The Chronicles of Narnia Complete 7-Book Collection with Bonus Book

by C. S. Lewis

  ‘My Lord,’ said Bunny taking his cue from his fellow-monarch’s recent boldness, ‘your vote cannot outweigh those of the whole Clique, which is still unanimous, (Oliver Vant opened his mouth to speak but the other members got in front of him) so we are pleased to admit Mr Alexander Putney to our Clique.’

  ‘So are we,’ said the Rajah.

  ‘The audience is ended,’ said Bunny.

  The Clique-members, with many bows and genuflections left the room, and the boys heaved sighs of relief.

  Big said, ‘I wish you’d leave things to me more on these occasions.’

  CHAPTER XI

  * * * * * * *

  On Monday morning at 10 o.c., the second meeting of the Clique was held. Big and their Majesties were there early, and the latter retired to their robing room leaving the frog sitting anxiously in the luxurious little cabinet. The first member to arrive was Fortesque, who was as bright and vigorous as usual.

  ‘Good morning, my dear Little-Master, we have what is likely to prove a very important meeting before us.’

  ‘Every Clique-meeting is important,’ replied Big. ‘But why this especially?’

  ‘Because, My Lord, this Chess question is rather serious.’

  At this point Alexander Putney, the new member, arrived. He was a short spare man, with an energetic cleanshaven face, and was clad in a morning-coat that even the viscount would not have been ashamed to wear.

  ‘Good day, My Lord,’ said he, ‘these are new grounds for us to meet upon.’

  ‘Yes,’ replied the Little-Master somewhat tersely, for, as we have seen, he did not entirely approve of his new fellow Cliqueman.

  At this juncture, our friend the melancholy tortoise announced, ‘Mr Vant, & Sir Bradshaw.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Big, ‘We are all here I think. Theodore (for so the tortoise was named) go and see if it is Their Majesties’ pleasure to enter.’

  Theodore dissapeared into the robing room and soon returned bearing the double crown of Boxen on a cushion and followed by Benjamin and the Rajah.

  As soon as all were seated, Lord Big cleared his throat and began, ‘Your Majesties and Gentlemen, you, the members of this Clique, have gone through the irregular proceeding of demanding a Clique-meeting: I therefore suppose that you have some important motion to propose, and I request whomsoever is your leader to speak on your behalf.’

  Fortescue rose up at once.

  ‘Your Majesties, Little-Master, and Gentlemen: we are met here to day for the purpose of discussing what steps ought to be taken in the interest of Boxonian commerce, which, as you know, is at this time greatly imperilled by the Chess. The suspicious and the malicious have connected Polonius Green’s efforts to gain for these Chess seats in this Clique with the sole right of trade which Frater Senior Von Quinklë conferred upon him. About the truth of these statements I know nothing. Our present question is what we can do to defend our other shipowners against these Chess. And, Gentlemen, I feel sure that the nation will yield to no persuasion. I propose, therefore, that a message be sent to Von Quinklë demanding that he withdraw his trade edict: if he agrees, the matter is closed: but if he refuses there is only one remedy – war!’

  The state of the Clique room was what the papers describe as ‘sensation’. Big was the first to speak.

  ‘Your Majesties, and Gentlemen; war is a great and in this case not absolutely necessary expense of lives and money. Nevertheless I think that Field Marshal Fortescue’s suggestion of writing to Von Quinklë is excellent. But war is too great a thing to be decided by the Clique, we must have a meeting of the whole Parliament.’

  ‘Hear, Hear,’ cried several people who were anxious to shift the reponsability onto other shoulders.

  ‘Well,’ continued the Little-Master, ‘does eveyone agree to writing to Von Quicklë? Theodore, pass round the ballot.’

  After a breathless two minutes of borrowing pencils and gaining paper, the tortoise read out ‘For the motion 4. Against the motion 1.’

  Every one glanced at his neighbour as if to ask who the culprit was. Oliver Vant shook his head mournfully from side to side, muttering, ‘They have all voted for it. Oh dear!!’

