The Fire Baby
Morning found the _Crescent Moon_ forging ahead with a stiff breeze, a
choppy sea and the last known island far behind her.
"Ahoy, and this is the life, Mates!" bellowed Samuel Salt, bracing his
legs against the pitch and roll of the vessel, and waving largely to
the ship's cook who sat on an overturned bucket mending his second best
sea shirt. "Anything can happen now!" Lovingly Samuel let his gaze rove
over the sparkling Nonestic, and Ato, squinting painfully as he pushed
his long needle in and out, nodded portentously.
"By the way, Sammy, what are your plans for this flag planting and
discovery business?" inquired the portly cook somewhat later. Having
finished his mending, he had dragged a canvas chair and a pot of
potatoes aft by the wheel. "Do you look for resistance and rebellion
when we start taking possession of this land and that land for the
crown of Oz?"
"No, no, nothing like that," mused Samuel, removing his pipe and
blowing a cloud of smoke into the rigging. "Everything's to be polite
and peaceable this voyage. No guns, knives or scimiters. Queen Ozma
particularly does not want any country taken by force or against its
will."
"And suppose they object to being taken at all?" said Ato, beginning to
pare a fat potato. "What then?"
"Well, then--er then--" Samuel rubbed his chin reflectively, "we'll try
persuasion, my lad. We'll explain all the advantages of coming under
the flag and protection of a powerful country like Oz. That ought to
get them, don't you think?"
"Yes, if they don't get us first," observed Ato, popping a potato
dubiously into the pot. "Suppose while we stand there waving flags and
persuading, some of these wild fellows have at us with spears, clubs
and poison arrows?"
"Well, that would be extremely unfortunate," admitted Samuel, glancing
soberly at the compass, "and in that case----"
"I hope you will remember you were once a pirate and act accordingly,"
Ato blew out his cheeks sternly as he spoke. "The one trouble with you,
Sammy, is that you take too long to get mad. So I shall go ashore armed
as usual with my kitchen knife and blunderbuss. I don't intend to be
sliced into sandwiches while you're talking through your three-cornered
hat, and waving flags at a lot of ignorant savages. And I'll have Roger
carry the books ashore too."
"Ho, ho!" roared the Captain of the _Crescent Moon_, giving his knee
a great slap. "Just like old times, Ato. Rough, bluff and relentless,
Mates, remember?"
"Aye, and I should say I do. And I remember Roger had to drop a good
many books on your head before you got mad enough to fight. What
makes you so calm and peaceable, Sammy? A big born fighting man like
yourself."
"Sea life, I reckon," answered the former Pirate, extending his brawny
arms in a huge yawn. "The sea's so much bigger than a man, Mate--it
rather makes him realize how small and unimportant he really is. But
don't fret, Cook dear, no one shall tread on your toes, this voyage.
But avast there--it grows warmer and the air smells a bit thunderish.
Had you noticed?"
"'Hoy, 'hoy! Deck ahoy!" bawled a shrill voice from above. "Island
astern." Both Samuel and Ato stared up in amazement, for Roger was
supposed to be resting in the cabin. But the Read Bird, after
snatching an hour's nap, had slipped out an open port and, unnoticed,
taken his position in the foremast. The Read Bird did not trust Ato,
who was supposed to be on watch. Besides, he wanted to be the first to
report a new island to the Captain.
"Looks like a mountain," mumbled Ato, setting down his potatoes and
waddling over to the rail. "Heave to, Skipper, here's our first
discovery."
"Now how in sixes did that get by me?" muttered Samuel Salt, hurrying
to shorten sail for the zigzag course, back and in, he would have to
take to reach the island at all.
It showed plainly enough now, a rugged gray and purple mass of rock,
with apparently no vegetation or dwellings of any kind. As the
_Crescent Moon_ drew nearer, the sea became smooth and oily, and the
air sulphurous and hot.
"Think likely this is an island we might well pass by," murmured Ato,
peering critically through his telescope. "Positively deserted so far
as I can see--but there might be valuable minerals in those rocks."
