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PG15 | 312 | CHAPTER CXXVII. THE DECK
_The coffin laid upon two line-tubs, between the vice-bench and the
open hatchway; the Carpenter calking its seams; the string of twisted
oakum slowly unwinding from a large roll of it placed in the bosom of
his frock.Ahab comes slowly from the cabin-gangway, and hears Pip
following him._
Back, lad; I will be with ye again presently. He goes! Not this hand
complies with my humor more genially than that boy.Middle aisle of a
church! Whats here?
Life buoy, sir. Mr. Starbucks orders. Oh, look, sir! Beware the
hatchway!
Thank ye, man. Thy coffin lies handy to the vault.
Sir? The hatchway? oh! So it does, sir, so it does.
Art not thou the leg-maker? Look, did not this stump come from thy
shop?
I believe it did, sir; does the ferrule stand, sir?
Well enough. But art thou not also the undertaker?
Aye, sir; I patched up this thing here as a coffin for Queequeg; but
theyve set me now to turning it into something else.
Then tell me; art thou not an arrant, all-grasping, inter-meddling,
monopolizing, heathenish old scamp, to be one day making legs, and the
next day coffins to clap them in, and yet again life-buoys out of those
same coffins? Thou art as unprincipled as the gods, and as much of a
jack-of-all-trades.
But I do not mean anything, sir. I do as I do.
The gods again. Hark ye, dost thou not ever sing working about a
coffin? The Titans, they say, hummed snatches when chipping out the
craters for volcanoes; and the grave-digger in the play sings, spade in
hand. Dost thou never?
Sing, sir? Do I sing? Oh, Im indifferent enough, sir, for that; but
the reason why the grave-digger made music must have been because there
was none in his spade, sir. But the calking mallet is full of it. Hark
to it.
Aye, and thats because the lid theres a sounding-board; and what in
all things makes the sounding-board is thistheres naught beneath. And
yet, a coffin with a body in it rings pretty much the same, Carpenter.
Hast thou ever helped carry a bier, and heard the coffin knock against
the churchyard gate, going in?
Faith, sir, Ive
Faith? Whats that?
Why, faith, sir, its only a sort of exclamation-likethats all,
sir.
Um, um; go on.
I was about to say, sir, that
Art thou a silk-worm? Dost thou spin thy own shroud out of thyself?
Look at thy bosom! Despatch! and get these traps out of sight.
He goes aft. That was sudden, now; but squalls come sudden in hot
latitudes. Ive heard that the Isle of Albemarle, one of the
Gallipagos, is cut by the Equator right in the middle. Seems to me some
sort of Equator cuts yon old man, too, right in his middle. Hes always
under the Linefiery hot, I tell ye! Hes looking this waycome, oakum;
quick. Here we go again. This wooden mallet is the cork, and Im the
professor of musical glassestap, tap!
(_Ahab to himself._)
Theres a sight! Theres sound! The greyheaded woodpecker tapping the
hollow tree! Blind and dumb might well be envied now. See! that thing
rests on two line-tubs, full of tow-lines. A most malicious wag, that
fellow. Rat-tat! So mans seconds tick! Oh! how immaterial are all
materials! What things real are there, but imponderable thoughts? Here
nows the very dreaded symbol of grim death, by a mere hap, made the
expressive sign of the help and hope of most endangered life. A
life-buoy of a coffin! Does it go further? Can it be that in some
spiritual sense the coffin is, after all, but an immortality-preserver!
Ill think of that. But no. So far gone am I in the dark side of earth,
that its other side, the theoretic bright one, seems but uncertain
twilight to me. Will ye never have done, Carpenter, with that accursed
sound? I go below; let me not see that thing here when I return again.
Now, then, Pip, well talk this over; I do suck most wondrous
philosophies from thee! Some unknown conduits from the unknown worlds
must empty into thee! | 1,062 |
PG15 | 313 | CHAPTER CXXVIII. THE PEQUOD MEETS THE RACHEL
Next day, a large ship, the Rachel, was descried, bearing directly down
upon the Pequod, all her spars thickly clustering with men. At the time
the Pequod was making good speed through the water; but as the
broad-winged windward stranger shot nigh to her, the boastful sails all
fell together as blank bladders that are burst, and all life fled from
the smitten hull.
Bad news; she brings bad news, muttered the old Manxman. But ere her
commander, who, with trumpet to mouth, stood up in his boat; ere he
could hopefully hail, Ahabs voice was heard.
Hast seen the White Whale?
Aye, yesterday. Have ye seen a whale-boat adrift?
Throttling his joy, Ahab negatively answered this unexpected question;
and would then have fain boarded the stranger, when the stranger
captain himself, having stopped his vessels way, was seen descending
her side. A few keen pulls, and his boat-hook soon clinched the
Pequods main-chains, and he sprang to the deck. Immediately he was
recognized by Ahab for a Nantucketer he knew. But no formal salutation
was exchanged.