  Accordingly a letter was drawn up and signed by Benjamin and the Rajah. Eight days later Big called the Clique together again, and read them his reply, which ran as follows: –

  The Clique, even including Oliver Vant, was furious at such an unconditional refusal, and that very afternoon notices were put up in Calcutta that a meeting of the Parliament would be held on the following day. That afternoon as they sat in the palace garden, Big said to the boys, ‘Ah, you know, there won’t be any war.’

  ‘Why,’ said Bunny, ‘Won’t the Parliament agree?’

  ‘Yes, I expect they will: but when we get to the scene of action it will fizzle out.’

  ‘Oh rot,’ said Hawki.

  ‘Hawki!!’ cried Big reprovingly, ‘Don’t talk like that: anyway we’re sure to have to go to the Tracities, whether there’ll be anything to do when we get there or not. As we’ll be away for some time I’ll just look through last year’s bills & get things settled.’

  With this laudable object in view the worthy frog left his soverigns and strolled into his office. Everything seemed alright till his eyes lit on the last item of his ‘Private Expenses’ bill.

  Seeing this he nearly fainted.

  It was –

  500 … Golf balls at 2s each … £50.

  ‘Ah, I won’t pay it,’ muttered the irate Little-Master. ‘It’s that fellow who stuffed my matress: I’ll get him yet.’

  CHAPTER XII

  * * * * * * *

  Calcutta was considerably surprised by the announcement of a coming meeting of Parliament, but this surprise was on the whole agreeable, for the country had begun to tire of its long imposed rest from politics. On the morning of the meeting, Viscount Puddiphat sat in ‘The Regency’, having a glass of Zauber with Reginald Vant.

  ‘On the whole, Reggie,’ said he, ‘I’m glad about this meeting: the Parliament bar supplies some of the best Vin de Brus I ever drank.’

  ‘Yes,’ replied the other, ‘and it’ll be a jolly exciting session too.’

  The owl was not vastly interested in the political aspect of the session. However he said, ‘How so?’

  ‘There may be war. My brother Olly –’

  ‘War with whom?’

  ‘The Chess, of course: you might know that.’

  ‘By the way, if we’re going to turn up, we’d better start now.’

  ‘Right. Come along.’

  The Calcutta ‘House’ was a massive building of imposing appearance. Passing through a stone vestibule, the two friends proceeded along a wide corridor and entered the actual council-chamber, a large and lofty hall capable of seating 500 members. At one end, on a raised dais stood the double throne and between its two compartments the Little-Master’s chair: these three seats were at present empty. The benches, which ran down either side parallel and were five deep, were only half-full, and other members were arriving through the great double-flanged doors. The viscount nodded to Samuel Macgoullah and wended his way to his alloted seat, leaving the Pig to do likewise. After about quarter of an hour’s wait, during which time the spectators’ gallery filled, a loud gong was rung without for silence; all conversation ceased and in a few seconds a hitherto fast closed door opened and a small procession entered. First came Sir Charles Arrabudda, royal bearer of the sceptre, clutching in his hands an enormous engine of gold, which the house knew instinctively to be the sceptre. Next came Colonel Chutney, State Herald, bearing a fearsome & antiquated sound-producer. Then came Theodore bearing the double crown on a chusion: this worthy tortoise was followed by the Clique-members. After these came their Majesties in robes & coronets: and the rear was brought up [by] the Frog.

  When everyone was seated, Chutney stood forth and raised the trumpet to his lips. Now we do not attempt to account for what happened, for Chutney is a good man and his enemies are few.
The eyes of the Boxonian Parliament were fixed on him as his cheeks slowly swelled out with air, and all nerves were braced to bear the blast: one or two musical members got up and tiptoed out: an old lady in the gallery put her fingers to her ears. – But no sound came!! The Colonel took the trumpet from his mouth and shook it: then he had another try which proved quite as abortive as the first. Chutney got slightly red and blew harder: but for two minutes, as he stood there with shaking knees and scarlet inflated cheeks, silence reigned supreme. At last the unfortunate man muttered an inaudible announcement and dashed to his bench. Years after he discovered that Polonius Green had filled his instrument with glue.

  The Little-Master rose and walked to the rostrum. In a concise speech he told the house the state of affairs and informed them that [the] question was ‘war or peace?’

  Mr Vant said that it was foolish to send the army to the Tracities when the Chess in Boxen might rise as soon as they (the troops) were gone.

