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

by C. S. Lewis

  On the 7th night out, to the Little-Master’s unspeakable horror, the Chutneys got up an amateur performance of ‘The Three Looneys’. And so, day after day, the little expedition sailed on northwards towards the Tracity Islands: sometimes they came in sight of the coast of Dolfin on their starboard, but they never touched for this continent was full of an army friendly to the Chess. After a sail of a fortnight, one morning when the steward came & called the Little-Master he also told him, ‘We’re in sight, m’lord.’

  Big dressed very quickly and rushed on deck, very thankful that his not altogether pleasant voyague was over, and anxious to see the famous island of which he had thought for weeks.

  CHAPTER XV

  * * * * * * *

  The sea was calm and of a pale grey color. The sky was cloudless and almost colorless, and countless gulls were wheeling overhead with loud and raucous screeches. The air was cold and still, and a feeling of excitement hung over the three vessels, for there, not five miles away was the largest of the Tracity islands.

  The engines of the Indian Star had stopped when the Little-Master emerged from the saloon entrance, and paced briskly forr’ard to see the destination. Raising his field glasses to his eyes he could make out a rocky coast line some three miles long: and the tops of its beetling cliffs were surmounted by a continuous rampart through which sullen-looking guns peeped at intervals. On the top of the rampart he could descrie tiny figures, black against the sky.

  Replacing the binoculars in their case, the Little-Master returned to breakfast and to the saloon.

  ‘Well, Fortescue,’ said he as he sat down, ‘what’s our programme for to day?’

  ‘Well, Little-Master, you and their Majesties, I was thinking, would go to Von Quinklë & formally ask him to recapitulate: and on his refusal declare war.’

  ‘Very well. I suppose we’ll use the Thrush’s pinnace?’

  ‘Yes. Steward, tell Captain Murray to bring his boat allong side & ask their Majesties to be ready after breakfast.’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  Half an hour later, the Little-Master was seated in the stern of the little steam pinnace and the boys in the bow. At a distance of 3 miles from the island they met a small motor boat, in which sat a pawn, who intimated to them the fact that they must enter his vessel and go blindfolded to the island, if they wished to see his Excellency.

  ‘Boys,’ said Big, ‘this is a trap.’

  However he submitted to having his eyes bandaged and taking a seat on the new vessel. For some time he could hear nothing but the hiss of the water as it curled round the boat’s prow, but in about 10 minutes the singularly good hearing with which nature has endowed all frogs enabled him to perceive that they drew near some cliffs, and a few seconds later he guessed that the ship was passing through some narrow entrance: then the prow of the motor boat grated on something hard & they were told to step out. They were led for what the frog judged to be 200 yds, a door was opened, their bandages were whipt off and they stood blinking in the presence of His Excellency Frater Senior Von Quinklë.

  They were in a small room with high ground-glass windows, and before them at a desk sat a mild-looking old man who somehow imppressed them. When he spoke his voice was mellow and so even that it was almost expressionless.

  He said ‘I adress, I believe, the Kings & Little-Master of Boxen?’

  ‘You do,’ said Lord Big.

  ‘To what am I indebted for this pleasure?’

  ‘We have come to demand that you cancel your trade regulation.’

  ‘Pleasure before business! Try a little of this wine, it is ’60 Middlehoff.’ Big look at it doubtfully.

  ‘Ah,’ continued Von Quinklë, ‘You think it is poisoned: don’t apologise, quite natural.’

  ‘Well,’ said Big, ‘get to business. Either you consent or you eat your words. Let me warn you resistance is useless.’

  ‘I seem to have read that phraze somewhere before: its not original.’

  ‘Sir, d – bother your impudence. Remember –’

  ‘Whip me this insolent toad from the presence,’ said the Chessman in the same even voice. Big’s eyes were once more bandaged & he was hurried away, but the Frater Senior’s injuctions were not literally carried out.

  ‘Now,’ he went on, ‘have you two kings anything to say?’

  ‘We declare war.’

