AN OLD MAN’S DARLING.
The Kantoon of the Happy Shark visited me again on the following
morning. After the episode that closed the preceding chapter, his
hazel-eyed daughter had left me with a burst of laughter that, far
from indicating offense, encouraged me to hope that my rudeness was
forgiven. As soon as she had gone, I returned to my cell and drew the
door shut.
Pretty as this girl was, I realized there must be many suitors for
her hand among all the brave and daring fellows who commanded the
various vessels, and I foresaw all manner of complications for me in
permitting myself to fall in love with this pretty sprite. Yet, you
must remember, I was barely 28; I never had had sufficient leisure
before to be in love, and I was willing to take a reasonable amount
of risk, even among this semi-savage people, for the sake of winning
the affections of such a strangely beautiful creature.
When, therefore, my master suddenly appeared before the door of my
cell and opened it, I had a presentiment that something disagreeable
was going to happen. Anger was apparent on his face. Every individual
gray bristle in his beard stood on end, and he viciously chewed the
bit of sea grass that he always carried in his mouth.
“S-o-o-o,” he began, “you have ventured to make eyes at my little
Shark? You have told her that her teeth are white. You have held her
hand, and, by the Sacred Light, you’ve dared to kiss her!”
My astonishment was so great that I only stammered in reply: “Why,
most gracious Kantoon, do you accuse me? Did the fair young lady make
any such a charge?”
“She? She! Not at all,” was the prompt retort. “But you were
observed. My faithful cabin boy saw what happened, and reported
to me. In punishment I shall separate you. In a few weeks I shall
take possession of the Caribas, which, from that hour, will be my
cantonment. You will remain behind. You will become the executive
of this sinking craft. You have yet about two years in your span of
life before the incrusted barnacles carry the Happy Shark to the
bottom. You shall never see Fidette again. She will go with me to
the Caribas, and, although she was born and raised on this ship, she
shall never visit here.”
I hastened to explain, with as full a vocabulary as I possessed, that
he had exaggerated the importance of the incident his cabin boy had
witnessed. It was true that I kissed Fidette, but she was an angel,
and the salute I gave her was a respectful tribute of homage to her
beauty and her divine character. I assumed entirely the blame of the
episode. I said nothing about the young lady’s visit to my cell door,
but led the Kantoon to believe that we had met for the first time at
the cabin window, where we had gazed together upon the setting sun.
This seemed to placate him a little, and, handing me a piece of
bulbous root to chew, the Kantoon continued:
“I knew this morning that something had happened to Fidette. She was
in a condition of hysteria during most of the night. In her sleep she
laughed and cried. I did not know what to make of it. I doubt if the
cabin boy would have told me of your conduct had he not feared his
little mistress was growing dangerously ill. So far as I know, it is
the first time she has ever been in love. Possibly I am mistaken; for
what does an old fool father know? She is evidently smitten with
you. That is natural; you are not such a very bad-looking fellow, and
you must possess talent and ability to have risen, at your age, to
the command of so fine a vessel as the Caribas. As she grows older
Fidette is certain to become more beautiful. Such was the case with
my poor wife. She was the prettiest woman that ever lived.”
The Kantoon then told the story of Fidette’s mother in a far less
intelligible way than the young girl had done, and described the
critical moment in his life, when he had demanded her as his choice
of the prize goods in the ship George Cornwall, with becoming
modesty. Many another man would have enlarged upon this incident, and
made himself the hero of it. The Kantoon did nothing of the kind.
This impressed me in his favor. Beginning with their life aboard the
Happy Shark, the Kantoon said:
“As you may imagine, I was immensely proud of my pretty wife. She was
by all odds the handsomest woman in the entire Seaweed Sea. She was
the latest acquisition, also, from the outside world. She brought us
history up to date! She never tired of telling us about a great war,
extending over four years, that you had had in the United States;
and, as I belong to a warlike people, every detail interested me. The
episodes of that great conflict have become as household words among
this ship’s company. Down in the fo’castle only this morning, I heard
the boatswain describing the charge at Gettysburg of that brave young
Southerner, Pickett. Of course, the naval battles interested us most,
and from the lips of my dear companion we heard details of sea fights
that caused our blood to thrill.
“About two years after our marriage Fidette was born. She was a
bright child from her earliest youth. The Chief Kantoon, at that
time a very aged and distinguished man, stood for her when she was
christened by the Priest of the Sacred Fire, and many presents, some
of real utility, were showered upon her. The education of this
child became the sole object of my wife’s life. She taught her with
infinite pains the quaint French she spoke herself, and read to her
out of some of the few books I afterward succeeded in obtaining from
the library of the George Cornwall. For my part, I cannot read any
language. As a boy, I spent my days and nights at sea, and never had
an opportunity to acquire even the most rudimentary education.
“When the stock of clothing that my wife had brought from the ship
was exhausted, she it was who designed the pretty costumes, similar
to that worn by Fidette. It is peculiarly Sargasson. Nothing like it
is to be found anywhere else in the world.