  Fortescue pointed out with some heat that they need not send the whole army to the Tracities.

  Sir Charles Arrabudda explained the necessity of gaining the Tracity rade – an interesting fact which had been taken for granted at the very tart. He went on in his soothing musical voice to draw a picture of the islands which lasted 2 hours and a half.

  The Little-Master said that if they submitted to this treatment (he meant from the Chessary not from Sir Chas.) no nation would respect them.

  Mr Green moved that the ballot be passed round.

  Mr R. Vant advocated war, but said that the Chess would probably capitulate as soon as they (the Boxonians) arrived.

  Mr Macgoullah denied this.

  Mr Green moved that the ballot be passed round.

  This time The Little-Master agreed, and the house retired to the lobbies.

  In a few minutes the counting was over and Big read out, ‘For war 368.’ (Loud cheers.) ‘Against 132: majority ah – er – er’ (Big was a poor arithmetician) ‘336.’

  CHAPTER XIII

  * * * * * * *

  Although the Tracity islands could only muster some 3 thousand inhabitants a fairly large expedition was fitted out against them. The Little-Master who had fought many a battle in his younger days was full of joy at the idea of entering on another campaign. He called, of course, a Clique meeting on the subject and therein asked Fortescue, who (it will be remembered) was head of the war office, to state his plans. It was finally decided that the government should commandeer the Star liner Indian Star as a troopship, a single screw steamer of 7654 tons register. The Gunboat Thrush, of which our old friend Bar was purser, was also to go: she was also a single screw vessel of 568 tons. Also the Cygnet, a small but very neat & useful steamer of 98 tons, the private yacht of their Majesties. The ‘Chutneys’, under command of Colonel Chutney, and the ‘Mouselands’ a semi-volunteer regiment under command of Puddiphat, who ranked as a corporal, were ordered to the front. This latter regiment, being composed of voluntary recruits, naturally varied in size, but on this occasion several volunteers had to be refused admission as it was already full.

  The effect of these warlike preparations on Polonius Green was disturbing. The Chess, who had bribed him, would in all probability give him away if the war went against them, and he would thus stand convicted of bribery.

  He realised these facts as he was strolling with a cigar on his roof-garden at Shelling House.

  ‘D – n it, this alliancing with foreigners is a mistaek. Some years ago I very near ruined meself by puttin’ me head in the noose of some Prussians. But here I go again. Well, I shan’t get left again: not good enough fer Polonius Green. I have it.’

  With that he went below and produced a sheet of note-paper. Taking up a pen he wrote: –

  ‘Ah,’ he thought, ‘I’ll not be a fool fer to send it through the post jest now. With a war on letters to Von Quin – Von Quin – Von – er – the Frater Senior will look suspicious.’ He then placed a hat on his head & walked to the docks where he sought out one of his own boats & committed the letter to her captain.

  Late in the afternoon on which the expedition started, their Majesties were sitting in their smoke-room entirely forgetful of it, when the Little-Master, clad in the full Field Marshal’s uniform which as a member of the staff he was entitled to wear, burst in upon them.

  ‘Boys, have you not changed into your uniforms yet? The boats start in an hour.’

  ‘So they do,’ cried Bunny. ‘Come on ’Jah, no time to spare.’

  With feverish haste the two monarchs dashed to their rooms, and after a superhuman exertion of their protean skill re-appeared clad in their uniforms.

  ‘We’ll be late,’ said the frog who was awaiting them, ‘but we may as well make an effort: here’s the car.’

  The three entered the luxurious car which stood softly purring outside the palace door. The streets were already dark as they passed through them, and here and there they came across batallions of volunteers converging on Raymond Dock, from which the 3 ships had arranged to set sail.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Big. Suddenly stepping out, the 2 kings found themselves standing in the midst of a vast concourse of soldiers, drawn up as three sides of a square. On their right were lined up the Regular Mouselands, commanded by Colonel Pouter: opposite them were the volunteer additions to this regiment, under Corporal Puddiphat, who wore his tunic & sword as well as in other moments he did his morning-coat. On the left were the Chutneys, the largest force present, under command of the Colonel from whom they derived their name. In the background, the boys could make out the huge hull of the Indian Star, shillouetted against the star bespangled vault of heaven.

