went at once to the front of the boat in order not to be in the way of
Wopole when he got on board. In a moment the boat was dancing on the
water, and Wopole sprang in over the stern. The boat shipped a good
deal over the bows, and the Princess got rather wet. However, she was
too excited to care much about a little water.
In a few moments Wopole had hauled up the sail, and the boat began to
move through the dancing waters. Just at this moment Treblo reached the
edge of the sea, and saw the boat well out of his power.
‘Come back!’ he cried to Wopole.
‘Don’t you!’ said Mumkie.
‘You needn’t be afraid!’ Wopole called as loud as he could. ‘I shan’t
come back!’
‘But you’ve got the Princess on board!’
‘You bet!’ remarked Wopole with familiar vulgarity now he was out of
the Prince’s reach.
The Princess thought it was her turn to say something, so she called:
‘Good-bye, Treblo, my love, good-bye!’
Wopole was naturally somewhat surprised at this voice that appeared to
come from nowhere in particular.
‘I suppose she’s hanging in the water,’ he said to himself out loud.
‘I shan’t trouble to help her on board if she is. I shall just let her
drown.’
‘How very good of you,’ remarked Ernalie sweetly.
Wopole looked surprised.
‘Sounds as if she was on board. However, she isn’t.’
And as the Princess thought it best to be quiet, he remained of the
same opinion.
All the while the boat had been getting rapidly out of the bay, and
the Princess thought they were quite safe from pursuit. But suddenly
Wopole rose from his seat in the stern and let down the sail.
‘What on earth is he going to do?’ thought the Princess. ‘He can’t be
going to stop.’
However, it was soon pretty clear what he was going to do, for she
noticed he was steering towards a large vessel that lay near them.
The way that the sail had left on the boat was sufficient to carry them
to the vessel, which the boat soon bumped against. Wopole now seemed
to be coming forward; and as there was not room in the boat for her to
slip past him, she jumped from the bow and managed to scramble on board
the ship, although it was rather difficult, and boats have a habit of
slipping away under any one who tries jumping off them.
However, she luckily managed it, and was soon safe on board.
She was followed almost immediately by Wopole, who didn’t find much
difficulty in getting on board; in fact, he came so quickly that he
almost fell on top of the Princess. However, she just managed to slip
out of his way, and he did not notice her, as he was occupied in tying
the boat-rope to a cleat.
He then went through various nautical exercises—such as boxing the
compass, and shivering his timbers, and danging his lee-deadlights, and
other things which it takes a sailor, or a nautical novel-writer, to
understand. The effect of these operations was to make the sails run
up, and then the vessel bent to the freshening gale and began to walk
the waters like a thing of life—at least, as like a thing of life as a
wet sheet and a flowing sea and a wind to follow after, but no legs,
could make it walk.
Wopole had taken the helm by this time, and he was steering a course
east by west, so that they stood—that is, they walked—straight out
from the shore. Thus they sailed on for an hour or two till the moon
began to show itself, and then Wopole altered the course so that they
sailed straight towards her. It might be as well to explain that in
those days a ship was only provided with two sails, and so one man
could manage a pretty large ship; and as Wopole was a very strong man,
it stands to reason that he could manage a rather large ship. So, you
see, it was not altogether so impossible as it looks to sail for three
weeks alone on the sea, although I own it would be somewhat difficult
nowadays.
When the moon rose, as I have mentioned before, Wopole steered straight
for it, and he continued steering straight towards it all night—at
least all the time that the moon could be seen.
Towards sunrise, however, the moon set; and as soon as he could see it
no more, he let down the sail, threw his anchor overboard, and in a few
moments the ship was at rest.
When this had been done he walked to a hatch, which he opened, and took
out some beef, captain’s biscuits, and pickled pork. From these he cut
slices and placed the slices on plates, after which he took the joints
back to the hatchway and put them in the meat-safes again. Then he
filled a glass with water from a little cistern that stood on deck.
After these preparations, he sat down and made a comfortable meal, and
then he went downstairs—that is, down the hatchway—and into his cabin.
He seemed to have departed for good, so the Princess followed his
example—at least, so far as the eating was concerned; only, she washed
the knives, forks, and plates before she used them.
‘I wonder if he’ll see any difference in the size of the joints?’ she
thought to herself. ‘If he does, he won’t know how it is, so that’s all
right.’
So she made a hearty meal, and then replaced the things just as he had
put them.
