Joe and I made a list of the pearls we had secured at Faytan, including those rifled from the dead bodies of our enemies. They made so large a collection and were of such extraordinary size and color that we knew they would sell for an immense sum in America. All of our men were to participate in the “prize money,” for all had helped to earn it.
Joe, however, was richer in pearls than all the rest of us. When left by Lucia at the Pearl City he had easily made his way unobserved to the temple and crept through the window into our old room. Here he remained quietly secreted for a time, but the silence throughout the great building was so profound that he ventured to explore some of the passages that were unknown to him. One of them led him to the inner shrine of the temple, where an ugly image of the Pearl God was installed. At the feet of this deity had been placed the most splendid pearls found by the Faytans for many generations past, and Joe calmly filled the folds of his loin cloth as full as they would hold of the choicest gems.
At that moment he was discovered by an attendant, who raised a hue and cry just as the king was returning from the bay at the head of his people, all heartily disgusted by my escape.
Joe managed to leap from the window and speed away before the Faytans fully recovered from their astonishment, and then began the race which I had ended by taking Joe aboard the airship. Next to Joe’s splendid pearls, the value of which would make any man rich, however greedy he might be, my own string of gems, presented me by Attero, was of prime importance. Tiffany has since valued them at forty thousand dollars, but I will not part with them. I liked Attero and have always regretted that Joe had to kill him.
CHAPTER 20
KING BRYONIA
When we sighted Tuamotu it occurred to us that the most important person in our company was now our cook Bryonia — or rather Louiki, as he was called by his people. We had to depend upon the hospitality of these natives for some time to come; or until we had fully repaired the leaks in the Seagull for the long voyage still before us. Therefore we held a consultation and decided to appoint Bry to the temporary office of High Admiral, and to defer to him most respectfully while we lay at the island. For if his people found their chief occupying a menial position they might lose respect for him, and cause us a lot of trouble, whereas if he arrived clothed with grandeur and power his prestige would be increased. Nux also must be an important personage, for he was the chiefs cousin and close comrade. It was all explained to our passengers and crew, and so popular were the two faithful blacks that every one entered into the spirit of the deception with glee, expecting much amusement as the result.
Tuamotu we found a beautiful island, finely wooded, with a range of mountains in the center, and altogether somewhat larger than was Faytan. As Bry had declared, there was a fine harbor, with a shelving beach upon which we proposed to run the Seagull at high tide, so as to get at her leaks most conveniently.
As we entered this harbor on a bright, sunny morning we found the shore thickly clustered with natives, all as black as the ace of spades. They were not, as a class, so intelligent looking as the Faytans; neither were they so big and powerful of frame; but comparing them with other South Sea Islanders I must admit they were vastly superior to the general run. There was little ferocity about them, although I know they can fight and are brave and sturdy warriors. Just now they were merely curious and excited, for ours was the first ship but one to anchor in their bay. We had made a brave display of bunting and flags, and when we dropped anchor and furled our sails we fired a single shot from the bow by way of salute.
After many conferences with Bry we had decided upon our course of action, so at once the gig was lowered and manned by a chosen crew, while Bry and Nux, arrayed in their best gray and gold uniforms, gravely descended the ladder and took their seats in the stem. I must admit they moved with admirable dignity, and their great size lent them an impressive appearance. No one but us could know that the uniforms were those of servants.
They were received in silence when first they landed, but then we saw Bry stand before his people and begin a speech, and presently a shout arose so prolonged and loud that it was fairly deafening. Those nearest Bry fell on their knees and tried to kiss his feet, while those on the outskirts leaped about, performing antics of joy. Then a tall native advanced and folded Bry in a cordial embrace, afterward embracing Nux in like manner.
We knew then that our men had been recognized and loyally welcomed home. A procession was formed to the village on the hill, and Bry and Nux marched ahead of it while the shouts and gambols continued unabated. The ship seemed no longer the center of interest to the natives, although scattered bands of them soon began to saunter back to the shore to gaze upon the unusual spectacle.
Much entertained by the reception and satisfied that our black friends were having a good time, we patiently awaited their return, listening the while to the monotonous “chug-chug” of the pumps as they drove out the water that persistently rushed into the hold.
After a couple of hours the procession reappeared, Bry and Nux again at the head. They marched down to the shore and while the chief and his cousin reentered the gig, accompanied by two other blacks, three canoe loads of favored individuals clung to their wake and followed them to the ship as invited guests. At a respectful distance a swarm of other canoes came toward us, but they kept their distance from the ship and had no disposition to intrude.
We received the visitors with great ceremony. Nux told us that the tall black — he who had first embraced them — was his own brother. When the old chief, Bry’s father, had passed away, this man became the successor to the rule of the island, as all thought that the legitimate heir, Louiki, had perished in the battle with the Faytans. So Nux’s brother had been chief until Bry’s return when, being a good fellow at heart, he welcomed the long lost one and gladly resigned the royal office in his favor.