"Don't doubt it!" Samuel Salt curved himself all the way round the
wheel in his interest. Mechanical devices were well enough for the open
sea, but Samuel preferred to handle his own ship on occasions like
this. As there was no harbor or safe place to put in, he decided to
anchor off shore and land in the jolly boat. The anchor had just gone
clanking and rattling over the side when a horrid hiss and boom from
the center of the island made all hands look up in alarm.
"K-kkk cannons!" quavered Ato, dropping his bread knife with a clatter.
"Stand by to man the guns!"
But Samuel Salt, instead of heeding the cook's warning, began to sniff
the air. "Volcano, Mates," announced the Captain calmly. "And in that
case we may be a bit close for comfort. Still, I've always wanted
to observe a volcano in action. I've a theory there may be living
creatures in the center."
"Living creatures in the center!" raged Ato, tearing off his white
apron and dashing it on the deck. "How long will we be living if that
fire pot starts boiling? We mayn't be killed, being of magic birth, but
we can be jolly well singed, fried, boiled and melted. And after that
who'd care to be alive? Quick, Roger, heave in on that chain! Anchors
aweigh!"
While Samuel stood in rapt contemplation of the volcano, and Ato began
frantically winding up the anchor, a long tongue of flame leaped out
of the crater and a great jet of bubbling lava shot clear over the
_Crescent Moon_. This occurrence soon brought Samuel out of his revery,
and snapping into action and forgetting all about his mechanical
devices, he began working like a mad man to get the ship in motion,
tugging at the sheets, throwing his whole weight against the halyards,
till the ship with quivering sail sped away like a frightened bird, the
hot winds from the volcano whistling and rattling through her rigging.
"Where's Roger?" yelled Ato, staggering across the deck with two
buckets of water. "Oh, woe! Is he a Read Bird or a just plain Goose?
Look yonder, Sammy, he's flown ashore." Outlined against the sky in
a sudden flare from the volcano they could see Roger poised over the
center of the smoking island. In his claw was a large rippling banner
of Oz and as they looked he lifted the banner high above his head and
flung it straight into the center of the boiling crater.
"We hereby take complete and absolute possession of this island and
declare all its inhabitants lawful subjects of her Majesty, Queen Ozma
of Oz!" screamed Roger hysterically.
"Well, hurray, and three cheers for a real Explorer!" shouted Samuel
Salt. "He's done it all by himself, the only man among us who
remembered his duty under fire. There's a bird for you, Mates. Not even
a volcano can turn him from his duty. All we thought of was safety.
Poh!" Rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes, which were full of
smoke, Samuel looked glumly across at his cook.
"Now, now, don't be too hard on yourself," puffed the King, setting
down the fire buckets. "A Captain must think of his ship, even if he
is an Explorer. Besides, having wings gives Roger an advantage of us.
Still and all, it was a brave and timely act." Ato's further remarks
were drowned out in a second tremendous explosion. Sky and sea turned
red, whole flaming boulders shot above the ship's spars, while great
sullen waves of lava boiled over the crater's edge and rolled smoking
and hissing into the sea.
"Missed us again," panted Samuel Salt, hanging desperately to his wheel
as the _Crescent Moon_ plunged and pitched in the angry seas. "Wonder
what started that?"
"The Oz flag, probably," gasped Ato, feeling around in the dense smoke
for his fire buckets. "Hope Roger got off safely. Where is that fool
bird? Ho, Sammy! Hi, Sammy! Quick, they've hit us amidships."
Hastily setting his mechanical steering gear, the former Pirate rushed
forward to where a glowing lump of lava was burning its way slowly but
surely through the deck.
"Fire! Fire!" shrilled Roger, who had dropped down on the rail
unnoticed in the smoke and confusion. "Water, Ato! Water, you old Slow
Poke!"
"Avast!" puffed Samuel Salt, staring down in astonishment at the
glowing lump at his feet. "It's alive, Mates, and lively as a grig.
It's a FIRE baby, that's what! HAH! Didn't I just say there was life on
a volcano? Well, this proves it and I'm taking this young one along for
proof."
"Now stop talking like a book and act like a seaman," choked Ato, in
his agitation tripping over a rope but still managing to keep his hold
on the water buckets. "Fire baby or not, can't you see it's burning a
hole in the deck, you seventh son of a sea-going Jackass? Here, put it
out! Dash this water over it before it burns up the whole ship!"