The question now was—how to pass away the time?—and it was a very
difficult one to answer. There were no books to read—at least, she
was not able to find any on deck. So she tried playing cat’s-cradle
by herself; but that was not a very great success, because there was
no one to take it up. She next attempted going to sleep, but that
was not a success either. Then she tried counting how many times the
ship rolled in the course of an hour; but she always forgot how many
hundreds she had counted. At last she went and sat on one of the
bulwarks and watched the porpoises as they played about the ship’s
bows. So the day passed away and evening came, and just as the sun set
Wopole came on deck yawning and stretching himself.
He looked at the vane, which was blown out nearly straight in the
evening wind.
‘A nice breeze,’ the Princess heard him say to himself. ‘If the wind
holds good like this it won’t take more than a fortnight.’
‘Thank goodness,’ the Princess said to herself; for she was beginning
already to grow rather tired of the adventure. ‘I think I’ll go down
and see what the vessel is like below-stairs.’
So she descended the dark hatchway as well as she could, though it was
no easy matter, for the boat was beginning to roll in a most unpleasant
manner; for, you see, the wind was freshening a good deal, and Wopole
had not yet hoisted the sails. However, she managed to get to the
bottom without tumbling down more than four steps at a time.
It was not quite dark in the cabin below, for an open port-hole let in
the last rays of daylight.
The cabin was a very small one, though it did not seem very cosy;
however, the Princess was delighted to see one thing, and that was that
there were some books on a table in the centre of the cabin.
She went and looked at their titles, but it was too dark to read them,
and she didn’t know where to find the matches. Through the porthole
she could see that the sea was getting rougher, and the waves were
beginning to dash loudly against the side of the boat.
‘It’ll be getting wet on deck,’ she thought to herself; ‘I think I
shall stop where I am, for I hate being damp, and I’m quite comfortable
here.’ Just at this moment she heard heavy steps coming down the
hatchway. ‘Good gracious! here’s Wopole coming down. What does he want,
I wonder?’
Wopole opened the door and looked in, but he didn’t seem to notice her.
He just put his arm round the door and unhooked a tarpaulin coat that
was hanging there. Then he took a sou’-wester from another peg and put
it on his head and shut the door again, and she heard him tramp up on
to the deck.
‘I suppose he’s gone for good,’ she said to herself. ‘Anyhow, I’ll lock
the door, and then he won’t be able to get in.’ So she locked the door
with the key that was in the lock. ‘Now I wonder where the bed is?’ she
thought. ‘That place like a shelf can’t be it; but it’s got bed-clothes
on it. However, I can’t get into it. I shall just lie on this sofa for
the night.’
So she lay down and slept all night in spite of the noise that the wind
and waves made.
She awoke next morning on hearing a most tremendous rumble and
splashing.
‘What is that?’ she said to herself. ‘He must be letting out the
anchor.’
And so he was; for in a moment she heard him coming downstairs.
‘I wonder what he’ll do when he finds the door locked?’ she thought.
Just then he reached the door and turned the handle, but the door
refused to move; and although he kicked and banged, it was all no use.
‘I’ll go and fetch a hatchet and prise it open,’ he grunted, out of
breath with his exertions; and he thumped up the stairs again.
But meanwhile the Princess unlocked the door, and seizing a couple of
books at random off the bookshelf she ran up on deck; but she kept
possession of the door-key.
Now it so happened that Wopole had dropped his hatchet in front of the
hatchway, and he was bending down to pick it up just as she came out
of it, so that the result was a collision; and as Wopole was bending
down he got considerably the worst of it, although the books that the
Princess was carrying were thrown right out of her hands.
Wopole got up from the sitting posture which the sudden shock had made
him assume.
‘Well, this is extraordinary! Shiver my old lee-scuppers if it isn’t!
Here first I can’t get into my cabin, and then I’m knocked over by my
own books that come flying at my head. I think it’s those books that
are the cause of the mischief, and I’ll just throw them overboard,’ and
he was just bending over to pick them up. But this was too much for
the Princess, who had no wish to be left for the whole of another day
without books. So she snatched the books from just under his hand—at
least, the book he was going to pick up—and as soon as she touched it,
it became invisible.
Wopole shook his head dismally as if he had quite expected it, and then
he tried to pick up the other one; but just the same thing happened.
Now the Princess had just been bending down to pick the book up as
he bent down, and the wind blew her hair right across his eyes. He,
feeling the tickling, put his hand up to his face and caught the hair
before she could draw it away.
