficult for her to accomplish.”

  “Then what’s the use of trying to conquer her?” worried Peggo. “We’ll only get ourselves enchanted or destroyed.”

  “Ah-but-” Ruggedo waved mysteriously at the Wise Man of Menankypoo. “You forget that we are also wizards. My idea is to steal Ozma’s magic and then seize the capital. It would be useless to capture each country of Oz separately, for once we are in possession of the Emerald City the whole kingdom will be ours.”

  “But I’ve heard that Oz is surrounded by a Deadly Desert and that one step on its sands destroys one forever,” went on Peggo. “How are we to cross that?”

  “You are right,” answered Ruggedo, “but Clocker will find a way for us to cross the Deadly Desert, won’t you, old shiny face?” The Wise Man looked surprised and a trifle uneasy but as it was not time for him to strike, said nothing. Taking the map, Ruggedo added the strip of Deadly Desert surrounding Oz and further explained that to reach the desert they must cross the Land of the Wheelers and his own old dominions in Ev.

  “Well,” yawned Binx, scratching his head thoughtfully with his scimitar, “I for one should like to see Oz, and a live man stuffed with straw. I’ll have him for my slave and he shall polish my boots and daggers.

  “I’ll take the Tin Woodman,” whistled Peggo, “and those girls shall come back with us and do all the cooking and scrubbing on the Sea Lion, but if we are to do all this conquering we’d better get some sleep.”

  “Aye! Aye!” agreed the pirates heartily, and nodding, grunting and whispering among themselves, they tramped up the stair. Throwing themselves fully clothed and booted upon the lace and silken covered beds they snored so loudly that the very rafters rattled. Ruggedo himself got little rest, for Clocker, who insisted on sharing his room, struck every quarter-hour and the yellow bird kept tapping at his head. Indeed, by morning, Ruggedo, waking from an uneasy slumber, found himself nearly buried under a mass of yellow papers the cuckoo had dropped on him during the night.

  CHAPTER 5

  The King of the Octagon Isle

  DRUMMING his fingers idly on the arms of his Octagon throne, King Ato the Eighth sat with closed eyes listening to the sonorous voice of the Royal Reader. Having a Royal Reader saved his Majesty much annoyance, such as wearing specs, turning the pages of books, and losing his place in the morning paper. No wonder he was fonder of Roger than of anyone else in his household -I mean castlehold. No wonder Roger had a ruby perch with gold trimmings and a diamond cup for his morning orange juice. And Roger, you may be surprised to know, was a Read Bird, clever enough to pronounce all the words in the King’s eight hundred volumes and wise enough to skip all the uninteresting descriptions. Holding a fat book in one claw and balancing skillfully on the other leg, he would drone on for hours, and as Ato loved nothing so well as a lively story or tale of adventure, he took Roger wherever he went and the two were well nigh inseparable. In appearance Roger was rather unusual, about the size and coloring of a large parrot but. with the kindly face of a duck and with a duck’s bill. His enormous fan tail that could open and shut was like no other bird’s I could ever mention, spreading high above his head, and exceedingly useful to his Majesty in sultry weather. Add to this a pleasant and jolly disposition and you can well understand King Ato’s affection for his Royal Reader.

  As you may never have visited Octagon Island or come across it in any of your geographies, I will tell you at once that it is eight miles east of the Isle of Pingaree, its eight sandy shores washed by the boisterous waves of the Nonestic Ocean. in the exact center of the island rises the eight sided castle of King Ato and at. suitable distances the eighty dwellings of the Octagon Islanders. The King’s subjects numbered one hundred and eighty, there being forty women, sixty children and eighty men. Of the men, eight were courtiers, eight were councillors, eight were servitors, eight were farmers, eight were shopkeepers, eight were fishermen, eight were sailors, eight Were soldiers, eight were scholars and artists, and eight were musicians, so that the affairs of the island were nicely balanced and everyone ate well and often. Except for their octagon shaped faces and hats, the eight octagon buttons on their coats and the eight pockets in their suits, the Octagon Islanders were quite like us, and life on the island was pleasant and uneventful. They had everything to make them happy and contented and good King Ato had no reason for supposing them otherwise that is, until the bright particular morning of which I am telling you. Drowsily listen-. mg to the voice of the Read Bird, Ato became suddenly aware of a great commotion in the courtyard. Next an ear splitting bang on the octagon drum made him sit up with a bounce. Then in through the octagon doors burst the eight musicians in their best uniforms followed by the eight soldiers, the eight sailors, the eight farmers, the eight fishermen, the eight shopkeepers, the eight scholars and artists, the eight servitors, the eight councillors and the eight courtiers.