Where was he?not killed!not killed! cried Ahab, closely advancing.
How was it?
It seemed that somewhat late on the afternoon of the day previous,
while three of the strangers boats were engaged with a shoal of
whales, which had led them some four or five miles from the ship; and
while they were yet in swift chase to windward, the white hump and head
of Moby Dick had suddenly loomed up out of the blue water, not very far
to leeward; whereupon, the fourth rigged boata reserved onehad been
instantly lowered in chase. After a keen sail before the wind, this
fourth boatthe swiftest keeled of allseemed to have succeeded in
fasteningat least, as well as the man at the mast-head could tell
anything about it. In the distance he saw the diminished dotted boat;
and then a swift gleam of bubbling white water; and after that nothing
more; whence it was concluded that the stricken whale must have
indefinitely run away with his pursuers, as often happens. There was
some apprehension, but no positive alarm, as yet. The recall signals
were placed in the rigging; darkness came on; and forced to pick up her
three far to windward boatsere going in quest of the fourth one in the
precisely opposite directionthe ship had not only been necessitated to
leave that boat to its fate till near midnight, but, for the time, to
increase her distance from it. But the rest of her crew being at last
safe aboard, she crowded all sailstunsail on stunsailafter the
missing boat; kindling a fire in her try-pots for a beacon; and every
other man aloft on the look-out. But though when she had thus sailed a
sufficient distance to gain the presumed place of the absent ones when
last seen; though she then paused to lower her spare boats to pull all
around her; and not finding anything, had again dashed on; again
paused, and lowered her boats; and though she had thus continued doing
till day light; yet not the least glimpse of the missing keel had been
seen.
The story told, the stranger Captain immediately went on to reveal his
object in boarding the Pequod. He desired that ship to unite with his
own in the search; by sailing over the sea some four or five miles
apart, on parallel lines, and so sweeping a double horizon, as it were.
I will wager something now, whispered Stubb to Flask, that some one
in that missing boat wore off that Captains best coat; mayhap, his
watchhes so cursed anxious to get it back. Who ever heard of two
pious whale-ships cruising after one missing whale-boat in the height
of the whaling season? See, Flask, only see how pale he lookspale in
the very buttons of his eyeslookit wasnt the coatit must have been
the
My boy, my own boy is among them. For Gods sakeI beg, I
conjurehere exclaimed the stranger Captain to Ahab, who thus far had
but icily received his petition. For eight-and-forty hours let me
charter your shipI will gladly pay for it, and roundly pay for itif
there be no other wayfor eight-and-forty hours onlyonly thatyou
must, oh, you must, and you _shall_ do this thing.
His son! cried Stubb, oh, its his son hes lost! I take back the
coat and watchwhat says Ahab? We must save that boy.
Hes drowned with the rest on em, last night, said the old Manx
sailor standing behind them; I heard; all of ye heard their spirits. | 1,089 |
PG15 | 314 | Now, as it shortly turned out, what made this incident of the Rachels
the more melancholy, was the circumstance, that not only was one of the
Captains sons among the number of the missing boats crew; but among
the number of the other boats crews, at the same time, but on the
other hand, separated from the ship during the dark vicissitudes of the
chase, there had been still another son; as that for a time, the
wretched father was plunged to the bottom of the cruellest perplexity;
which was only solved for him by his chief mates instinctively
adopting the ordinary procedure of a whale-ship in such emergencies,
that is, when placed between jeopardized but divided boats, always to
pick up the majority first. But the captain, for some unknown
constitutional reason, had refrained from mentioning all this, and not
till forced to it by Ahabs iciness did he allude to his one yet
missing boy; a little lad, but twelve years old, whose father with the
earnest but unmisgiving hardihood of a Nantucketers paternal love, had
thus early sought to initiate him in the perils and wonders of a
vocation almost immemorially the destiny of all his race. Nor does it
unfrequently occur, that Nantucket captains will send a son of such
tender age away from them, for a protracted three or four years voyage
in some other ship than their own; so that their first knowledge of a
whalemans career shall be unenervated by any chance display of a
fathers natural but untimely partiality, or undue apprehensiveness and
concern.
Meantime, now the stranger was still beseeching his poor boon of Ahab;
and Ahab still stood like an anvil, receiving every shock, but without
the least quivering of his own.
I will not go, said the stranger, till you say _aye_ to me. Do to me
as you would have me do to you in the like case. For _you_ too have a
boy, Captain Ahabthough but a child, and nestling safely at home nowa
child of your old age tooYes, yes, you relent; I see itrun, run, men,
now, and stand by to square in the yards.
Avast, cried Ahabtouch not a rope-yarn; then in a voice that
prolongingly moulded every wordCaptain Gardiner, I will not do it.
