Winsome Winnie and other New Nonsense Novels

by Stephen Leacock

  After a great struggle I rose at last from the tar-bucket, feeling, ifnot a brighter, at least a cleaner man.

  Dawn was already breaking. I looked about me. As the sudden beams of thetropic sun illumined the placid sea, I saw immediately before me, only ahundred yards away, an island. A sandy beach sloped back to a rockyeminence, broken with scrub and jungle. I could see a little streamleaping among the rocks. With eager haste I paddled the raft close tothe shore till it ground in about ten inches of water.

  I leaped into the water.

  With the aid of a stout line, I soon made the raft fast to a rock. Thenas I turned I saw that Miss Croyden was standing upon the raft, fullydressed, and gazing at me. The morning sunlight played in her hair, andher deep blue eyes were as soft as the Caribbean Sea itself.

  "Don't attempt to wade ashore, Miss Croyden," I cried in agitation."Pray do nothing rash. The waters are simply infested with bacilli."

  "But how can I get ashore?" she asked, with a smile which showed all, ornearly all, of her pearl-like teeth.

  "Miss Croyden," I said, "there is only one way. I must carry you."

  In another moment I had walked back to the raft and lifted her astenderly and reverently as if she had been my sister--indeed more so--inmy arms.

  Her weight seemed nothing. When I get a girl like that in my arms Isimply don't feel it. Just for one moment as I clasped her thus in myarms, a fierce thrill ran through me. But I let it run.

  When I had carried her well up the sand close to the little stream, Iset her down. To my surprise, she sank down in a limp heap.

  The girl had fainted.

  I knew that it was no time for hesitation.

  Running to the stream, I filled my hat with water and dashed it in herface. Then I took up a handful of mud and threw it at her with all myforce. After that I beat her with my hat.

  At length she opened her eyes and sat up.

  "I must have fainted," she said, with a little shiver. "I am cold. Oh,if we could only have a fire."

  "I will do my best to make one, Miss Croyden," I replied, speaking asgymnastically as I could. "I will see what I can do with two drysticks."

  "With dry sticks?" queried the girl. "Can you light a fire with that?How wonderful you are!"

  "I have often seen it done," I replied thoughtfully; "when I was huntingthe humpo, or humped buffalo, in the Himalayas, it was our usualmethod."

  "Have you really hunted the humpo?" she asked, her eyes large withinterest.

  "I have indeed," I said, "but you must rest; later on I will tell youabout it."

  "I wish you could tell me now," she said with a little moan.

  Meantime I had managed to select from the driftwood on the beach twosticks that seemed absolutely dry. Placing them carefully together, inIndian fashion, I then struck a match and found no difficulty in settingthem on fire.

  In a few moments the girl was warming herself beside a generous fire.

  Together we breakfasted upon the beach beside the fire, discussing ourplans like comrades.

  Our meal over, I rose.

  "I will leave you here a little," I said, "while I explore."

  With no great difficulty I made my way through the scrub and climbed theeminence of tumbled rocks that shut in the view.

  On my return Miss Croyden was still seated by the fire, her head in herhands.

  "Miss Croyden," I said, "we are on an island."

  "Is it inhabited?" she asked.

  "Once, perhaps, but not now. It is one of the many keys of the WestIndies. Here, in old buccaneering days, the pirates landed and careenedtheir ships."

  "How did they do that?" she asked, fascinated.

  "I am not sure," I answered. "I think with white-wash. At any rate, theygave them a good careening. But since then these solitudes are only thehome of the sea-gull, the sea-mew, and the albatross."

  The girl shuddered.

  "How lonely!" she said.

  "Lonely or not," I said with a laugh (luckily I can speak with a laughwhen I want to), "I must get to work."

  I set myself to work to haul up and arrange our effects. With a fewstones I made a rude table and seats. I took care to laugh and sing asmuch as possible while at my work. The close of the day found me stillbusy with my labours.

  "Miss Croyden," I said, "I must now arrange a place for you to sleep."

