Sylvia
Sylvia’s mother was a widow who lived in a commodious house in London and who was much admired, and whom we will call Mrs. Walker because it was not her name. Though she was rather proud of Sylvia in a way, because she was a pretty little girl with hair that curled naturally, she never bothered about her very much owing to her Society engagements. She never, for example, made her laugh with the business of the little pigs, or pretended to eat her, beginning with the feet, and she never bored people by exhibiting her little frocks to show how she was growing out of them; in fact, she never saw her at all except sometimes when she spared a moment to run upstairs before going to dinners and dances and the like. But she provided a capable nurse called Norah who was skilled in all things necessary for young ones, including interesting tales, and this worked finely until Norah had to go away and marry a young man in the sausage business. The new nurse who came had her own society engagements to attend to (though not such classy ones) and could not spare very much time for Sylvia.
One day -Sylvia got wet through in the park and the nurse (Gwendoline) forgot to change her things, so that she got ill. She got more and more ill and the doctor was sent for, but he was absolutely rude to Mrs. Walker because he had not been sent for before and this upset her as she was not accustomed to rudeness But what made her more upset was the sight of a dowdy, middle-aged woman who had got in somehow and was sitting by Sylvia’s bed, and when she asked her what she was doing there she got no answer but a snort, so she went away. And half an hour later there was a real trouble, for the dowdy person and Sylvia were missing.
There was a good deal of excitement because there had been one or two cases of this kind lately, and there were headlines in the papers about it; but nothing more happened and the little bed was empty for keeps. In time—that is to say, in three weeks—the matter had blown over, and Mrs. Walker went into mourning and looked so absolutely sweet and lovely that Sir Samuel Gollop (Biscuits) asked for her hand and got it and serve him right, and she is now my Lady Gollop, with a house in one of the best parts and two cars and a Pekinese which has taken a prize. But no Sylvia, never again.
And Sylvia was learning to play a new kind of water-polo in which seals take part and was fast forgetting all about her former life except the tales Norah used to tell her.
Joe
Joe is a sturdy boy of about the same age as Sylvia who has caused the Society more anxiety and exasperation than any ten other boys of his weight and size. When he first arrived he was by no means sturdy; his legs and arms were thin, and on all corners of him there was either a bruise or a place breaking out. This was owing to his father, a circus rider, who used to train Joe to do dexterous tricks with ropes and poles so that he would in time be able to earn money and help support the family—which, by the way, now consisted only of Father; his mother had been worn out long ago.
Every time Joe missed doing the tricks dexterously it meant trouble for him, for his father used to drink as much as his wages allowed and this impaired his judgment and led him many times to nearly overdo what he used to do to Joe in the evenings at home. Joe never complained to the other circus people because he believed that boys came into the world for the purpose of being hammered by their parents; also he worked it out that if he did complain his father would do him in as he had often promised to do and, ridiculous as it may seem to us, Joe wanted to go on living.
Matters came to a finish one evening when he had made a deplorable mess of some gymnastics and his father was greatly annoyed with him, and, as he said he would, “put it acrost him” properly. He was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a grim elderly lady bigger than he was, whom he had noticed several times lately in the one-and-three pence seats, and who now burst open his private kitchen door in defiance of the law and picked up the tongs, not by the handle but by the other end. Then Father knew no more for hours.
And when he did know more it was very unsatisfactory. His skull seemed loose like a jigsaw puzzle, and he was in a horrid mess. And Joe was gone. There were no head-lines in the paper about this case because no one cared anything about it—except Father—and by the time his skull was fitted close together again by the great skill of surgeons (his nose they could do nothing with) Joe was becoming justly celebrated among the other children for his reckless way of riding bucking bears bare-backed, and doing other things contrary to regulations.
Vanderdecken and His Men
As the strange adventures of Joe and Sylvia were primarily due to what Joe did to Vanderdecken’s crew’s soup, it is advisable to give here a short account of these interesting foreigners. As I have said, Vanderdecken (vulgarly known as the Flying Dutchman) had come in some time before and camped on the bank of a river north of Watkyns Bay. They had had so much tossing about the seas since they started out from Holland in the seventeenth century that it was quite a nice change for them, and they were in no hurry to go away, even though they were very anxious to see their wives and babies again. And it was just as well that they were in no hurry to go, for their wives and babies had all died hundreds of years ago and it would have been a distressing shock to them if they had managed to reach home, this in itself a doubtful matter.