Even now I lose time. Good bye, good bye. God bless ye, man, and may I
forgive myself, but I must go. Mr. Starbuck, look at the binnacle
watch, and in three minutes from this present instant warn off all
strangers: then brace forward again, and let the ship sail as before.
Hurriedly turning, with averted face, he descended into his cabin,
leaving the strange captain transfixed at this unconditional and utter
rejection of his so earnest suit. But starting from his enchantment,
Gardiner silently hurried to the side; more fell than stepped into his
boat, and returned to his ship.
Soon the two ships diverged their wakes; and long as the strange vessel
was in view, she was seen to yaw hither and thither at every dark spot,
however small, on the sea. This way and that her yards were swung
round; starboard and larboard, she continued to tack; now she beat
against a head sea; and again it pushed her before it; while all the
while, her masts and yards were thickly clustered with men, as three
tall cherry trees, when the boys are cherrying among the boughs.
But by her still halting course and winding, woful way, you plainly saw
that this ship that so wept with spray, still remained without comfort.
She was Rachel, weeping for her children, because they were not. | 846 |
PG15 | 315 | CHAPTER CXXIX. THE CABIN
(_Ahab moving to go on deck; Pip catches him by the hand to follow._)
Lad, lad, I tell thee thou must not follow Ahab now. The hour is
coming when Ahab would not scare thee from him, yet would not have thee
by him. There is that in thee, poor lad, which I feel too curing to my
malady. Like cures like; and for this hunt, my malady becomes my most
desired health. Do thou abide below here, where they shall serve thee,
as if thou wert the captain. Aye, lad, thou shalt sit here in my own
screwed chair; another screw to it, thou must be.
No, no, no! ye have not a whole body, sir; do ye but use poor me for
your one lost leg; only tread upon me, sir; I ask no more, so I remain
a part of ye.
Oh! spite of million villains, this makes me a bigot in the fadeless
fidelity of man!and a black! and crazy!but methinks like-cures-like
applies to him too; he grows so sane again.
They tell me, sir, that Stubb did once desert poor little Pip, whose
drowned bones now show white, for all the blackness of his living skin.
But I will never desert ye, sir, as Stubb did him. Sir, I must go with
ye.
If thou speakest thus to me much more, Ahabs purpose keels up in him.
I tell thee no; it cannot be.
Oh good master, master, master!
Weep so, and I will murder thee! have a care, for Ahab too is mad.
Listen, and thou wilt often hear my ivory foot upon the deck, and still
know that I am there. And now I quit thee. Thy hand!Met! True art
thou, lad, as the circumference to its centre. So: God for ever bless
thee; and if it come to that,God for ever save thee, let what will
befall.
(_Ahab goes; Pip steps one step forward._)
Here he this instant stood; I stand in his air,but Im alone. Now
were even poor Pip here I could endure it, but hes missing. Pip! Pip!
Ding, dong, ding! Whos seen Pip? He must be up here; lets try the
door. What? neither lock, nor bolt, nor bar; and yet theres no opening
it. It must be the spell; he told me to stay here: Aye, and told me
this screwed chair was mine. Here, then, Ill seat me, against the
transom, in the ships full middle, all her keel and her three masts
before me. Here, our old sailors say, in their black seventy-fours
great admirals sometimes sit at table, and lord it over rows of
captains and lieutenants. Ha! whats this? epaulets! epaulets! the
epaulets all come crowding! Pass round the decanters; glad to see ye;
fill up, monsieurs! What an odd feeling, now, when a black boys host
to white men with gold lace upon their coats!Monsieurs, have ye seen
one Pip?a little negro lad, five feet high, hang-dog look, and
cowardly! Jumped from a whale-boat once;seen him? No! Well then, fill
up again, captains, and lets drink shame upon all cowards! I name no
names. Shame upon them! Put one foot upon the table. Shame upon all
cowards.Hist! above there, I hear ivoryOh, master, master! I am
indeed down-hearted when you walk over me. But here Ill stay, though
this stern strikes rocks; and they bulge through; and oysters come to
join me. | 842 |
PG15 | 316 | CHAPTER CXXX. THE HAT
And now that at the proper time and place, after so long and wide a
preliminary cruise, Ahab,all other whaling waters sweptseemed to have
chased his foe into an ocean-fold, to slay him the more securely there;
now, that he found himself hard by the very latitude and longitude
where his tormenting wound had been inflicted; now that a vessel had
been spoken which on the very day preceding had actually encountered
Moby Dick;and now that all his successive meetings with various ships
contrastingly concurred to show the demoniac indifference with which
the white whale tore his hunters, whether sinning or sinned against;
now it was that there lurked a something in the old mans eyes, which
it was hardly sufferable for feeble souls to see. As the unsetting
polar star, which through the livelong, arctic, six months night
sustains its piercing, steady, central gaze; so Ahabs purpose now
fixedly gleamed down upon the constant midnight of the gloomy crew. It
domineered above them so, that all their bodings, doubts, misgivings,
fears, were fain to hide beneath their souls, and not sprout forth a
single spear or leaf.
