by C. S. Lewis
‘Thank goodness,’ said Benjamin, ‘we thought you were shot.’
‘Ah, nonsense,’ said Big, ‘At any rate I want a meal.’
‘Oh we can get that easily: the crew of the Thrush are breakfasting down there,’ said Quicksteppe consolingly.
‘Well come on boys.’
As the hungry Little-Master and his companions walked southwards, Bunny remarked, ‘An awfully nice fellow that steward on the Thrush is.’
‘Who’s he?’ inquired Big.
‘Uh a fellow called Bar: a little hock-brown bear.’
‘I do not like bears.’
‘Not even the little hock-brown ones – ?’
‘Ah they’re the worst of the lot!’
‘Why?’
‘Ah they’re impudent little creatures, and not only impudent but at times actually dishonest.’
‘And what of the others.’
‘Ah the grizlies are sour, cruel beasts, and the white bears are exasperating people.’
The boys and Quicksteppe were on the point of argueing the matter, when they were overtaken by a Chess pawn bearing a flag of truce and a sealed letter.
‘Ah,’ whispered Big, ‘they are beginning to climb down.’
‘For Your Lordship,’ said the pawn handing Lord Big the letter.
It read as follows: –
A few hours later the war was formally declared at an end and on the following day preparations were begun for the return voyague. Von Quinklë, now thoroughly reconciled to the Boxonians, assisted in the mending of the Thrush, which in less than a fortnight was ready to face the return journey.
But although the war had passed off successfully, and with much less loss of life than could have been anticipated, Lord Big was very dissastisfied. He felt that somehow the whole affair seemed a mere burlesque, a play, since it was found that they had been fighting all this time for nothing. And the greater part of his troops shared this sentiment, and, on the whole, animosity against the Chess was increased rather than soothed by the sudden termination of the war. The news had of course to be telegraphed to Boxen, where the comic papers snatched it up and made the most of the episode.
CHAPTER XX
* * * * * * *
Nowhere in the world is fine weather so acceptible as in Piscia, the lovely island of which the Little-Master was a native.
Tousandpot, the chief town of the island was basking under a cloudless sky of that deep shade of spotless ultimarine so seldom seen in these latitudes. To the east lay acre upon acre of green fields rising in gentle slopes to where the purple mountain stood out against the sky-line. To the west was Tousandpot harbour, where the sparkling water reflected the color of the sky.
Alongside the jetty lay a small and immaculate fore and aft schooner, whose bows bore the legend ‘Bosphorous’: she was Macgoullah’s boat. A few yards on was Polonius Green’s latest venture, the Puffin a tidy tramp of just over 1000 tons register.
Out in the bay the Thrush, now fully repaired rode at anchor. The town was at this time being honoured by a visit from the boys and Court, of course accompanied by Little-Master Big.
The latter was now strolling leisurly along the jetty, smoking a fine cigar and clutching a heavy walking stick. His heart was full of wrath, for Sir Goose, the barrister-detective, whom he had set to trace the offender of the golf-ball affair, had told him it was Jas. Bar.
Big had decided that it was hopeless to expect the purser of a gunboat to pay him £50, and his plan was now to sieze the bear when he came ashore and chastise him with his walkingcane.
At last patience was rewarded! An immaculate pinnace shot out swiftly from the side of the gunboat and approached the jetty where the Little-Master stood alternating between frenzied wrath and calm ferocity. At last the boat was brought under the jetty and the officers one by one stepped out. Murray, Hogge, Macphail, Wilkins, passed: next came the bear!
All unconscious of his coming doom the hapless purser climbed up onto the pier. Suddenly he was startled by hearing a voice exclaim near by, ‘You’re the bear! Don’t deny it! Come here Sir!’
With that he was siezed by his collar and recieved a vicious blow followed by another an other. Holding him at arm’s length, the frog talked to him, emphasizing each word with a cut.
‘I – confess – I – don’t – see – the – humour – of – stuffing – your – Little – Master’s – bed – with – golf – balls. Do – you – understand – me – Sir!!!’