“Fidette assimilated, naturally, with her surroundings. She is very
expert with the canoe paddle, and can climb the ratlines of a ship
with the facility of a tiger cat. Were it not for her fear of sharks,
which I encourage, I believe she would spend most of her time in the
water. What makes her all the more precious to me is the fact that
her poor mother is dead. She contracted a fever and died six months
ago.”
Moist as was the garb in which the Kantoon was arrayed--for he had
just climbed out his cask of water to visit me--I beheld tears
well up in his eyes in a way that showed he tenderly cherished the
memory of his beautiful Creole wife. I have ever since thought that
reawakened affection for the dead made easier my way to his heart.
This brave Kantoon, who had faced death and the treacherous enmity
of all his associates for a pretty face, was completely under the
domination of Fidette. She was the real commander of the Happy
Shark; but she was full of tact, and avoided asserting the power she
unquestionably possessed. Although the father scowled at me many
times during this interview, and others immediately succeeding it,
his feelings soon softened to such a degree that I was no longer
imprisoned, and was consulted regarding the weather prospects and
other matters of dull routine about the ship.
Up to this time I have said almost nothing about our own community
aboard the Happy Shark. My excuse for this is the number of incidents
that have succeeded each other during my first few days on board
the queer old craft. Indeed, it was not until I had received the
“freedom of the ship” that I was able to truly describe the social
organization. Including the Kantoon, his daughter, and its chief
executive officers (who regulated hours of sleep among the members of
the various watches, by day and night), there were eighty-five people
aboard the Happy Shark. Their duties may be chiefly described as
follows:
The Kantoon was the visible representative of the chief power of the
Sargassons. He was responsible for the health and the good order
on board his ship. His authority was unlimited in emergencies--it
extended even to life and death.
When the situation was not critical, however, he was expected to
submit the question of the execution of a member of his own crew to
the Chief Kantoon. This involved a respite of two days.
Indeed, among the entire people, there seemed to be the utmost
reverence and respect for the central power.
Although I veritably believe that the blood in the veins of the
Sargassons is cold instead of warm, there were many features about
their system of government that showed a thoughtful respect for the
feelings of an unfortunate fellow man.
The Kantoon, therefore, was an autocrat whose acts were subject to
review. Although his authority was absolute on board his own ship,
owing to the very condition under which he enjoyed life, I did not
witness any exhibition of tyranny on the Happy Shark, or any of the
other vessels that formed the community.
The system of government was quite incongruous, I admit. It was
inevitable that it should be so, because, although all property
was nominally held in common, actually no member of a crew could
appropriate a blade of sea-grass or a single dried Ogalla berry (a
fruit quite like the mulberry, that grew plentifully and of which all
Sargassons were very fond), without the consent of the Kantoon of his
ship.
Again, the superiority of the Kantoon was emphasized by the fact
that he was the only member of the ship’s company who was allowed to
have a wife. This law, I saw at once, militated against my future
happiness, because it seemed impossible to hope that I could rise to
the distinction of commanding one of the flotilla for many years to
come. Meanwhile, some ambitious suitor, whose record for bravery was
established, would claim Fidette as his prize.
This thought, probably, caused the young woman’s father considerable
anxiety.
I wondered if it had ever occurred to Fidette to worry about
marriage. She must have known how poor were the chances of our future
happiness. Apparently, she accepted life exactly as it came to her,
never borrowed trouble, and had confidence in her own ability to
shape events to suit herself possessed by few other women.
She was among a wild race, with all the instincts and impulses of an
American girl, but she never for a moment had a thought of deserting
her father or leaving the old home, made sacred by the memory of her
dead mother.
Such was the position of the Kantoon of the Happy Shark, and his
daughter Fidette. Such were the facts that confronted me.
The first mate was the executive officer of the ship. He was expected
to see that the vessel was kept thoroughly moistened, in order that
dry rot should not set in. The Sargassons had a horror of dryness.
They were the most cleanly people living--taking frequent baths every
day, and while on duty keeping their clothing constantly damp. During
each watch, one of the crew was stationed at the rail and drew from
the sea a pail of water from time to time, which he dashed over each
of his comrades, including the officer of the deck. The Kantoon, I
imagine, stood in a barrel of water because of the show of authority
that it gave to the mind of the Sargassons.
Dry rot was a constantly menacing terror! It was insidious in its
methods of attack; outwardly invisible, it could only be detected by
frequent borings of the ship’s hull.
To the prevention of dry rot and to checking the accumulation of
barnacles upon the outside of the ship, the executive officer gave
the strictest attention.
So far as I ever saw, the crews were thoroughly tractable. Not a
member of any of them, during my stay, attempted to escape. True,
they were rarely given an opportunity. The small wicker boats, in
which they made their journeys from ship to ship, would not have
been safe, under the best circumstances, outside the vast blanket of
seaweed that prevented breakers from forming, and the water-logged
hulks from rolling over.