In this foreshadowing interval too, all humor, forced or natural,
vanished. Stubb no more strove to raise a smile; Starbuck no more
strove to check one. Alike, joy and sorrow, hope and fear, seemed
ground to finest dust, and powdered, for the time, in the clamped
mortar of Ahabs iron soul. Like machines, they dumbly moved about the
deck, ever conscious that the old mans despot eye was on them.
But did you deeply scan him in his more secret confidential hours; when
he thought no glance but one was on him; then you would have seen that
even as Ahabs eyes so awed the crews, the inscrutable Parsees glance
awed his; or somehow, at least, in some wild way, at times affected it.
Such an added, gliding strangeness began to invest the thin Fedallah
now; such ceaseless shudderings shook him; that the men looked dubious
at him; half uncertain, as it seemed, whether indeed he were a mortal
substance, or else a tremulous shadow cast upon the deck by some unseen
beings body. And that shadow was always hovering there. For not by
night, even, had Fedallah ever certainly been known to slumber, or go
below. He would stand still for hours: but never sat or leaned; his wan
but wondrous eyes did plainly sayWe two watchmen never rest.
Nor, at any time, by night or day could the mariners now step up the
deck, unless Ahab was before them; either standing in his pivot-hole,
or exactly pacing the planks between two undeviating limits,the
main-mast and the mizen; or else they saw him standing in the
cabin-scuttle,his living foot advanced upon the deck, as if to step;
his hat slouched heavily over his eyes; so that however motionless he
stood, however the days and nights were added on, that he had not swung
in his hammock; yet hidden beneath that slouching hat, they could never
tell unerringly whether, for all this, his eyes were really closed at
times; or whether he was still intently scanning them; no matter,
though he stood so in the scuttle for a whole hour on the stretch, and
the unheeded night-damp gathered in beads of dew upon that stone-carved
coat and hat. The clothes that the night had wet, the next days
sunshine dried upon him; and so, day after day, and night after night;
he went no more beneath the planks; whatever he wanted from the cabin
that thing he sent for.
He ate in the same open air; that is, his two only meals,breakfast and
dinner: supper he never touched; nor reaped his beard; which darkly
grew all gnarled, as unearthed roots of trees blown over, which still
grow idly on at naked base, though perished in the upper verdure. But
though his whole life was now become one watch on deck; and though the
Parsees mystic watch was without intermission as his own; yet these
two never seemed to speakone man to the otherunless at long intervals
some passing unmomentous matter made it necessary. Though such a potent
spell seemed secretly to join the twain; openly, and to the awe-struck
crew, they seemed pole-like asunder. If by day they chanced to speak
one word; by night, dumb men were both, so far as concerned the
slightest verbal interchange. At times, for longest hours, without a
single hail, they stood far parted in the starlight; Ahab in his
scuttle, the Parsee by the mainmast; but still fixedly gazing upon each
other; as if in the Parsee Ahab saw his forethrown shadow, in Ahab the
Parsee his abandoned substance. | 1,114 |
PG15 | 317 | And yet, somehow, did Ahabin his own proper self, as daily, hourly,
and every instant, commandingly revealed to his subordinates,Ahab
seemed an independent lord; the Parsee but his slave. Still again both
seemed yoked together, and an unseen tyrant driving them; the lean
shade siding the solid rib. For be this Parsee what he may, all rib and
keel was solid Ahab.
At the first faintest glimmering of the dawn, his iron voice was heard
from aftMan the mast-heads!and all through the day, till after
sunset and after twilight, the same voice every hour, at the striking
of the helmsmans bell, was heardWhat dye see?sharp! sharp!
But when three or four days had slided by, after meeting the
children-seeking Rachel; and no spout had yet been seen; the monomaniac
old man seemed distrustful of his crews fidelity; at least, of nearly
all except the Pagan harpooneers; he seemed to doubt, even, whether
Stubb and Flask might not willingly overlook the sight he sought. But
if these suspicions were really his, he sagaciously refrained from
verbally expressing them, however his actions might seem to hint them.
I will have the first sight of the whale myself,he said. Aye! Ahab
must have the doubloon! and with his own hands he rigged a nest of
basketed bowlines; and sending a hand aloft, with a single sheaved
block, to secure to the main-mast head, he received the two ends of the
downward-reeved rope; and attaching one to his basket prepared a pin
for the other end, in order to fasten it at the rail. This done, with
that end yet in his hand and standing beside the pin, he looked round
upon his crew, sweeping from one to the other; pausing his glance long
upon Daggoo, Queequeg, Tashtego; but shunning Fedallah; and then
settling his firm relying eye upon the chief mate, said,Take the
rope, sirI give it into thy hands, Starbuck. Then arranging his
person in the basket, he gave the word for them to hoist him to his
perch, Starbuck being the one who secured the rope at last; and
afterwards stood near it. And thus, with one hand clinging round the
royal mast, Ahab gazed abroad upon the sea for miles and miles,ahead,
astern, this side, and that,within the wide expanded circle commanded
at so great a height.
