Fog
The evening had blown up raw and cold, and after carrying an old
tarpaulin down to cover Nikobo, Tandy had come shivering back to the
main cabin. Samuel Salt had close reefed his topsails and double reefed
his courses, adjusted his mechanical steering gear, and now sat beside
the fire examining a heap of the glittering crystals from Alberif's
island.
"Just sketch Peakenspire Island on the chart, there where I've made the
cross," he directed, looking up with an absent smile as the little boy
came over to warm himself at the cheerful blaze. "You're such a hand
with a brush, even in so small a place you can give a good idea of the
City of Bridges."
"And a good idea they are," murmured Ato, who was busy mending his
fishing nets on the other side of the fireplace. "In every port we
learn something new, eh, Mate? All mountains, no matter how high and
peaked, could be lived on if they were properly bridged."
"True, quite true," agreed Samuel, squinting contentedly through his
magnifying glass, while Tandy began sketching in the latest discovery
on the sea chart. "I've written it all up in my journal and put down
Peakenspire Island as able to accommodate a thousand settlers from Oz
and as an especially good place for poets."
"Provided they are deaf," put in Ato, looking comically over his specs,
"AYE DEE AYE DEE OH! While you fellows were aloft I got to yodeling so
fast and furious I blew all the sauce pans off their hooks."
"Yes, that _is_ one disadvantage," admitted Samuel, glancing
approvingly at Tandy's picture of Alberif's Island, "but never mind,
we don't have to live there, and think of the splendid specimens we've
brought away, Mates!" Samuel ran his fingers lovingly through the heap
of crystals and strands of metal Alberif had given him. "And those
fruit and vegetable vines will provision us for the whole voyage."
"They're a great comfort to _me_, I assure you," muttered Ato, holding
up his net to the light to see whether there were any more holes. "Now
I know Kobo will never starve. I put a vegetable vine in a box on her
raft and that leaves two for us, two for Ozma, and maybe Tandy would
like to take the other two home with him?"
"Home?" Tandy swung round in positive dismay. "Oh--we're not near
Ozamaland yet, are we, Captain?" His voice sounded so dismal Samuel
Salt threw down his magnifying glass with a roar of merriment.
"Shiver my timbers, lad, one would think you did not wish to reach
Ozamaland at all," he blustered teasingly. "What's the matter with that
country of yours? You wouldn't keep an honest explorer from adding a
creeping bird and a flying reptile to his collection, now would ye?"
"No! No! Of course not," answered Tandy quickly. "But perhaps it is
farther away than you think, Master Salt, and perhaps the Greys have
conquered the Whites and then I won't be King any more."
"What's this? What's this?" Ato lifted his nose like an old hound that
has just scented a fox, for he loved a good story even better than he
loved a good meal. "Who are the Greys and Whites, my lad? You never
told us anything about this."
"There's really not much to tell," sighed Tandy, seating himself on a
small stool before the fire. "In the first place, I suppose you know
that the great continent of Tarara is divided into two large long
countries? Ozamaland is on the East Coast and Amaland on the West
Coast."
"Now I'll just make a note of that," said Samuel Salt, leaning over to
pull his journal toward him.
"My country," went on Tandy slowly, "is made up largely of desert and
jungle, best known for its white elephants and camels and the famous
White City of Om, first King and ruler of the Kingdom. The Zamas are
fierce and still wild tribesmen living in tents on the desert and in
huts in the jungle. Only the thousand Nobles and their families who
live in the White City have been taught to read and write and live
under roofs. That is why the Kings of Ozamaland are so well guarded and
never allowed out of the capital."
"Then I'd rather be a tribesman," sniffed Ato, letting his nets drop in
a heap around his feet.
"But there's no choice," said Tandy thoughtfully. "The nine
Ozamandarins who make the laws have decreed that the King shall remain
in the White City."
"Well, what about these Whites and Greys?" asked Samuel Salt, pulling
out his pipe and leaning down close to the fire so Sally could light it
for him.
"My people, because they dress in white robes and turbans, are known
as the Whites, and the Amas, the rough plainsmen who rove the long
ranges of Amaland, are the Greys. The Amas care for nothing but their
swift grey horses and often charge over the border to make war on my
countrymen. Then the Whites, mounted on their white elephants and
camels, have all they can do to hold their own."
"Aha, that's what I'd call a REAL battle!" exclaimed Ato, his
eyes snapping with enthusiasm and interest. Then, noting Samuel's
disapproving frown, he pursed up his lips, shook his head and added
quickly, "All very wild and disorderly, Tandy, my lad. Seems as if the
Whites and Greys should manage their affairs more peaceably."