  With the aid of four stakes driven deeply into the ground and withblankets strung upon them, I managed to fashion a sort of rude tent,roofless, but otherwise quite sheltered.

  "Miss Croyden," I said when all was done, "go in there."

  Then, with little straps which I had fastened to the blankets, I buckledher in reverently.

  "Good night, Miss Croyden," I said.

  "But you," she exclaimed, "where will you sleep?"

  "Oh, I?" I answered, speaking as exuberantly as I could, "I shall dovery well on the ground. But be sure to call me at the slightest sound."

  Then I went out and lay down in a patch of cactus plants.

  I need not dwell in detail upon the busy and arduous days that followedour landing upon the island. I had much to do. Each morning I took ourlatitude and longitude. By this I then set my watch, cooked porridge,and picked flowers till Miss Croyden appeared.

  With every day the girl came forth from her habitation as a new surprisein her radiant beauty. One morning she had bound a cluster of wildarbutus about her brow. Another day she had twisted a band ofconvolvulus around her waist. On a third she had wound herself up in amat of bulrushes.

  With her bare feet and wild bulrushes all around her, she looked as acave woman might have looked, her eyes radiant with the Caribbean dawn.My whole frame thrilled at the sight of her. At times it was all I coulddo not to tear the bulrushes off her and beat her with the heads ofthem. But I schooled myself to restraint, and handed her a rock to situpon, and passed her her porridge on the end of a shovel with the calmpoliteness of a friend.

  Our breakfast over, my more serious labours of the day began. I busiedmyself with hauling rocks or boulders along the sand to build us a houseagainst the rainy season. With some tackle from the raft I had mademyself a set of harness, by means of which I hitched myself to aboulder. By getting Miss Croyden to beat me over the back with a stick,I found that I made fair progress.

  But even as I worked thus for our common comfort, my mind was fiercelyfilled with the thought of Edith Croyden. I knew that if once thebarriers broke everything would be swept away. Heaven alone knows theeffort that it cost me. At times nothing but the sternest resolutioncould hold my fierce impulses in check. Once I came upon the girlwriting in the sand with a stick. I looked to see what she had written.I read my own name "Harold." With a wild cry I leapt into the sea anddived to the bottom of it. When I came up I was calmer. Edith cametowards me; all dripping as I was, she placed her hands upon myshoulders. "How grand you are!" she said. "I am," I answered; then Iadded, "Miss Croyden, for Heaven's sake don't touch me on the ear. Ican't stand it." I turned from her and looked out over the sea.Presently I heard something like a groan behind me. The girl had thrownherself on the sand and was coiled up in a hoop. "Miss Croyden," I said,"for God's sake don't coil up in a hoop."

  I rushed to the beach and rubbed gravel on my face.

  With such activities, alternated with wild bursts of restraint, our lifeon the island passed as rapidly as in a dream. Had I not taken care tonotch the days upon a stick and then cover the stick with tar, I couldnot have known the passage of the time. The wearing out of our clothinghad threatened a serious difficulty. But by good fortune I had seen alarge black and white goat wandering among the rocks and had chased itto a standstill. From its skin, leaving the fur still on, Edith hadfashioned us clothes. Our boots we had replaced with alligator hide. Ihad, by a lucky chance, found an alligator upon the beach, and attachinga string to the fellow's neck I had led him to our camp. I had thenpoisoned the fellow with tinned salmon and removed his hide.

  Our costume was now brought into harmony with ou
r surroundings. Formyself, garbed in goatskin with the hair outside, with alligator sandalson my feet and with whiskers at least six inches long, I have no doubtthat I resembled the beau ideal of a cave man. With the open-air life anew agility seemed to have come into my limbs. With a single leap in myalligator sandals I was enabled to spring into a coco-nut tree.

  As for Edith Croyden, I can only say that as she stood beside me on thebeach in her suit of black goatskin (she had chosen the black spots)there were times when I felt like seizing her in the frenzy of mypassion and hurling her into the sea. Fur always acts on me just likethat.