In this party were the principal men and officials of the island, and Bry showed them all over “his” ship, afterward giving them a plentiful feast in the main cabin. Joe and I waited upon them, and it was fun to see Bry at one end of the table and Nux at the other, posing as the ruling spirits of the Seagull. My father and Uncle Naboth kept out of sight, as did all our passengers, although Alfonso and Lucia hid on deck and looked through the cabin windows at the savage feasters. The natives of Tuamotu were duly impressed by the magnificent surroundings of their chief, and when he told them his ship needed repairs and tinkering they gladly volunteered to render him every assistance in their power.
So his Majesty dismissed them and sent them back to land, and when they were gone he put on his apron and cooked our dinner.
At five o’clock it was high tide, so we ran the Seagull as far upon the sandy beach as she would go, using the engines to propel her, and then the natives swarmed into the water and braced her sides securely with long poles. As the tide receded it left us high and dry, and by daybreak our men were able to begin work. They found several planks badly sprung and one gaping hole tom in the bottom by the sharp rocks as we slid into the sea during the earthquake at Faytan. It would take several days to repair the damage, because we could only work part of the time, while the tide was out.
Meantime, we were entertained by Bry in the chiefs house. It was the best in the village, or on the island, but made of logs with a palm thatched roof and far inferior in all ways to the houses of Faytan. Bry gave us a native repast, consisting mainly of roast goat and cheese, with a variety of delicious fruits. There was constant feasting and a succession of dances and ceremonies in honor of the chiefs return, and I was curious to know how all this would affect Bry, and whether he would leave us to rule over his native island, or not.
But when the repairs were completed Bry announced his intention of sailing with us.
“Allola, who is the brother of Nux, will make my people a good chief,” he said, “and my life with you has spoiled me to be now an ignorant islander. I could not be contented here any more; so I will go with you, and stay with you
always.”
There had never been any question about Nux. He had always said he preferred the life on our ship to being a big man in Tuamotu.
All being ready, hundreds of natives waded into the water at high tide and by sheer force of numbers pushed the Seagull off the sands till she floated. This operation was assisted by our propeller, but we could not have moved the heavy ship without the aid of Bry’s subjects.
The chief held a final farewell celebration, and distributed among his people many beads and trinkets, a stock of which we always carried with us. Then, amid the shouts of the multitude, who were all really sorry to see us go, we started our engines, whistled three times and fired a gun, and steamed out of the hospitable harbor.
The voyage to Colombia was without important event. We soon got upon our course again and encountered no more bad weather.
But at our destination Senor de Jiminez received some startling news. The revolution had, by a clever coup, overthrown the unpopular government and won without bloodshed. As De Jiminez did not happen to be present, another patriot was elected to the presidency, and was doing his duty ably when we arrived.
So the feelings of young Alfonso and his father were a combination of both joy and sadness; but the joy predominated when they were greeted enthusiastically by their political friends and De Jiminez was publicly thanked for his services to his party.
We were able to unload the guns and ammunition without danger, after which we settled our accounts in a satisfactory manner with the revolutionists, who recognized all of De Jiminez’ obligations. Then, being once more the legal owners of the Seagull, we bade good-bye to our passengers, who had shared with us the dangerous adventure at Faytan, and steamed northward toward San Francisco.
I noticed that Joe and Lucia exchanged rings, and overheard him promise to see her again. I wonder if he ever will?
THE FATE OF A CROWN
The Fate of a Crown was Baum’s attempt at an adventure novel for adults. Reilly & Britton published the novel in 1905 and Baum assumed the moniker, Schuyler Staunton. Glen C. Sheffer provided the illustrations. Set in Brazil in 1889 during a revolution, the novel includes historical figures as characters. Its protagonist, however, is a fictional American named Robert Harcliffe, who travels from his home in New Orleans to Brazil to act as secretary to a wealthy politician. What follows is a melodramatic adventure filled with politics, romance, murder, and mystery. The novel was moderately successful and Baum used the Staunton pseudonym again the following year with the publication of Daughters of Destiny.
A first edition copy of ‘The Fate of a Crown’
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTERXII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTERXX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTERXXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER I
THE BLUE ENVELOPE
LEANING back in my chair, I smoked my morning cigar and watched Uncle Nelson open his mail. He had an old-fashioned way of doing this: holding the envelope in his left hand, clipping its right edge with his desk shears, and then removing the inclosure and carefully reading it before he returned it to its original envelope. Across one end he would make a memorandum of the contents, after which the letters were placed in a neat pile.
As I watched him methodically working, Uncle Nelson raised a large blue envelope, clipped its end, and read the inclosure with an appearance of unusual interest. Then, instead of adding it to the letters before him, he laid it aside; and a few minutes later reverted to it again, giving the letter a second careful perusal. Deeply musing, for a time he sat motionless in his chair. Then, arousing himself from his deep abstraction, he cast a fleeting glance in my direction and composedly resumed his task.
I knew Uncle Nelson’s habits so well that this affair of the blue envelope told me plainly the communication was of unusual importance. Yet the old gentleman calmly continued his work until every letter the mail contained was laid in a pile before him and fully docketed. With the last he suddenly swung around in his chair and faced me.