‘What is this now?’ he said, as he examined his hand. ‘Feels like
hair,’ he mused. But in his fit of musing he let his fingers relax
their grasp, and she drew her hair away very quickly.
‘I thought so,’ Wopole said. ‘It was only the hair—the wind, I mean. I
wonder what’s the matter with the books, though? It must be the cabin
that’s bewitched them. I won’t sleep in that cabin to-day. I’ll change
my apartments at once.’
And he did. So, for the rest of the time, the Princess had the cabin
all to herself, and she was quite contented; for Wopole was so sure
that it was bewitched, that he moved his clothes and things out of it,
and never came near it again.
And the Princess had decidedly the best of it; for Wopole slept all day
and watched all night, and she kept awake all day and slept all night
just as usual. So the time passed away, and every night the moon got
larger and larger as they got nearer and nearer, until it was quite
close.
They had been a fortnight and three days out before they came to the
edge of the sea, but it was eight o’clock in the evening, and the moon
had just left the water, as it flew into the air like a large—a very
large—white bird.
‘What a confounded nuisance!’ Ernalie heard Wopole say. ‘Now I shall
have to wait the whole of another day for it to rise above the sea; and
then it’s so jolly dangerous.’
The Princess couldn’t help wondering why it was so jolly dangerous;
and how, if it were dangerous, it could be jolly. So she asked—quite
without thinking that she was invisible:
‘Why?’
‘Why, you dunderhead!’ retorted Wopole; ‘because we’re quite near the
edge of the world, and if a strong wind should rise we should be blown
right over it, and then we should fall right into the sun. See, stupid?’
The Princess replied meekly:
‘I thank you.’
‘I should think you ought to thank me,’ Wopole retorted angrily. ‘It’s
bad enough to have spirits on board a temperance ship without having to
talk to them.’
‘But I’m not a spirit,’ said Ernalie.
‘Then who are you?’
‘I’m——’ But she thought it best not to tell him more.
‘Oh, you are, are you?’ he replied. ‘Thanks for the information. I’m
sure it wasn’t necessary for you to tell me so much, and I don’t want
to know any more about you. Only, look here, I don’t know whether you
want to be roasted?’
‘Of course not,’ answered the Princess.
‘Well, then, if a storm comes up it will blow us right over the world’s
end into the sun; so look out. If the anchor holds, we are safe.’
‘What does the anchor hold?’ asked Ernalie.
‘The ground, of course. If it doesn’t, we shall have to hoist the sails
and try to beat against the wind.’
‘I suppose you beat against the wind to make it run away?’ said Ernalie.
But Wopole replied gruffly:
‘No puns allowed on board. Now, if we have to beat against the wind, I
shall have to manage the sails, so you must go to the helm.’
‘What is the helm?’ she asked.
‘That’s it,’ said Wopole, pointing to it.
‘Oh, that’s the helm; and what am I to do with it?’
‘Do what I tell you.’
‘Very well.’
‘That’s all.’
So the Princess, not seeing anything better to do, went down below to
bed.
The night passed safely, and nearly the whole of the next day; but
towards evening the wind began to get up. Wopole was on deck, and as
he did not seem to wish to talk she let him alone. About seven the
moon was to rise, and at about half-past five Ernalie went down to her
cabin to get a book. She selected a small one that she had not noticed
before. It was called ‘The Life and Surprising Adventures of Robinson
Crusoe of Hull, Mariner, who——’ But before she had half finished the
title-page—which, by the bye, is rather long—a sudden reeling of the
vessel threw her right over to one corner of the room, and at the same
time from above there sounded a shrieking as of ten thousand demons.
‘What on earth is that?’ she thought as well as she could, for she was
lying in one corner of the room among chairs and various other articles
of furniture. However, she got out of it as quickly as she could, and
ran on deck, or at least she tried to run, for the vessel was rolling
and pitching, and the shrieking continued to resound from above. At
last she did reach the deck; but she rather wished she had stopped
below, for the wind was so biting it nearly bit her hair off, and
this same wind behaved so badly to the ropes of the vessel that they
shrieked in their pain as the blast cut past them, causing the strange
sounds that the Princess had heard below.
It was nearly as difficult to stand on deck as it had been in the
cabin, and the spray that came dashing over the boat made it very
difficult to see, for it got into her eyes and half blinded her.
