L. Frank Baum - Oz 25

by Pirates In Oz

  castle door. The Read Bird dropped his book, and Ato, blinking his eyes, half rose from his throne.

  “There is nobody on the island, and yet somebody is without!” puffed Ato nervously.

  “Yes, but it is not the King’s place to answer the door,” chattered Roger, regaining his balance with some difficulty. “Remember, even though you are deserted, you are still the King!”

  “That’s so!” Greatly relieved, Ato sank back among his cushions. “Er-how does the King behave under such conditions?” he inquired tremulously, as the first knock was followed by a series of blows, kicks and furious rattles. Before Roger could find the proper place or answer in Maxims for Monarchs, the door gave way with a great crash and splintering of timbers and tremendous footsteps came thumping along the passageway.

  “I-I always said if you let matters alone they would settle themselves,” stuttered Roger, hopping down on the King’s shoulder and trying to bide behind his back.

  “V-very unsettling, I call this,” coughed Ato, reaching up to straighten his crown. “Kindly take your wing out of my eye so I can see what’s coming.”

  “What do you see?” quavered Roger, burrowing deeper into the King’s cloak. Ato was too startled to answer, and taking a frightened peek, Roger saw a monstrous seaman striding toward the throne. A gust of salt wind seemed to move along with him and his very hair and clothes seemed alive with it. The fellow’s skin was red and rough, his beard and hair, showing under the tightly bound red kerchief, was bleached light yellow by the sun. He wore enormous gold earrings, his blue eyes glittered, his white teeth shone, but for all that there was something fresh and hearty about him that the cutlass swinging from his belt and the blunderbuss held in his hand could not dispel.

  “Hah!” roared the intruder in a voice that set the curtains blowing. “Is there no one to announce me? Must I break a few heads as well as doors here? Hah!”

  “Hah-hahnounce the visitor, Roger,” directed Ato in a faint wheeze.

  “A pirate!” groaned Roger leaning over to whisper in the King’s ear “I feared this. I feared this. No honest traveller wears his handkerchief on his head.” Then straightening up, Roger cried out in a voice he tried to keep steady, “Name, please, and business, if respectable!” Roger’s voice was almost as faint as the King’s but he managed an air of importance and dignity nevertheless.

  “Salt?’ boomed the seaman, “Sam-u-e-l Salt, the pirate, an exceedingly irate pirate,” he finished, winking wickedly at the Read Bird.

  “Salt, Samuel Salt, you are in the presence of Ato the Eighth, King of the Octagon Isle. And have you come to call, Master Salt?”

  “To call?” exclaimed the pirate, slapping his thigh so that his scimitar rattled fearfully. “What should I call? Fish, oranges, spinach or potatoes? Do you take me for a peddler? Hah !”

  “Hah, hah! No, indeed,” laughed Ato feebly.

  “May I present Roger, my Royal Read Bird, Master Salt?”

  “Roger? Good!” The pirate stared hard at Roger who, it must be confessed, was trembling like

  a reed by this time. “Good! He shall flap at my mast head before night. Every pirate should have a jolly Roger. What? Now then, mates, trot out your men and treasure. I have come to pillage and plunder, to loot sack, enslave, and destroy and to knock eight bells out of everybody. Hah!” With scimitar uplifted Samuel Salt strode nearer, and Roger, falling upon the fat volume on the floor beside the throne, began frantically to turn the pages. As Roger continued to look desperately through Maxims for Monarchs, Ato rose and holding up his hand in a really regal manner, spoke.

  “Stop!” commanded the King in a dignified voice. “You will find eight bells in the Octagon tower, but I am sorry to disappoint you about the rest. There is no one on this island but this honest bird and myself. My subjects have deserted me, Captain Salt, and gone off with my ship and all the treasure.”

  “Deserted!” yelled the pirate, in such a savage voice that Roger scrambled under the throne and put his head under his wing. “Well, I’m the son of a sun fish if we both aren’t in the same jolly boat.” But there isn’t any boat,” explained Ato, shuddering slightly as the pirate’s scimitar touched his knee.

