Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Island Queen by R. M. Ballantyne (first e reader .txt) 📖
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «The Island Queen by R. M. Ballantyne (first e reader .txt) 📖». Author R. M. Ballantyne
Then it was that Malines discovered that he had drawn on himself the wrath of one who had been the champion boxer in a large public school, and was quite as tough as himself in wind and limb, though not so strong or so heavy.
Now, it is not our intention to give a graphic account of that pugilistic encounter. Yet is it needful to point out briefly how, being a man of peace, as well as a man of science, Dominick managed to bring this fight to as speedy a close as possible. Instead, then, of striking his foe in all directions, and producing a disgusting scene of bloodshed, he confined his practice chiefly to one spot, between the eyes, close above the bridge of the nose—varying it a little with a shot now and then under each eye. This had the effect, owing to constant repetition, of gradually shutting up both Malines’s eyes so that he could not easily see. When in this condition, Dominick suddenly delivered first a left and then a right hander into what is sometimes called the breadbasket, and stretched his adversary on the sand.
Dominick was not boastful or ungenerous. He did not crow over his fallen foe. On the contrary, he offered to assist that smitten scorner to rise, but Malines preferred in the meantime to lie still.
It is scarcely necessary to say that the emigrants watched this short but sharp encounter with keen interest, and when it was ended gave vent to a cheer, in which surprise was quite as clearly expressed as satisfaction.
“Now, I tell ’ee what it is, lads,” said Joe Binney, striking his great right fist into the palm of his left hand enthusiastically, “I never seed the likes o’ that since I was a leetle booy, and I’ve got a motion for to propose, as they say at meetin’s. It’s this, that we makes Master Dom’nik Riggundy capting over us all.”
Up started Teddy Malone, with a slap of his thigh. “And it’s mesilf as’ll second that motion—only we should make him governor of the whole island, if not king!”
“Hear! hear!” shouted a decided majority of the party. “Let him be king!”
When silence had been partially restored Dominick politely but firmly declined the honour, giving it as his opinion that the fairest way would be to have a republic.
“A republic! No; what we wants is a despotism,” said David Binney, who had up to this point remained silent, “a regular despot—a howtocrat—is what we wants to keep us in order.”
“Hump!” exclaimed Hugh Morris, contemptuously, “if you’d on’y let Malines have his way you’d soon have a despot an’ a howtocrat as ’ud keep yer noses to the grindstone.”
“Mrs Lynch,” whispered Otto, who had hitherto stood beside the widow watching the proceedings with inexpressible glee, “you get up an’ propose that Pina should be queen!”
That this suggestion came upon the widow with a shock of surprise, as well as approval, was obvious from the wide-eyed stare, with which for a moment she regarded the boy, and from her subsequent action. Taking a bold and masculine stride to the front of the disputers, she turned about and faced them.
“Howld yer tongues now, boys, all of you, and listen to what your grandmother’s got to say.”
A shout of laughter cut her short for a few seconds.
“That’s right, old ’ooman, out with it.”
“Sure, if ye’d stop your noise I’d out wid it fast enough. Now, then, here ye are, nivver a man of ye able to agree wid the others; an’ the raisin’s not far to seek—for yer all wrong togither. It would nivver do to make wan o’ you a king—not even Joe here, for he knows nixt to nothin’, nor yet Mister Rig Gundy, though he can fight like a man, for it’s not a king’s business to fight. No, take my word for it; what ye want is a queen—”
A loud explosion of mirth drowned the rest. “Hurrah! for Queen Lynch,” cried one. “The Royal blood of owld Ireland for ivver!” shouted Malone.
“I wouldn’t,” said the widow indignantly, “condescind to reign over sitch a nation o’ pigs, av ye was to go down on yer bare knees an’ scrape them to the bone. No, it’s English blood, or Spanitch, I don’t rightly know which, that I’m drivin’ at, for where could ye find a better, or honester, or purtier queen than that swate creetur, Miss Pauline Rig Gundy?”
The idea seemed to break upon the assembly as a light in a dark place. For a moment they seemed struck dumb; then there burst forth such a cheer as showed that the greater part of those present sympathised heartily with the proposal.
“I know’d ye’d agree to it. Sure, men always does when a sensible woman spakes. You see, Queen Pauline the First—”
“Hurrah! for Queen Pauline the First,” yelled the settlers, with mingled cheers and laughter.
“Queen Pauline the First, ye may be sure,” continued the widow, “would nivver try to kape order wid her fists, nor yit wid shoutin’ or swearin’. An’ then, av coorse, it would be aisy to make Mister Duminick or Joe Binney Prime Minister, an’ little Buxley Chancler o’ the Checkers, or whatever they calls it. Now, think over it, boys, an’ good luck be wid ye.”
They did think over it, then and there, in real earnest, and the possibility of an innocent, sensible, gentle, just, sympathetic, and high-minded queen reigning over them proved so captivating to these rough fellows, that the idea which had been at first received in jest crystallised into a serious purpose. At this point Otto ventured to raise his voice in this first deliberation of the embryo State.