Each man had his hut, made of stout reeds with a roof of palm branches. They stood in a semicircle, with a double-sized one in the middle for Vanderdecken, and there was a garden in front in which was planted some sweet-peas and a few simple bulbs. There was also a large general hut where they had their meals and sat about the table afterwards, smoking their long pipes and talking about how they really must think of getting busy with the old ship and cleaning her up for the voyage. She was in a bad way, with the sails all patched and the carved dolphins on her bows all worn smooth with the seas she had dived into for’ so many weary years; but the most they ever did towards getting her ready was to lighten her by taking the heavy things out and putting them on shore—quaint old cannon and the two spare anchors, and bales of spices and elephants’ tusks, and casks of salt beef all hard as horn from age, and so forth. Each seaman took his chest and hammock ashore and made his hut neat with a floor of little mashed-up shells, and perhaps a shelf or two and a rack for pipes and pannikins and other small matters. Vanderdecken’s parrot was still going strong, for the curse had come on him too (not that that troubled him) and he sat on a perch outside in the sun with a tin pot full of nuts beside him, swearing in High Dutch.
It is to be regretted that their relations with the Society, though friendly, were not at all enthusiastic. In the first place, they were, like all Dutchmen, phlegmatic and not given to gush. In the second place, England was at war with Holland when they started out and they did not like the sight of the British flag flying over the main building in Watkyns Bay. It was of course Miss Watkyns’ss duty to make the first call, so she went with six of the ladies and told them that she had no objection to their staying there—which seemed rather superfluous as they had already settled down very comfortably—and that she hoped they would find the rest and change beneficial. No refreshments were offered, for Vanderdecken had no tea but only Schnapps, a heady liquor calculated to make an unaccustomed man climb trees and therefore obviously unsuited to ladies. The call was returned in due time by Vanderdecken and his mate and two washed seamen; and from then on there were little formal calls at intervals, but, as I say, no real cordiality; mostly talk about the weather.
But the Dutchmen get on famously with the Snergs, who visit them frequently and invite them over to the town for weekends, this giving a nice excuse for a feast. Then they introduced them to a special kind of mead made from wild bees’ honey, with a little distillation of ginger added to give it a kick. This was glad news to the weary mariners, for though they had started out with a good supply of Schnapps they had of course not taken the curse into account and the supply was getting alarmingly low, and there had been many wrinkled brows over the matter. Hunting parties are organized very often; the Dutchmen go with st
rangely carved muskets and the Snergs with bows and arrows, and they come home with mixed bags. This, however, has caused trouble with the Society, for Miss Watkyns said she could not allow promiscuous slaying of animals in the forest land between the coast and the Snerg country; that if they liked (she meant this ironically) they could go to the country beyond the deep river, where rumour had it there were fierce beasts worthy of their skill, and kill as many as they liked. She gave a list of animals that were prohibited; among these were cinnamon bears, young deer and various sorts of birds. Vanderdecken objected strongly to this, and he came over to argue the matter; but there was breeding in the man and he finally gave way. They now hunt only large deer, hares, duck, and wobsers, a swift-running, graminivorous animal something between a platypus and a pig, but with a prehensile tail. Cooked with bay leaves they are delicious.
But though there was no great cordiality between the ladies of the Society and the Dutchmen, there was no friction to speak of. Miss Watkyns would often send over a few dozen eggs or a basket of plums from the orchard and the like, and Vanderdecken sent one of his men to plant tulips in the way they should be planted, the Dutch being very skilful at this. When the ladies’ bathing kiosk blew over in a high wind he and his men came and put it right side up by brute force, and last Christmas he sent two sacks of little carved windmills for the children. On the whole relations could be called satisfactory.
How the Adventure Started
Having given a short general statement of conditions, it is now time to recount what happened to Sylvia and Joe owing to her impulsiveness and his disobedience and cheek, and I say again (for it is a point that will bear repetition) that I hope the tale will not be without due effect on my young readers.
I have already said that Joe caused the Society anxiety and exasperation. This was chiefly owing to his insatiable curiosity to know what would be the effect of certain acts, particularly those that were forbidden, and though the lady who was responsible for his arrival (Miss Gribblestone) had lectured him and read him moral tales, such as the one about the boy who was devoured by curiosity and finished by getting devoured by a serpent, and though Miss Watkyns had told him that at his rate of going severe punishment was only a matter of time, all this had little or no effect. And the really serious part was that he and Sylvia were firm chums and she; being impulsive, would aid and abet him in his enterprises.
They could not live apart, these two. They shared everything they had, including secrets, and any little extra snacks that came into their possession. They even shared a puppy (whom they named Tiger owing to his ferocity with slippers and other small matters, and who was pure white all over except on one ear and the left. side of the head where he looked as if he had been well rubbed in a tin of blacking) and this is the only known case of dual ownership since Miss Watkyns made that excellent rule of one child, one animal.
Many were the remedies proposed for their improvement, but the difficulty was that the Misses Scadging and Gribblestone could not agree to any particular method. Miss Scadging was the one who had taken Sylvia away from her mother, and she said that Joe had an evil influence on the little girl and that he alone should be punished. Miss Gribblestone on the other hand was of opinion that if it were not for Sylvia’s encouragement Joe would be a pattern boy like that Edgar of the storybook who went out before breakfast and gathered fresh groundsel for his aunt’s canary. And so the matter stood, for Miss Watkyns made it a rule never to interfere except in very urgent cases.
