The Marvellous Land of Snergs

by Edward Wyke Smith

  The most interesting feature of the forest land, he said, was the region of twisted trees, which reached to within a short distance of the town. It was not healthy to go too far in among these trees, but if they liked he would show them a few just on the outskirts, as breakfast wouldn’t be ready for at least another hour. The children were delighted at the chance of seeing these strange natural objects, so off they went into the woods.

  The Twisted Trees

  It did not take long to reach the spot where the first few twisted trees were growing. They were wonderful things, with thick smooth grey trunks and smooth grey branches that touched the ground here and there like great quiet serpents. Leaves grew only on the higher parts, but they were thick and matted like a thatch and made it rather dark and creepy underneath. Gorbo led them along to where there were more and much better specimens of this wonderful flora, and Sylvia and Joe were proud that they of all the children had had a chance of seeing them.

  Gorbo said it was time to get back and he turned and led the way. Suddenly he stopped and looked about under the writhing grey branches and over them; then he turned in another direction. Again he stopped, and this time he had a particularly silly smile.

  “I’d better be careful,” he said, “or we’ll get lost.”

  He went on again and the children followed him, hoping that he would find the way out soon, as breakfast was a thing they wanted quickly. But it was getting dark; the sky was now hidden by a roof of matted leaves, and on all sides and above them the thick smooth branches twisted and crossed and locked together. The air was damp and smelt of mould and old moss, and there was a horrid silence. A great leather-skinned bat flickered past them, almost brushing against Sylvia’s hair, so that she ducked and gave out a little squeal. Gorbo at last swarmed- up one of the bigger trees and, after a lot of struggling, managed to force his way out through the leaves, disturbing numbers of bats that came flopping and wheeling about. Joe had to put his arms round Sylvia’s head and hide it as well as he could until the foul things had gone to settle elsewhere. A minute or two later, Gorbo came sliding down.

  “It’s all right,” he said.” I couldn’t see much else but leaves, but I saw the sun so I know which way to go now. The sun is just over”—here he stopped and thought and scratched his head.” Yes, I think it’s ever that way. You see I got twisted round a bit coming down.”

  They followed him again, working their way over and under the branches. After a time he stopped and thought again, and then began climbing and creeping in another direction—it was all climbing and creeping now. Then he stopped and looked at them in dismay. The horrible writhing grey trunks surrounded them on all sides like an ugly giant net, in a gloom so deep that their shapes were lost to the eye a dozen yards away. Gorbo, the clever one, the woodsman, had done this thing. They were lost.

  He did not look at them for long; the sight of Sylvia’s scared face as she crept from under one of the grey limbs roused him up.

  “It’s all right, Sylvia,” he said.” They’ll find we’re missing, and this is the first place they’ll look for us in. You see they’ll start shouting and yelling, and then we’ll start shouting and yelling and work our way to where we hear them. It’s quite easy. But won’t the King go for me! No Brazen Nutmeg for poor old Gorbo. There’s a little bigger space over there; let’s go and see if we can find a place to sit down comfortably.” They worked. their way on, and sure enough there was a little space ‘ahead that was more open owing to there being a huge tree which had, so to speak, pushed all smaller ones out of its way. It was gloomy enough, but there was at least room to stand upright and move about if they felt like it.

  “Look! “said Sylvia and Joe suddenly, both together.

  Gorbo turned and then stared. In the big tree was a door about four feet high, a queer looking door with mighty iron hinges and clasps, all red with rust or green with moss. In the deep shadow and at a little distance away it was difficult to distinguish it from the trunk.

  Gorbo scratched his head and continued to stare.” I’ve never heard of any door,” he said at length.” The Kelps never made any door; they hadn’t sense enough; all biting and screaming and killing, I’ve heard. And it’s ever so much too small for Golithos.”

  “Who’s Golithos? “asked Joe quickly.

  “Golithos’ an ogre,” replied Gorbo, truthfully, but like the silly fool he was. Sylvia gave a scream and clutched hold of Joe.

  “It’s all right, Sylvia,” said Gorbo in a hurry.” He was an ogre, but he’s not now. He’s reformed. Besides, he’s been on the other side of the river for ever so long. Don’t be frightened.”

  He went to the door and gave a good pull at a great iron knob. The door swung open quite easily. He poked his head inside.

  “Very dark and smells of cheese,” he said after a moment. He went in a little way.” No, it’s not quite dark; there’s a light coming from somewhere. There’s a little flight of steps going down. Come and look.”

  Joe picked up Tiger and, taking Sylvia by the hand, stepped with her inside the door.

  “See,” said Gorbo, “there’s the steps. Shall we go down and see what we can see? “

  “Yes,” said Joe eagerly.” Let’s!”