"Avast! Avast and belay!" roared Samuel Salt in a terrible voice as Ato
raised his bucket. "I'm still Captain here. Do you wish to destroy a
rare specimen of volcanic life? Fetch a shovel from the hold, Roger. A
shovel, I said, and don't stand there dithering."
"Aye aye, sir!" sputtered the Read Bird, half falling and half flying
down the companionway. Now a bird is a quick and handy fellow about a
ship and in half the time it would have taken a seaman, Roger was back
with a long handled shovel. Snatching the shovel, which he had often
used on former treasure hunts, Samuel scooped up the bawling fire baby
and started on a run for the galley.
"It's turning black, it's turning black," wailed the disconsolate
collector, crooning to the ugly infant as he ran along as if he were
its own mother. "Aye, aye--it's going out!"
"And a good thing, too," panted Ato, who was close behind him. "What in
tarry barrels are you fixing to do with it, Sammy?"
Roger, sensible bird that he was, stayed long enough to douse the two
buckets of water on the smoking deck, then he, too, made a bee line for
the galley. He was just in time to see Samuel lift the lid of the range
and slide the baby down on top of the hot coals. No sooner had the
squat infant touched the glowing fire than it stopped yelling at once
and began to purr and sing like a teakettle set on to boil.
"Well, I'll be swizzled!" gulped Ato, and snatching a wet dish towel
from the rack, he wound it round and round his aching head. "Whatever
made you think of that?"
"It's my scientific mind," the Pirate told them blandly. "The proper
place for any infant that size is bed and I naturally figured that
a fire baby belonged in a fire bed, and a bed of hot coals was the
nearest to it, so here it is!" Winking solemnly at Roger, who was
regarding the little Lavaland Islander with fear and loathing, Samuel
picked up the poker and gave the baby an affectionate poke. "It'll do
fine here," he predicted happily, "and prove beyond a quibble that
volcanos are inhabited."
"It'll do nothing of the sort!" exploded Ato, bringing his fat fist
down with a resounding thump on the drain board. "You may be the
Captain of the ship, Sammy, but I'm the boss of this galley, and that
fire baby will have to go. GO! Do you understand? How'm I to cook with
the ugly little monster lolling all over the fire bed and like as not
falling into the soup when my back is turned?"
"Hark!" interrupted Roger. "More trouble! Something's up, Master Salt,
and it's not an eruption either." And Samuel had to agree with him as
groans, moans, shrieks and hisses came whistling after the flying ship.
"Ah, that'll be the rest of them!" exulted the Royal Discoverer,
pounding out on deck. "Hah! It's the Lavaland Islanders themselves.
Ho--this WILL be interesting!"
"Well, just invite them over and we'll all burn up happily together,"
suggested Ato bitterly.
Hanging over the taffrail, Samuel paid no attention to the King's
sarcastic suggestion. Indeed, he was much too interested, for just
showing above the flaming circle of the volcano's crater was a row
of immense and thunderous looking natives. They were of transparent
rock-like structure and burned and glowed from the molten lava that
coursed through their veins. With upraised arms and furious faces they
were yelling over and over some strange and indistinguishable threats
and phrases. One, shaking the blackened stick of the Oz flag, danced
and screamed louder than all the rest put together.
"They do not wish to become subjects of Oz, I take it," sighed Samuel,
undecided whether to sail back and argue the matter, or sail away and
save his ship from possible destruction.
"That's not it! That's not it!" cried Roger, flapping his wings
triumphantly. "I know what's the matter. They want that baby back.
You're probably making off with the Crown Prince of the Volcano. See
that woman yelling louder than the others and holding out both arms?
Well, look--she has a crown on her head and is likely the Queen. She
wants her baby back."
"And she should have it, too," stated Ato, blinking his eyes at the
frightful racket the Lavaland Islanders were making. "You can't steal
people's children like this, Sammy, unless you're going back to
buccaneering. It's just plain piracy."
"She threw it at us, didn't she?" muttered the Captain, who was
unwilling to part with so valuable a specimen.
"It probably blew out of its cradle when the volcano erupted. Give it
back to her, Sammy," begged Ato, who was determined to get rid of the
terrible infant at any cost. "After all, she's its mother."