“Friends,” he said, with an air of modesty, which, we fear, was foreign to his nature, “although I can only appear before you as a boy, my big brother has this day proved himself to be so much more than an ordinary man that I feel somehow as if I had a right to his surplus manhood, being next-of-kin, and therefore I venture to address you as a sort of man.” (Hear, hear!) “I merely wish to ask a question. May I ask to be the bearer of the news of this assembly’s determination to—the—the Queen?”
“Yes—yes—of course—av course,” were the immediate replies.
Otto waited not for more, but sped to their new hut, in which the Queen was busy preparing dinner at the time.
“Pina,” exclaimed the boy, bursting in, “will you consent to be the Queen of Big Island?”
“Come, Otto; don’t talk nonsense. I hope Dom is with you. Dinner is much overdone already.”
“No, but I’m not talking nonsense,” cried Otto. “I say, will you consent to be a queen—a real queen—Pina the First, eh?”
Hereupon he gave his wondering sister a graphic account of the recent meeting, and fight, and final decision.
“But they don’t really mean it, you know,” said Pauline, laughing.
“But they do really mean it,” returned Otto; “and, by the way, if you become a queen won’t that necessarily make me and Dom princes?”
As Dominick entered the hut at that moment he joined in the laugh which this question created, and corroborated his brother’s statement.
In this cheerful frame of mind the new Royal Family sat down to dinner.
There came a day, not many weeks later in the history of our emigrants, when great preparations were made for an important and unusual event.
This was neither more nor less than the coronation of Queen Pauline the First.
The great event had been delayed by the unfortunate illness of the elect queen herself—an illness brought on by reckless exposure in the pursuit of the picturesque and beautiful among the islets of the lagoon. In other words, Otto and she, when off on a fishing and sketching excursion in the dinghy of the wreck, had been caught in a storm and drenched to the skin. The result to Otto was an increase of appetite; to Pauline, a sharp attack of fever, which confined her for some time to the palace, as their little hut was now styled. Here the widow Lynch—acting the united parts of nurse, lady of the bedchamber, mistress of the robes, maid of honour, chef de cuisine, and any other office that the reader may recollect as belonging to royalty—did so conduct herself as to gain not only the approval but the affection and gratitude of her royal mistress.
During the period of Pauline’s convalescence considerable changes had taken place in the circumstances and condition of the community. The mere fact that a government had been fixed on, the details of which were being wrought out by a committee of leading men appointed by the people, tended to keep the turbulent spirits pretty quiet, and enabled the well-disposed to devote all their strength of mind and body to the various duties that devolved upon them and the improving of their circumstances. Busy workers are usually peaceful. They have no time to quarrel. It is only when turbulent idlers interfere with or oppress them that the industrious are compelled to show their teeth and set up their backs.
During these weeks the appearance of the shores of Big Island began to change materially. All round the edge of Silver Bay a number of bright green patches were enclosed by rough but effective fences. These were the gardens of the community, in which sweet potatoes, yams, etcetera, grew spontaneously, while some vegetables of the northern hemisphere had already been sown, and were in some cases even beginning to show above ground. In these gardens, when the important work of planting had been finished, the people set about building huts of various shapes and sizes, according to their varying taste and capacity.
Even at this early stage in the life of the little community the difficulties which necessarily surround a state of civilisation began to appear, and came out at one of the frequent, though informal, meetings of the men on the sands of Silver Bay. It happened thus:—
It was evening. The younger and more lively men of the community, having a large store of surplus energy unexhausted after the labours of the day, began, as is the wont of the young and lively, to compete with one another in feats of agility and strength, while a group of their elders stood, sat, or reclined on a bank, discussing the affairs of the nation, and some of them enjoying their pipes—for, you see, everything in the wreck having been saved, they had, among other bad things, plenty of tobacco.
Dr Marsh sat among the elders, for, although several weeks on shore had greatly restored his health, he was still too weak to join in the athletics. A few of the women and children also looked on, but they stood aside by themselves, not feeling very much interested in the somewhat heated discussions of the men.
By degrees these discussions degenerated into disputes, and became at last so noisy that the young athletes were attracted, and some of them took part in the debates.
“I tell ’ee what it is,” exclaimed Nobbs, the blacksmith, raising his powerful voice above the other voices, and lifting his huge fist in the air, “something’ll have to be done, for I can’t go on workin’ for nothin’ in this fashion.”
“No more can I, or my mates,” said Abel Welsh, the carpenter.
“Here comes the Prime Minister,” cried Teddy Malone.
“To be—he ain’t Prime Minister yet,” growled Jabez Jenkins, who, being a secret ally of Hugh Morris, was one of the disaffected, and had, besides, a natural tendency to growl and object to everything.
“He is Prime Minister,” cried the fiery little Buxley, starting up and extending his hand with the air of one who is about to make a speech. “No doubt the Queen ain’t crowned yet, an’ hasn’t
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