  ‘So do we.’

  ‘Quite so. Good morning.’

  Sometime later the pinnace came up under the counter of the Indian Star, and the news that war had been finally declared was joyfully received by all on board.

  CHAPTER XVI

  * * * * * * *

  Next morning the Thrush slowly steamed round the island at a distance of 5 miles untill it was due north, so that the two larger boats were facing each other with the island between.

  Captain Murray’s orders had been to shell the island from the north, so that after nightfall the Cygnet, which was now lying beside the Indian Star, could creep up unobserved & make a night attack.

  ‘Marines to the guns!’

  Wilkins, the gunnery officer, and four marines quickly strode forr’ad to the armoured gun of the Player pattern stationed on the forcastle, for although the Captain had said with dignity ‘to the guns’, if truth be told the Thrush had only one gun! With them came Bar stripped to the waist, who on these occasions acted as powder-monkey, a menial but necessary office.

  Murray slowly swung his vessel till she lay bow on towards the north rampart of the fortified island.

  ‘Give it them,’ said Wilkins as they came into position. One of the marines released a lever. There was a cloud of smoke, a defeaning report and the Thrush rocked furiously from the shock. When the cloud cleared, they saw that the shell had merely dislodged a fragment of rock. At that moment a white patch appeared on the dark surface of the distant rampart, then a loud crash, and a shell skimmed the water a few feet off the gunboat.

  So the exchange of shells continued all that long morning & afternoon. At about the fifth shell, one of Wilkins’ gunners was picked off, and later the shock of one shell, which struck the hull, precipitated Bar into the cold green ocean. Fortunately he was soon picked up, having sustained nothing worse than a compulsory wash, of which Hogge, the mate, said he stood in great need. A couple of Castles were killed on the island, and a large stretch of rampart blown away.

  However, the longest days must end, and at last the sun sank & darkness fell. The Cygnet’s small deck was crammed with the scouting division of the ‘Mouselands’ under command of Colonel Pouter, and a portion of the ‘Chutneys’ under their own Colonel. The Rajah did not despise the menial position of engineer & Benjamin stationed himself at the wheel. In the little saloon sat Big, Fortescue, and Quicksteppe. As silently as possible Bunny brought his little boat under the cliffs & coasted along in search of a suitable landing place. But he could find no such thing, and in any case there was no opening in the high rampart on top. After a short consultation it was decided that as soon as any accesible point was reached, the quick-firing gun of the Cygnet should make a breach in the wall, & the men charge. For all but an hour the imperial rabbit drove his boat along the coast & had almost despaired when he came upon a steep sloping rock up which a man might with difficulty climb. Here he stopped, & turning his little gun towards the wall above him he fired it. There was flash, a loud report, and rumbling crash of stone work above as a portion of wall was hurled away. In an instant the men were scrambling up the bank with cries of ‘The Chutneys!! The Mouselands.’

  In a few minutes a grimy figure appeared from the engine room, which on closer inspection proved to be the rajah. He and Big and Bunny scrambled up the bank together; at the top they could make out clearly the form of the island, the whole centre of which was hollowed out by art or nature so as to form a lagoon or dock: opposite them was a narrow entrance to this lagoon between two huge beetling cliffs, through which they must have passed the foregoing morning. Over this was hung from a crane a huge cone o
f metal (point downwards) ready to drop on any unwelcome vessel. The whole island sloped down like a saucer to its central lagoon. In it was gathered a vast crowd of Chess of all sorts from the Pawn in his tunic & skullcap to the Bishop in his magnificent uniform. This crowd had been looking out northwards towards the Trush, but hearing the noise of Bunny’s quick firer they turned & rushed towards the south. And in a minute Chess & Boxonians were fighting hand to hand.

  CHAPTER XVII

  * * * * * * *

  The Boxonians rushed across the stone parapet and down the slope with the coarse grass brushing against their knees, and the Chess ran steadily upwards to meet them. But when the Boxonians were within a few paces of them they suddenly stopped short and presented to the mass of running men and animals an impenatrible wall of bayonets.