However, she managed to steady herself by holding on to a rope, and in
a few minutes she was able to see Wopole standing in the bow of the
boat, and looking over the side. So she went towards him as well as she
could, for the wind and spray came from over the bows. Nevertheless,
she reached him somehow. He was leaning quietly against the bulwarks
over the hawser-hole watching the straining cable, just as calm as if
there were nothing in particular depending on whether the anchor held
or not.
As soon as she could find her breath she touched him on the shoulder
and shouted in his ear as loud as she could:
‘Will the rope break?’ But it was no use trying to out-roar the
tempest—at least for her.
When Wopole felt something touch him on the shoulder he looked round.
‘Oh, it’s you, is it?’ she heard him cry. But the wind was still too
high for her to answer. She only nodded; but she might have spared
herself the trouble.
Presently, after she had waited some minutes in silence, the wind fell,
almost as suddenly as it had risen.
‘Thank goodness! It’s over now,’ she said, and it was so quiet that
Wopole overheard her easily.
‘Don’t hulloa till you’re out of the wood,’ he said. ‘Look there!’
The Princess did look, and she saw that the horizon was hidden by
masses of white foam that rose and fell as if the sea were one great
cauldron full of boiling water.
‘That’s the storm coming down again,’ Wopole went on. ‘Hurry to the
helm and put it hard down when I hoist the sail, for the cable will
snap like thread before it. Quick—quick!’
The Princess ran like lightning along the deck, for the sea was quite
quiet, and the vessel hardly pitched at all, and she reached the helm
in a very few minutes.
When she got there she stood still and listened. Everything was quiet
and still; the vessel only rolled slightly, and the cordage creaked
uneasily, as if it feared the coming strain that it would have to
stand. From where the sea boiled a noise came—so low and grumbling that
it might have been the faint growl of an angry cat before it makes a
spring.
Just then Wopole looked towards the helm:
‘Mind and put it hard down!’ he shouted.
‘I wonder why he wants me to put it down,’ she thought.
But before she could ask the storm was upon them again. Swifter than
the arrow leaps from the bow it came, and the churned sea fled from
the attack of the wind like a mighty white horse. The flying scud and
rain beat mercilessly against her face; but she held bravely to the
tiller, and stemmed the storm as well as she could, with her eyes shut
and her teeth set.
The noise the storm made would have frightened Neptune himself; but
high over it she heard Wopole shout:
‘The cable’s parted! Hard down!’
And she pressed on the tiller as hard as she could; but the stubborn
bar refused to go down, and though she leant her whole weight on it, it
only fell away to one side, and she had only strength to lie against
it in vain hope of putting it down. Just then the sail began to raise
itself, and the vessel seemed to feel its influence, for it was turning
slowly round. Suddenly she saw Wopole appear in the mist of rain.
‘Let me have the tiller!’ he shouted; and she let go. Instantly he
seized it and pushed it the other way with all his might.
But at this critical moment a disaster happened, that made it look as
if everything had conspired against them. The tiller broke in half
under the strong hands of Wopole, and before they could wink the vessel
had turned its back to the wind, and they were carried at racing speed
towards the end of the world. They had but a mile or so to go, and a
mile is soon covered.
The last part of the journey was through a thick mist; but it didn’t
much matter to Ernalie.
‘Anyhow, Wopole won’t be able to cut the strings,’ she thought.
Just then the fog began to get lighter, as if some great fire were just
outside it, and in a few seconds they burst through the veil of mist
into a light so blinding that the Princess could not keep her eyes open.
‘This must be the sun we’ve fallen into,’ she thought. ‘But it doesn’t
seem very hot.’ Then there was a bump, as if the boat had run into a
lump of mud, and then a greasy slide, and then Ernalie fainted.
* * * * *
When she came to herself, she heard voices close to her. One sounded
like the voice of an old man, and the other, she was quite sure, was
that of Wopole; but she had never heard him so polite before. They had
evidently only just met, for Wopole was saying:
‘I am very happy to make your acquaintance, sir. May I trouble you to
tell me your name?’
‘It’s a great deal of trouble,’ grumbled the other; ‘but I’ll tell you.
I’m the Man.’
‘How strange—I too happen to be a man.’
‘You’re only _a_ man. I’m _the_ Man.’
‘The Man in the Moon, I should think?’ said Wopole.
‘Exactly,’ answered the voice.
‘Why, we must be in the moon,’ thought the Princess; and it was the
case, for the ship had run right over the edge of the world on to the
moon, which had been hidden behind the clouds.
‘I’ll just go and look at him,’ she said to herself, and so she sat up
to look where the voices came from. ‘They seem to be behind the sail,’
she went on. So she walked to the sail, and peeped round the corner,
and there sure enough he was.