  It was at the opening of the fifth week of our life upon the island thata new and more surprising turn was given to our adventure. It arose outof a certain curiosity, harmless enough, on Edith Croyden's part. "Mr.Borus," she said one morning, "I should like so much to see the rest ofour island. Can we?"

  "Alas, Miss Croyden," I said, "I fear that there is but little to see.Our island, so far as I can judge, is merely one of the uninhabited keysof the West Indies. It is nothing but rock and sand and scrub. There isno life upon it. I fear," I added, speaking as jauntily as I could,"that unless we are taken off it we are destined to stay on it."

  "Still I should like to see it," she persisted.

  "Come on, then," I answered, "if you are good for a climb we can take alook over the ridge of rocks where I went up on the first day."

  We made our way across the sand of the beach, among the rocks andthrough the close matted scrub, beyond which an eminence of ruggedboulders shut out the further view.

  Making our way to the top of this we obtained a wide look over the sea.The island stretched away to a considerable distance to the eastward,widening as it went, the complete view of it being shut off by similarand higher ridges of rock.

  But it was the nearer view, the foreground, that at once arrested ourattention. Edith seized my arm. "Look, oh, look!" she said.

  Down just below us on the right hand was a similar beach to the onethat we had left. A rude hut had been erected on it and various articleslay strewn about.

  Seated on a rock with their backs towards us were a man and a woman. Theman was dressed in goatskins, and his whiskers, so I inferred from whatI could see of them from the side, were at least as exuberant as mine.The woman was in white fur with a fillet of seaweed round her head. Theywere sitting close together as if in earnest colloquy.

  "Cave people," whispered Edith, "aborigines of the island."

  But I answered nothing. Something in the tall outline of the seatedwoman held my eye. A cruel presentiment stabbed me to the heart.

  In my agitation my foot overset a stone, which rolled noisily down therocks. The noise attracted the attention of the two seated below us.They turned and looked searchingly towards the place where we wereconcealed. Their faces were in plain sight. As I looked at that of thewoman I felt my heart cease beating and the colour leave my face.

  I looked into Edith's face. It was as pale as mine.

  "What does it mean?" she whispered.

  "Miss Croyden," I answered, "Edith--it means this. I have never foundthe courage to tell you. I am a married man. The woman seated there ismy wife. And I love you."

  Edith put out her arms with a low cry and clasped me about the neck."Harold," she murmured, "my Harold."

  "Have I done wrong?" I whispered.

  "Only what I have done too," she answered. "I, too, am married, Harold,and the man sitting there below, John Croyden, is my husband."

  With a wild cry such as a cave man might have uttered, I had leapt to myfeet.

  "Your husband!" I shouted. "Then, by the living God, he or I shall neverleave this place alive."

  He saw me coming as I bounded down the rocks. In an instant he hadsprung to his feet. He gave no cry. He asked no question. He stooderect as a cave man would, waiting for his enemy.

  And there upon the sands beside the sea we fought, barehanded andweaponless. We fought as cave men fight.

  For a while we circled round one another, growling. We circled fourtimes, each watching for an opportunity. Then I picked up a greathandful of sand and threw it flap into his face. He grabbed a coco-nutand hit me with it in the stomach. Then I seized a twisted strand of wetseaweed and landed him with it behind the ear. For a moment hestaggered. Before he could recover I jumped forward, seized him by thehair, slapped his face twice and then leaped behind a rock. Looking fromthe side I could see that Croyden, though half dazed, was feeling roundfor something to throw. To my horror I saw a great stone lying ready tohis hand. Beside me was nothing. I gave myself up for lost, when at thatvery moment I heard Edith's voice behind me saying, "The shovel, quick,the shovel!" The noble girl had rushed back to our encampment and hadfetched me the shovel. "Swat him with that," she cried. I seized theshovel, and with the roar of a wounded bull--or as near as I could makeit--I rushed out from the rock, the shovel swung over my head.

  But the fight was all out of Croyden.

  "Don't strike," he said, "I'm all in. I couldn't stand a crack with thatkind of thing."