  The Little-Master who had got up some considerable momentum on the downward rush only saved himself from being impaled on the bayonet of a certain sturdy Castle by leaping to one side with such suddenness that he was precipitated into the grass. The Rajah and old Quicksteppe kept close together in the centre of the press, while Bunny singled out for himself a white Pawn with whom he carried on a long and vigorous duel right down in the moist shingle on the edge of the lagoon.

  As usually happens in a hand to hand engagement, the confusion soon became so inextricable that it was very difficult to make out what was happening. His Excellency, watching the melée from one of the beetling cliffs which surrounded the northern entrance, was in doubt what to do.

  Suddenly those on the Southern side of the lagoon descried the bows of a boat slowly pushing their way through the entrance, all unconscious of the vast projectile suspended over their heads. Instantly from one of the guard-houses on the south a shaft of blinding illumination shot out flooding the curious scene with the white lustre of a searchlight. Big, in the midst of the fight, read on the vessel’s bows the word ‘Thrush’.

  Turning he fled from the press, cutting his way through the struggling mass of Chess. At last he reached the stone parapet and ran at his full speed along it to the north. As he ran he could see a knight on the far side running in the same direction: Big realised what was going on. If this man reached the crane before he was within earshot of the Thrush, the projectile would be discharged and the gunboat irrevocably lost! On the two runners raced while below them the battle raged noisily and fiercely. Big had no thought for it now: his only aim was to warn captain Murray in time.

  At last he judged that a shout would carry from where he was to the gunboat’s bridge, and cried hoarsely ‘Murray, steam ahead for all you’re worth. Quickly.’

  He heard the harsh clang of the vessel’s telegraph and clouds of black smoke poured from her funnel: slowly at first but with ever-increasing velocity she stole forward, churning the waters of the narrow straight to fury with her screw: she was all out of the passage except the very stern where the saloon stood when the exhausted frog saw a figure appear running on the cliff-top high above his head: on and on the little figure came and it seemed that the Thrush was hardly moving.

  Then the figure reached the massive crane and moved a lever!

  Next instant there came a deafening crash of splintering wood, broken glass, and resounding iron. The stern of the Thrush was completely hidden from view by the columns of foaming water displaced by the huge cone, which rose to a great hieght and fell thundering on the stricken gunboat’s deck. At the same moment the vessel’s prow shot up till the armoured gun on her forcastle pointed at the pale moon above. For nearly half a minute she stood thus with her stern buried in the angry foam and her stem high and dry above it: then she gave a quiver and dropped to her normal level as quickly as she had risen from it.

  She shot forward with more speed than she had known for many a day, staggered in her course, then listed over to port and lay quite still.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  * * * * * * *

  Next morning when the grey dawn illumined Tracity island it displayed a curious scene. The Chess had retired into their fortified group of buildings on the West coast, leaving the Boxonians possessors of the rest of the island. The greater part of the expedition had however retired once more onto the Indian Star, leaving to hold the east half of the island the crew of the disabled gunboat.

  Except for the small part of it held by the Chess the island was a gruesome-looking tract of bear grass covered with the ruins of the buildings destroyed by the shelling. Bar and his messmates, when left in charge, had wandered dismasily through the ruined streets littered with corpses and wrekage till they found a building of which only one wall had been blown off. It contained a sitting room, bedchamber, and entrance-hall.

  ‘This,’ said Bar, ‘was Von Quinklë’s own lodge.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Wilkins, ‘I should think so. If so there ought to be some grub about.’

  ‘What Ho!’ said Murray from inside, ‘Two bottles of rare old Middlehoff and a side of venison.’

  ‘Come on!’ cried Bar, ‘light a fire.’

  In an incredably short time the sailors were sitting contentedly round the brazier eating a hearty breakfast.

  ‘I say, Captain,’ said Bar with his mouth full of vension, ‘what’s the programme for to day?’