I daresay you’ve often seen the Man in the Moon—at all events, you
ought to have. Perhaps you mayn’t have; if so, this is what the
Princess saw.
He was a very old man, and looked very much as if he was in his second
childhood, and he carried an enormous lanthorn, which made him even
more bent than he might have been if he had not carried it so often. On
his shoulders he carried a bundle of thorns, which appeared to prick
him and cause him a good deal of uneasiness generally; and besides this
he had an ugly little dog by his side, which made continual attacks
on Wopole’s shins, and it made such a noise with its barking that the
old man in a temper aimed a vicious kick at it; but he missed his mark,
and the weight of the lanthorn overbalancing him he sat down rather
suddenly, and during the rest of the evening he remained there.
But the conversation proceeded just as if nothing in particular had
happened.
‘Being the Man in the Moon, perhaps you would be so kind as to direct
me to the place where the Misses Parker reside?’ Wopole said.
‘That I won’t,’ said the Man. ‘Why should I?’
‘I thought that you might be so good as to direct me, and I had
intended presenting you with a loaf of bread. However, that does not
matter. Good-day. I daresay I shall find the house by myself,’ and
Wopole made preparations for getting over the side of the vessel.
But the Man no sooner heard the word ‘bread’ than he became very eager
to help him on the way.
‘Oh, wait a minute,’ he said; and Wopole accordingly waited.
‘If you’ll give me two loaves I’ll show you,’ he went on.
‘I’ll give you one now, and the other when I have paid my visit and am
safely back on the ship.’
‘Well, that’ll do. Give me the one, and I’ll show you at once.’
So Wopole went to the hatch which covered the pantry and took out a
large loaf, which he handed to the old Man.
‘Now trot,’ he said; and the Man hurried to the side of the vessel and
scrambled down as well as he could, followed by Wopole and the Princess.
It was curious how bright it was when they got over the side; for
although it was past nine o’clock P.M. by the Princess’s watch, the
ground itself seemed to shoot out light, and what was still more
funny, they threw no shadows, although that was easily explained; for
as the moon itself provided the light, it would be rather difficult to
throw a shadow on the moon.
They plodded on for some time in silence; but although the old Man
hobbled very much he managed to get along very fast, almost too fast
for the Princess, for the walking was very heavy.
Presently Wopole said:
‘How soft the ground is; is it all the same about here?’
‘Of course it is. It’s all cheese; and you don’t want hard cheese.’
‘I don’t want cheese at all,’ said Wopole.
‘You’d want it if you were me,’ remarked the old Man.
‘Why?’ asked Wopole.
‘Because it’s all there is to eat in the moon, and if it were hard I
shouldn’t be able to eat it.’
‘Oh, I see; but why don’t you come to the earth? You’d make your
fortune in a show.’
The Man shook his head sadly.
‘I did try once; but I got my mouth burnt, and I shan’t try again.’
‘Why, how was that?’ asked Wopole.
‘Don’t you know the song?’ said the old Man in astonishment.
‘Not I.’
‘Then I’ll sing it.’
And forthwith he began to sing:
‘The Man in the Moon
Came down too soon
And asked his way to Norwich, O;
He got sent to the south
And burnt his mouth
With eating cold plum-porridge, O.’
The Man’s voice itself was about as melodious as that of a peacock;
but in the final ‘O’ of the song he was joined by his dog and Wopole,
who both sang—or rather bawled—a wrong note; and as each was proud of
his voice the ‘O’ was prolonged indefinitely, and it might have been
kept up till doomsday, only, just at that moment, they happened to turn
the corner of a heap of cheese and came in sight of a cottage at some
distance off.
‘That’s the cottage where they live,’ said the old Man.
And no sooner did the Princess hear his words than she started off at a
run towards it.
‘I must get there before him,’ she said; and so she went as fast as she
could over the soft cheese. She really needn’t have hurried so much,
for Wopole and the old man had stopped, and it might have saved her a
world of trouble if she had listened to what they said; but she didn’t.
When she reached the cottage she stopped a moment to gain breath; but
that was soon done, and she went to the door and tapped. No answer
came; so she lifted the latch gently and walked in as quietly as she
could.
‘There goes that door,’ she heard an ill-tempered voice say.
‘I shouldn’t take the trouble to close it again if I were you. It’s the
fifth time it’s blown open to-day.’ This was in another voice.