L. Frank Baum - Oz 25

by Pirates In Oz

  itself.

  “I’m afraid they’ve beaten us, Peter,” grunted the pig, as they drew nearer. “What do we do when we get inside?”

  “That depends, that depends, If we’re not too late We’ll save my friends,”

  answered Peter, looking anxiously down at the familiar and lovely spires of Ozma’s castle. “I’ll fly a bit higher now,” decided Pigasus warily. “Those pirates might take a pop at us.” All the round, emerald-domed little houses and shops in the city were closed up tight, their windows shuttered and darkened; neither was there a person to be seen on the streets. But as Pigasus circled above the castle they saw two pirates glumly guarding the gates.

  “Man! Ruggedo’s probably got that belt and changed everybody into cobblestones by now,” thought Peter, his heart thumping with fright and anxiety. “We’ll just take a look and if he’s wearing the magic belt I’ll fly off to Glinda for help.” Glinda, the Good Sorceress of the South, is, as most of us know, one of Ozma’s greatest friends and most powerful allies. In a short tense verse, Peter directed the pig to a large emerald studded window above the throne. Luckily this window was open, and when Pigasus, almost holding his breath, stuck in his head, Peter gave a quick gasp of relief.

  Ozma was still unharmed and was seated on her. great chair of state, surrounded by all the celebrities and councillors of her court. The window was so high that no one in the Emerald Throne Room noticed Peter, but at his second look the boy’s heart dropped with a sickening thud to his left shoe, for facing Ozma was Ruggedo himself! Ruggedo, fairly bristling with daggers; Ruggedo, wearing the red headgear of the pirates and the magic belt that had caused so many wars and revolutions in Oz. Beside him stood the mischievous Cuckoo Clock Man, holding up the ebony stick. Ruggedo himself, with folded arms and red eyes glittering with malice and satisfaction, was gloating over his captives.

  “At last!” rasped the Gnome King hoarsely. “At last I have you in my power. You, you, you and you!” With little stabs of his dagger he indicated Ozma, Dorothy, the Wizard of Oz and the

  Scarecrow, and throwing back his head burst into wild, hysterical laughter. “You thought because I had lost my speech I was powerless and helpless! Well, I’ll show you. I’ve got back my speech and my belt, and when I finish telling you what I think of you I’ll turn you into boxes and barrels and make a bonfire to celebrate my victory over the famous Ozma of Oz. I, Ruggedo the Rough, will now be ruler of Oz-of Oz and Ev forever and even afterward. Do you hear? Do you hear?“. At each sentence he stamped his foot and his voice grew louder, but if the celebrities heard they gave no sign. Calmly, bravely, without a word, Ozma and her courtiers faced complete and utter annihilation.

  “Why do they stand and stare like that? Jump on him Piggins-let’s knock him flat!”

  burst out Peter, digging his heels into the pig’s fat sides. With a valiant squeal, Pigasus hurled himself down toward the pirate gnome. But directly above the throne he was brought to so sharp a stop that Peter almost shot between his ears.

  “It’s the stick,” panted Pigasus, trying in vain to move his legs and wings. “I can’t budge an inch, ado boy! Boy, we’re petrified!” The sudden and unexpected appearance of Peter and the flying pig threw the company into the utmost confusion. Ozma and Dorothy, the Scarecrow and Tik Tok, recognizing the boy from Philadelphia, called to him in frantic voices to fly out of danger’s way; for though the conjurer’s stick held them motionless, they could still speak. But it was already too late. Pigasus could move neither backward or forward and sputtering with wrath and discomfort hung limply in the air. Ruggedo, as startled as anyone at this strange interruption, blinked up in astonishment at the plump pig and its rider. After a long, puzzled look he gave a furious bounce.

  “Prunes and pretzels!” shouted the Gnome King.

  “If it isn’t that meddlesome Peter from Philadelphia. This is good, too good! Look at him, Clocker! That’s the boy who hit me with the silence stone. Ha, ha, ha! Shall I turn him into, a drum and have him beaten every day, or to a door mat? What do you say, Clocker, what do you say?”

  It was exactly six o’clock, and above the cries of the Oz folk and the indignant verses of Peter, the cuckoo screamed defiantly six times, and then, whizzing through the air, handed a yellow paper to Ozma and another one to Peter. Two words were written on each paper. “Snif! Snif!’