Bar had a habit of chattering when he was annoyed, and the present occasion was no exception: unfortunately for him his flow of eloquence was drowned by the torrent of the Little-Magisterial indignation. It is, I believe, an excepted axiom that all human things must come to an end: Bar had begun to despair of ever seeing his friends again, when at last the frog laid aside his walkingcane, and carried the chattering purser to the edge of the jetty.
Here, Big delivered a vicious kick upon the bear, at the same time releasing his hold on his victim’s collar. The result was that the later was precipitated with great force into the harbour.
‘You’d better stay where you are,’ cried Big as Bar rose gasping, and shaking the water from his hock-brown muzzle.
Turning round, Big saw the boys approaching.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘I’ve just taught one of those bears a lesson he’ll remember for a long time.’
‘How?’ inquired Hawki.
‘I thrashed him with my cane,’ said Lord Big.
CHAPTER XXI
* * * * * * *
Since Polonius Green had quarreled with Viscount Puddiphat he had completely changed his mode of living. Morning coat suits, balls, and dinners had no longer any attraction for the parrot: in themselves they never had held it, but in the days when he was a friend of the Viscount’s he had looked on them as the necessary steps to that vague yet enviable discomfort known as ‘society’. But that was all over now: the fact that he had been bribed by Frater Senior Von Quinklë to get the Chess seats in the Clique of Boxen was now too universally well known to admit of any concealment, and this stamped out his chances of social success. For a week or so Polonius grieved over this and made one or two attempts to regain his lost status: they were all abortive. He had completely shut himself out by his action.
Finding restoration impossible, he gave up the idea and returned to the old life he had led before his tramp steamers had made him rich. Firstly he sold Shelling House to Sir Goose, who paid him half as much again as he had bought it for: he then built a small and homely house on the Murry docks. Finding a lot of cash on his hands he built himself two new tramps, the Penguin, and the Puffin, sister ships of one thousand and fifty tons each.
On the evening of the day which saw Bar soundly thrashed, Polonius Green was sitting smoking in the saloon of the latter vessel, which, as we have mentioned, was lying at Tousandpot.
Although the faint remnants of the lovely spring day poured in no feeble illumination through the open skylight and burnished portholes, the lamp was lit: in its yellow glare one could make out the outlines of [a] comfortable cabin. On either side was a bunk one for him and one for the mate. The floor was covered with a luxurious turkey carpet, for, although he had renounced society, Polonius had no intention of denying himself comforts which he could afford. In one corner was a large stove in which burnt a small fire, and on which sizzled a formidible kettle. On the walls, framed, hung Green’s master’s certificet, a calendar, and a badly painted oil-color drawing of the ship. On the far side of the table sat Willoughby, the mate, an able seaman who affected a great skill in matters sartorial.
The table, on which was a salmon & a tinned tongue, was laid for four.
Polonius was expecting company.
CHAPTER XXII
* * * * * * *
The door of the saloon was thrown open and two figures entered. The first was Mr Jas. Bar R.N., clad in an excellently cut chocolate-colored lounge suit, straw hat, and green and red waistcoat. He was followed by Samuel Macgo
ullah, dressed in his shoregoing blue serge suit and bowler hat.
‘Good evenin’, gents,’ cried Green springing up. ‘What on earth were you doing Bar, this afternoon?’
‘When?’
‘On the quay with the Little-Master.’
Bar colored with annoyance, which fortun-ately was invisible under his hock-brown hair.
SMALL SUPPER PARTY ON BOARD THE ‘PUFFIN’.
‘Oh,’ he replied after a moment’s hesitation, ‘a little affair of honour, a little affair of honour!’
‘Sit down,’ said Green. ‘I don’t believe you Bar.’
‘Of course not,’ said Macgoullah, ‘Come Bar, out with it!’
‘Out with what?’
‘The story of your thrashing.’
Bar gasped.
‘Well, its all on your account Polonius.’
‘Eh. Tryin’ to kinder shift the responsability?’