Each derelict was a social organism in itself; but owing to the fact
that life, at the very best, was uncertain among these communities,
each floating village had a law of its own.
The vessels were liable to destruction during every storm--by
collision with crafts of stronger build, by the ravages of time, or
by an over-weighted accumulation of barnacles, that, growing rapidly
in tropical waters, often literally drew the hulks to the bottom.
A case of this kind came under my notice. Not far from the Happy
Shark I saw a small bark, the crew on which were obviously enjoying
their last days of life. Their vessel was weighted with barnacles up
to her bowsprit. Tons of the calcareous accretions were visible, as
the hulk rose and fell in the water. This painful spectacle disclosed
one of the apparently cruel phases of Sargasson life, for the Kantoon
of our ship sternly prohibited sending relief to that sinking craft
or the saving of the community on board her. I repeatedly suggested
that it was inhuman to allow our neighbors to live in such imminent
peril of their lives, only to be ultimately swallowed up; but the
Kantoon sternly shook his head, and declared that such was the law
of the Sargassons--and his polyglot language was almost as great an
infliction as death; that the people on board the bark had enjoyed
their full span of life; that drowning would bring the relief they
coveted; that the end had little terrors for them, because it brought
to them the blessing of eternal repose.
Repose is the conception of Sargasson excitement!
Death is repose; therefore, it is welcome.
The lives of the Sargassons are quite lethargic, but they are
clamorous for rest.
It would be impossible to point out all the inconsistencies in the
religious beliefs of this people. Take, for instance, their vague
conception of heaven. Believing in extinction, as they universally
did, they could have had no logical use for any heaven; yet, they
hoped to attain that place of felicity, after death, and thought it
to be an absolutely level country, covered to an even depth of three
feet with warm, refreshing water, in which all the dwellers could
wallow and walk eternally. But how the departed spirits were to reach
this abode of bliss, or renew their spiritual existence after their
primary extinction, I never found a Sargasson capable of explaining.
If the Sargassons were mentally befogged regarding their theories
of a future state and of eternal rewards and punishments, they had
a great many thoroughly practical observances respecting this life.
Their principal article of diet was seaweed, which they served in
the form of a glutinous pudding, like farina. Fish, which were very
plentiful, furnished their only solid food. If Victor Hugo’s theory
be true that fish creates and sustains brain tissue, the Sargassons
ought to have been the most intellectual people in the world. They
devoured fish in great quantities. It had always seemed a severe
penance to me to be compelled to satisfy my hunger, on one day in the
week, with fish, and when I found it provided as a steady article
of food, my appetite soon rebelled. The seaweed stew was quite
palatable, being naturally salted to the taste, but I never could
become accustomed to the sundried fish.
The seaweed, collected in large quantities, was placed upon
structures of lattice work resembling grape arbors, and was
thoroughly dried. It was then picked over and the edible weeds
selected.
As a people, the Sargassons did not smoke, but there were some
experts among them who could roll a seaweed cigarette. I never
attempted to smoke more than one of them, though I found it quite as
good as the Virginia cheroot served in the Italian restaurants of New
York.
The Sargassons were a temperate people, although they produced
intoxication by drinking rain water, in which spars and old anchors
had been soaked.
All crimes had their punishments. The abuse of a wife of a Kantoon
by her husband was practically unknown; but when thoroughly
authenticated upon the evidence of a third party, this crime was
punished by the execution of the wife--the theory being that the
culprit was more rebuked by taking from him the partner of his life,
and compelling him to exist alone, than in any other way. As he
coveted death, the infliction of that penalty upon the Kantoon would
have been no punishment whatever. Like the unfortunate widows of
India before the suttee was abolished, all wives so “extinguished”
made no protest whatever, but in every instance recounted to me,
went to their deaths joyfully, because of the unhappiness and remorse
they believed their absence would bring to the widowers.
This real touch of femininity interested me very much.
The method of inflicting the sentence of death for crime was very
curious. The hands and feet of the condemned were drawn together
backward, so that the body took the form of a capital D. The man
about to die was then affectionately kissed upon the forehead by all
his comrades, and while the rest of the ship’s company chanted a
dirge, the two men most beloved by him tossed the condemned into the
sea.
To fall overboard generally meant death, because rescue by any other
ship was forbidden, and no derelict was allowed to take such an
unfortunate on board. If the wretched man could not regain his own
ship he submitted quietly to the inevitable end.
Death, which ends all in Sargasso, as elsewhere, was so familiar
to these people that tokens of sorrow were never worn. They met it
fearlessly and without protest, believing that when their bodies were
committed to their beloved mother, the Sea, the joys of eternal rest
began. Children were taught that mermaids met the sinking bodies
and tenderly bore them to coral grottoes, where they rested forever
in peace under the watchful guardianship of the Greatest of all
Kantoons, who rules the universe as he does the Sargasso Sea, and who
never more would summon them to duty or to care.
Of course, the Sargassons knew not care, but thought they did.