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

by C. S. Lewis

  ‘By all means,’ replied the Little-Master, with interest.

  Chapter IV

  THE MISSION

  * * * * * * *

  Lord Oliver Vant left the gallery and returned a few moments later, leading with him a young feline naval officer, who, as my readers have doubtless guessed was none other than Alexander Cottle, who was naturally both surprised and embarassed at being thus ushered into the presence of the virtual ruler of Boxen.

  ‘This is my young friend,’ said Vant with an air of proprietorship, ‘and, I trust, a fine precursor to the line of reformers whom we hope to send out.’

  ‘What is your name?’ enquired Lord Big.

  ‘Alexander Cottle, My Lord,’ returned the cat.

  ‘And are you aware of the purpose,’ asked Fortescue, ‘for which Lord Vant brought [you] here?’

  ‘I know, My Lord,’ replied Cottle, ‘that his Lordship intends to reform the navy: but I have not yet been informed what part I may endeavour to play in such a work.’

  ‘Well,’ said Oliver, ‘you entered to day on your first ship, and you as yet know little of your fellow-officers. You are young, and, I trust, vigorous, and I am entrusting you with a task which may alter the world.’

  Cottle glanced at his muscular shoulders, as if expecting to see them crushed by such an imposition. Oliver continued, ‘Will you endeavour by every means in your power to reform and cleanse your ship? You will have opposition, and you will find it uphill work. But success is not impossible. One word of warning’ – he whispered these words in a voice inaudible to the rest of the company – ‘on your ship you will find a mischievous little bear: his case is not hopeless, you may reform him.’

  ‘I will try, My Lord,’ said Cottle, ‘but I am not quite clear as to what I must reform.’

  ‘The tone,’ said Lord Big.

  ‘But, My Lord,’ said the young cat, ‘I can’t see anything wrong with the tone.’

  ‘Such nonsense!’ said Lord Big hotly, ‘If you –’

  ‘Remember,’ said Oliver, ‘the boy has not been on this ship for twenty-four hours.’

  ‘Well,’ put in Fortescue, ‘has Mr Cottle our leave to quit the palace?’

  This was replied to in the affirmative, and Cottle walked out of Riverside as one in a dream. On his way to the palace, Lord Vant had delivered to him a long diatribe on the decadence of the navy, to which the former had listened at first with incredulity & afterwards with deep sorrow. The idea that the good pig might [be] exagarating or mistaken never occured to Cottle, who saw the ideal navy, which he had pictured in his mind, fall to pieces like a castle of cards. Against Bar, I am sorrey to say, he was only too ready to believe ill, for the lax, humorous and somewhat loose character of the bumptious little bear could not but clash with the enthusiastic and strong ways of the cat. But it was a cruel blow to him to think of his new friend Wilkins as a criminal, for, after Vant’s declamation, he regarded him as little better. This then was the navy!

  But he swelled with pride as he thought of the mission which he had undertaken, and in imagination saw himself already famous as the Remaker of Boxen’s Navy. It never struck the young patriot that there was anything ludicrous in the idea of his, a young lieutenant, being entrusted with the reformation of such sailors as Murray or Macphail.

  Thinking thus, he took an electric tram through the lighted streets to the Royal Wharf, where, as the pinnace was drawn up beside the mass of lights which showed the Greyhound, he payed a waterman to row him out.

  As he entered the saloon, whence a glow of warm, red light proceeded, he saw a figure advancing to meet him. It was Bar.

  ‘Hullo’, said the paymaster with a laugh. ‘What have you been doing with the admiralty? I know Vant a bit myself. What did you think of him?’

  ‘I saw,’ replied Cottle stiffly, ‘nothing to object to in the character of his Lordship.’

  ‘Well,’ said Bar angrily, ‘you needn’t talk like that about it.’

  Cottle saw Wilkins in the oblong of light cast by the open saloon door, &, brushing past the truculent little hock-brown [bear] was greeted by the gunnery officer’s cheery ‘Hullo, Cottle, you’re too late for shore-leave, that is if you want any dinner. The pinnace is just going.’

  So Cottle ate his meal alone, and went to bed, meditating on the strange happenings of his first day of naval life.