  CHAPTER 6

  The Story of Samuel Salt

  No boat!” cried the pirate hoarsely. “How do you suppose I reached this island, old Eighty Pate? Look yonder! There lies my ship, the Crescent Moon, as fine a boat as ever rammed a sloop or sank a merchantman. My ship and not a man, mouse or biscuit aboard her,” he finished, in a depressed whisper.

  “You mean you’re alone?” piped the read Bird, sticking out the end of his bill. The pirate nodded gloomily, at which Roger scurried from beneath the throne and hopped up on Ato’s shoulder.

  “You give him a clout in the middle while I drop this book on his head,” urged the Read Bird under his breath. “Come on now, all together!”

  “No, wait!” begged Ato, who had been eyeing the pirate with more interest than alarm. “I believe he’s going to tell us his story.”

  “Story!” hissed Roger furiously. “Can’t you think of anything but stories? Better do as I say or it will be the last story your Majesty will ever hear.” The pirate, lost in thought, seemed not to notice this whispered conversation, but as Roger, extremely displeased and ruffled, began to fan himself vigorously with his tail, Samuel Salt’ looked up.

  “It happened on a Wednesday,” he began moodily. “We had just put in at Elbow Island. That’s where I hide my treasure and rest between voyages. I was in the green cavern studying over a map of Ozamaland, which I meant to explore, when Peggo the Red, Binx the Bad, and all the rest of the band crowded in on me and said they were leaving.”

  “Leaving?” Ato leaned forward, his eyes snapping with interest and sympathy. “How curious And did they really leave you?”

  “Flat!” said the pirate glumly. “I think it was Binx who banged me with the oar. But when waked up they were gone, all the treasure was gone all the food and supplies were gone and my second best ship, the Sea Lion was gone. Now, Elbow Island mates, is a barren reef where nothing grows but rocks, and there being nought to eat and little water in the casks, I boarded the Crescent Moon and sailed east by nor’east till I sighted this island Here I meant to help myself to what I needed, seize enough men to man my ship and go after those thieving rascals and bring ‘em back in irons.”

  “Well,” questioned Ato breathlessly, for he was more interested in the pirate’s story than in his own safety, “why didn’t you?” The pirate gazed at the King for a full moment in a stunned silence and then burst into a hearty roar.

  “Hah, hah!” boomed Samuel Salt hilariously, “You’re a fine King, asking me why I don’t steal your treasure and enslave your men. Besides didn’t you just tell me your subjects had gone off with everything of value? That’s why I said we were in the same boat, old fellow. You’ve been robbed and deserted. I’ve been robbed and deserted. So, you see, we’re shipmates and I couldn’t treat you rough if I wanted to, could I, now?”

  “No,” Ato put his fingertips together and regarded his visitor thoughtfully, “I suppose not. But I suspect you of having a kind heart, Captain Salt.” The pirate winced and turned red as an August moon.

  “Hah, hah! You’re a fine pirate!” teased the Read Bird, rocking back and forth on his perch.

  “Why did your men leave you?” queried the King, shaking his finger reprovingly at Roger.

  “Well,” admitted Samuel Salt shuffling his feet uncomfortably, “to tell the truth, they claimed I wasn’t rough enough either in my talk or actions. Come to think of it, they only made me chief because I was clever at navigating. Now, I hold that once you’ve taken a ship and stowed her valuables, you should let the passengers and crew go. But Binx was all for planking ‘em. And I wouldn’t stand for it.”

  “Planking ‘em?” Ato shuddered in spite of himself. “You mean shoving them into the sea, Captain Salt?” Samuel nodded ruefully and the Read Bird rolled up his ey
es in horror.

  “Then,” continued the pirate in a grieved voice, “as we’d been pirating a long time and had accumulated considerable gold and treasure, I was planning to do a little exploring on my next voyage, a little exploring, honest discovery, and collecting of specimens. That’s what I really like,” he informed them earnestly.

  “And they hit you with an oar just for that” mused the King, rubbing his chin reflectively. “Just because you like exploring and didn’t talk rough enough. Dear, dear and dear, how dreadfully unreasonable.”

