The Pursuit of the House-Boat by John Kendrick Bangs (ebook reader macos TXT) 📖

I turned my X-ray gaze upon it I saw that it contained about six brigades of infantry, three artillery regiments, and sharp-shooters by the score.  It was a sort of military Noah’s Ark; but I knew that the prejudice against me was so strong that nobody would believe what I told them.  So I said nothing.  My prophecies never came true, they said, failing to observe that my warning as to what would be was in itself the cause of their non-fulfilment.  But desiring to save Troy, I sent for Laocoon and told him all about it, and he went out and announced it as his own private prophecy; and then, having tried to drown his conscience in strong waters, he fell a victim to the usual serpentine hallucination, and everybody said he wasn’t sober, and therefore unworthy of belief.  The horse was accepted, hauled into the city, and that night orders came from hindquarters to the regiments concealed inside to march.  They marched, and next morning Troy had been removed from the map; ninety per cent of the Trojans died suddenly, and Æneas, grabbing up his family in one hand and his gods in the other, went yachting for several seasons, ultimately settling down in Italy.  All of this could have been avoided if the Trojans would have taken the hint from my prophecies.  They preferred, however, not to do it, with the result that to-day no one but Helen and myself knows even where Troy was, and we’ll never tell.”

“It is all true,” said Helen, proudly.  “I was the woman who was at the bottom of it all, and I can testify that Cassandra always told the truth, which is why she was always so unpopular.  When anything that was unpleasant happened, after it was all over she would turn and say, sweetly, ‘I told you so.’  She was the original ‘I told you so’ nuisance, and of course she had the newspapyruses down on her, because she never left them any sensation to spring upon the public.  If she had only told a fib once in a while, the public would have had more confidence in her.”

“Thank you for your endorsement,” said Cassandra, with a nod at Helen.  “With such testimony I cannot see how you can refrain from taking my advice in this matter; and I tell you, ladies, that this man Kidd has made his story up out of whole cloth; the men of Hades had no more to do with our being here than we had; they were as much surprised as we are to find us gone.  Kidd himself was not aware of our presence, and his object in taking us to Paris is to leave us stranded there, disembodied spirits, vagrant souls with no familiar haunts to haunt, no place to rest, and nothing before us save perpetual exile in a world that would have no sympathy for us in our misfortune, and no belief in our continued existence.”

“But what, then, shall we do?” cried Ophelia, wringing her hands in despair.

“It is a terrible problem,” said Cleopatra, anxiously; “and yet it does seem as if our woman’s instinct ought to show us some way out of our trouble.”

“The Committee on Treachery,” said Delilah, “has already suggested a chafing-dish party, with Lucretia Borgia in charge of the lobster Newberg.”

“That is true,” said Lucretia; “but I find, in going through my reticule, that my maid, for some reason unknown to me, has failed to renew my supply of poisons.  I shall discharge her on my return home, for she knows that I never go anywhere without them; but that does not help matters at this juncture.  The sad fact remains that I could prepare a thousand delicacies for these pirates without fatal results.”

“You mean immediately fatal, do you not?” suggested Xanthippe.  “I could myself prepare a cake which would in time reduce our captors to a state of absolute dependence, but of course the effect is not immediate.”

“We might give a musicale, and let Trilby sing ‘Ben Bolt’ to them,” suggested Marguerite de Valois, with a giggle.

“Don’t be flippant, please,” said Portia.  “We haven’t time to waste on flippant suggestions.  Perhaps a court-martial of these pirates, supplemented by a yard-arm, wouldn’t be a bad thing.  I’ll prosecute the case.”

“You forget that you are dealing with immortal spirits,” observed Cleopatra.  “If these creatures were mortals, hanging them would be all right, and comparatively easy, considering that we outnumber them ten to one, and have many resources for getting them, more or less, in our power, but they are not.  They have gone through the refining process of dissolution once, and there’s an end to that.  Our only resource is in the line of deception, and if we cannot deceive them, then we have ceased to be women.”

“That is truly said,” observed Elizabeth.  “And inasmuch as we have already provided ourselves with a suitable committee for the preparation of our plans of a deceptive nature, I move, as the easiest possible solution of the difficulty for the rest of us, that the Committee on Treachery be requested to go at once into executive session, with orders not to come out of it until they have suggested a plausible plan of campaign against our abductors.  We must be rid of them.  Let the Committee on Treachery say how.”

“Second the motion,” said Mrs. Noah.  “You are a very clear-headed young woman, Lizzie, and your grandmother is proud of you.”

The Committee on Treachery were about to protest, but the chair refused to entertain any debate upon the question, which was put and carried with a storm of approval.

Five minutes later a note was handed through the port, addressed to Cleopatra, which read as follows:

“Dear Madame,—Six bells has just struck, and the officers and crew are hungry.  Will you and your fair companions co-operate with us in our enterprise by having a hearty dinner ready within two hours?  A speck has appeared on the horizon which betokens a coming storm, else we would prepare our supper ourselves.  As it is, we feel that your safety depends on our remaining on deck.  If there is any beer on the ice, we prefer it to tea.  Two cases will suffice.

“Yours respectfully,

“Henry Morgan, Bart.; First Mate.”

“Hurrah!” cried Cleopatra, as she read this communication.  “I have an idea.  Tell the Committee on Treachery to appear before the full meeting at once.”