When in working with his hands at some lofty almost isolated place in
the rigging, which chances to afford no foothold, the sailor at sea is
hoisted up to that spot, and sustained there by the rope; under these
circumstances, its fastened end on deck is always given in strict
charge to some one man who has the special watch of it. Because in such
a wilderness of running rigging, whose various different relations
aloft cannot always be infallibly discerned by what is seen of them at
the deck; and when the deck-ends of these ropes are being every few
minutes cast down from the fastenings, it would be but a natural
fatality, if, unprovided with a constant watchman, the hoisted sailor
should by some carelessness of the crew be cast adrift and fall all
swooping to the sea. So Ahabs proceedings in this matter were not
unusual; the only strange thing about them seemed to be, that Starbuck,
almost the one only man who had ever ventured to oppose him with
anything in the slightest degree approaching to decisionone of those
too, whose faithfulness on the look-out he had seemed to doubt
somewhat;it was strange, that this was the very man he should select
for his watchman; freely giving his whole life into such an otherwise
distrusted persons hands.
Now, the first time Ahab was perched aloft; ere he had been there ten
minutes; one of those red-billed savage sea-hawks which so often fly
incommodiously close round the manned mast-heads of whalemen in these
latitudes; one of these birds came wheeling and screaming round his
head in a maze of untrackably swift circlings. Then it darted a
thousand feet straight up into the air; then spiralized downwards, and
went eddying again round his head.
But with his gaze fixed upon the dim and distant horizon, Ahab seemed
not to mark this wild bird; nor, indeed, would any one else have marked
it much, it being no uncommon circumstance; only now almost the least
heedful eye seemed to see some sort of cunning meaning in almost every
sight.
Your hat, your hat, sir! suddenly cried the Sicilian seaman, who
being posted at the mizen-mast-head, stood directly behind Ahab, though
somewhat lower than his level, and with a deep gulf of air dividing
them. | 1,096 |
PG15 | 319 | CHAPTER CXXXI. THE PEQUOD MEETS THE DELIGHT
The intense Pequod sailed on; the rolling waves and days went by; the
life-buoy-coffin still lightly swung; and another ship, most miserably
misnamed the Delight, was descried. As she drew nigh, all eyes were
fixed upon her broad beams, called shears, which, in some
whaling-ships, cross the quarter-deck at the height of eight or nine
feet; serving to carry the spare, unrigged, or disabled boats.
Upon the strangers shears were beheld the shattered, white ribs, and
some few splintered planks, of what had once been a whale-boat; but you
now saw through this wreck, as plainly as you see through the peeled,
half-unhinged, and bleaching skeleton of a horse.
Hast seen the White Whale?
Look! replied the hollow-cheeked captain from his taffrail; and with
his trumpet he pointed to the wreck.
Hast killed him?
The harpoon is not yet forged that will ever do that, answered the
other, sadly glancing upon a rounded hammock on the deck, whose
gathered sides some noiseless sailors were busy in sewing together.
Not forged! and snatching Perths levelled iron from the crotch, Ahab
held it out, exclaimingLook ye, Nantucketer; here in this hand I hold
his death! Tempered in blood, and tempered by lightning are these
barbs; and I swear to temper them triply in that hot place behind the
fin, where the White Whale most feels his accursed life!
Then God keep thee, old manseest thou thatpointing to the
hammockI bury but one of five stout men, who were alive only
yesterday; but were dead ere night. Only _that_ one I bury; the rest
were buried before they died; you sail upon their tomb. Then turning
to his crewAre ye ready there? place the plank then on the rail, and
lift the body; so, thenOh! Godadvancing towards the hammock with
uplifted handsmay the resurrection and the life
Brace forward! Up helm! cried Ahab like lightning to his men.
But the suddenly started Pequod was not quick enough to escape the
sound of the splash that the corpse soon made as it struck the sea; not
so quick, indeed, but that some of the flying bubbles might have
sprinkled her hull with their ghostly baptism.
As Ahab now glided from the dejected Delight, the strange life-buoy
hanging at the Pequods stern came into conspicuous relief.
Ha! yonder! look yonder, men! cried a foreboding voice in her wake.