  In the foreground was Fortescue, who came forward to greet them.

  ‘Ah, Your Majesties, you’ve come nice and early: we can get our men on board at once.’

  ‘Yes do,’ said Big who wanted his dinner. ‘Boys, you’d better make a speech to the men.’

  ‘Yes, Yes,’ said Fortescue.

  ‘No,’ said Hawki, ‘they know already all the things that I should say.’

  Big shrugged his shoulders, & Fortescue said ‘Mouselands, right-turn! Embark.’

  Their was a movement, a short march, & their place was bare.

  ‘Mouselands Volunteers, right about turn! Embark.’

  Puddiphat marched his men off into the night.

  ‘Chutnies, left turn! Embark.’

  They too dissappeared and the place was bare untill the spectators crowded over it. Big and Fortescue mounted the troopship, while the boys decended to their much smaller craft which they were going to navigate in person. A deep roar broke from the liner’s horn, followed by a more modest blast from the Thrush, which lay beyond it, and after that the Cygnet’s shriller note.

  The Little-Master, from the Indian Star’s promenade deck noticed a widening gap between her and the wharf, & amidst ringing cheers the 3 ships dropped down the river.

  CHAPTER XIV

  * * * * * * *

  The next morning, on coming on deck, the Little-Master found the vessel ploughing through a tumbled waste of grey water. Away to the port horizon (that is the south) he could make out the rocky islet of Rockphabel. Crossing to starboard, he saw the Thrush and the Cygnet forging ahead. The air was cool and bracing, and a fragrant odour of breakfast floating through the open door of the first class saloon filled the old frog with a feeling of healthy peace & comfort, rarely if ever obtained upon land.

  ‘Upon my word,’ he said to Quicksteppe who had just joined him, ‘One could go anywhere in a boat like this. No need for those huge things they run on the “Ala” Line: this is just as comfortable and, I daresay, more sea-worthy.’

  ‘Ah! You can have it very rough later on in this voyague.’

  ‘Sure, what difference would that make to a boat like this?’

  ‘Much. Anyway, let us come below & break our fast.’

  Perhaps the meal was not as delicate a one as the Little-Master had imagined beforehand. Probably not
. At any rate, when about an hour later he returned to the deck with a cigar, the glamour had gone from his surroundings. That evening the ship set her course due north, and confronted the series of huge billows which hurled themselves at her bow. The days were long since past when the Indian Star rose to a wave, & she now preferred to burrow through & let it fall thundering on her fore-castle. She could still roll, however, as the Little-Master knew to his cost when his scalding soup at dinner was shot onto his tightly drawn dress trousers.

  ‘Ah, upon my word,’ cried the suffering frog, ‘it was ridiculous to attempt the voyague in a cockle-shell like this.’

  ‘Its a fine ship, Little-Master,’ said Reginald Vant, who, being an old seamen, was acting as captain.

  ‘And,’ added Quicksteppe rather unfeelingly, ‘you told us this morning that “One could go anywhere in a boat like this.”’

  ‘Ah no,’ said Big, quite believing he spoke the truth, ‘I never said anything of the kind. Excuse me a moment Fortescue.’ With that he retired to change the boiling mass of clinging cloth which once had been dress trousers!

  Next morning, the Thrush was steaming so close to the liner that one could shout from boat to boat. While Big was walking on the promenade of the Indian Star, Bar, the purser of the gunboat, inquired of some friend on board the troopship ‘if the Little-Master made a habit of emptying his soup onto his knees?’

  As that long second day of ups and downs wore on the Little-Master felt that not only had the glamour gone from sea life, but also that it had never possessed any. On board the Cygnet the boys were too occupied in the navigation of their vessel, in which they were assisted by only two men, to think of much else. On the gunboat Thrush, all was merry as usual. Bar rooked his mess-mates over their food & drink, & borrowed money from them with touching goodfellowship. For two or three days the Cygnet got seperated from the main expedition, and Big, who was by nature somewhat pessimistic, ordered the flags to be flown half-mast before they had been absent for 24 hours. However they returned on the third day, only having been driven out of their way by a violent tempest. After that Big insisted that the Cygnet should sail between her two fellow vessels.