  ‘They’re bringing a couple of guns ashore and shelling the brutes out.’

  ‘But,’ said Hogge, the mate, ‘is it true that the Little-Master’s dead?’

  ‘I dun’no.’

  ‘Hullo,’ said a voice they had almost forgotten. Turning round they saw a Chessknight of medium height, carelessly dressed, good natured and intellegant. It was Samuel Macgoullah! They all liked Macgoullah very much but this meeting was disagreeable. For after all he was a Chess: there was no getting away from the fact. He had lived in Boxen all his life, he spoke Boxonian, he thought Boxonian, and he drank ‘Boxonian’. They had expected that he, like hundreds of other Chess, would ignore the war and keep away from it. It was foolish of him, they thought, to turn up now amidst those who were his friends in Boxen.

  ‘Good morning,’ said Murray awkwardly. Macgoullah laughed, ‘You look as if you thought I’d got a bomb or something up me slieve! I’ve come with a letter to old Von Quinklë from Polly Green; I came last night in the Bosphorous and clambered ashore somehow.’

  ‘Where did you get the letter?’

  ‘One of Green’s captains heard I was going up to Middlehoff with a cargo of lace (yes I’d payed the duty) and asked me to bring this along with me. He said that Green had given it him a week ago & he’d carried it about in his pocket all that time, forgettin’ it. Ha! Ha! Just like a Greenite.’

  ‘I wonder ought we to confiscate the letter,’ said Murray dubiously.

  ‘Its all the same to me,’ replied Macgoullah.

  ‘Alright, I suppose you may as well take it on.’

  Macgoullah set off at a brisk walk towards the fortifications, and, turning their eyes seawards the crew of the Thrush saw several boatloads of men and guns pulling for the shore.

  The first one contained Their Majesties, Quicksteppe, and a small detachment of the Mouselands.

  ‘I say, Murray,’ cried the Rajah, leaping ashore hastily, ‘Have you seen the Little-Master to day?’

  ‘No, Your Majesty, I’m afraid not,’ replied the captain. ‘There was a rumour –’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘That he was shot.’

  ‘Goodness,’ ejaculated Bunny, ‘Doesn’t anyone know?’

  ‘Come, Majesties,’ said Quicksteppe, ‘it is no use questioning these gentlemen: we must go and search the island.’

  ‘My Lord,’ said Captain Murray, ‘that is impossible: the whole island will be swept by the exchange of shells.’

  ‘D – n your shells,’ said Benjamin. ‘I’m going to look for the Little-Master.’

  ‘So am I,’ said the Rajah.

  ‘Your Majesties, Your Majesties,’ pleaded Quicksteppe, ‘it is unsafe.’

  ‘Plug!’ said the Rajah laconically, ‘Are you coming?’
/>
  ‘If you are,’ said Quicksteppe, and regardless of the expostulations of the sailors, the three set out for their ghastly search. Untill a shot was fired from the Chess citadel, it had been decided that the Boxonians should remain silent.

  The two kings and the general were so intent upon their search that they did not stop to wonder why the guns of each side remained truculently silent. Their only thought was for the Little-Master. After walking wearily for nearly three miles of ruins and corpses they found themselves on the parapet where the frog had raced so furiously on the previous night. At the far end of it stood a half destroyed building.

  Entering it, they glanced round. The floor, never of the best, had been shattered by a shell which had also in its flight pierced a huge hole in the roof. A damp unwholesome stench hung over the place and in one corner lay – the Little-Master.

  CHAPTER XIX

  * * * * * * *

  For a minute the three stood in silence gazing at the huddled form. At last Bunny spoke. ‘Is he dead?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  The Rajah advanced and touched the frog’s shoulder. To his unspeakable relief the latter turned round, opened his eyes, and said irratably, ‘Oh, there you are! Why didn’t you look for me last night? I was here, and before I got back to the South of the island the boats had gone, and I could see no one about. Consequently I’ve had to pass the night here, which may prove a very serious thing for a frog of my age.’