In vain, oh, ye strangers, ye fly our sad burial; ye but turn us your
taffrail to show us your coffin! | 629 |
PG15 | 321 | Oh, my Captain! my Captain! noble soul! grand old heart, after all!
why should any one give chase to that hated fish! Away with me! let us
fly these deadly waters! let us home! Wife and child, too, are
Starbuckswife and child of his brotherly, sisterly, play-fellow
youth; even as thine, sir, are the wife and child of thy loving,
longing, paternal old age! Away! let us away!this instant let me alter
the course! How cheerily, how hilariously, O my Captain, would we bowl
on our way to see old Nantucket again! I think, sir, they have some
such mild blue days, even as this, in Nantucket.
They have, they have. I have seen themsome summer days in the
morning. About this timeyes, it is his noon nap nowthe boy
vivaciously wakes; sits up in bed; and his mother tells him of me, of
cannibal old me; how I am abroad upon the deep, but will yet come back
to dance him again.
Tis my Mary, my Mary herself! She promised that my boy, every morning,
should be carried to the hill to catch the first glimpse of his
fathers sail! Yes, yes! no more! it is done! we head for Nantucket!
Come, my Captain, study out the course, and let us away! See, see! the
boys face from the window! the boys hand on the hill!
But Ahabs glance was averted; like a blighted fruit tree he shook, and
cast his last, cindered apple to the soil.
What is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it; what
cozzening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor
commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings, I so keep
pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time; recklessly
making me ready to do what in my own proper, natural heart, I durst not
so much as dare? Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this
arm? But if the great sun move not of himself; but is as an errand-boy
in heaven; nor one single star can revolve, but by some invisible
power; how then can this one small heart beat; this one small brain
think thoughts; unless God does that beating, does that thinking, does
that living, and not I. By heaven, man, we are turned round and round
in this world, like yonder windlass, and Fate is the handspike. And all
the time, lo! that smiling sky, and this unsounded sea! Look! see yon
Albicore! who put it into him to chase and fang that flying-fish? Where
do murderers go, man! Whos to doom, when the judge himself is dragged
to the bar? But it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky; and
the air smells now, as if it blew from a far-away meadow; they have
been making hay somewhere under the slopes of the Andes, Starbuck, and
the mowers are sleeping among the new-mown hay. Sleeping? Aye, toil we
how we may, we all sleep at last on the field. Sleep? Aye, and rust
amid greenness; as last years scythes flung down, and left in the
half-cut swathsStarbuck!
But blanched to a corpses hue with despair, the Mate had stolen away.
Ahab crossed the deck to gaze over on the other side; but started at
two reflected, fixed eyes in the water there. Fedallah was motionlessly
leaning over the same rail. | 828 |
PG15 | 324 | At that preluding moment, ere the boat was yet snapped, Ahab, the first
to perceive the whales intent, by the crafty upraising of his head, a
movement that loosed his hold for the time; at that moment his hand had
made one final effort to push the boat out of the bite. But only
slipping further into the whales mouth, and tilting over sideways as
it slipped, the boat had shaken off his hold on the jaw; spilled him
out of it, as he leaned to the push; and so he fell flat-faced upon the
sea.
Ripplingly withdrawing from his prey, Moby Dick now lay at a little
distance, vertically thrusting his oblong white head up and down in the
billows; and at the same time slowly revolving his whole spindled body;
so that when his vast wrinkled forehead rosesome twenty or more feet
out of the waterthe now rising swells, with all their confluent waves,
dazzlingly broke against it; vindictively tossing their shivered spray
still higher into the air.[23] So, in a gale, the but half-baffled
Channel billows only recoil from the base of the Eddystone,
triumphantly to overleap its summit with their scud.
[23] This motion is peculiar to the sperm whale. It receives its
designation (pitchpoling) from its being likened to that preliminary
up-and-down poise of the whale-lance, in the exercise called
pitchpoling, previously described. By this motion the whale must best
and most comprehensively view whatever objects may be encircling him.
But soon resuming his horizontal attitude, Moby Dick swam swiftly round
and round the wrecked crew; sideways churning the water in his vengeful
wake, as if lashing himself up to still another and more deadly
assault. The sight of the splintered boat seemed to madden him, as the
blood of grapes and mulberries cast before Antiochuss elephants in the
book of Maccabees. Meanwhile Ahab half smothered in the foam of the
whales insolent tail, and too much of a cripple to swim,though he
could still keep afloat, even in the heart of such a whirlpool as that;
helpless Ahabs head was seen, like a tossed bubble which the least
chance shock might burst. From the boats fragmentary stern, Fedallah
incuriously and mildly eyed him; the clinging crew, at the other
drifting end, could not succor him; more than enough was it for them to
look to themselves. For so revolvingly appalling was the White Whales
aspect, and so planetarily swift the ever-contracting circles he made,
that he seemed horizontally swooping upon them. And though the other
boats, unharmed, still hovered hard by; still they dared not pull into
the eddy to strike, lest that should be the signal for the instant
destruction of the jeopardized castaways, Ahab and all; nor in that
case could they themselves hope to escape. With straining eyes, then,
they remained on the outer edge of the direful zone, whose centre had
now become the old mans head.