The committee was summoned, and Cleopatra announced her plan of operation, and it was unanimously adopted; but what it was we shall have to wait for another chapter to learn.

p. 172XI
MAROONED

When Captain Holmes arrived upon deck he seized his glass, and, gazing intently through it for a moment, perceived that the faithful Shem had not deceived him.  Flying at half-mast from a rude, roughly hewn pole set upon a rocky height was the black flag, emblem of piracy, and, as Artemus Ward put it, “with the second joints reversed.”  It was in very truth a signal of distress.

“I make it a point never to be surprised,” observed Holmes, as he peered through the glass, “but this beats me.  I didn’t know there was an island of this nature in these latitudes.  Blackstone, go below and pipe Captain Cook on deck.  Perhaps he knows what island that is.”

“You’ll have to excuse me, Captain Holmes,” replied the Judge.  “I didn’t ship on this voyage as a cabin-boy or a messenger-boy.  Therefore I—”

“Bonaparte, put the Judge in irons,” interrupted Holmes, sternly.  “I expect to be obeyed, Judge Blackstone, whether you shipped as a Lord Chief-Justice or a state-room steward.  When I issue an order it must be obeyed.  Step lively there, Bonaparte.  Get his honor ironed and summon your marines.  We may have work to do before night.  Hamlet, pipe Captain Cook on deck.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Hamlet, with alacrity, as he made off.

“That’s the way to obey orders,” said Holmes, with a scornful glance at Blackstone.

“I was only jesting, Captain,” said the latter, paling somewhat.

“That’s all right,” said Holmes, taking up his glass again.  “So was I when I ordered you in irons, and in order that you may appreciate the full force of the joke I repeat it.  Bonaparte, do your duty.”

In an instant the order was obeyed, and the unhappy Judge shortly found himself manacled and alone in the forecastle.  Meanwhile Captain Cook, in response to the commander’s order, repaired to the deck and scanned the distant coast.

“I can’t place it,” he said.  “It can’t be Monte Cristo, can it?”

“No, it can’t,” said the Count, who stood hard by.  “My island was in the Mediterranean, and even if it dragged anchor it couldn’t have got out through the Strait of Gibraltar.”

“Perhaps it’s Robinson Crusoe’s island,” suggested Doctor Johnson.

“Not it,” observed De Foe.  “If it is, the rest of you will please keep off.  It’s mine, and I may want to use it again.  I’ve been having a number of interviews with Crusoe latterly, and he’s given me a lot of new points, which I intend incorporating in a sequel for the Cimmerian Magazine.”

“Well, in the name of Atlas, what island is it, then?” roared Holmes, angrily.  “What is the matter with all you learned lubbers that I have brought along on this trip?  Do you suppose I’ve brought you to whistle up favorable winds?  Not by the beard of the Prophet!  I brought you to give me information, and now when I ask for the name of a simple little island like that in plain sight there’s not one of you able so much as to guess at it reasonably.  The next man I ask for information goes into irons with Judge Blackstone if he doesn’t answer me instantly with the information I want.  Munchausen, what island is that?”

“Ahem! that?” replied Munchausen, trembling, as he reflected upon the Captain’s threat.  “What?  Nobody knows what island that is?  Why, you surprise me—

“See here, Baron,” retorted Holmes, menacingly, “I ask you a plain question, and I want a plain answer, with no evasions to gain time.  Now it’s irons or an answer.  What island is that?”

“It’s an island that doesn’t appear on any chart, Captain,” Munchausen responded instantly, pulling himself together for a mighty effort, “and it has never been given a name; but as you insist upon having one, we’ll call it Holmes Island, in your honor.  It is not stationary.  It is a floating island of lava formation, and is a menace to every craft that goes to sea.  I spent a year of my life upon it once, and it is more barren than the desert of Sahara, because you cannot raise even sand upon it, and it is devoid of water of any sort, salt or fresh.”

“What did you live on during that year?” asked Holmes, eying him narrowly.

“Canned food from wrecks,” replied the Baron, feeling much easier now that he had got a fair start—“canned food from wrecks, commander.  There is a magnetic property in the upper stratum of this piece of derelict real estate, sir, which attracts to it every bit of canned substance that is lost overboard in all parts of the world.  A ship is wrecked, say, in the Pacific Ocean, and ultimately all the loose metal upon her will succumb to the irresistible attraction of this magnetic upper stratum, and will find its way to its shores.  So in any other part of the earth.  Everything metallic turns up here sooner or later; and when you consider that thousands of vessels go down every year, vessels which are provisioned with tinned foods only, you will begin to comprehend how many millions of pounds of preserved salmon, sardines, pâté de foie gras, peaches, and so on, can be found strewn along its coast.”

“Munchausen,” said Holmes, smiling, “by the blush upon your cheek, coupled with an occasional uneasy glance of the eye, I know that for once you are standing upon the, to you, unfamiliar ground of truth, and I admire you for it.  There is nothing to be ashamed of in telling the truth occasionally.  You are a man after my own heart.  Come below and have a cocktail.  Captain Cook, take command of the Gehenna during my absence; head her straight for Holmes Island, and when you discover anything new let me know.  Bonaparte, in honor of Munchausen’s remarkable genius, I proclaim general amnesty to our prisoners, and you may release Blackstone from his dilemma; and if you have any tin soldiers among your marines, see that they are lashed to the rigging.  I don’t want this electric island of the Baron’s to get a grip upon my military force at this juncture.”

With this Holmes, followed by Munchausen, went below, and the two worthies were soon deep in the mysteries of a phantom cocktail, while Doctor Johnson and De Foe gazed mournfully out over the ocean at the floating island.

“De Foe,” said Johnson “that ought to be a lesson to you.  This realism that you tie up to is all right when you are alone with