WHICH TELLS OF SEVERAL ISLANDS, AND THE WONDERFUL PEOPLE WHO LIVED IN
THEM.
[Illustration: Initial N.]
Next day, having been favored with a fair wind all night, they stopped
at the Island of Sadness, where all the people had once been very rich,
but were then very poor. Pantagruel found that nothing was to be seen
on such an island except fear, want, and misery. So he did no more
than step, for a few moments, into the church, near the harbor. On
coming out, he ordered that eighteen thousand royal gold pieces should
be given out for the relief of the poor people, and then he went on
shipboard, not being willing to stay there any longer.
Leaving this desolate island, a strong breeze sprang up, that brought
them, after one day, to the blessed Island of Papimany, where lived a
people so hospitable that some of them went every day to the port to
see if any strangers had come. As soon as anchor had been dropped,--in
fact, even before the ship had been well-moored,--four chief men rowed
out in a skiff to pay their respects to Pantagruel. On the strangers
going ashore, men, women, and children marched to meet them in a
procession that reached from one end of the island to the other, and
gave a welcome of cheers that lasted above a quarter of an hour.
[Illustration: THE HOSPITABLE FOLK OF PAPIMANY.]
In the midst of all this joy, the school-master of the place, anxious
that his boys should miss no chance of seeing what was for their good,
came up with all his teachers, ushers, and school-boys, to show them,
with their own eyes, a Giant so tall and renowned as Pantagruel. After
which, in order to keep the lads from ever forgetting what they had
seen, the chief school-master threw off his gown and went to work in a
hurry to give each of them a sound thrashing. This displeased the Giant
so greatly that he shouted, "If you do not leave off whipping those
poor children, I shall go at once." In his fright at this great voice
booming so high up in the air, the chief school-master dropped his rod
with one hand, and, with his other, the poor little fellow whose turn
had just come, while all the boys, big and little--those who had had
their whipping, as well as those who hadn't had it--crowded around the
good Giant's big feet to thank him.
At this moment the Mayor rode up on a mule with green trappings, and
carried Pantagruel and his party off to dinner. Nothing could be finer
than the feasting of this good people; but Pantagruel, anxious to
catch the good wind which was then springing up, only stayed for this
grand dinner. Before leaving, he had his men to bring on shore nine
pieces of cloth of gold, which he presented to his entertainers; filled
the poor-box of the church with gold; scattered sweetmeats among the
children; and ordered much money to be given to the servants who had
waited on them at table.
[Illustration: THE MAYOR RODE UP.]
Out at sea once more, they sailed on for several days without incident.
One day, however, when they were at table eating, drinking, and telling
stories, Pantagruel went on deck to look at the sea. After looking out
a while, he began to turn his great ears towards the sky, and it was
then he called out, "Do you hear nothing, gentlemen? It seems to me
some people are talking above us, yet I can see no one. Listen!" So the
whole company got up from the table, ran on deck, and set to cocking up
their eyes and clapping their hands to their ears; but all would not
do; they could neither see nor hear anything. Pantagruel, standing with
his eyes still looking up, continued to hear the voices. At last some
sharp-eared fellow cried, "I think I hear _something_." Then, all at
once, every man on board began to cry out that he could plainly hear
voices of men and neighing of horses; but, as nothing could be seen,
everybody was mightily frightened, and Panurge worse than all. Nothing
would do him but to beg Friar John to stay by him, saying that they
were all undone, and that there was no fooling with the devil. "We are
undone," he whimpered. "Just listen to those guns. Let's flee! There
are our sails and oars; why can't we use them? I never was brave at
sea; not that I am afraid! Oh, no! for I fear nothing but danger, that
I don't! We are all dead men; Set off! set off!"
[Illustration: ENTERING THE FROZEN SEA.]