Meantime, from the beginning all this had been descried from the ships
mast heads; and squaring her yards, she had borne down upon the scene;
and was now so nigh, that Ahab in the water hailed her;Sail on thebut
that moment a breaking sea dashed on him from Moby Dick, and whelmed
him for the time. But struggling out of it again, and chancing to rise
on a towering crest, he shouted,Sail on the whale!Drive him off!
The Pequods prows were pointed; and breaking up the charmed circle,
she effectually parted the white whale from his victim. As he sullenly
swam off, the boats flew to the rescue.
Dragged into Stubbs boat with blood-shot, blinded eyes, the white
brine caking in his wrinkles; the long tension of Ahabs bodily
strength did crack, and helplessly he yielded to his bodys doom: for a
time, lying all crushed in the bottom of Stubbs boat, like one trodden
under foot of herds of elephants. Far inland, nameless wails came from
him, as desolate sounds from out ravines.
But this intensity of his physical prostration did but so much the more
abbreviate it. In an instants compass, great hearts sometimes condense
to one deep pang, the sum total of those shallow pains kindly diffused
through feebler mens whole lives. And so, such hearts, though summary
in each one suffering; still, if the gods decree it, in their life-time
aggregate a whole age of woe, wholly made up of instantaneous
intensities; for even in their pointless centres, those noble natures
contain the entire circumferences of inferior souls.
The harpoon, said Ahab, half way rising, and draggingly leaning on
one bended armis it safe? | 1,099 |
PG15 | 325 | Aye, sir, for it was not darted; this is it, said Stubb, showing it.
Lay it before me;any missing men?
One, two, three, four, five;there were five oars, sir, and here are
five men.
Thats good.Help me, man; I wish to stand. So, so, I see him! there!
there! going to leeward still; what a leaping spout! Hands off from me!
The eternal sap runs up in Ahabs bones again! Set the sail; out oars;
the helm!
It is often the case that when a boat is stove, its crew, being picked
up by another boat, help to work that second boat; and the chase is
thus continued with what is called double-banked oars. It was thus now.
But the added power of the boat did not equal the added power of the
whale, for he seemed to have treble-banked his every fin; swimming with
a velocity which plainly showed, that if now, under these
circumstances, pushed on, the chase would prove an indefinitely
prolonged, if not a hopeless one; nor could any crew endure for so long
a period, such an unintermitted, intense straining at the oar; a thing
barely tolerable only in some one brief vicissitude. The ship itself,
then, as it sometimes happens, offered the most promising intermediate
means of overtaking the chase. Accordingly, the boats now made for her,
and were soon swayed up to their cranesthe two parts of the wrecked
boat having been previously secured by herand then hoisting everything
to her side, and stacking her canvas high up, and sideways
outstretching it with stun-sails, like the double-jointed wings of an
albatross; the Pequod bore down in the leeward wake of Moby Dick. At
the well known, methodic intervals, the whales glittering spout was
regularly announced from the manned mast-heads; and when he would be
reported as just gone down, Ahab would take the time, and then pacing
the deck, binnacle-watch in hand, so soon as the last second of the
allotted hour expired, his voice was heard.Whose is the doubloon now?
Dye see him? and if the reply was, No, sir! straightway he commanded
them to lift him to his perch. In this way the day wore on; Ahab, now
aloft and motionless; anon, unrestingly pacing the planks.
As he was thus walking, uttering no sound, except to hail the men
aloft, or to bid them hoist a sail still higher, or to spread one to a
still greater breadththus to and fro pacing, beneath his slouched hat,
at every turn he passed his own wrecked boat, which had been dropped
upon the quarter-deck, and lay there reversed; broken bow to shattered
stern. At last he paused before it; and as in an already over-clouded
sky fresh troops of clouds will sometimes sail across, so over the old
mans face there now stole some such added gloom as this.
Stubb saw him pause; and perhaps intending, not vainly, though, to
evince his own unabated fortitude, and thus keep up a valiant place in
his Captains mind, he advanced, and eyeing the wreck exclaimedThe
thistle the ass refused; it pricked his mouth too keenly, sir; ha! ha!
What soulless thing is this that laughs before a wreck? Man, man! did
I not know thee brave as fearless fire (and as mechanical) I could
swear thou wert a poltroon. Groan nor laugh should be heard before a
wreck.
Aye, sir, said Starbuck drawing near, tis a solemn sight; an omen,
and an ill one.
Omen? omen?the dictionary! If the gods think to speak outright to
man, they will honorably speak outright; not shake their heads, and
give an old wives darkling hint.Begone! Ye two are the opposite poles
of one thing; Starbuck is Stubb reversed, and Stubb is Starbuck; and ye
two are all mankind; and Ahab stands alone among the millions of the
peopled earth, nor gods nor men his neighbors! Cold, coldI shiver!How
now? Aloft there! Dye see him? Sing out for every spout, though he
spout ten times a second!
