L. Frank Baum - Oz 25

by Pirates In Oz

  “Well, surely nobody lives here,” gasped Peter.

  “Right again!” Striding over to the cottage, Samuel Salt squinted down at the sign over the cottage door. Then, straightening up, he slapped his knee with amusement and surprise. “This says, ‘Nobodies’ Home,’” confided the pirate, with a broad grin. “So, mates, as nobody’s home, we might as well go in and take a look around.” But just as Samuel, followed by the others, started to enter the cottage, the door opened and Nobody came out. “Shiver my liver!” gulped Samuel, catching hold of Ato for sup-port. “Shiver my liver and shatter my shins!”

  “Well, you needn’t shatter mine,” winced the King, giving the pirate a push. “Get off my foot, Sammy, I may want to use it. what do you say we all turn around and run for it?”

  “Golly!” breathed Peter. “He really has no body, Ato, just a head, some legs, and some arms.”

  And Peter was right, for Nobody had no body at all. For a long moment the pirates stared curiously at Nobody and Nobody as curiously stared back. Then Peter, growing uncomfortable at the absolute silence, ventured a remark.

  “Nice day?” observed Peter, shuffling his feet uneasily.

  “No!” snapped Nobody, scowling up at Peter disagreeably. “No!”

  “May we come inside and rest awhile?” inquired Ato, setting down his basket and smiling kindly at the little fellow on the doorstep.

  “No -” answered Nobody, shaking his ugly head firmly. “No room.”

  “Ho, this fellow has the Noes,” giggled Roger, ruffling up his feathers. “Do you live here all alone, Mr. Nobody?”

  “Nobody Much,” corrected the little man pompously, and as he spoke three more Nobodies joined him. on the step.

  “Nobody Else, Nobody At All and Nobody Knows!” announced Nobody Much, waving at his squat companions. “And just Nobodies,” he added carelessly as dozens more of the odd little beings poured out of the cottage.

  “I’d like to take one home for a specimen,” whispered Samuel Salt to Peter, “but I expect it wouldn’t be right. Have you anything to eat for hungry sea-men, boys?” boomed Samuel, grinning broadly at the Nobodies.

  “No!” yelled the Nobodies all together “No! No! No!”

  “Don’t you ever eat anything yourselves?” asked Ato wonderingly.

  “NO!” shouted the Nobodies, even more firmly than before.

  “No body, no stomach, no appetite, no use,” explained Nobody Much, who seemed to be the leader of the Nobody band.

  “Well, well, and well! Fancy that, Roger. The poor things never eat. Think of what they miss!” And recalling the grand dinners he had eaten in his thousand years-and the King enjoyed a good din-ner as much as a good yarn-Ato shook his head pityingly. But Peter was growing more impatient and angry every minute.

  “If you have nothing to eat, can you tell us the way to some place where we can find something?” demanded Peter in an exasperated voice.

  “No way! No place! No time!” answered Nobody Much, folding his arms indifferently.

  “No! No! Can’t you fellows say anything but ‘No’?” screeched Roger irritably.

  “No!” screamed the Nobodies insolently, at which the Read Bird lost his temper and even Samuel Salt looked mad.

  “Are you going to stand here and listen to these Nobodies saying nothing?” fumed Roger, jumping up and down on Ato’s shoulder. “This is no kind of talk for a King. Are you a King or are you not?” Opening Maxims for Monarchs, Roger angrily flipped over the pages till he came to the N’s, then ran his claw quickly down the leaf.

  “Well, what does it say?” wheezed Ato uneasily.

  “It says Nobody can say ‘No’ to the King,” grumbled Roger, after a short silence.

  “There you are!” Picking up his basket Ato looked resignedly at the Royal Reader. “There you are, and what can we do about it? Nobody can say ‘No’ to the King.”

  “Well, they’ve certainly said it,” muttered Peter. “If they weren’t so little I’d jump all over them. Go on, get out of here!” exploded the boy, angrily stamping his foot. “Shoot Scat! Get along with you! Do you hear?”

  “Are you sure there’s nothing to eat on the island?” bawled Samuel, as the Nobodies scampered pell mell back into their cottage.