  Chapter V

  THE PAYMASTER

  * * * * * * *

  The first person to awake next morning on board the Greyhound, or at any rate among the officers, was our little friend Jas. Bar. This worthy, despite the carouse in which he had indulged overnight, awoke with a clear head, ready to face whatever the day might bring.

  As he lay in his bunk, he realized that with his transportation to his new vessel a new stage of life had begun for him and his comrades: he saw, with gloomy foreboding, the timetable on his wall which callously ordered twice as much work a day as he had done on board the Thrush: and, worst of all, he thought of his new mess mate, Alexander Cottle. Conceit and indulgence had not blinded the little bear so much that he could fail to realize that the newcomer would prove a very important factor in the internal economy of the ship, and, being a shrewd judge of men, he guessed that the cat would be not only vigorous himself but also eager to impart this quality to those about him.

  Then again there was that visit of Cottle’s to Vant! Bar himself was in the highly embarrassing position of being one of the admiral’s ‘protégés’, and, although he by no means enjoyed this state of things, he had no desire to share it with a youngster whom he saw would be his rival.

  With such thoughts as these in his mind the paymaster arose, and, dressing himself in a threadbare working uniform, lit a cigarette and went on deck. As the bear was slowly pacing the promenade, and viewing the buildings which lined either side of the river, he was met by Cottle, who, clad in nothing but his native fur, stood dripping with salt water.

  As Bar had no intention of letting his feelings be seen, he said cheerily, ‘Fallen overboard, Cottle?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What’s been happening then?’

  ‘I had a bathe.’

  ‘What??’

  ‘I had a bathe.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In the river.’

  One could have knocked Bar down with a feather.

  ‘Do – you – mean – to tell me – you went overboard – into the water – on purpose?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  Bar stood with a gaping jaw for a few seconds and then burst into a laugh. Then he began again in a confidential tone.

  ‘By the bye, Cottle, what had Vant got to say to you yesterday?’

  ‘Oh,’ said the other evasively, ‘he just talked about the navy.’

  ‘Yes, but what did he say?’

  ‘That, Mr Bar, is [a] matter which concerns myself alone.’

  ‘Oh come now! Just as a friend.’

  ‘Really, Sir, our extremely slight friendship does not seem to justify my abusing the confidence which Lord Vant has reposed in me.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Bar, unable to keep up his friendly manner any longer, ‘Well one of these days, let me warn you, the whole mess will feel justified in abusing your ears.’

  Further friction was fortunately cut short at this period by the clanging of the breakfast bell, and a quarrel which might have proved serious, was added by each opponent to an already bulky series of grudges, to be paid at some future date. Perhaps it would have been better had they ended it there!

  That morning a late member of the mess arived in the person of Hogge, the first lieutenant. This worthy was a hardy pig, who, although by no means such a scapegrace as Bar, was yet the leader of the crew in all desparate enterprises, and a skilful mediator between them and their caustic commodore. Of Cottle he took hardly any notice, and displayed no interest when the paymaster privately explained his quarrels with the newcomer, answering to such narratives, ‘That he saw no reason for interfering in Bar�
��s matters, and was content to oppose Cottle when he encountered him.’ Thus the diplomatic lieutenant secured his popularity with all parties, and made a sturdy effort to keep these feuds from Murray’s knowledge.

  Cottle’s second morning was employed in getting the Greyhound ready for her departure which was to take place on the 8 oclock tide on the next day. The bear was kept busily employed in making up an inventry in his office, while the cat was occupied in another part of the ship superintending the stowage of amunition. The voyague which the vessel was to undertake was that of bearing sealed dispatches to the flagship of the Clarendonian fleet – a task, which, in the present season of winter, could not be accomplished in less than six weeks.

  That afternoon as James Bar was enjoying a few minutes well earned rest on the quarter deck he descried a very neat pinnace putting off from the wharf towards the Greyhound, which, when it had come alongside, proved to contain no less a personage than his own particular patron, Lord Oliver Vant. As soon as the good admiral had discharged his business with the commodore & was preparing to go, he was accosted by the head of the victualling department and led into the little box full of blotting paper & calendars which the latter termed his office.