‘Well, if you hadn’t been turned out of the Clique it would never have happened.’
‘How so?’
‘Butter please – If you hadn’t come to me that night in the – (salt) – Schooner and persuaded me to stuff the Little-Master’s bed with golf-balls, I would have been alright.’
‘My dear little Bar,’ cried Green, ‘it was all your idea.’
‘Yes, but at your instigation.’
‘Anyway,’ said Willoughby, ‘the thrashing did him a world of good.’
Everyone except the bear himself heartily agreed with this statement.
‘What do you think of the Little-Master?’ inquired the Chessknight presently.
‘He’s a kod,’ said Green.
‘Perhaps,’ said Bar, ‘but he’s alright about some things.’
‘Fer instance –’ asked Green.
‘Well he didn’t make me pay for those golf balls. And although he insisted on engaging in a vulgar brawl on the docks, I’m not sure that paying wouldn’t have been much worse.’
‘Ah, but he’s a friend of your’s.’
‘He is not,’ said Bar with great emphasis. ‘He hates all bears and especially the little hock-brown ones. Perhaps I might have become his friend by degrees, but by the golf-ball trick I locked the door to his acquaintance for good!’
THE END
THAN-KYU
A sketch
I
* * * * * * *
Lord Big was once a young frog. There was a time (before he was Little-Master) when he was small and even agile: when he sat on an obscure back bench in Parliament as an awe-struck fresh member: when he was taken but little notice of by the continent which he was destinned to rule – practically speaking: when his enemies could not annoy him worse than by calling him a ‘callow tadpole’.
It was in this stage that he was when he fell dangerously ill and for many weeks lay between life & death. On his recovery he was sent on a short sea voyage to recuperate: his father, the old Big of Bigham, decided to send him to Than-Kyu, an obscure indepent state between Turkey and Pongee.
Accordingly he embarked on board the Albatross, a 500 ton trading schooner fitted with auxiliary paddle engines of 27 horse power (nominal).
The days of steering from amidships were as yet in their infancy, and the Albatross was controlled by a wheel on her lofty aftercastle. The captain was one Nicholas Redige, a stout puffin for whom Lord Big soon developed a great liking and admiration.
The vessel was wooden-hulled, and the piston – at the top of its stroke – rose high above the deck through an oblong opening built for the purpose: the top of the boiler projected a couple of feet above the deck level, showing the dome and safety valves. With her hold full of coals she was making a tour to Constantinople calling at Than-Kyu. The saloon, which was situated in the aftercastle, and the cabins below it, could accomidate 12 passengers but Lord Big was on this occasion the only one.
Such, then was the vessel, on whose poop the young frog found himself, as she puffed and wheezed her laborious way out of Murry. Beside him stood Redige close to the wheel which was in the hands of a Chesspawn.
‘Yes, m’lord,’ said the skipper, ‘its a fine life for them as likes it, and I dunno but that I wud not do it again. But I’ll be d –– d if I like these Turkish trips: give me a howling gale round tip if ye like, but nut a Turk.’
‘Why?’ asked the other.
‘Wall,’ said the puffin, ‘ye can nut ever “have” them. And they’re that slippery, m’lord, ye’d sooner hold a whiting. They’d never be stood at Herring’s P’int.’
‘I suppose not.’
‘Its Than-Kyu ye’d be going fer, m’lord?’
‘Yes. What sort of people are they?’
‘The vairy worst. But some of them ’ill do fer a bit. But it’s a gran’ place.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Aye, an’ ye’ll know it too! What was it the poet ses – “Danphabel with its thousand colored poplair-trees”? – But it ware’nt a sloop beside Than-Kyu.’
‘“Colored copulas”, I think.’
‘Aye, that was it. But no matter, no matter – A p’int to port Joe – I never cud tell wan plant from another.’
‘When will we make Than-Kyu?’
‘Maybe in fur days.’
‘Oh. Well you’re calling there again on your way back –?’
‘– I am that.’