  Ozma read the Wise Man’s message quite calmly and then held it up for the others to see. Peter tore his into fragments and while they were exclaiming indignantly over Clocker’s impertinence, the cuckoo, on its way back to its master, flew right under the nose of the flying pig. With a wrathful snort Pigasus opened his mouth and in one gulp swallowed the saucy bird. The effect was alarming and unexpected. In the cuckoo rested all of the Wise Man’s brains and intelligence. Deprived suddenly of all power to think, Clocker dropped the magic cane and toppled helplessly over on his nose, breaking his glass face and lying like a log at Ruggedo’s feet. It all happened so abruptly that the Oz folk had scarcely time to realize they were free to move before the gnome snatched up the standing stick himself.

  “Derm! Worm! Pachyderm!” stormed Ruggedo, shaking the stick at Pigasus. “You shall suffer for this!” Pigasus was suffering already, to tell the truth, for to have a wooden bird fluttering and beating its wings inside of one is upsetting and awful indeed, and while the Gnome King raged Pigasus squealed

  and Peter tried in vain to quiet him.

  “You tried to save us, Piggins, don’t feel blue; Never mind, I will find some way to save you!”

  “It’s not my mind,” groaned the pig, pink tears streaming down his cheeks, “It’s my middle. It’s driving me cr-crazy!”

  “Cuckoo,” corrected the Scarecrow, rolling his yes solemnly up at the pig. “You would feel that ray with a cuckoo inside of you. But you’ve done us a great service, nevertheless.”

  “Preserve us, a service that’s making him nervous,”

  sputtered Peter.

  “This hardly seems the time for verses,” sighed Ozma, looking reproachfully at the little boy. “He can’t help it. It’s my fault,” blubbered Pigasus. “Anybody riding on my back has to make verses and be a poet.”

  “Silence!” roared Ruggedo, pushing Clocker to one side with his foot. “And as for you, Brother goose,” he waved his dagger menacingly at Peter, one more verse and I’ll turn you into a bookworm and tread on you.”

  “If you intend to transform us, kindly do so,” commanded Ozma, staring haughtily at the ugly little gnome. ‘We’ve heard about enough from you. You have the magic belt. Well then, use it!”

  “That’s right,” agreed the Scarecrow. “I’d rather be a rock than listen to him any longer.” Peter, stiff and uncomfortable as he was, could not help but admire the spirit and bravery of the Oz folk. But their courage seemed only to enrage Ruggedo the more.

  “Huh!” sneered the gnome contemptuously. “I’ll transform you when I’m bad and ready and not before. Tell me first where you have hidden the magic dinner bell, the magic picture and the Wizard’s black bag. Do you think I’m going to waste my time looking for them?” Drawing himself up to his full height Ruggedo glared at Ozma. “I command you to tell me where you have hidden the treasures of Oz,” he shouted, his eyes bulging out like bugs.

  “Never!” answered Ozma closing her lips firmly. “Never!” At this, Ruggedo, with a furious mutter touched his magic belt and where the Scarecrow had been there was nothing but a bale of hay.

  “Will you speak now?” hissed the gnome. Ozma, Instead of answering, merely shook her head again and this time Scraps vanished and in her place slumped a faded old rag bag. With a cry of dismay Peter saw the Cowardly Lion change into an iron dog and his good friend the Iffin into a china cat. Then

  as the gnome stared vengefully up at him, his heart stood still. Goodbye to Oz and to Philadelphia. Goodbye to his grandfather, to Samuel Salt and Ato. Goodbye to all his fun and plans and his future as an air pilot. But before Ruggedo could open his mo
uth, the throne room doors burst violently apart.

  “Drop that stick!” thundered a terrible voice, and the Gnome King was seized from behind and lifted bodily into the air. Down clattered the conjurer’s cane, and as the Oz folk, suddenly released from the enchantment, surged joyfully forward, the yellow bird inside Pigasus struck the quarter hour and loudly and defiantly screamed: “Cuckoo!”