  “It seems to me you talked pretty rough when you stepped in here,” sniffed Roger, ruffling up his neck feathers. “How about that, Mr. Pirate?”

  “I was practicing,” admitted Samuel Salt, clearing his throat apologetically. “If I am to win back my crew I must be rough, bluff and relentless, mates.”

  “And you wish to win them back?” asked Ato wonderingly.

  “Of course, don’t you?” Stepping a bit closer, the pirate looked earnestly at the King. “By the way, why did your subjects leave?”

  “Because he likes stories better than people,” chirped Roger, closing one eye. “Because he

  hasn’t

  done any law-making, conquering or exploring. He’s just too kind and easygoing, if you ask me, Mr. Salt. A King has to be hard, haughty and something of a rascal to get himself appreciated these days.”

  “I believe you’re right,” mused the pirate thoughtfully. “You’ll have to practice being hard, mate. We’ll both have to practice,” blustered Samuel, tightening his belt and glaring around savagely.

  “Well, you needn’t practice on me,” grumbled the Read Bird as Ato, following the pirate’s example drew his face into a fierce and unaccustomed scowl. “How are you going to get your men back? What are you going to do and when are you going to do it?” demanded Roger, shutting his fan tail with a snap and pointing his claw severely at his master. Ato looked a trifle dashed, but the pirate, giving his belt another hitch, answered for him.

  “We’ll take the Crescent Moon, we’ll pirate around a bit till we’ve enough supplies and men to man her, and then we’ll sail after these rebels and bring them back by the necks, heels, ears and whiskers. Shiver my bones if we’ll not! But first we must eat. Hak!” Expelling his breath in a mighty blast through his nose, the pirate patted his belt and looked inquiringly at Ato. “I’m hollow as a drum amidships!” The King, who had been listening in round-eyed admiration to the pirate, now brought his fist down with a tremendous thump on the arm of the throne.

  “Vassals, bring the meat!” commanded Ato in a thunderous voice. “Varlets, fetch the fruit! Bring the bread and the puding!”

  “And make it lively or I’ll give ye a taste of my belt!” bellowed Samuel Salt, rattling his blunderbuss threateningly. Then the King and the pirate exchanged pleased glances. “I guess that’s telling ‘em,” rumbled Samuel Salt, rubbing his hands complacently together and striding up and down before the throne.

  “Them?” coughed Roger, rocking backward and forward on his perch. “Ha, ha! What a waste of hard language. There’s nobody below and you very well know it.”

  “That’s SO!” Completely crestfallen the King looked up at the Read Bird. “What are we to do, Roger?” he asked mournfully.

  “Fetch it ourselves,” answered Roger, flopping off his perch and making a bird line for the kitchen. But the kitchen, when they reached it, was in utmost confusion. Unwashed dishes were heaped on every table and chair, even spilling on to the floor, and though they searched in every chest and cupboard, they could find nothing but a small measure of flour, a pat of butter, half a pitcher of milk andthree broken eggs in a bowl. The cook had taken everything else eatable, even the mouse trap cheese. As the three stared dismally at the unappetizing collection, the kitchen door gave a sudden creak and slowly began to open.

  “Hi-sst!” warned the pirate, giving the King’s cloak a warning tug. “Some of your men returning. Now brace up, mate! Rough, bluff and relentless is the game, and under the hatches with all hands and villains! Hah!” Carried away by the pirate’s example, Ato caught up a bread knife and faced about, just as a small boy stepped through the doorway. Water ran in rivulets from his hair and clothing and he had evidently been through some exciting and exhausting experiences. His face was freckled and inquiring, but as he caught a glimpse of the threatening figures on the other side of the kitchen table, he

  sprang back in dismay and would have taken to his heels had Roger not called out to him.

  “Don’t go!” twittered Roger, terribly relieved to find the enemy so small. “Don’t go! They’re only practicing!”

  “Well, bless my buckles!” The pirate dropped his scimitar with a crash. “It’s a boy! What ship spilled you, little lubber? You’ve had a taste of the sea, I see. Ha, ha! A joke!” Giving Ato a good-natured shove the pirate grinned so broadly that the boy stopped short and looked curiously from one to the other. “He’s had a taste of the sea and for the sea. Nay, doubtless he ran off to sea to see what he could see. Ha, ha, ha!” finished Samuel Salt, laughing uproariously.