  “No! No! No!” screamed the little imps, jumping up and down and making fearful faces at the pirates. “No! No! No!” Even after the door slammed shut they could still be heard shouting.

  “No! No! No!” mimicked Roger, slamming his book crossly. “They don’t know what they’re talk-about! Back to the boat, mates. I’ve had enough of this place.”

  “But there’s nothing to eat on the boat,” explained Ato plaintively. “I, for one, am not going back till I find something to eat.”

  “Me, neither,” declared Peter, forgetting all about his grammar. Come on, fellows, let’s see what’s on the other side of Nowhere.” So, with the Read Bird flying ahead, the three shipmates tramped morosely across the clearing and plunged into the heavy woodland on the other side of Nowhere.

  CHAPTER 12

  The Other Side of Nowhere

  THE woods on the other side of Nowhere were not so dense and the pirates soon came out on a long stretch of sand and dunes.

  “Humph!” grunted Samuel Salt, squinting off at the sparkling blue sea. “The Nobodies were

  right.

  There’s nothing on the island but gulls. Let’s follow the coast till we come to the ship and maybe we can pick up some clams or beach plums.” Peter winked at Ato and the King winked back, for they both knew Samuel was more liable to pick up shells and seaweed than clams, but saying nothing they proceeded amiably along the shore. Roger, flying ahead on a quest of his own, found a clump of wild berry bushes and filled first himself and then Ato’s basket with the bright blue fruit. Peter came upon a wild duck’s nest in the long grass behind a dune and carefully transferred the eggs to his pocket. But it was Ato who made the most astounding and valuable contribution to the larder. Quite a distance behind the others he was trudging patiently through the heavy sand when he heard a plaintive cry behind him.

  “Bah! Ba-aah! Bah!” bleated a deeply nasal voice.

  “Bah nah nah!”

  “What can that be?” pondered the King, and as the cry came again even more pleadingly, he picked his way through some heavy bushes and saw, caught between two tub trees, a fat and uncommonly handsome goat. The animal rolled its eyes sorrowfully at the King and made an unsuccessful attempt to squeeze through.

  “Wait,” wheezed the kind-hearted monarch sympathetically. “Wait, I’ll help you.” Getting behind the goat he gave such a shove that it shot forward and they both tumbled down together.

  “Bah!” grumbled the King, picking himself up hurriedly. “Now I hope you’re satisfied.”

  “Bah nah nah?” bleated the goat questioningly, and coming over, rubbed her nose sociably against the King’s knee.

  “Why do you keep bleating ‘Bah nah nah’?” fumed Ato crossly, for he had skinned both knees and the end of his nose. At this the goat lowered her head and thinking she meant to butt him the King jumped back. But as she continued to stare at him patiently and pleasantly he gave a start of surprise.

  “Great aunts and grasshoppers!” exclaimed the Cook of the Crescent Moon, clapping his hand to his heart. “It’s a bananny goat! Wait till Peter sees this!”

  “Bah nah nah?” inquired the animal, with a hopeful little skip. “Have a banana, kind sir. Lowering her head, the goat thrust her horns into the King’s hands. Each horn was a fine yellow banana and as she straightened up they broke off and two more began to grow.

  “Breakfast for all hands!” panted the King, staring at the bananny goat in fascination. “Bananas and cream every morning. Come with me, goat. You’re going on a voyage.” The goat seemed pleased enough with the idea and kicking up her heels in a gay and care free manner trotted cheerfully after the King. The others were already in the jolly boat when Ato caught up with them.

 
“What’s that?” grunted Samuel Salt, leaning heavily on his oar as Ato, followed by the goat, came splashing toward them.

  “Cream for our coffee, if we had any coffee,” explained the King, and calmly seizing the goat under the middle dumped her into the boat and climbed in himself. As Peter and Samuel and the Read Bird had never seen a bananny goat in their lives, it took some time for the excitement caused by her arrival to die down and for the jollyboat to get under way.

  “I’m going to call her Breakfast” announced the King, proudly patting the fat sides of his new pet The goat, after offering each a banana, placidly went to sleep leaning against Ato’s knee.

  “Bananas and cream! What a breakfast for pirates!” scoffed the Read Bird, who was a bit jealous of this new shipmate.