  CHAPTER 18

  The Pirate Ship Arrives

  ALL the time Peter and Pigasus had been flying toward the Emerald City, the Crescent Moon, as we happen to know, was not far behind. Without sinking, plunging to earth or is venture of any kind it moved like a phantom ship through the azure skies of the loveliest Fairyland out of the world, reaching the Emerald City soon after Peter himself. But though Ato and Samuel feverishly furled sail and tugged at the wheel, though Roger screamed with vigor and vexation, the ship refused to stop and sailed straight over the capital so that soon it was no more than a glittering dot in the distance.

  “Great goozlebugs, Sammy, are we to fly on and on forever?” gulped Ato, mopping his hot forehead with his apron. “We’re halfway over the Munchkin country now and if we keep this up we’ll shoot straight out of this ImagiNation and land in some real country where no one will believe in us at

  all.”

  “Some real dangerous country,” chattered the Read Bird, fluttering his feathers wildly. “Why don’t you do something? Why don’t you do something?” Samuel and Ato did not even bother to answer Roger’s frenzied question, for they had all they could do to hold the wheel of the Crescent Moon steady. And after an exasperated glance at the two chiefs, Roger flew down to the pirate’s cabin. “I’ll just have a look at that flask,” decided Roger bravely. The flask lay where it had fallen on the floor and picking it up Roger peered cautiously inside. The bottle seemed to be perfectly empty and locating the cork, Roger placed them side by side on Peter’s berth and settled down beside them to think. Standing on one leg with his claw to his head, the Read Bird thought and thought so hard and intensely that his head feathers rose on end and waved to and fro. But just as the Crescent Moon reached the Deadly Desert on the other side’ of Oz, a perfectly splendid idea popped into his mind. Whirling out of a porthole he flapped his wings to attract the attention of the pirate and Ato.

  “Turn the ship around,” screamed Roger imperiously. “We don’t have to fly only in one direction. We can at least keep over the Land of Oz!” Ato and Samuel exchanged startled glances. Roger’s advice was so sensible that they were surprised they had not thought of it themselves, and in a twinkling they had the Crescent Moon turned completely around and speeding in the opposite .direction. With a little chuckle of satisfaction Roger returned to the cabin and to his thinking. “Now then,” he reasoned solemnly, “we flew up because the cork came out of this bottle. Mouse ears and monkey whiskers! Huzza and Hurrah! I have it! If we flew up when the cork came out of the bottle why wouldn’t we fly down if we put the cork back?” Dazzled by his own cleverness, Roger was about to make the

  experiment when another thought struck him, such a horrid thought that he almost gave up the idea entirely. Suppose they dropped so hard and suddenly that the Crescent Moon smashed to bits, and so far from the Emerald City that they would never reach the capital in time to do any good? “This is a ticklish matter,” muttered Roger, opening and shutting his fan tail nervously, “but nevertheless I shall manage it.” Taking the cork in one claw and the bottle in the other, he flew out on deck and setting both on a coil of rope squinted earnestly over the rail. “Good!” The Crescent Moon was again approaching the Emerald City. As they sailed majestically over the spacious gardens of the castle, Roger lifted the cork and slowly began to move it toward the top of the flask. Ato and the pirate, busy at the wheel, hardly noticed him, but gave little grunts and exclamations of astonishment as the great boat moved gradually down-ward. Nearer and nearer to the bottle came the cork. Nearer and nearer to the garden slanted the Crescent Moon, and when, with a tremulous gasp, Roger fitted the cork in the bottle, the ship settled grandly and gently in a waving bed of tulips.

  “Well, shiver my liver!” beamed the pirate, while Ato, still holding the wheel, stared around in dazed disbelief and’ bewilderment.

  “Not a shiver of any sort, if you ask me,” exulted Roger briskly. “But hurry along. Let’s move. The first thing to do is to find this Gnome King, and the next thing is to snatch his magic stick and belt. Don’t stand staring at me like that! I brought the ship down to earth by putting the cork back in the bottle. Simple enough when you come to think of it”

  “Simple enough! Why, the bird’s a genius!” roared Ato, running over to press Roger’s claw. ‘The Queen shall hear of this!”

  “That she shall,” cried Samuel Salt, giving the Read Bird such a clap between the wings that he was nearly thrown off the rail.