  He sat down upon the sand, limp. Seen thus, he somehow seemed to bequite a small man, not a cave man at all. His goatskin suit shrunk in onhim. I could hear his pants as he sat.

  "I surrender," he said. "Take both the women. They are yours."

  I stood over him leaning upon the shovel. The two women had closed innear to us.

  "I suppose you are _her_ husband, are you?" Croyden went on.

  I nodded.

  "I thought you were. Take her."

  Meantime Clara had drawn nearer to me. She looked somehow very beautifulwith her golden hair in the sunlight, and the white furs draped abouther.

  "Harold!" she exclaimed. "Harold, is it you? How strange and masterfulyou look. I didn't know you were so strong."

  I turned sternly towards her.

  "When I was alone," I said, "on the Himalayas hunting the humpo orhumped buffalo----"

  Clara clasped her hands, looking into my face.

  "Yes," she said, "tell me about it."

  Meantime I could see that Edith had gone over to John Croyden.

  "John," she said, "you shouldn't sit on the wet sand like that. You willget a chill. Let me help you to get up."

  I looked at Clara and at Croyden.

  "How has this happened?" I asked. "Tell me."

  "We were on the same ship," Croyden said. "There came a great storm.Even the Captain had never seen----"

  "I know," I interrupted, "so had ours."

  "The ship struck a rock, and blew out her four funnels----"

  "Ours did too," I nodded.

  "The bowsprit was broken, and the steward's pantry was carried away. TheCaptain gave orders to leave the ship----"

  "It is enough, Croyden," I said, "I see it all now. You were left behindwhen the boats cleared, by what accident you don't know----"

  "I don't," said Croyden.

  "As best you could, you constructed a raft, and with such haste as youmight you placed on it such few things----"

  "Exactly," he said, "a chronometer, a sextant----"

  "I know," I continued, "two quadrants, a bucket of water, and alightning rod. I presume you picked up Clara floating in the sea."

  "I did," Croyden said; "she was unconscious when I got her, but byrubbing----"

  "Croyden," I said, raising the shovel again, "cut that out."

  "I'm sorry," he said.

  "It's all right. But you needn't go on. I see all the rest of youradventures plainly enough."

  "Well, I'm done with it all anyway," said Croyden gloomily. "You can dowhat you like. As for me, I've got a decent suit back there at our camp,and I've got it dried and pressed and I'm going to put it on."

  He rose wearily, Edith standing beside him.

  "What's more, Borus," he said, "I'll tell you something. This island isnot uninhabited at all."

  "Not uninhabited!" exclaimed Clara and Edith together. I saw each ofthem give a rapid look at her goatskin suit.

&nb
sp; "Nonsense, Croyden," I said, "this island is one of the West Indiankeys. On such a key as this the pirates used to land. Here they careenedtheir ships----"

  "Did what to them?" asked Croyden.

  "Careened them all over from one end to the other," I said. "Here theygot water and buried treasure; but beyond that the island was, andremained, only the home of the wild gull and the sea-mews----"

  "All right," said Croyden, "only it doesn't happen to be that kind ofkey. It's a West Indian island all right, but there's a summer hotel onthe other end of it not two miles away."

  "A summer hotel!" we exclaimed.

  "Yes, a hotel. I suspected it all along. I picked up a tennis racket onthe beach the first day; and after that I walked over the ridge andthrough the jungle and I could see the roof of the hotel. Only," headded rather shamefacedly, "I didn't like to tell her."

  "Oh, you coward!" cried Clara. "I could slap you."

  "Don't you dare," said Edith. "I'm sure you knew it as well as he did.And anyway, I was certain of it myself. I picked up a copy of lastweek's paper in a lunch-basket on the beach, and hid it from Mr. Borus.I didn't want to hurt his feelings."

  At that moment Croyden pointed with a cry towards the sea.

  "Look," he said, "for Heaven's sake, look!"

  He turned.

  Less than a quarter of a mile away we could see a large white motorlaunch coming round the corner. The deck was gay with awnings and brightdresses and parasols.

  "Great Heavens!" said Croyden. "I know that launch. It's theAppin-Joneses'."