  “Ah!” sighed the King, smiling with relief. “It’s you, is it? Good morning, my dear fellows!” But his subjects were not to be put off with good mornings. The Octagonese trumpeter blew eight fierce blasts upon his horn, the eight fishermen banged their fishing rods on the floor, the eight soldiers and sailors pointed their guns, the eight servitors threw down their mops and aprons, the eight scholars and artists their books and brushes, and the eight councillors tand courtiers let out such a yell that the Read Bird was blown off his perch and the King’s crown fell over one ear, “What’s this?” panted his

  Majesty, as soon as he could make himself heard above the awful. hub-bub. “What’s the meaning of this, Sixentwo?” Sixentwo was the chief of Ato’s councillors and at this question the old wise man stepped out from the crowd.

  “Insurrection, your Majesty!” explained Sixentwo calmly. “Rebellion, desertion, and departure. In other words, farewell, forever!”

  “Forever!” echoed Ato, straightening his crown. “what in cheesewax are you talking about?”

  “About leaving,” shouted Sevenanone, Lord High This and That of the realm. “We refuse to stay longer on this stuffy little island or serve a King as tiresome and unenterprising as yourself. In your whole reign you have conquered no one, made no new laws, voyages, or discoveries.”

  “I told you we ought to have a war,” sighed Roger, who had regained his perch and was endeavoring to find the place in his book.

  “War?” repeated Sevenanone, glaring fiercely at Roger while Ato ruffled up the only eight hairs he had on his head. “All he cares about is listening to your miserable croaking All he knows is nothing, and all he does is sleep!”

  “Trea
son!” shrieked Roger hurling his book at Sevenanone. “Down on your Octagonknees and beg his Majesty’s pardon!” But the excited Islanders paid no heed to Ato’s pleas or the Read Bird’s scolding.

  “We are taking the treasure, the crops, the ship, everything but the furnishings of the castle!” sniffed Fourandfour, Treasurer of the Island. “And now, perhaps you will bestir yourself, old pudding. As for us, we go to open up a new country, to find a king worthy of our mettle.”

  “Hear! Hear!” applauded the Octagonesians, and picking up their guns, mops, rods and other implements, they tramped scornfully from the royal presence. Rushing to the window, Ato presently saw them marching down to his splendid ship the Octopus, heavily laden with the island’s crops and treasure, the women and children skipping joyfully behind.

  “Dee-serted! By ginger!” puffed his Eightjesty, limping back to the throne, for the cook had dropped an iron frying pan on his foot in the course of the excitement. “Dear, dear and dear! I hope they’ll not run into any storms or hurricanes. And what are we to do, my good Roger? What of us?” While the King was looking out the window, the Read Bird had flown to the top shelf of the bookcase, and coming back with a huge green volume began hurriedly flipping over the pages. Maxims for Monarchs, was the title of the green book.

  “When all is lost there is nothing more to lose, no need for worry and nothing to be done,” read Roger impressively.

  “Very good,” agreed Ato, folding his hands resignedly on his stomach. “Then I shall do nothing, my dear Roger, and while I am doing nothing, you may proceed with the story.” Both pretended not to hear the rattle of chains and the shouts of the rebels as the King’s ship got under way. Both pretended not to notice the silence that presently came creeping into the castle and smothering down upon them. The ticking of the clock seemed unusually loud and insistent, and without knowing why, Roger lowered his voice almost to a whisper and the King, when he thought the Read Bird was not looking, stole frequent and apprehensive. glances out the window. Perhaps an hour had passed in this uneasy fashion when, to the consternation of the two castaways, there came a thunderous knock at the