“Robert,” said he, “how would you like to go to Brazil?”
Lacking a ready answer to this blunt question I simply stared at him.
“De Pintra has written me,” he continued — “do you know of Dom Miguel de Pintra?” I shook my head. “He is one of the oldest customers of the house. His patronage assisted us in getting established. We are under deep obligations to de Pintra.”
“I do not remember seeing his name upon the books,” I said, thoughtfully.
“No; before you came into the firm he had retired from business — for he is a wealthy man. But I believe this retirement has been bad for him. His energetic nature would not allow him to remain idle, and he has of late substituted politics for business.”
“That is not so bad,” I remarked, lightly. “Some people make a business of politics, and often it proves a fairly successful one.”
My uncle nodded.
“Here in New Orleans, yes,” he acknowledged; “but things are vastly different in Brazil. I am sorry to say that Dom Miguel is a leader of the revolutionists.”
“Ah,” said I, impressed by his grave tone. And I added: “I have supposed that Dom Pedro is secure upon his throne, and personally beloved by his subjects.”
“He is doubtless secure enough,” returned Uncle Nelson, dryly, “but, although much respected by his people, there is, I believe, serious opposition to an imperial form of government. Rebellions have been numerous during his reign. Indeed, these people of Brazil seem rapidly becoming republicans in principle, and it is to establish a republican form of government that my friend de Pintra has placed himself at the head of a conspiracy.”
“Good for de Pintra!” I cried, heartily.
“No, no; it is bad,” he rejoined, with a frown. “There is always danger in opposing established monarchies, and in this case the Emperor of Brazil has the countenance of both Europe and America.”
As I ventured no reply to this he paused, and again regarded me earnestly.
“I believe you are the very person, Robert, I should send de Pintra. He wishes me to secure for him a secretary whom he may trust implicitly. At present, he writes me, he is surrounded by the emperor’s spies. Even the members of his own household may be induced to betray him. Indeed, I imagine my old friend in a very hot-bed of intrigue and danger. Yet he believes he could trust an American who has no partiality for monarchies and no inducement to sympathize with any party but his own. Will you go, Robert?”
The question, abrupt though it was, did not startle me. Those accustomed to meet Nelson Harcliffe’s moods must think quickly. Still, I hesitated.
“Can you spare me, Uncle?”
“Not very well,” he admitted. “You have relieved me of many of the tedious details of business since you came home from college. But, for de Pintra’s sake, I am not only willing you should go, but I ask you, as a personal favor, to hasten to Rio and serve my friend faithfully, protecting him, so far as you may be able, from the dangers he is facing. You will find him a charming fellow — a noble man, indeed — and he needs just such a loyal assistant as I believe you will prove. Will you go, Robert?”
Uncle Nelson’s sudden proposal gave me a thrill of eager interest best explained by that fascinating word “danger.” Five minutes before I would have smiled at the suggestion that I visit a foreign country on so quixotic an errand; but the situation was, after all, as simple as it was sudden in development, and
my uncle’s earnest voice and eyes emphasized his request in no uncertain manner. Would I go? Would I, a young man on the threshold of life, with pulses readily responding to the suggestion of excitement and adventure, leave my humdrum existence in a mercantile establishment to mingle in the intrigues of a nation striving to cast off the shackles of a monarchy and become free and independent? My answer was assured.
Nevertheless, we Harcliffes are chary of exhibiting emotion. Any eagerness on my part would, I felt, have seriously displeased my reserved and deliberate uncle. Therefore I occupied several minutes in staring thoughtfully through the open window before I finally swung around in my chair and answered:
“Yes, Uncle, I will go.”
“Thank you,” said he, a flush of pleasure spreading over his fine old face. Then he turned again to the letter in the blue envelope. “The Castina sails on Wednesday, I see, and Dom Miguel wishes his new secretary to go on her. Therefore you must interview Captain Lertine at once, and arrange for passage.”
“Very well, sir.”
I took my hat, returned my uncle’s grave bow, and left the office.
CHAPTER II
VALCOUR
THE Castina was a Brazilian trading-ship frequently employed by the firm of Harcliffe Brothers to transport merchandise from New Orleans to Rio de Janiero. I had formed a slight acquaintance with the master, Pedro Lertine, and was not surprised when he placed his own stateroom at my disposal; for although the vessel usually carried passengers, the cabin accommodations were none of the best.
The Captain asked no questions concerning my voyage, contenting himself with the simple statement that he had often carried my father with him in the Castina in former years, and was now pleased to welcome the son aboard. He exhibited rare deference toward my uncle, Nelson Harcliffe, as the head of our firm, when the old gentleman came to the head of the levee to bid me good by; this Uncle Nelson did by means of a gentle pressure of my hand. I am told the Harcliffes are always remarkable for their reserve, and certainly the head of our house was an adept at repressing his emotions. Neither he nor my father, who had been his associate in founding the successful mercantile establishment, had ever cared to make any intimate friends; and for this reason the warmth of friendship evinced by Uncle Nelson in sending me on this peculiar mission to Dom Miguel de Pintra had caused me no little astonishment.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 729