Pantagruel, hearing all this noise, called out, without turning about,
"Who talks of fleeing? Let us see, rather, who these people may be;
they may be friends. I can discover nothing, though I can see, with my
eyes, a hundred miles around." Just then, James Brayer came up, as
if he had something important on his mind, and said, "Have no fear,
my lord; I can make all this clear. We are on the confines of the
Frozen Sea. At the beginning of last winter, a great and bloody battle
was fought not far from here. Then the words and shouts of the men;
the hacking and clashing of battle-axes; the jostling of armor: the
neighing of horses, and all the noise and din of battle, froze in the
air; and now, the winter being over, and the summer having come, all
these sounds have melted, and we can hear them."
Pantagruel, who at first had thought it to be witchcraft, which he
hated above all things, of a sudden cried out, "Why, sure enough, here
are some tumbling down that are not yet thawed!"
[Illustration: A SHOWER OF FROZEN WORDS.]
He then threw on deck a handful of what seemed to be rough sugar-plums,
but which were, in fact, frozen words. Everybody--even Panurge, who,
by this time had plucked up heart, on hearing what James Brayer had
said--ran here and there, picking up the sugar-plums. Pantagruel was
sure that he had never seen, in all his travels, anything quite so odd
as these sugar-plums; for many of them melted almost before he could
throw them down, leaving his hand all wet with water; while his ears
were stunned from below by the awful shouts and groans of men, the
whistling of bullets, the heavy boom of cannon, and the wild, shrill
neighing of war-horses, which all came out as those queer sugar-plums
melted on deck.
[Illustration: LANDING ON THE ROCKS.]
The next day Pantagruel went ashore on a rugged, craggy, barren island,
where cocks are never heard to crow, and where lived Gaster, the first
Master of Arts in the world. Being himself a scholar, he wanted to
make the acquaintance of the First Master of Arts. He found him a most
wonderful and despotic old king, who talked with every one by signs,
for he could not hear, having been born without ears. Gaster never
bothered himself for anybody's comfort or convenience but his own, and
Pantagruel soon noticed that no one ever tried to reason with him.
At his smallest sign, all present, whether courtiers or foreigners,
anxiously inquired what was his will, and hurried off, running
themselves out of breath, and knocking each other over in their hurry
to do what he wanted. Pantagruel watched Master Gaster very closely,
in order to see if he deserved his great name for learning. He was not
long in finding out that the old glutton, being a great lover of corn,
had invented machines for cultivating it, and many mills for grinding
it fine and white; also recipes for baking it into delicious loaves and
cakes, for Master Gaster made signs that nothing put him into a greater
passion than heavy bread. He also had a knowledge of many curious arts
that he had studied out for the preservation of his beloved corn,--such
as keeping the rain up in the air, and how to coax it down just at
the time it was wanted; also a way to destroy the hail, and prevent
the winds from blowing, and to crush the storms, and a thousand other
wonderful things.
[Illustration: MASTER GASTER.]
Master Epistemon was greatly interested in all these fine inventions,
and prevailed upon Pantagruel to stay much longer than he wished, for
this First Master of Arts, with all his wisdom, had very rude manners.
Pantagruel, not being very skilful, as we already know, in talking by
signs, got so tired after a while that he couldn't put up with it any
longer; so he turned his broad back upon the greedy old man, and gave
the order to go on board.
Not long after they were under way the wind fell, so that there was
not a capful in all the sails of the fleet. Pantagruel's ship could
hardly get along, although James Brayer kept tacking all the time.
Everybody was put out of sorts by this accident, and moped about,
scarcely speaking a word to each other. Pantagruel nodded over his book
on the quarter-deck; Panurge idly played with a piece of rope, pulling
it about with his teeth; while Friar John marched off to the pantry,
to see what the cook might be doing. After two or three hours in the
galley, here came Friar John, puffing and blowing, to Pantagruel,
upstairs. Finding him awake, he asked:--
"Will Your Highness be so kind as to tell us how a man can kill time
and raise a good wind at sea?"
Pantagruel gave a yawn, and said, half-laughing, "A good dinner will
kill time quicker than anything else, as you, my good Friar John,
better than most men, know. Have dinner served! Maybe the wind will
come with the dinner."