  “N—n—no,”said Sylvia at the same time.” I don’t like it.”

  “Anyway,” went on Gorbo, “we’ll make sure that the door doesn’t shut behind us. I’ll push it wide open and then—”

  He did not finish what he was going to say, for the door had gently closed. He flung himself furiously at it, but, strong as he was, made no more impression on it than if it had been a stone wall.

  Gorbo, that lout, had really done it this time.

  PART II

  Trouble at Watkyns Bay

  Bitter was the grief and deep the perplexity of Miss Watkyns and all the ladies when news came by other fleet messengers that Sylvia and Joe had disappeared again, and this time in a quite unaccountable way. A little while later King Merse II himself came to Watkyns Bay and explained how bands of responsible Snergs had been sent to explore everywhere and especially in the region of twisted trees, taking with them little sacks of lime to mark their trails, and how they had shouted and yelled until they were hoarse, but without avail, since no answer had come from anywhere, and they had returned home with sore hearts and sore throats. He tried to cheer them up by saying that the children would certainly be found in time, but he did not say anything about his real fear, which was that they had somehow got mixed up with one or other of the magic snares which, tradition had it, were very plentiful among the twisted trees. He quoted old sayings to comfort them, such as it is best not to meet trouble half-way, and that care killed the cat. when there was really nothing amiss with the animal. He added that as Providence looked after fools there was cause for cheerful hopes, since Gorbo was the biggest fool even among the Snergs, who, though having many good qualities, are not celebrated for brain waves.

  These kind efforts had some effect in restoring confidence and the ladies were able to discuss the matter with comparative calm. Miss Gribblestone had at first wondered whether by some untoward combination of chances the children had slipped back to the scene of their former life, and she drew a pathetic picture of Sylvia and Joe wandering about the streets of London with bare legs and only slinkers on their feet, and possibly starving, and she suggested the advisability of her instant departure for London with a bundle of warm underthings and two woolly coats. Miss Watkyns reproved her with some sharpness, pointing out the impossibility of such a thing: leaving out fifty other reasons the moon was only a quarter full and the air currents would be in opposition, and this alone made the suggestion absurd. Miss Scadging advanced an even wilder theory that the children had suffered such mental, anguish from the reproof and punishment given that they had wandered away and died of broken hearts, and at this Miss Watkyns begged her to consider the extravagance of such
a suggestion applied to either Sylvia or Joe and to give her energies to a more practical solution of the problem.

  When the rest of the children heard the news they were slightly awe-struck but not immoderately grieved, for their experience of Joe and Sylvia had led them to believe they were capable of coming safely out. of any trouble, and the general opinion was that they were having a continuation of their surprising and interesting adventures somewhere and would return in due time, full of glory and slightly swollen headed. Poor things, they knew little of the harsh, real world; they had forgotten what ‘happened to them in the past; as has been said, the air of the place was grand for forgetting.

  The King next went over to see Vanderdecken and had a long conference with him, and then returned across the forest with his retinue. He had left word with Miss Watkyns that lie and a band of picked men would leave next day on an expedition, but for the present he preferred not to say where to, in order to avoid raising either fears or hopes. On his arrival at the town he made a short speech, and then personally superintended preparations. Swords and axes were sharpened, quivers were stuffed with arrows, steel casques had old dents knocked out, cuirasses had the buckles put in order, provisions were packed into little wallets. The air smelt of war, as in the brave days of old.

  Miss Watkyns, pacing with knitted brow on her verandah, was disturbed by the sound of shrieks and expletives. Looking up in anger, she saw Vanderdecken and all his men coming up the path, the foremost seaman bearing the parrot’s cage—this accounting for the noise, for the bird was enraged. All had their seaboots on, and they bore muskets, powder horns, pouches with slugs and bullets, cutlasses and snickersnees; each man had also a bag containing pickled beef, biscuits, a cake of tobacco, and a small bottle of Schnapps. Vanderdecken said that they were going away for an indefinite period and asked Miss Watkyns if she would kindly give an, eye to the camp in their absence and see that things were aired occasionally and the weeds kept down in the garden. Also, if it was not too much trouble, would she see to it that the Snergs did at least half an hour’s pumping of the old ship every morning and evening. He then handed over the parrot with a request that it be supplied with nuts and fruit, and a bit of sulphur in its water to prevent it getting scaly feet, and; begged her to pardon any of its verbal lapses. She agreed readily to these requests, and they departed across the forest and joined King Merse and his men on the following morning. An hour later they were all trooping together over the hillside beyond the town.

  Beyond the Door

  While Gorbo was battering himself against the heavy little door, which had closed so gently and firmly as if pushed to from without, Sylvia clung to Joe and hid her face and trembled. Joe held her tight without speaking; he, too, tough and adventurous as he was, had received a shock.