‘Well you’ll pick me up then. That’ll be in about ten days –?
‘– Ten days? – What do ye take the old schooner fer? Ten –? Why seven an nut an hour onder.’
‘Oh, I apologise. She must be a fast boat.’
‘Can’t ye see fer yersel?’ said Redige indicating the coast of Mouseland on their port side, which was moving very slowly past.
‘Why, to be sure,’ said Lord Big. ‘And now I must bid you good night.’
‘Right, m’lord. Shout for the stewaird, there’s no bell.’
II
* * * * * * *
‘Is that Than-Kyu?’
It was Lord Big who spoke. He and Redige were standing down in the belly of the ship hard by the top of the sizzling boiler: it was about four days after the conversation narated in our last chapter. As he spoke he pointed to a stretch of low-lying land for off on their starboard.
‘That’s it, m’lord,’ answered the captain, ‘as sure as I’m a puffing.’
‘We’ll be in, in about an hour?’
‘– Three quarters, nut ever a minute more! But ye’ve a poor sort of opinion of my bo-at.’
‘Not at all, but I know little about ships.’
‘I have nut ever met anay one who knew less, begging yer pardon all the saime.’
‘Oh, granted: I confess it myself. So you’ll call for me in seven days?’
‘Yes, m’lord.’
‘Without fail?’
‘I have nut ever failed a passengair,’ said the puffin proudly.
Leaving the passenger to reflect on this he turned and ascended the steps to the aftercastle.
Lord Big walked forrad, and sat down on the lowest rung of the ladder which lead to the forecastle. The vessel was speeding along, with every stitch of canvas set, under the double forse of wind and steam: kealing over at a considerable angle with one of her paddle wheels buried in grey foam, and the other three quarters out of water, she was making a speed of nine knots per hour, no inconsidrable progress for the time of which we are speaking. Watching with eagerness the shoreline (which they were converging on with tolerable rapidity) he was able to make out the gleaming white domes and minarets of the town where he hoped to spend an enjoyable week. The minutes sped on broken only by the commands which Redige shouted occasionaly from the poop, and the hoarse reports of the lookout man.
At last, the schooner began to push her way into the commodius bight which the harbour of Than-Kyu was formed from. Bit by bit the skipper drew in his canvas, and the enginer stood ready to stop his machinary. At length she came alongside the stone parapet which was dignified by the name of wharf: it was crowded with robed
and bearded Islamites, who mooved with cries and sloth. The gangway was shoved on board, and, lifting his bag, Lord Big walked onto the soil of Than Kyu.
III
* * * * * * *
The pitiless glare of the sun beat down on the angular bazaar-street of the wine-sellers, so brilliantly that it hurt Lord Big’s eyes to look at the white alabaster walls of the houses: that the clearly defined shadows appeared as black as jet: a confused babel of shrill discordant voices filled the leaden atmosphere.
Lord Big stood, bag in hand, looking around him. Half a dozen natives surround him shouting to carry his bag. Giving it to one, he desired to be shown to the ‘Dragon’ Inn. Following the man, he climbed street after street ever upwards, untill, after quarter of hour’s walking they halted before a long low building. Entering he found himself in a low and ill-lighted sitting room, furnished with three tables and some low benches.
His fellow-guests, three in number, were remarkable. One, a lama from the north, sat in a dark corner swaying himself to and fro as he told his beads: the second, a fat merchant of Constantinople, was eating some unsavoury dish at the table: the third lay on the floor in the frog’s path. He was aged and fiery-looking.
‘Would you mind moving, please Sir?’ said Big.
The prostrate figure gave him a glance and shut his eyes again. The frog reiterated his question, and this time it had no effect at all.
‘Ah upon my word I wont stand it,’ cried Lord Big, dealing the offender a savage kick and proceeding indoors. The gaunt and bibulous figure rose and cursed with a fluency and artistic finish that would have done credit to a Clarendonian merchant captain.
So Lord Big continued to live at the Dragon Inn, as did also the other: but the Frog forgot and he did not.
