Anchors Aweigh!
With the help of eighteen serving men, eight courtiers, Sixentwo,
Sevenanone, and Samuel Salt, who was not above carrying a sea chest
or hamper, Ato began stowing his belongings on the _Crescent Moon_.
There was little court apparel or finery in the King's boxes. Most
of it consisted of bottles of flavoring extract, spiced sauces, cook
books, minced meats, fruits in jars for pies, numerous frying pans, egg
beaters, and rolling pins.
"Are we gypsies, pan handlers, peddlers or what?" panted Samuel Salt as
he dumped the last load breathlessly on the main deck. "Goosewing my
topsails, Mate, many's the fish we cleaned with a jackknife, and potato
we pared with a dagger on the last voyage. Mean to say an explorer
needs to use all these weapons on his pork and beans?"
Checking off a list as his stuff was placed in the galley, Ato nodded
determinedly, then winking good-humoredly at the perspiring Captain,
ducked into the cabin to don his old sea clothes. Samuel was not long
following suit and soon, in short red pants, open shirts and carelessly
tied head kerchiefs, the two went below to inspect the stores Samuel
had laid in for the voyage. Roger, having nothing to bring aboard but
a few books and a bottle of feather oil, was already perched in the
crosstrees of the fore topgallant mast looking longingly toward the
east and waiting impatiently for the ship to get under way. But the
booming voice of the Pirate soon drew him to the lower deck and from
there he swooped down an open hatchway to the hold.
This huge space, usually reserved by the pirates for captives and
treasure, had been neatly divided into two sections. In one were
the tinned, dried and salted meats, the groceries, vegetables and
extra supplies of rope, tar and sail. In the other section there were
numerous shelves, many iron cages, aquariums and sea chests.
"For any strange animals or wild natives we may encounter and wish to
bring home with us," explained Samuel Salt as Roger looked curiously at
the cages. "In those chests are the flags of Oz we shall plant here,
there and everywhere as we sail onward!"
"And to think a new and mighty Empire may grow from this flag
planting," mused Ato, opening one of the sea chests and thoughtfully
fingering one of Ozma's green and white silken banners. "But surely you
don't expect to plant all these, Samuel?"
"Why not?" demanded the Royal Discoverer of Oz with a wave of the
scimiter he had resumed with his old pirate pants. "The sea is broad
and wide and no one's to tell us when we may start or sail home again.
But look, Ato, my lad--these will interest you." Turning from the
chests, Samuel pointed to a stack of long poles lashed to the side of
the ship with leather thongs. "Stilts!" grinned the Pirate as Roger
and Ato stared at them in complete mystification. "Fine for keeping
the shins dry when we wade ashore and don't feel like lowering the
jolly boat. All my own idea." Samuel cleared his throat with pardonable
pride. "Of course, it takes a bit of practice, but we'll try 'em on the
first island we come to. Eh, boys?"
"Well, thank my lucky stars for wings!" breathed Roger after a long
disapproving look at Samuel's stilts. "Two steps and you'll smash
yourself to a jellyfish, Ato. Stick to the boats, men. That's MY
advice!"
"Too bad he has no confidence in us!" roared Samuel, giving Ato a
resounding slap on the back. "Just wait, my saucy bird, and we'll show
you how stilting is done. And now, gaze upon this corner I've set aside
for my specimens; for rare marine growths, for seaweed, for curious
mollusks and other crustacean denizens of the darkest deep."
Samuel coughed apologetically as he always did when he mentioned
his collecting mania, and Roger and Ato, exchanging an amused grin,
swung about to examine the long shelves with iron boxes clamped down
to prevent them from shifting with the motion of the vessel, huge
aquariums fitted into brass holders, and large trays bedded with dried
moss and sand for Samuel's collection of shells.
"You might even bring home a mermaid in this," murmured Ato, touching
the side of an enormous aquarium.
"No women!" snapped Samuel Salt, growing red in the face, for he did
not like to be teased about his specimen collecting. "I'll--I'll have
no women or mermaids switching their tails around my ship and turning
things topsy turvy."
"Right," agreed Ato, giving his belt a vigorous tug. "Then how about
shoving off, Sammy? Everything's shipshape, there's a good wind and
the best way to begin a voyage is to start."
"I'm for it!" roared the Captain, swinging hand over hand up the wooden
ladder. "All hands on deck! Up with your Master's flag, Roger. Cast off
the mooring lines, Ato, while I make sail and we'll be out of here in a
pig's jiffy."
"Aye! Aye!" croaked Roger, seizing the cord that would send Ato's
octagon banner flying to the masthead, directly under the flag of Oz.
"Goodbye, all you lubbers ashore! Goodbye Sevenanone. Mind you keep
the King's Crown polished and don't forget to feed the silver fish."
"GOODBYE!" called the one hundred and eighty Octagon Islanders drawn up
on the beach and dock to see his Majesty sail away. "A fine voyage to
your Highness!"
"And neglect not to return!" shouted Sixentwo, using his hands as a
megaphone. "You know there is a Crown Council eight days and eight
months from yesterday."
"Crown Council be jigged!" sniffed Ato, leaning far over the rail to
wave to his cheering subjects. "I'm a cook, an explorer--and a bold bad
seafaring man out to collect islands and jungles and jillycome-wiggles
for Samuel's shell box. Crown Council, indeed! Don't care if I never
see a castle again."
"Me neither!" squalled Roger, flying up to his post in the foremast.
"Seven bells and all's well! Buoy off the beam and no land in sight."
"Unless you look behind you," laughed Samuel, grabbing the wheel
with a practiced hand and squinting cheerfully up at the sun. "East
by southeast it'll be this voyage, Mates. There's ice in the North
Nonestic and I've a craving for tropical isles and the hidden rivers
of some deep and mysterious jungle!"
"Remember Snow Island?" smiled Ato, coming over to stand beside the
wheel.
"Shiver my shins! DO I? No more of that, me lads! But Ho! Isn't this
like old times?" Stretching up his arms exultingly, Samuel Salt let his
hands fall heavily on the wheel, and the great ship lifting with the
wind plunged her nose eagerly into the southeast swell.
"M--mmm! Like old times, except for the boy," agreed Ato slowly.
"Aye, and we'll surely miss Peter on this trip," sighed the Captain,
shaking his head regretfully. "Wonder where the little lubber is now?
That's the trouble with these real countries and peoples, there's no
getting at them when you need them most. Well, maybe we'll pick up
another hand somewhere to serve as cabin boy and keep us lively on the
voyage. But take a look at my sail controls, Ato. We can hoist, trim
and furl by just touching different buttons, nowadays; set this wheel
for any course and just let her ride."
"Splendid!" grunted Ato, rising reluctantly from a coil of rope. "But
since there are no buttons on my stove, I'd best be thinking about
dinner."
"Tar and tarpaulin, why didn't I have the Red Jinn fix you some?"
exclaimed the Pirate regretfully. "I'm sorry as a goat, Mate."
"Ho--I'm not," laughed Ato, waddling happily off toward his galley.
"That would have spoiled everything. What'll it be, Captain--a fried
sole, a broiled steak, or a roaring huge hot peppery meat pasty?"
"All of 'em!" yelled the Royal Explorer of Oz, exhaling his breath
in a mighty blast of anticipation. It seemed to Roger, high in the
foremast, that the ship gave an extra little skip at its Captain's
mighty roar, then settling easily into her usual graceful pace she ran
smoothly before the wind.