  “Not unless you fellows hurry,” twittered Roger, trying not to feel flattered. “She may be enchanted or captured by this time. Come along! Come along!” Realizing the necessity for speed and action the three climbed over the rail of the Crescent Moon and made a dash for the Royal Castle of Oz and in less than a minute were inside. From the throne room the harsh voice of the Gnome King came echoing out to them. Breaking into a run, Samuel Salt reached the locked golden doom, put his great shoulders against them and with one tremendous shove broke them open. And it was the pirate who grasped Ruggedo and shook him so violently that the conjurer’s stick fell out of his hand. Then Roger, wise old bird that he was, unclasped the magic belt from the gnome’s waist and, flying straight for the ruler of Oz, dropped it in her lap.

  “How did you get here so quick and so soon? Ho, everyone, look, here’s the Man in the Moon,”

  cried Peter, scarcely able to believe his own eyes.

  “The Crescent Moon,” corrected Samuel Salt, smiling with relief to see his young shipmate safe and hearty. “Come on down off that pig and talk like yourself. Shiver my liver, I thought you’d be a golly-wog by this time.”

  “How, oh how, can we ever thank you?” breathed Ozma, half rising from her throne, while all the celebrities crowded around their three rescuers. “I see you are pirates, too.” The fairy looked in bewilderment from Ato to Samuel Salt and cast a long serious look at Roger, now contentedly perched on the King’s shoulder. “Then why-?”

  “Then why did we help you, I suppose you mean?” beamed Ato, snatching off his apron and throwing it behind him. “Because we would not have anyone on the throne of Oz but your sweet and gracious self. That’s why.”

  “You don’t talk like a pirate,” said Dorothy, coming closer to Ato. “He’s not!” cried Peter, jumping off Pigasus, for he was dreadfully tired of making verses. “Ato is King of the Octagon Isle and the best cook this side of Philadelphia. “Girl! Girl! You should taste his pies and gingerbread. And this is Captain Salt, a pirate, an explorer, an able-bodied seaman and everything!” Proudly Peter took an arm of each of his shipmates and with a little wave at Roger introduced the Royal Reader of the Octagon Isle.

  “But I still don’t understand,” sighed Ozma, her eyes travelling slowly from Ato’s bristling beard to his rough pirate clothes.

  “It’s the whiskers,” Peter assured her. With a little chuckle he put his arm around the King. “Just wait till he’s taken off his beard and put on his crown.”You’ll see-”

  “And what do I do with this?” boomed Samuel Salt holding out the squirming, kicking, muttering gnome.

  “Let’s change him into something quiet,” suggested Peter, as Ruggedo’s screams grew more piercing. “Then we can decide what to do.”

  “I believe I will,” mused Ozma, settling back on her throne. “Then we can talk in peace and hear all that our-our kind rescuers have to say.” At Ozma’s words Ruggedo gave a blood curdling screech, but no one felt sorry when Ozma touched her magic belt and the wicked gnome disappeared, leaving Samuel Salt holding by the handle a Grey stone water jug.

  “You should have turned him
into a cuckoo clock,” choked Pigasus, rolling over and over on the floor to relieve his feelings. With a little exclamation of sympathy Ozma touched her magic belt again, speaking a few low words. Whizz! whirr! Back to the fallen Clock Man sped the Yellow Bird, and had no sooner returned to its place before the Wise Man of Menankypoo jumped to his feet and fled like a gundersnatch from the throne room.

  “Shall I catch him?” asked Peter as Pigasus, snorting his thanks and appreciation flew up on a green sofa and flapped his wings like a rooster.

  “No, let him go,” decided the fairy. “If we want him again I can summon him with the magic belt. Now I must disenchant the others.” In four quick sentences, Ozma brought the Scarecrow, Scraps, the Cowardly Lion and the Iffin to themselves, and then, with everyone talking at once, the Oz folk tried to discover how Samuel and Ato and Roger and Peter and Pigasus had arrived so opportunely in the Emerald City; while the crew of the Crescent Moon tried to find out how Ruggedo had captured the capital and what had become of the pirates and Octagon Islanders.

  “Has your Majesty seen aught of eight fishermen, eight servitors, eight councillors, eight courtiers, eight shopkeepers, eight musicians, eight sailors, eight soldiers, eight scholars and poets and eight farmers?” called Ato above the terrible hub-bub and chatter.

  “And fifty-eight pirates!” roared Samuel Salt, waving the jug that was Ruggedo wildly around

  his head.