THE CHIN-GOONE REVOLT.
The act of the Kantoon of the Happy Shark in ordering the summary
execution of my rival was equivalent to an acknowledgment of my
acceptance as his son-in-law.
It was a shock to me that Fidette neither expressed any regret nor
exhibited any remorse at the untimely fate of the Portuguese.
A round of strange ceremonies then began, and continued for a month,
during which time I had an opportunity of seeing all the Sargasson
women. At a regular hour each afternoon they called in small groups
to pay their respects to the prospective bride. I could not imagine
how the information spread so rapidly among the communities. It
seemed impossible that messengers could have been sent from ship
to ship. I asked Fidette about it, and she explained that when
a daughter of a Kantoon became engaged to be married notice was
promptly sent to the Priest of the Sacred Fire, and the Sacred Light
was flashed, signalizing the event. Every ship had a number, and was
readily indicated.
But how was the news transmitted to the High Priest?
That was a mystery.
Not a single Sargasson woman came on board the Happy Shark that I
did not see and carefully study. Without exception they were all
undersized, though hardy specimens of humanity. Their complexions
were nearly all dark, doubtless owing to their open-air life, and
to the fact that they never failed to exhibit their reverence for
the sun by passing a large part of each day, with uncovered heads,
directly under his rays. I did not see any woman who was as handsome
as Fidette. But there were many pretty faces among our visitors.
Their dress was most interesting to me. Sometimes it consisted
merely of a few yards of sea-grass cloth, tastefully draped about
their figures. In other cases the waists were made by gathering up a
strip of the same material at the neck and above the hips. The arms
were universally bare. Having no means of sewing, as we understand
the term, the Sargasson women only tied or pinned their garments
together. In the association of the various primitive colors that the
sea-grass enabled them to employ they were very skillful.
There wasn’t any national costume, but there seemed to be uniformity
about the dressing of the hair. I did not observe any substantial
variation from one form. The women, young and old, wore their hair
long, and twisted it into a hard knot, directly on top of their
heads, where it was held in place by a few spines from the fin of the
shark. These made very satisfactory hairpins. In addition to these
hair ornaments, the women frequently wore one vertebra of the shark,
highly polished and with its appendant rib. I never understood the
significance of that adornment.
It would be unfair to describe any one type of Sargasson beauty.
As I have said, nearly all were dark-skinned, either from tan or
by inheritance. I saw, however, two fair Greek girls who called at
our ship, but I was unable to learn from Fidette anything of their
history, because she could not speak Greek, Turkish or Albanian, and
the white-faced Greeks were not conversant with the languages of
Western Europe. These two ladies were very becomingly dressed, and
wore the only silk draperies that I saw during my stay in Sargasso.
Their pretty bodies were wound in long, sleeveless garments, gathered
at the waist by a simple cord. They wore in their hair, instead of
the customary shark bone, a sprig of sea myrtle, very shiny and waxen.
The ladies were received on board the Happy Shark with much ceremony.
They were formally announced in each case; the fish scale of pinkish
hue was sent to the daughter of the Kantoon, after which the guests
were shown into the cabin and remained standing during the formal
interview, when the congratulations were presented and acknowledged.
The entire party then seated themselves and began to gossip--and the
women of Sargasso were certainly the peers of any of our American
wives, sisters or mothers in that social art.
It must be remembered, in justice to them, that this was the only
opportunity during many months when they could talk over their
neighbors’ affairs together. Every confidence poured into the ears
of Fidette was dealt out to the other daughters of the Kantoons by
her in turn, rapidly as the visitors came, strict regard being had
to absolute truthfulness. The result was that little harm was done
to anybody. It was demonstrated that truthful gossip does no injury.
This chatter served to sustain mutual interest in each other. In most
cases the gossip was utterly frivolous and harmless. This woman told
Fidette about the illness of her cherished cray-fish; the next asked
condolences upon the death of her pet octopus.
The octopus is the pug dog of the Sargasso! The young women affect
and cultivate them as pets, much as our American girls do the
hideous, black-nosed pug dog to which I have likened them. Indeed,
the octopus is quite a companionable mollusk, once you understand him.
No food was offered the visitors, the theory being that food was
provided in common, and each lady could readily obtain it on board
her own ship. Many of the women had a fondness for schnapps, and
inquired of Fidette if, in the capture of my ship, anything of the
kind had been secured. They were always answered negatively.
One and all of the ladies, as they took their departure from the
cabin were received on deck by a sturdy sailor, before whom they
bowed their heads respectfully, and received the usual baptism of a
bucket of sea water.
Drinking water, as I have explained, was caught in a tarpaulin roof
that was constantly stretched across the deck. When a small cup of
this pure liquid was handed to the visitor she was expected to take
a sip of it, and then playfully to toss the contents into the face
of her hostess, accompanying the graceful act with a gleeful shout
of laughter. This was provocative of much merriment, and never gave
offense.
If, during any of these visits, a rain storm came up, the ladies were
never asked to remain on that account. Water had no terrors for them.
Then, of course, in the canals of the Sargasso Sea, one had not any
great fear of the waves.
The only restriction put upon Sargasson femininity that I
discovered was that a woman must not weigh over two hundred pounds.
If she developed adipose tissue exceeding that amount she was
unceremoniously drowned. Under such circumstances death was always
willingly accepted by the ladies themselves. They had little fear of
death at any time, but their repugnance to obesity was inborn; the
old women all possessed anti-fat remedies, the formulae of which they
imparted to their daughters early in their lives.