"Yes," said Tandy solemnly, "and I've often thought when I was grown,
I'd ride over on my white elephant to visit the Greys and see why they
are so unfriendly."
"A good idea, and if I were you, I wouldn't wait till I was grown. I'd
do it as soon as I got back," advised Samuel Salt, taking a long pull
at his pipe.
"And very probably get himself cut up and captured," shuddered Ato,
shaking his head.
"Well, he's been both shut up and captured anyway, hasn't he?" said
Samuel mildly. "Now which one of your aunts do you think had you
carried off, Matey, and how many aunts do you have anyway?"
"Three," Tandy answered, counting them off solemnly on his fingers.
"And they were all pretty and pleasant enough; but after the prophecy
of the Old Man of the Jungle that I would be carried off by an aunt,
they were all locked up in the castle dungeon and I was locked up in
the Tower." And, resting his elbows on his knees, Tandy gazed soberly
into the fire as if he might discover there the reason for his cruel
abduction and imprisonment in the jungle.
"If I'd only been awake when I was carried away," he exclaimed
impatiently.
"They probably gave you a sleeping potion," decided Ato, nodding his
head portentously, "but it's such a longish distance, unless this aunt
had wings or a flying eagle I'll never understand how she shipped you
so far and so fast."
"Well, whoever it was did _us_ a real service!" boomed Samuel Salt,
twinkling his blue eyes affectionately at Tandy. "Even Peter was no
better aboard a ship--eh, Mate?"
"A real artist and a seaman," agreed Ato, rolling cheerfully to his
feet, "and when we reach Ozamaland I'll talk to these aunts like
an Octagon uncle, and the Ozamandarins had better hold on to their
turbans, too."
"But they wear square hats!" roared Tandy, laughing so hard he almost
fell off the stool, for he just could not picture the fat King of the
Octagon Isle berating the haughty judges of Ozamaland.
"What's the joke?" demanded Roger, flying in through the open port
and making a straight line for the fire. "Brrr-rah! Wet weather,
boys! Wet weather! Oh, what a coldth and dampth and gloomth. Why, I'm
moister than an oyster and clammier than a clam. How about a cup of hot
chocolate for the Watch, Cook dear? Better see to your sail, Master
Salt. Fog's thicker than bean soup out there."
"We'll _all_ have some chocolate," said Ato as Samuel hurried out to
see how dense the fog really was. Later, sitting by the stove sipping
Ato's delicious hot chocolate, Tandy could not help comparing this cozy
life aboard the _Crescent Moon_ with his dull and lonely existence in
the Royal City of his Fathers.
"I wish the Greys _would_ capture the Whites," he thought vindictively,
as he followed Roger across the slippery deck. "Then I'd never have to
leave this ship." The kind-hearted Read Bird was carrying a pail of hot
chocolate down to Nikobo on the raft. She could not get her great snout
into the bucket, but she opened her enormous mouth and with one toss
Roger poured the whole pail down her throat.
"That'll keep her warm till morning," chuckled Roger, flying back to
join Tandy, "and now you'd better turn in, little fellow, for you're on
morning watch and eight bells will be sounding before you know it!" All
through his dreams about the Whites and Greys Tandy heard the raucous
voice of the fog horn, and when he rolled sleepily out of his bunk to
relieve Ato, the ship seemed to be hardly moving at all.
"Ahoy, Captain! Isn't a fog dangerous?" Tandy's voice seemed more
hopeful than worried, and Samuel Salt, peering down at the little boy
buttoned to his chin in Peter's old sou'easter, grinned approvingly.
"Just about as dangerous as a man-eating tiger," he answered
cheerfully. "We're liable to ram a ship, run on the rocks, or scrape
our bottom on a hidden reef or sand bar. These waters, as you know,
being all unnavigated. But I've brought Sally along to keep my nose
warm and throw a bit more light on the subject and we'll have to take
our chance--eh, Matey? Just step aft and see if you can make out
anything astern, will you, Tandy?"
Four o'clock, or rather eight bells, was always pretty dark and one had
to depend more or less on the ship's lanterns, but this morning was
the darkest Tandy had ever experienced. Clinging to the rail, he moved
cautiously to the stern and gazed intently down into the gloom. Nothing
an inch beyond his nose was visible and as for the raft and Nikobo,
they might just as well not have been there.
"Kobo, Kobo, are you all right?" There was no answer to Tandy's call,
but presently a huge and resounding snore rolled upward and, greatly
comforted, Tandy hurried back to the Captain. Samuel Salt was busy
lighting extra lanterns and as he straightened up, a hollow boom,
followed by a splintering crash, sent them both sprawling to the deck.