"But do you expect me to sail back there and endanger all of our
lives?" Samuel jerked his head angrily. "And how else can it be done?"
"Er--er--let Roger carry it back in that old wire basket we use for
clams," proposed the cook eagerly.
"Not on your life," protested Roger in a sulky voice. "The basket would
grow red hot and burn my bill. Besides, I'm no stork. Tell you what we
could do, though, and we'd better be quick before they start throwing
things."
"What?" inquired the Captain, gazing uneasily at the infuriated
Islanders.
"Why, simply shoot it back," Roger said calmly. "Stuff it in the port
cannon and blaze away. You never miss your mark, Master Salt, and if
you can't shoot that baby back into its mother's arms, I'll walk on my
wings and be done with it."
"Why, Roger, how clever! The very thing!" rejoiced Ato. "I'll go fetch
it with the fire tongs and you'll have to hurry, Sammy, or we'll be out
of range."
"But it might injure the young one," objected the Captain of the
_Crescent Moon_, shifting his feet uncomfortably.
"Nonsense, it'll be just like a ride in a baby carriage for that little
rascal. Prime your gun, Sammy, while I get the child."
By this time the clamor from the Island had become so alarming that
even Samuel realized something would have to be decided. So, somewhat
mollified by Roger's compliment on his aim, he made ready to fire the
port cannon. The baby, hissing lustily, was brought without accident
from the galley. Ato held it gingerly before him, using the fire
tongs, Roger following along to hold a lighted candle under the little
fellow to keep him from going out before he was shot.
The baby fitted nicely into the cannon's mouth and stopped crying
instantly. At the last moment Samuel almost lost his courage, but urged
on to action by both Ato and Roger, he carefully made his calculations
and then shutting both eyes pulled the cord that set off the gun. The
terrible explosion shocked the Lavalanders into silence, and almost
afraid to look, Samuel opened his eyes.
"Yo, ho, ho! Three cheers for the Skipper!" squealed Ato, snatching
the towel from his head and waving it like a banner. "The neatest shot
you ever made, Mate, and a lucky shot, too." The baby and the cannon
ball which would have shattered a less durable lady had struck the Lava
Queen amidships. Dropping the cannon ball carelessly into the crater,
the giantess clasped her child in her arms, smiling and screaming her
thanks across the tumbling waters.
"Well, was I right, or was I right?" chuckled Roger, teetering backward
and forward on the rail and preening his feathers self-consciously.
"And I've another idea just as good in case you should be interested."
"Oh, keep it till tomorrow," grumbled Samuel Salt, who felt terribly
depressed at the loss of his rare specimen.
"But tomorrow will be too late," persisted Roger, settling on the
Captain's shoulder. "Now, while these savages are in a good humor, let
me fly over and drop another Oz flag on the Island. Maybe this time
they'll let it stand and once it flies over the crater the Island is
Ozma's."
"By the tooth of a harpooned whale, you're right! I'm forgetting my
duty to Oz," breathed Samuel, straightening up purposefully. "But our
kind of flag won't stand the climate yonder."
The Read Bird, however, had thought even of that. Taking a sheet of
iron from the hold, the resourceful fellow stopped in the galley long
enough to burn in the word OZ with the red hot poker. Then, thrusting
the poker itself through two slits in his iron banner, he flew jauntily
back to the Island.
"Ahoy, and there's a standard bearer for you!" Rubbing his hands
together, Samuel strode to the rail. "Bless my buttons, the boy
deserves a medal for this, and shall have one, too."
This time the Lavaland Islanders watched Roger's approach with quiet
interest and as he hovered uncertainly over their heads held up their
hands for the iron flag. But Roger, made daring by their friendliness,
swooped down suddenly to the crater's edge, and jamming his banner
between two smoking boulders soared aloft.
"Lavaland Islanders!" screamed the Read Bird hoarsely. "You are now
under the protection and rule of Queen Ozma of Oz. Lavaland Islanders,
you are hereby adjured to keep the peace and the law and LAV one
another!"
His voice cracked from fright and excitement, but finishing
triumphantly, he spread his wings and skimmed back to the _Crescent
Moon_.
"Hung wung wah HEEE!" yelled the Islanders all together, nodding their
heads and waving their arms cheerfully. "Hung wung wah HEEE!"