  “I can milk her,” offered Peter eagerly. There had been a goat on his uncle’s farm and he knew something about the creatures, not, of course, about bananny goats but enough for a fair beginning, anyway. “Gee!” he continued happily. “With duck eggs, berries and bananas and cream we’ll have quite a feast, won’t we? What did you find, Samuel?”

  “The finest example of a pygobranchial you ever saw in your whole life,” boasted the pirate, tapping his specimen box proudly, “and a pulmonata that would raise your hair.”

  “Well, just keep the lid down,” shuddered Ato, edging away. “Whatever they are I don’t believe in ‘em.” By the time Samuel had explained his strange treasures, or endeavored to explain them, they had come to the Crescent Moon. Getting the goat aboard was quite a problem and-after three or four vain attempts to coax her up the ladder, they made a harness of rope and pulled her to the deck. There she trotted about contentedly, bleating with interest and curiosity while Peter, Ato and the pirates hoisted the sails and Roger wound up the anchor. Now Samuel took the wheel, the Read Bird flew off to attend to the masthead lights and Ato and Peter went below to prepare dinner, for it was already growing dark and the trip ashore had given them tremendous appetites.

  “Boiled duck eggs and peas, fresh berries, bananas and cream! Not bad,” announced Ato, looking critically at his well-heaped tray. “Not bad at all, but what can I get for the goat?” he queried, regarding Breakfast, who was nibbling experimentally at one of the life preservers.

  “Just banana skins,” called Breakfast, shaking her head so hard that both horns fell off. “Just banana skins, old fellow.”

  “Well, that’s lucky,” chuckled Peter, giving Ato a nudge. “At that rate she’ll be a cinch to take care of. Look at those horns grow, will you?”

  “Horns of plenty,” smiled the King, waddling off toward the cabin with the tray. “Horns of plenty.” After dinner Peter tied up the goat in the forecastle.

  “You might slip overboard,” he explained apologetically, as he slipped the rope around her

  neck.

  “Oh, that’s all right,” yawned Breakfast, settling herself cozily in one of the pirates’ berths. “See you in the morning, sonny.”

  “Okay!” laughed Peter, picking up his lantern. “See you in the morning, madam.” But, as it happened, Peter did not see Breakfast in the morning, and neither did anyone else! The forecastle indeed, the whole bow of the ship was buried under the mountain of bananas Breakfast had shed in the night. They rolled and slid about the lower deck, blocked every porthole and door and choked up every passageway so that the Crescent Moon, weighed down under the unaccustomed load, dipped far below the water line.

  “Bah nah nah!” wailed the plaintive voice of the goat from the bottom of the heap. Peter and Ato, who had just come on deck, stared at one another in dismay, but the Read Bird, bidding Ato take his place at the wheel, flew screaming off to. wake the pirate.

  “Wake up! Wake up!” shrilled Roger, beating his wings in Samuel’s face. “Wake up, before

  that precious goat sinks the boat!” Samuel, who had been on the last long watch, rolled sleepily out of his berth at Roger’s loud outcries, and dragging on his coat ran up the companionway.

  “Well, shiver my liver!” raged the pirate, as the mountain of bananas, shifting backward and forward with the motion of the ship, caught his eye. “Shiver my liver and shatter my bones! Is the Crescent Moon a common freighter, a scow or a banana boat?” he bawled angrily. “Fall to, mates! Heave them to the fishes, and lively, too!” While Roger held the ship to her course, the others fell upon the bananas and hurled, shoved and pushed them into the sea. And for the first and last time on the voyage, Peter saw the pirate really aroused.

  “It’s because he loves his boat,” chuckled the boy, watching out of the corner of his eye as Samuel feverishly flung bananas in twos, threes and dozens over the rail.

  “When I come to that goat, I’ll bust her binnacle!” exploded the pirate vindictively. “Not only her binnacle but her hatches as well.”

  “You can’t do that, Sammy,” observed Ato, stopping short with his arms full of bananas. “She’s a good goat. Besides, I don’t believe Breakfast has a binnacle. And she can’t help growing bananas. That’s her business. And bananas are a good thing to have on a voyage.”