  Gorbo turned round at last, and in the faint light that came from somewhere below they could see a badly scared look on his face, and it was all twisted as if he were going to cry. He was thinking of the horrid mess he had got the little ones into.

  “I’ve done it this time,” he said.” So the old woman was right after all.”

  “Which old woman? “asked Joe.

  “An old woman who told my mother that she would only have one son and that he would be the biggest fool among the Snergs.”

  “Then it isn’t your fault,” said Joe, to comfort him.” If it was all settled before you were born.”

  “That’s so!” exclaimed Gorbo.” I must be a fool not to think of that before. But then if I had thought of it,” he added mournfully, “I wouldn’t be a fool and the old woman would have been wrong; so it works out all right.”

  “But you’re sometimes quite sensible,” said Joe.” Isn’t he, Sylvia? “

  “Y—y—yes,” agreed Sylvia.” But I wish we could get out,”

  “It seems to me,” said Gorbo “—not that I am much of a man to listen to—that we should see what we can see down these steps.”

  “Well, we can’t stay here forever,” said Joe, “so let’s go.”

  “I’ll go ahead,” said Gorbo.” If there are any fierce things that bite below, they can have first bite at me and serve me right.”

  With this cheerful remark he started off. Joe went next and Sylvia came close behind him. The way was very narrow and so low that their heads nearly touched the roof, small as they were. And they went down and down arid down, and the more they went down the lighter it got with a sickly yellowish-green light that seemed to come from a little growth on the walls, like fungus. There was absolutely nothing to see but steps and walls, very neatly cut out of solid rock. It must have been an awful job for those who did all this work, whoever they were.

  “Do you think these steps go on for ever and ever? “asked Joe after a time.

  “No,” replied Gorbo, stopping suddenly.” They’ve come to an end.” He was standing in a little flat place, from which five narrow passages branched out like the fingers of a hand. The question of which passage to take was indeed a hard one.

  “We’d better start with the first one,” said Gorbo.” Then if it’s a wrong one we’ll try the next, and so on.”

  “But suppose we go miles and miles before we find it’s a wrong one,” objected Joe.” We’d be hours over it, wouldn’t we? “

  Gorbo scratched his head.” That sounds sound,” he observed.

  “I know! “cried Joe.” We’ll see which one is ‘out.’ Let Sylvia try. She knows all the out poems.”

  “All right.” Sylvia began to take great interest in the matter now.” Which one shall I try it with? “

  “Try the cat one,” suggested Joe, after consideration.

  So Sylvia pointed her finger at the little tunnels one after the other and repeated:

  “If you want to stroke a cat

  Lay it flat upon a mat.

  Hold it firmly by the tail

  Smack it if it starts to wail.

  If it starts to spit and shout

  Pick it up and throw it OUT.”

  She stopped with her finger. pointing at the fourth tunnel and she looked excitedly at the others, because it was becoming like a game.

  “Here we go,” said Gorbo, making his way into the fourth tunnel.

  They went on and on and on along the tunnel, and just at the exact moment when they agreed that it would never have any end, they fetched up against a blank wall. But on either side was a passage going at right angles, and the question was of course, which was the right one to take?

  Sylvia repeated her little mystic rhyme, and “out” was the left-hand turning, so they went along it. After a dozen steps it turned to the right, and a little further on to the left; then it went straight on until it came to an end, with a smooth wall in front and on both sides. There was nothing for it but to go back and take the other turning. They wondered why the people who had done all this work had made this extra blind passage. Joe said they had done it to make it more interesting and adventurous. Sylvia said they had done it because they were pigs. Gorbo said it was merely because they were worse fools than he was and it quite cheered him up.

  The other road soon began to turn gently to the left; then without rhyme or reason it turned gently to the right; then to the right and left alternately in very sharp turns. And just when they were convinced that it would go on turning idiotically for ever and ever they came suddenly into what appeared to be a mighty cavern, lighted by the same yellowish-green light of the tunnels, only more so, and full of monster mushrooms.

  The Mushroom Cavern

  When I say that the mushrooms were monsters, it hardly gives a correct idea of their size. Under the moderately small ones the three could stand upright, and the large ones were as high as a good-sized cottage and reached nearly to the roof of the cavern. The floor was hard and dry and perfectly flat, and the huge stalks of the mushrooms could be seen like a forest of giant skit
tles, going into the far distance on all sides. Above, the pink underneath of those strange specimens showed like an unnecessarily large assortment of giant fancy umbrellas, opened. These, of course, accounted for the cheese-like smell that Gorbo had observed when he first put his head in the little door and sniffed. (It was not exactly like cheese, of course, but cheese is near enough.)