During this “Month of The Visitation” I one day noticed that the
Kantoon’s face bore evidence of anxiety. He believed he had detected
spies upon his vessel, under the guise of visitors. He was right,
because the fame of Fidette’s beauty had spread everywhere. Who had
circulated the report? Naturally all statements made by visitors of
her own sex pronounced her prim and homely. Already there were rumors
of a social revolt against Fidette’s right to be called the most
beautiful woman in the Community. The gossips asserted that she was a
treacherous, despicable girl; and one of the old dames even went so
far as to declare that Fidette was a vampire, and had drunk the blood
of her lover before his body had been thrown unto the sea. Indeed,
there was no limit to the horrible things said about Fidette by the
women of Sargasso.
Knowing Fidette’s gentle character, despite the manner in which
she had allowed her father to summarily dispose of the Portuguese
trombone player, I gave no heed to the malicious tales put in
circulation by the gossips of her own sex. I believed her to be
gentle, pure and lovable. As our engagement was now acknowledged,
Fidette insisted upon my saluting her with a kiss every time we
encountered each other in public. She had a very cunning, and to me
attractive, way of putting up her pouting face again and again, as
she accompanied the act by saying “More!” and “Encore!”
The real cause of the Kantoon’s anger toward Fernandez was not
generally apparent, I admit; but eventually he took me into his
confidence.
When I responded to his invitation to meet him upon the upper deck
I found there, as a special mark of confidence and favor, a second
barrel of sea water close beside the Kantoon’s tub. Understanding at
a glance the delicate character of the tribute paid me, I clambered
into the cask without waiting to have it suggested to me, and we
stood facing each other in our respective tubs for several hours,
going over the offensive rumors that had been put in circulation by
the Sargasson women, and that had finally reached the Kantoon’s ears.
Then we discussed my future and Fidette’s. Without attempting a
reproduction of the polyglottic character of the Kantoon’s language,
the following may be set down:
In all frankness, he began, Fidette had made a mistake in preferring
me to the Portuguese. The Kantoon (Fidette’s father) was the son of
an Oporto sailing master. Fidette’s mother, as we know, was a New
Orleans creole.
The propriety of the lover’s taking off was not questioned for a
moment. His life was forfeit by the Sargasson code. And yet, by these
Sargasson people, the trombone was held to be a sacred instrument,
and this young man had devoted his life to its study. It was just
their standard of music.
The Kantoon informed me that a rebellion was fomenting, the first
that had occurred since the great Chin-Goone outbreak in 1816, which
grew out of a concerted plot on the part of 200 Kantoons to organize
an expedition to go to St. Helena, rescue Napoleon and make him the
Emperor of Sargasso.
Napoleon was the only great figure in history thoroughly known and
respected by the Sargassons. They regarded him in much the same light
as the ancient Greeks and Romans did Hercules. To them he was rather
more God than man. His imperious and impulsive character filled them
with the wildest admiration.
When these 200 Kantoons organized there was only one fearless young
commander, Chin-Goone, who stubbornly opposed the project. He did
not want Sargasso opened to the world. He defied the entire 200!
Armed with the only ship’s auger in the community, at dead of night
he scuttled 100 ships occupied by the leaders of the Napoleonic
movement. These vessels, their Kantoons and their crews all went to
the bottom.
The movement failed, and for one year this young dare-devil Kantoon
was, apparently, the most popular man in all the Community. But he
thoroughly understood his fate under the Sargasson law. He knew that
he must die on the anniversary of his act. He enjoyed himself as
much as he could, and when the day arrived, accompanied by his hardy
crew, he visited the stately vessel of the High Priest and submitted
quietly and without resistance to being triced up and cast into the
sea.
Recurring to the situation that confronted us now, the Kantoon
was very grave, and said that the entire company of the vessel on
which had dwelt Fidette’s late lover, the Portuguese, had risen in
rebellion because of the young man’s execution.
They had secured the co-operation of twelve other crews, and a night
attack for the abduction of Fidette and her summary punishment was
highly probable.
The method of punishing a young woman who had been treacherous to her
lover was quite peculiar. The false sweetheart was compelled to live,
but lines of age and crows’ feet were tattooed into her face. Her
hair was bleached white, like an old woman’s, and every vestige of
her youth was destroyed.
Such an outrage, of course, the Kantoon was determined to prevent,
and I was quite as resolutely opposed to it.
We agreed to double the watch, and to be prepared to take “boarders”
at any moment.
Nights of sleepless anxiety followed.
* * * * *
I recollect that during the Virginius troubles we were beating down
the Windward Channel one Winter’s night on board the United States
frigate Wabash. I was a member of the ship’s company. We had been at
sea for several weeks, and did not know whether or not war with Spain
had been declared. Suddenly, in the moonlight, we made out a large
Spanish man-of-war, about one mile off, on our starboard bow. The
men were called to quarters. The decks were sanded down. The powder
magazine was opened, and every gun on board was loaded with shell or
solid shot. For half an hour, in the silence of the night, every man
stood at his post, awaiting a signal to open fire. Even the surgeon
had his knives, his saws and artery forceps ready on the wardroom
table.
The great steel ship, that could have sunk our wooden craft in a
minute’s time, passed.
Not a sound on board! Not a moving light! Only silence--and suspense.
* * * * *
The memory of that moonlight night in the Windward Channel was
renewed every night on board the Happy Shark.