  “Ha, ha!” echoed the King, putting down the bread knife, secretly delighted that the rough, bluff and relentless stuff was for the time being unnecessary.

  “Shall I announce him in the usual fashion?” inquired Roger, leaning over to have a better look at the newcomer. “Name, young genfleman, and present business and past place of residence, if any?”

  “My name is Peter Brown. I come from Philadelphia, in the United States. I’d like to dry off and have something to eat, if you don’t mind,” answered the boy, coming a step closer.

  “We don’t mind at all,” said Ato pleasantly, but unfortunately there’s nothing to eat.” He waved sorrowfully and apologetically around the disordered kitchen. “We’ve just been robbed and deserted,” explained the King.

  “Let me present his Majesty, Ato the Eighth, King of this island, and Samuel Salt the pirate, who came to capture but stayed to defend us,” put in Roger, sweeping back his head feathers with a practiced claw. “I myself am the Royal Read Bird. And now would you mind telling me what you have under your arm, Master Peterdelphia, or whatever you call yourself?”

  “Just Peter,” corrected the boy, with a quick smile at Roger. “I found this flask in the water when I was washed up on your beach. I don’t know what’s in it,” he added, obligingly holding up the wicker covered bottle he had under his arm.

  “Do-not-open!” puffed the pirate, leaning forward to read the water-soaked label on the strange flask. “Do-no-open! Well, what may that mean?”

  CHAPTER 7

  The Mysterious flask

  Do not open.” The Read Bird and the pirate repeated the phrase several more times and could not take their eyes from the mysterious bottle, but the King was much more interested in Peter.

  “Tell me, boy,” wheezed the fat monarch, easing himself slowly into a kitchen chair, “tell me how you happened to reach this island. Was it a shipwreck?” At the prospect of hearing another story

  Ato’s eyes sparkled with pleasure and anticipation. Setting the flask on the table, Peter nodded so vigorously that drops of water flew in every direction.

  “Hah!” The pirate looked up, his attention momentarily diverted from the flask. “A shipwreck you say? Were you rammed and sunk or blown on the rocks? Tell me that, young one.”

  “Yes,” begged Ato, folding his hands on his stomach and benevolently regarding Peter, “start at the beginning and tell us everything about yourself.”

  “Well,” began Peter thoughtfully, “there isn’t much to tell. I live in Philadelphia with my grandfather. I’m eleven years old and go to the Blaine School and am captain of the base ball team.” Ato pursed his lips and nodded understandingly, though he had no idea at all what a base ball team might be. Samuel Salt, whittling at the handle of a wooden spoon with his dagger, decided it must be a small ship. “Well, a friend of my grandfather’s,” went on Peter earnestly, “has a yach
t and he invited us to go on a cruise, so of course we did. When we got off Cape Hatteras we struck a hurricane and the captain ordered all hands below, but I sneaked up to see what was going on and~”

  “Were blown off!” chuckled the pirate, shaking the wooden spoon reprovingly at the. boy.

  “Yes,” admitted Peter with a little shudder, “I was, and with almost all the loose stuff on deck. There was a big table that floated pretty well, so I climbed aboard. It was raining in torrents and thundering awfully. The waves were forty feet, I guess, and the wind so high I couldn’t I half breathe. I don’t remember what all happened; I just went slamming ahead of the wind, crashing through one wave and then another so fast I couldn’t think, and when the hurricane finally died down it was night and I couldn’t see. I must have slept awhile, though, for when I waked up it was morning and I saw land. So I paddled with my feet and arms till I was close enough to swim ashore. Floating on the water I found this cask, so I brought it along. And say, am I anywhere near the Land of Oz? I’ve been to Oz a couple of times and it’s the only country I know where birds can talk, and everything is sort of-er-sort of-”

  “What?” demanded Roger stiffly.

  “Well—different,” concluded Peter, with a long, interested look at Ato and the pirate. Then, sobering quickly, he sighed. “Golly! I wish I knew what has happened to grandfather.”