That Sylvia encouraged the boy there was no doubt. She had blue eyes and a quantity of fluffy gold curls, and consequently, when she giggled and told him he would never dare to do what he said would be a choice thing to do, he usually went at once and did it, whatever it happened to be. And when the deed was done and some of the ladies went forth to pick up the bits or to do Whatever else needed doing and to bring in Joe and Sylvia for immediate explanation, they would find them. at the time harmless and lovable, perhaps sitting on the shore with their arms round each other’s necks as good as gold, or else engaged in some deed of kindness, such as swimming out to the Penguins’ Rock with a little string bag full of snails.
How it Really Began
To come to how it really began, one bright morning the two went over to Vanderdecken’s camp without leave, and there Joe was wicked enough and foolish enough to heave half a. brick into the cauldron of soup preparing for the mariners. It was a wicked thing to do because they had never harmed him, and a foolish thing because detection was certain. But he had bragged that he would do it, and Sylvia had giggled in the usual way and said she didn’t believe him, so he hunted up the half-brick and off they went.
Speaking of the act entirely apart from its moral aspect I may say that it was a good shot. Six mariners were standing about the cauldron, sniffing the fragrant steam and speaking in praise of the cook, when the missile arrived from a high neighbouring rock, and its impact caused the hot, glutinous liquid to bespatter their faces and clothing. On the next instant Joe, Sylvia and Tiger started home at a brisk run. Arriving breathless they proceeded at once, and in sight of some of the ladies, to be kind to animals. They gathered handfuls of grass and offered them to some overfed sheep, and their expression while doing so was something like that on the faces of angels in the pictures of Murillo, that great painter.
In due time the six mariners and the cook arrived to make their complaint. Their annoyance was so great that, though fluent, they were unintelligible; I am inclined to think that at first they could only articulate expletives in use among Dutch seamen of the seventeenth century. But at length they were calmed sufficiently to enable them to state their case and to demand that Joe, whom they had recognized, be delivered over to them for the punishment of keel-hauling, a term which was not understood by any of the ladies.
Miss Watkyns was sympathetic, but she could not, of course, allow them to take the law into their own hands. She soothed them down with diplomatic words, promised that the boy should receive castigation proportional to his offence, and gave them each a ball of some composition warranted to remove grease stains without injuring the fabric.
Then she went for the Handy Encyclopedia to see what it had to say about keel-hauling. It was as follows:
“Keel-hauling. A form of discipline once in great vogue among seamen. The usual method of application was to attach ropes to the four limbs of the delinquent, lower him over the bows of the ship, and drag him to the stern post and up again, the process being repeated as many times as was considered necessary to expiate the offence. In very serious cases it was the custom to continue the operation until such barnacles as had accumulated on the ship’s keel had been scraped off. See Shell Fish.”
“I gather that they are vexed,” observed Miss Watkyns to herself as she replaced the volume. Then—for in spite of her high ideals she was human—“I should have liked to see that half-brick arriving.”
In the conference that followed Miss Scadging proposed that Joe should be considered the sole culprit, since he was a boy and therefore it was his duty to set an example to the weaker sex. Miss Gribblestone objected to this on principle; she was by no means convinced that women were the weaker sex and she recounted again how she had laid out Joe’s father; also she quoted Police Court instances of crimes committed by men at the instigation of females. Miss Watkyns was of opinion that a good and quick way to settle the matter would be to hand Joe six or ten of the very best with the back of a hairbrush before the assembled children; but Miss Gribblestone objected strongly to this as tending to break the boy’s spirit. She made the counter-suggestion of an appeal to his pride.
It is no exaggeration to say that I could keep on like this for pages, but I will not risk wearying the reader with a disquisition on the arguments for and against corporal punishment. I will merely state that it was finally decided to let Sylvia off for just this once, but to incarcerate Joe for the rest of the day in the Turret Chambe
r on a diet of bread and water.
The Turret Chamber
The Turret Chamber was, as its name implies, a chamber in a turret. I have previously explained that the erection of the buildings was done by the Snergs; also that their natural tendency was to indulge in wild architectural freaks. By careful watching, however, Miss Watkyns had managed to keep them building according to the neat plans she had prepared, and to subdue their inclination to spoil the symmetry of the houses by fantastic and unnecessary additions. But during her absence one day on a picnic the Snergs broke loose and built a swift tower in a corner of the main building, with some scalloped fancy work on the walls and a twisting flight of stairs in the’ interior leading to the chamber in question, and by the time she arrived home they were already roofing it in. In appearance it resembled the more despicable forms of lighthouses, and it was quite useless for anything practical, being so narrow that a grown-up person ascending the stairs had to writhe up like a snake, and the chamber atop being so small that Miss Watkyne had considered the question of turning the whole business into a pigeon-house. However, it did very well as a lockup for Master Joe.
The Marvellous Land of Snergs Page 2