Friar John needed no second hint. It was the good Friar's boast that
he knew and loved the ceremonies of the kitchen much better than he
did those of the court. So, at these words, he hurried downstairs, and
soon marched in at the head of the stewards, cup-bearers, and carvers,
who bore four stately meat-pasties. At the sight of these fine viands
all the mouths began to water, and they were soon deep in feasting and
drinking.
[Illustration: THE ISLE OF GANABIM.]
While they were thus passing their time merrily, and making up riddles
for Pantagruel to guess, the dull weather also passed away; and, the
breeze having freshened, with full sails set, they were soon making
up for the time they had lost. Not long after, they came in sight
of a high land, which Pantagruel, first discovering, pointed out to
Xenomanes, and asked him:--
"What is that high rock yonder, with two tops?"
"That, Your Highness, is the Island of Ganabim. The people who live
there are all thieves. Yet there is on the top of that very mountain a
fountain worth seeing, since it is the finest fountain in the world.
Does Your Highness wish to go on shore?"
"Ho! not I," replied Pantagruel; "but, for the honor of the finest
fountain in the world, we ought to give a salute as we pass." As the
flag-ship came just in front of the rock the gunner fired. At once, the
gunners of the other ships gave, every one, a gun to the island, which
made so mighty a noise that it seemed as if the sky was about tumbling
down in thunder.
[Illustration: SHARP ISLAND.]
The next day they sighted Sharp Island, an unhealthy country, with
rocks shooting up in an ugly way everywhere through the barren soil.
The pilot pointed out two cube-shaped rocks that were so white they
might have been taken for alabaster. He said they were filled with
demons and caused more wrecks, both of men and goods, than the famous
Scylla and Charybdis. Of course, the flag-ship and all the fleet
steered far out to sea in passing Sharp Island.
Sailing four days, toward nightfall of the last day, they came near the
fairy-like shores of Lanternland. For leagues around the sea seemed
twinkling with fires, that gave a tremulous sparkle, or, darting up
into bright light, hovered a while over the water, and then would be
lost, only to be found again shining nearer and brighter than before.
James Brayer said that the whole coast was planted with light-houses.
Xenomanes confirmed this, adding, that "there was no port in the world
equal to those of Lanternland, and no coast where the piloting was so
safe."
[Illustration: THE SHORES OF LANTERNLAND.]
Here they stopped for a day, and were received with great friendship
by the Queen of that country. Pantagruel was greatly vexed that he
could not speak the Lantern language, so as to talk with Her Majesty;
but, Panurge, who understood it just as well as he did his maternal
French, acted as his interpreter. After supping with Her Majesty in
the royal banquet hall, Pantagruel asked whether he had reached the
island too late to be in time for their great Annual Fair. He was told
that the Fair was already over; and he then acquainted the Queen with
the purpose of his voyage, and prayed her to grant him a guide to the
Kingdom of India. Of course the Queen was greatly interested when she
heard that it was love for the bright little Princess of India which
had brought a Giant so great a distance. She promised all he asked, and
assured him that he should have her own particular guide--the best in
all Lanternland--to go with them the next morning.
[Illustration: THE QUEEN OF LANTERNS.]
Pantagruel, after saluting Her Majesty with such majestic grace as
became so stately a prince, withdrew, followed by his friends, to take
some rest. The next day, having first seen that their guide was on
board, they took their leave, amid the glad cheers and huzzas of the
good Lanternists, who vowed that, if they had only stopped one more
night, they would have made such a blaze along the coast as would have
lighted them half-way to India.
Every story must have its ending.
And the ending of this story is that the good Prince Pantagruel, led by
his guide from Lanternland, first passed over the Caspian mountains in
search of his charming Princess; then defied the Cannibals; conquered
the Island of Pearls; and, at last, after reaching India, married the
lovely daughter of King Prestham of that land.
To tell the story of the supper which good King Gargantua had promised
to give Pantagruel, and which was to equal that of King Ahasuerus, and
of the great and valorous deeds of Pantagruel, after his marriage,
would make a history much more wonderful than what you have just read.
But this is a part of his life which the Wise Man--who so loved the
three good Giants, GRANDGOUSIER, GARGANTUA, and PANTAGRUEL--promised to
write, but never did.
THE END.