A Tangled Tale Lewis Carroll (books for 20 year olds TXT) 📖

Clara brightened up. “I shall win that,” she exclaimed eagerly, “if I may choose my train!”

Another shriek of engine whistles, another upheaving of springboards, another living avalanche plunging into two trains as they flashed by: and the travellers were off again.

Each gazed eagerly from her carriage window, holding up her handkerchief as a signal to her friend. A rush and a roar. Two trains shot past each other in a tunnel, and two travellers leaned back in their corners with a sigh⁠—or rather with two sighs⁠—of relief. “One!” Clara murmured to herself. “Won! It’s a word of good omen. This time, at any rate, the victory will be mine!”

But was it?

“I did dream of moneybags tonight.”

Noonday on the open sea within a few degrees of the Equator is apt to be oppressively warm; and our two travellers were now airily clad in suits of dazzling white linen, having laid aside the chain-armour which they had found not only endurable in the cold mountain air they had lately been breathing, but a necessary precaution against the daggers of the banditti who infested the heights. Their holiday-trip was over, and they were now on their way home, in the monthly packet which plied between the two great ports of the island they had been exploring.

Along with their armour, the tourists had laid aside the antiquated speech it had pleased them to affect while in knightly disguise, and had returned to the ordinary style of two country gentlemen of the Twentieth Century.

Stretched on a pile of cushions, under the shade of a huge umbrella, they were lazily watching some native fishermen, who had come on board at the last landing-place, each carrying over his shoulder a small but heavy sack. A large weighing-machine, that had been used for cargo at the last port, stood on the deck; and round this the fishermen had gathered, and, with much unintelligible jabber, seemed to be weighing their sacks.

“More like sparrows in a tree than human talk, isn’t it?” the elder tourist remarked to his son, who smiled feebly, but would not exert himself so far as to speak. The old man tried another listener.

“What have they got in those sacks, Captain?” he inquired, as that great being passed them in his never ending parade to and fro on the deck.

The Captain paused in his march, and towered over the travellers⁠—tall, grave, and serenely self-satisfied.

“Fishermen,” he explained, “are often passengers in My ship. These five are from Mhruxi⁠—the place we last touched at⁠—and that’s the way they carry their money. The money of this island is heavy, gentlemen, but it costs little, as you may guess. We buy it from them by weight⁠—about five shillings a pound. I fancy a ten pound-note would buy all those sacks.”

By this time the old man had closed his eyes⁠—in order, no doubt, to concentrate his thoughts on these interesting facts; but the Captain failed to realise his motive, and with a grunt resumed his monotonous march.

Meanwhile the fishermen were getting so noisy over the weighing-machine that one of the sailors took the precaution of carrying off all the weights, leaving them to amuse themselves with such substitutes in the form of winch-handles, belaying-pins, etc., as they could find. This brought their excitement to a speedy end: they carefully hid their sacks in the folds of the jib that lay on the deck near the tourists, and strolled away.

When next the Captain’s heavy footfall passed, the younger man roused himself to speak.

“What did you call the place those fellows came from, Captain?” he asked.

“Mhruxi, sir.”

“And the one we are bound for?”

The Captain took a long breath, plunged into the word, and came out of it nobly. “They call it Kgovjni, sir.”

“K⁠—I give it up!” the young man faintly said.

He stretched out his hand for a glass of iced water which the compassionate steward had brought him a minute ago, and had set down, unluckily, just outside the shadow of the umbrella. It was scalding hot, and he decided not to drink it. The effort of making this resolution, coming close on the fatiguing conversation he had just gone through, was too much for him: he sank back among the cushions in silence.

His father courteously tried to make amends for his nonchalance.

“Whereabouts are we now, Captain?” said he, “Have you any idea?”

The Captain cast a pitying look on the ignorant landsman. “I could tell you that, sir,” he said, in a tone of lofty condescension, “to an inch!”

“You don’t say so!” the old man remarked, in a tone of languid surprise.

“And mean so,” persisted the Captain. “Why, what do you suppose would become of My ship, if I were to lose My Longitude and My Latitude? Could you make anything of My Dead Reckoning?”

“Nobody could, I’m sure!” the other heartily rejoined.

But he had overdone it.

“It’s perfectly intelligible,” the Captain said, in an offended tone, “to anyone that understands such things.” With these words he moved away, and began giving orders to the men, who were preparing to hoist the jib.

Our tourists watched the operation with such interest that neither of them remembered the five moneybags, which in another moment, as the wind filled out the jib, were whirled overboard and fell heavily into the sea.

But the poor fishermen had not so easily forgotten their property. In a moment they had rushed to the spot, and stood uttering cries of fury, and pointing, now to the sea, and now to the sailors who had caused the disaster.

The old man explained it to the Captain.

“Let us make it up among us,” he added in conclusion. “Ten pounds will do it, I think you said?”

But the Captain put aside the suggestion with a wave of the hand.

“No, sir!” he said, in his grandest manner. “You will excuse Me, I am sure; but these are My passengers. The accident has happened on board My ship, and under