THE KANTOON’S DISPLEASURE.
At an early hour the following morning the Happy Shark was put in
shipshape for the reception of visitors. Several boats’ crews had
been sent during the night to the cook-ship, and had returned laden
with provisions that were temptingly placed upon a large table on the
upper deck; but neither the guests nor ourselves were expected to
touch the food. The Sargassons ring a new change on the Barmecide’s
feast. Selfishness with them is a virtue. Charity begins at home.
Very soon strangers began to come on board. It was the one day in
all the year when promiscuous visiting among the members of the
communities was allowable. Of course, the Kantoon and the chief
executive officers of the various ships visited and consulted with
each other when occasion required; but each hulk was absolutely the
castle of its commanding Kantoon, and he was at liberty to punish
by death, if necessary, an intruder whose presence on board was
personally distasteful to him.
My heart beat more easily as the long hours of the forenoon wore
away without a visit from Fernandez. But, early in the afternoon, a
small boat appeared on the Grand Canal, headed in our direction, and
I instinctively felt that the oarsman in front was my hated rival.
I was right. He came over the side of the ship in a jaunty manner,
appearing quite indifferent about the character of his reception. He
failed to send the customary bluefish scale to the Kantoon, required
by the Sargasson social code. Whether this was a mere oversight or a
bit of bravado on Fernandez’s part I never knew.
It certainly gave mortal offense to Fidette’s father.
Fernandez, however, did not seem to care whether he saw anybody
or not, except Fidette. The welcome that he received from her was
effusive to a degree that never could be equaled beyond the limits
of the Seaweed Sea. She held the palms of her hands up to his face
in order that he might kiss them, and, as he threw himself into a
kneeling posture before her, she seized a large deck bucket, always
filled with water, and emptied its contents over his head. The very
highest type of courtesy took this form.
I was thrown into the deepest despondency, forgetting that I had
always been a simple-minded man of the world, and that whatever
seemed real to me in Sargasson life was absolutely unreal.
Fidette was dissembling!
I should have remembered that Fidette had never been effusive with
me, and that what we call affection, the Sargassons regard as
dislike. Deeply as Fidette’s heart had been touched by the pathetic
strains of the low-voiced trombone, the thought ever present to
her that Fernandez had been willing to live when the blessing of
extinction was vouchsafed to him brought a revulsion of feeling in
the innocent young girl’s heart.
Her public effusiveness ought to have shown me that she despised
him! But I was so ignorant. In outliving his ship he had outlived
her love, of course. If he had died Fidette would have cherished his
memory for ever; but being alive, when he ought to have been dead, he
was out of the court of love.
Ah! ignorance is never bliss.
During the long interview which the two young people had together I
busied myself in other parts of the ship. I was conscious of the fact
that the Kantoon was in a terrible rage, and that he had sent for
his first officer, who, in turn, had summoned several of the most
trusty men.
The visit of Fernandez came to an end. He was sent away with most
affectionate handshakings and tender looks, these only serving as
the signal for his destruction. The poor fellow walked on air, so
happy had his welcome and tender leave-taking rendered him. He was
exuberant in his manifestations of joy and pleasure. As he went
over the side of the Happy Shark, to descend into the boat that
he supposed awaited him, he stepped into a large sack, which hung
suspended and open to receive him. The top was deftly gathered up
and tied, and quicker than I can tell it the bag and its contents,
heavily weighted, disappeared under the surface of the sea.
I never have approved of murder. But down in my heart I was glad
there was one less trombone player, and that I had one less rival for
the affection of Fidette.
An hour later the cruel little creature was sitting by my side in our
old place upon the bowsprit, dangling her little pink feet in the
water, and laughing as merrily as if her unfortunate lover did not
rest at that moment at the bottom of the Sargasso Sea.
She assured me that her love for me was just as steadfast as ever. We
wound our arms around each other like two sympathetic octopods.
And yet my thoughts constantly reverted to Fernandez.
How much art there is in having a woman throw you overboard at the
right time!
The achievement is hers; the consolation--yours.