EVEN IN SARGASSO DOTH ENVY FIND A PLACE.
Leaving Fidette, I hurried upon deck, clutching the first mate, who,
in a disordered condition of mind, was hurrying past me, and demanded
to know from him the cause of the universal consternation. I detained
him with difficulty, and it was several seconds before he was able to
stammer out:
“The Sacred Flint has been stolen!”
“The sacred what?”
“The Sacred Flint, in the custody of the priest.”
“Is that all?”
“Surely, that’s enough,” he gasped.
“What will come of it?” I asked, considerably relieved in mind.
“The Sacred Fire may burn out.”
“I can understand that,” was my answer, now feeling quite complacent.
“Our god will be in wrath. Not one of us will ever reach the Sweet
Water Heaven.”
“Too bad; anything else?” I inquired, now rather annoyed at all this
ado about nothing.
“Yes; the thief, the one who has stolen this holy emblem--this
sacred stone in which fire that water cannot quench is hidden--will
be punished with a death so awful that the coldest Sargasson blood
runs boiling hot at its contemplation. When found, he will be
seized, taken to the ship of the Chief Kantoon, where his hands will
be burned off, his eyes will be plucked out, and he will then be
fastened to a spit and slowly roasted over the Sacred Fire that he
has attempted to destroy. If, by a fatal mischance, the fire should
be extinguished, he will then be cut into pieces while still alive
and fed to the sacred sharks of the Inland Sea.”
Having said this, the first mate saluted, and, with my permission,
hurried away to rescue, if possible, by force, such members of the
crew as had attempted suicide, but were unable to sink.
I returned to Fidette’s side. She had ceased weeping. She was now
more calm, but her face was ghastly pale. She now remembered me, and
in the tenderest manner possible reached out her hands, taking mine
that were extended toward her, and with quivering voice began:
“My dear husband, I am the cause of this dire calamity. I know how
terrible must be my punishment; yet that is not what I fear, but the
distress I have brought on others.”
Then the suffering little woman had a nervous chill.
“Confide in me, Fidette,” I began, sitting down close by her side to
reassure her. “Tell me all.”
“It happened in this way,” Fidette began. “You know I gave a tea on
board the Caribas two weeks ago, Saturday afternoon. Donna Elenora
was here and assisted me, you will remember. Our tea was hot,
contrary to the Sargasson custom. There never had been any fire on
board the Cormorant, although on some of the other ships fires had
been started surreptitiously by some of the wives of the Kantoons!
The commander of the Cormorant had never permitted anything of the
kind on board his ship.
“When, therefore, Donna Elenora, desiring to give a tea to-morrow,
asked me for the loan of your flint, steel and punk, in a
thoughtless moment I declined to accede to her request. I suggested
that she borrow the flint from the Priest of the Sacred Fire. She
said nothing more, but, going back to the gig that she was using,
she at once set out for the Inland Sea. I understand what followed.
She has gone to the ship of the Chief Kantoon and has wheedled his
daughter into lending the Sacred Flint! My careless words inspired
her. Envy counseled her to commit this awful crime. She wanted to be
like me. She wanted to make a show. She has sacrificed her life, that
of her husband, and probably mine, to her vainglory--not that I fear
Death in his usual form, but, ugh! how I shall hate to be roasted
alive!”
“You shall not be punished, Fidette,” I said, stroking her pretty
shoulders and speaking in my most affectionate tone. “I don’t care
what the law is; I don’t care a fig for the Sacred Flint. In the hold
as ballast are tons of flints. I will send the priest a boatload
to-morrow. I shall appease his wrath. Comfort yourself, and rest. You
have distressed yourself too much. As for Donna Elenora, let them
roast her. Why should you worry? She knew what she was about.”
“My agony of mind is not wholly due to Elenora’s fate,” admitted
Fidette, hesitatingly. “You ask me to lean upon you. You reassure me.
You offer to extricate me from my terrible situation and incidentally
to protect my life. I ought to refuse all your proffers. Now that I
am engaged in the rescue of women from the dreadful domination of
man, it is quite improper that I should allow you to assert your
authority over others, even in my behalf. No; I must die. I must
suffer for a holy principle. This is a woman’s crime, and by a woman
must it be atoned.”
Fidette and I had lived happily together for almost ten months. I
never had been angry at her before. I never had felt in all my life
the impulse to strike or choke a woman, but at this moment out of the
depths of my soul arose a demoniacal impulse to snatch Fidette from
the couch on which she lay, hurl her to the floor and jump on her.
Her talk was such utter nonsense, so repugnant to the better part of
a man’s nature, such an exhibition of heartless ingratitude, that no
mere man could endure it. Of course, I mastered the influence. I did
nothing. I simply walked out upon deck and beat my head against the
mainmast.
Meanwhile the commotion on the ship had increased rather than
diminished. All discipline had been cast to the winds. In the darkest
shadows of the deck I could see the men standing together in groups
conversing in their horrible polyglottic language. I felt that some
action ought to be taken looking to the assertion of my authority.
In the loudest voice I could command. I called away every boat that
the ship possessed. Then, taking five men with me, I descended into
the hold, knowing the way perfectly in the murky darkness, and there
commanded each member of my crew to carry as much of the stone
ballast to the deck as he could lift. The flint had been broken into
all sizes, but I had trouble to prevent the men from undertaking to
carry too much. One would have supposed that they would have selected
the smaller pieces, but, on the contrary, they selected the largest
they could find.
When we reached the deck, I called the ship’s company around me,
told them I had learned of the terrible disaster that had overtaken
the Priest of the Holy Fire, and concluded by stating that each
of the pieces of stone then heaped upon the deck contained enough
hidden fire to keep the flames of the Sargasson priesthood aglow all
eternity. They received my statement with incredulity at first, but
when I seized a hammer and struck from a score or more of the jagged
stones the glinting sparks that evidenced the presence of hidden fire
the men burst into a shout of joy. They manned the twenty boats, in
the centre of each was placed at least a bushel of the precious
flints, and, without waiting for further orders, they set off in the
darkness up the Grand Canal toward the Inland Sea to deliver their
priceless cargo to the Priest of the Sacred Fire.
I then commanded the executive officer to put in operation the
sea-root telegraph, in order that the suspense under which the
Chief Kantoon and his priesthood were suffering might be at once
relieved. I knew that fully two hours would be required to transmit
the message from ship to ship, and had some anxiety regarding its
form and character when it should have reached its destination after
passing through so many hands, but at the end of two hours I had the
satisfaction of seeing the Sacred Fire again flashing in the skies,
and, aided by the first mate as interpreter, I learned that the Chief
Kantoon reassured his people that the Sacred Fire would never go out.
Having roused Fidette from her troubled sleep I joyfully told her
that danger and misfortune were past. In a few brief sentences I
explained to her the sending of the twenty boats loaded with flints.
Never did mortal give such a deep sigh of relief as did Fidette, and,
throwing her arms about my neck, she said:
“How much easier and better it is to have somebody to do my thinking
for me. I have been a silly woman.”