  ‘Well,’ said the first Lord when he was seated, ‘and what is your grievance, my little bear?’

  ‘Look at this, M’Lord!’ said Bar, holding out the new timetable.

  ‘Well, I see an ordinary timetable.’

  ‘Ordinary!’ piped the bear, ‘I have at least three hours office work every day, besides my duties as social head of the vessel.’

  Vant regarded his protege over his spectacles and said, ‘But, my good little bear, you must have something to keep you out of mischief.’

  Thus admonished gravely, as if he had been a child of five, the poor paymaster could but say, ‘that it would wear him out’, and wrung the pig’s hand affectionately ere he embarked upon such a fatal cruise.

  That night Cottle took advantage of the shore leave to go and visit a friend in the town, while his messmates hurried off to a music-hall. When, at least, he flung himself on his bunk, he could not help lying awake to think, not only of the events of the day, but also of his coming departure on a voyague which was full of improbable horrors and still less probable successes.

  Chapter VI

  THALASSA!

  * * * * * * *

  Cottle was awake and up betimes on the morning of [his] first voyague, anxious not to lose a moment of the scene of departure. When he came on deck, he found no one there save a couple of marines who were busily engaged in hosing the boards untill they were as white as driven snow. The fog and mist had happily cleared off, and been replaced by a cold, clear sky and a stinging west wind, which, even in the seclusion of the river, stirred up curling riples and told of roaring seas outside. No sooner had the huge clock posted above the Double Parliament boomed the two strokes announcing half past seven than there was stamping of feet on the ladders and a crowd of men and animals, some of them hardly awake, tumbled up and stood as if expecting some theatrical pageant: nor were the officers any different in their habits, for Cottle observed his messmates standing on the promenades in a thick little group and gazing up at the navigating bridge. Just as the novice was about to enquire from his friend Wilkins the meaning of this pantomime, Murray appeared from the saloon entrance and took up his position on the bridge.

  ‘As you know,’ said the Commodore, ‘we are to go, this voyague, to the Clarendonian waters, and judging by the wind in here, it will be no child’s play either. Before we start, I should like to recomend some of our number, who have plenty of time to spare’ – here he looked hard at Mr Bar – ‘not to occupy it in turning my ship into a pandemonium: no tricks, this trip, paymaster. With this sixpence I will, as usual, toss for choice of first watch. Call Mr Hogge!’

  ‘Heads!’ said the pig.

  ‘Heads it is.’

  ‘We’ll stand the first,’ said Hogge.

  ‘My watch below! Good morning, Mr Hogge.’

  With these words the worthy commodore turned and left his bridge. While wending his way saloon-wards he caught sight of Cottle, standing leaning on the bulwarks and gazing round with interest.

  ‘Now then, Cottle, what are you doing? Did you grow there?’

  ‘No Sir. I don’t know which watch I am in.’

  ‘Well, why didn’t you ask me before? Eh? Well you stand Hogge’s watch. Look sharp to the bridge!’

  Cottle suited the action to the word and hastened up to the bridge deck, and onto the bridge, a sacred spot where as yet he had not ventured. It was at present occupied by two persons, Hogge, standing at the port end, and a sailor stationed at the wheel. Hogge turned as he heard the hurried step of the cat.

  ‘Oh you have turned up? Do you know what to do?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Well, you take the starboard side of the bridge, and when ever we pass a boat take its name and owner and tonnage and carry them aft to the ears of your friend Mr Bar, for him to enter in his log.’

  Hogge shot a shrewd glance at his companion to see what effect his mention of Bar would have, and in so doing saw the cat endeavouring feverishly to take the names of the countless vessels which plied to and fro in the great river.

  ‘Of course,’ said the pig with a chuckle, ‘you needn’t report any ship till we get into the open.’

  With a fervent sigh of relief the young cat abandoned his Herculean task, and was able to view calmly the progress of the vessel through the widening Jemima. When once Hogge had telegraphed to Mus to put his engines at full speed it did not take the brand new cruiser more than twenty minutes to reach the town of Topsy, which stands at the mouth, and turn round northwards in the open sea. Then first did Cottle realize what small riples in the river may betoken considerable billows out at sea. The great grey masses of water struck the Greyhound repeatedly on her port quarter so vigorously that she reeled and heaved, rendering it no easy task for Cottle to maintain his station.