Leaping to his feet and unmindful of the glass from the shattered
lanterns, Samuel seized an unbroken one and ran furiously to the rail.
"Ship ahoy! Heave to! you blasted son of a cuttle-fish lubber! You've
rammed us amidships, you blasted Billygoat. Where are your lights? Why
didn't ye sound the horn?" His lantern, held far over the rail, made
no impression at all on the choking fog. Jumping up and running after
Samuel, Tandy strained his eyes for a glimpse of the ship that had hit
them, for unmistakably to his ears came the scrape and rasp of wood on
wood. Yes, surely it was a ship. But no answer to Samuel's hail came
out of the fog, only the swish and murmur of the sea and the rattle
of wind in the rigging. But all this creaking could not come from the
_Crescent Moon_ alone. There _was_ a ship beyond them in the fog,
but where, as Samuel had demanded, were her lights and crew? Wildly
Tandy, hardly knowing what to think or do, continued to blink into the
maddening darkness. Ato and Roger, wakened by the horrible jolt, now
came hurrying out, each waving a lantern.
"Let go the anchor, Mates," ordered Samuel in a stern voice, "we're to
grips with an enemy ship, so stand by for trouble. Further shortening
his sail, Samuel waited tensely for the first move from their invisible
foe.
"Might be pirates," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth to
Tandy, who stood close beside him grasping the scimiter that had once
been Peter's. "Jump the first man aboard."
"How about a long shot in their general direction?" wheezed Ato, who
found the silence and suspense well nigh unbearable.
"No, it is not for _us_ to start a fight," stated Samuel grimly. "But
hah! Just let _them_ start one! Fetch me my stilts, Roger, and be quick
about it, too!"
"Stilts?" choked the Read Bird, dropping the blunderbuss with which he
had armed, or rather winged, himself. "You'll never be trying those
things again--they nearly shivered our timbers last time. Why take
another chance?"
"My stilts!" repeated Samuel savagely, and Roger, who knew his duty
as a sailor, flew without further argument to the hold. When Roger
returned with a stilt in each claw, the Captain grasped one and moving
silently as a cat over to the port rail, he thrust the long pole
experimentally out into the fog. There was an instant thud, and Samuel
himself got a severe jolt as the stilt struck against some firm and
immovable object beyond. Convinced that it was an enemy ship, Samuel
returned to the others and, drawn up in an anxious row, the four
shipmates waited for the fog to lift or the first enemy seaman to leap
aboard.
"I'll wager it's a derelict, or an abandoned vessel with no crew,"
breathed Ato, seating himself on a fire bucket to somewhat ease the
long wait. The first hour Tandy stood fairly well, but the second
seemed interminable. The flickering lanterns, the tense quiet, the
choking fog and gentle roll of the ship all made him desperately
drowsy, and, much to his later disgust, he must have finally fallen
asleep. The next thing he remembered was the shrill squall of the Read
Bird and the pleasant feel of the sun on his eyelids.
"The ship! The pirates! The fog!" thought Tandy, springing up wildly,
but neither ship nor pirates met his astonished gaze. Abaft the beam
lay a great whispering deep sea forest, its trees higher than the masts
of the ship, springing directly out of the water and stretching their
leafy branches to the sky. It was into one of these giant greenwoods
the _Crescent Moon_ had crashed in the fog. Samuel was staring at the
sea forest with the rapt look of a scientist who has just made an
unbelievable discovery, and Ato, with his elbows resting on the rail,
was gazing dreamily in the same direction.
"'Hoy! Ahoy! Why, I never knew there were forests in the sea,"
exclaimed Tandy, running over to insinuate himself between the cook and
the Captain.
"There aren't! It's just plain impossible!" breathed Ato, moving over
to make room for Tandy. "But, impossible or not, there she lies. And
isn't it pretty?" he mused, resting more than half of his great weight
on the rail.
"I suppose Sammy'll want to dig up a sea tree and bring it along," he
leaned over to whisper mischievously in Tandy's ear. "And anyway, it's
better than pirates."
"Look, look, there's fish in those trees," screamed Roger, bouncing
up and down on Ato's plump shoulder. "How about some flying fish for
breakfast, Cook dear?"
"Breakfast? Breakfast? Can it really be time for breakfast? Ho, hum! I
thought I was still asleep and dreaming," grunted Ato, giving himself a
little shake. "Well, forests or no forests, a man must eat, I suppose!"
And still gazing delightedly over his shoulder, the ship's cook trod
reluctantly toward the galley, while Tandy hurried into the cabin for
his paints.