  “Yes, but this is too much of a good thing,” shouted Samuel, very red in the face. “Bah nah nah!” Angrily he imitated the voice of Breakfast growing louder as the bananas grew lower. “I never want to see another banana as long as I live.”

  “She should walk the plank for this,” said Roger unfeelingly. “She’s a dangerous character and tried to sink us while we slept.”

  “Oh, nonsense!” mumbled Ato. “You don’t know a good goat when you see one. Come on out, you poor creature, you, and get a breath of air.” At last all the bananas were overboard and Ato led Breakfast, trembling and bleating, up on the deck. Peter watched rather anxiously, for he feared that Samuel in his present mood might really shove the goat into the sea, but the pirate, after one ferocious glare in the goat’s direction, strode back to the cabin.

  “I’ve thought of something,” confided Ato to Peter, and sure enough he had, for when Peter got back with the milking pail, the King had tied the goat to a porthole with her head out over the water.

  “Nobody appreciates me,” blubbered Breakfast, shedding alternate tears and bananas into the sea. “Nobody appreciates me! I was never so humiliated in my life.”

  “Don’t you care,” said Peter soothingly. ‘We’ll put you off on the first island we come to, and think what fun you’ll have telling about your sea voyage. I’ll bet you’re the only goat out of the world who ever shipped on a pirate vessel.”

  “I’m the only bananny goat in existence,” quavered Breakfast, rolling her eyes around at the boy. “And if I’d known this was a pirate ship I’d never have come a foot of the way. Are you a pirate, too, my poor misguided child?”

  “Yep, I’m a pirate, too,” Peter told her recklessly. “A pirate, who’s fond of goats,” he whispered consolingly, as Breakfast gave a nervous jump. “So buck up your spirits, old lady, and all will yet be well.”

  “Well? Well? I feel very far from well,” bleated Breakfast, resting her chin on the porthole and closing her eyes. She looked so comical that Peter had all he could do to keep from laughing. Giving her a pat he took the pail of milk and ran off to help Ato in the galley, leaving the bananny goat to reflect on the strange manners of boats and men. A high sea was running and the Crescent Moon pitched and rolled in a way that made Breakfast long for her native land, or any land for that matter.

  A look in his specimen box had completely restored Samuel Salt to his usual good humor and he grew almost cheerful as he and Peter and Ato finished off the duck eggs and berries. No one seemed to want a banana. But now that there was no longer any danger that Breakfast would swamp the boat, the pi-rate felt more kindly toward the unfortunate creature and he and Ato even tried to make plans for her future. Before anything had been decided, however, and right in the middle of a lively discussion, a loud hail came from the Read Bird.

  “Ship ahoy!” shouted Roger, in a regular fog horn voice. “Ship ahoy! Al
l hands on deck and stand by for trouble!”

  “Oh, golly! I’ll bet it is the Sea Lion this time,” cried Peter, bounding up the steps two at a time.

  “Maybe it’s the Octopus,” puffed Ato, grabbing a water bottle by the neck. “Rough, bluff and relentless, now, mates. To larboard and starboard with lubbers!”

  “Now, now, not too quick with that stuff,” cautioned Samuel Salt, seizing the cook’s shirt tail. Breathless the three arrived on deck. Roger had done well to call them. Bearing down upon them was a great, strange ship three times the size of the Crescent Moon with tall turrets instead of masts - such a ship as none of them had ever seen or dreamed of.

  “She’s running us down,” gasped Peter wildly, and without waiting for orders the boy dashed for one of the port guns, which were all primed and set for firing, and pulling the cord sent a convincing and warning cannon ball across the enemy’s bow.

  “Stop! Stop! Do you want to hurt somebody?” yelled the pirate, grabbing Peter around the waist. Peter, still trembling from the shock and roar of the gun, nodded vigorously.

  “Did you want ‘em to sink us?” he demanded indignantly.

  “Three cheers and a sofa pillow!” squalled the Read Bird, flapping his wings in wild excitement. “She’s surrendered, boys. There goes the white flag. Peter has captured her. What a prize! What a prize!”

  “What a surprise!” mumbled Samuel Salt uneasily. “Now we’ll have to board her and all that. Give me the wheel, Roger.”

  “Bah nah nah!” bleated Breakfast, who had heard the shot and was trembling in every leg. “Bah nah