  Meanwhile our ursine friend had not been idle. As the commodore walked into the saloon after delivering his homily, he was met by Bar, who had, with his usual audacity, determined to find out his master’s views on Alexander Cottle. The little bear was, of course, too old a hand to rush headlong at such a delicate job, and had prepared a long conversation with which to cover his curiosity and to sound the commodore.

  ‘Well,’ said he cheerfully. ‘Its a nice morning we’ve got for starting.’

  ‘Yes,’ returned the other looking at his paymaster suspiciously.

  ‘I see,’ went on Bar, ‘you had bad luck with the toss: or do you like to stand the other watch?’

  ‘Yes, I think I do,’ said Murray, seeing that Bar was bent on talk.

  ‘By the way,’ asked the latter, ‘which watch is Cottle in?’

  ‘Hogge’s.’

  ‘Humph! I thought I saw him standing on the promenade, after Hogge had taken the bridge.’

  ‘Yes: he didn’t know which watch he was in.’

  ‘Didn’t he ask you before?’

  ‘No. He’s that sort of chap.’

  This was more hopeful.

  ‘What sort of chap?’

  ‘Oh, quiet and moony.’

  Bar had now got what he wanted, and he went to pace the quarterdeck in happiness. Which happiness, however, might have not been so alloyed had he been aware that Murray had scented Bar’s plan and returned a verdick about Cottle, which he was far from thinking.

  Chapter VII

  THE QUICK-FIRERS

  * * * * * * *

  The watches in the Boxonian navy are from 9 to 3 & 3 to 9, so that the young cat, having come off the bridge at 3 in the afternoon, returned to his post at nine. The darkness had been thick since four, and when he stepped out of the saloon the Greyhound was plunging heavily forward in the snowy breakers which sent a shower of stinging spray as far as the bridge, as her bow buried itself in their jet black mass. Mindful of his delinquencies of that
morning, Cottle had allowed himself plenty of time, and, when he arrived on the bridge deck, the other watch were still at their posts. The cat, who had never till now experienced any more terrible sea than that which he might have encountered in his passage from Boot-town to Bombay, had no small ado to stand upright on the slippery, tossing bridge deck. Presently a red point of light appeared from below, which proved to be Hogge’s cigarette, and at the same time a hammering of feet for’ad told that the lieutenant’s watch were ready. With a muttered greeting to Cottle, the experienced pig mounted the bridge, accompanied by the former and a steersman.

  ‘Good night, Hogge,’ said Murray, as he turned to go below. ‘We’ll have dirty weather before you’ve picked up the Salting.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the other gravely. ‘Good night.’

  To Cottle it had seemed bad enough on the bridge deck, but on the narrow, unprotected gallery of the bridge, his sensations were indescribable. All, of course, was as black as pitch, save for the red glimmer of the binnacles and the faint glow of the port & starboard lights: the vessel’s bows were marked only by the phospherescent ridge of foam, and the intervening forecastle was a velvet void: and the whole was observed from a narrow platform which tossed and rolled, and offered a target alike for the whistling winds and the smarting spindrift. Presently the voice of Hogge spoke out of the blackness of the port end of the bridge.

  ‘Jeff?’

  ‘Aye, aye, Sir!’ came a voice from the invisible forecastle.

  ‘Tarpaulin the foc’sle skylight: it may yet burst.’

  ‘Aye, aye, Sir!’

  Hogge then ordered the two marines who were endeavouring to pace the promenade decks, to ascend to the bridge deck where they would be safer. The cruiser plunged and burrowed deeper and deeper into the waves, and in adition to those ahead, no sooner had they picked up the Saltings and thus left the lee of the north coast of Animalland than others, more vigorous in force and more bulky in volume, attacked them on the port side; and these latter type mounted higher and higher as the hours wore past, until they dashed over the promenade and mounted almost to the level of the bridge deck.