The day was nearly done; only the hem of his golden robe was rustling.
Soon, it was almost dark, but the look-out men still remained unset.
Cant see the spout now, sir;too darkcried a voice from the air.
How heading when last seen?
As before, sir,straight to leeward.
Good! he will travel slower now tis night. Down royals and
top-gallant stun-sails, Mr. Starbuck. We must not run over him before
morning; hes making a passage now, and may heave-to a while. Helm
there! keep her full before the wind!Aloft! come down!Mr. Stubb, send
a fresh hand to the fore-mast head, and see it manned till
morning.Then advancing towards the doubloon in the main-mastMen, this
gold is mine, for I earned it; but I shall let it abide here till the
White Whale is dead; and then, whosoever of ye first raises him, upon
the day he shall be killed, this gold is that mans; and if on that day
I shall again raise him, then, ten times its sum shall be divided among
all of ye! Away now!the deck is thine, sir. | 1,248 |
PG15 | 327 | CHAPTER CXXXIV. THE CHASESECOND DAY
At day-break, the three mast-heads were punctually manned afresh.
Dye see him? cried Ahab, after allowing a little space for the light
to spread.
See nothing, sir.
Turn up all hands and make sail! he travels faster than I thought
for;the top-gallant sails!aye, they should have been kept on her all
night. But no mattertis but resting for the rush.
Here be it said, that this pertinacious pursuit of one particular
whale, continued through day into night, and through night into day, is
a thing by no means unprecedented in the South sea fishery. For such is
the wonderful skill, prescience of experience, and invincible
confidence acquired by some great natural geniuses among the Nantucket
commanders; that from the simple observation of a whale when last
descried, they will, under certain given circumstances, pretty
accurately foretell both the direction in which he will continue to
swim for a time, while out of sight, as well as his probable rate of
progression during that period. And, in these cases, somewhat as a
pilot, when about losing sight of a coast, whose general trending he
well knows, and which he desires shortly to return to again, but at
some further point; like as this pilot stands by his compass, and takes
the precise bearing of the cape at present visible, in order the more
certainly to hit aright the remote, unseen headland, eventually to be
visited: so does the fisherman, at his compass, with the whale; for
after being chased, and diligently marked, through several hours of
daylight, then, when night obscures the fish, the creatures future
wake through the darkness is almost as established to the sagacious
mind of the hunter, as the pilots coast is to him. So that to this
hunters wondrous skill, the proverbial evanescence of a thing writ in
water, a wake, is to all desired purposes well nigh as reliable as the
steadfast land. And as the mighty iron Leviathan of the modern railway
is so familiarly known in its every pace, that, with watches in their
hands, men time his rate as doctors that of a babys pulse; and lightly
say of it, the up train or the down train will reach such or such a
spot, at such or such an hour; even so, almost, there are occasions
when these Nantucketers time that other Leviathan of the deep,
according to the observed humor of his speed; and say to themselves, so
many hours hence this whale will have gone two hundred miles, will have
about reached this or that degree of latitude or longitude. But to
render this acuteness at all successful in the end, the wind and the
sea must be the whalemans allies; for of what present avail to the
becalmed or windbound mariner is the skill that assures him he is
exactly ninety-three leagues and a quarter from his port? Inferable
from these statements, are many collateral subtile matters touching the
chase of whales.
The ship tore on; leaving such a furrow in the sea as when a
cannon-ball, missent, becomes a plough-share and turns up the level
field.
By salt and hemp! cried Stubb, but this swift motion of the deck
creeps up ones legs and tingles at the heart. This ship and I are two
brave fellows!Ha! ha! Some one take me up, and launch me, spine-wise,
on the sea,for by live-oaks! my spines a keel. Ha, ha! we go the gait
that leaves no dust behind!
There she blowsshe blows!she blows!right ahead! was now the
mast-head cry.
Aye, aye! cried Stubb. I knew itye cant escapeblow on and split
your spout, O whale! the mad fiend himself is after ye! blow your
trumpblister your lungs!Ahab will dam off your blood, as a miller
shuts his water-gate upon the stream!
And Stubb did but speak out for well nigh all that crew. The frenzies
of the chase had by this time worked them bubblingly up, like old wine
worked anew. Whatever pale fears and forebodings some of them might
have felt before; these were not only now kept out of sight through the
growing awe of Ahab, but they were broken up, and on all sides routed,
as timid prairie hares that scatter before the bounding bison. The hand
of Fate had snatched all their souls; and by the stirring perils of the
previous day; the rack of the past nights suspense; the fixed,
unfearing, blind, reckless way in which their wild craft went plunging
towards its flying mark; by all these things, their hearts were bowled
along. The wind that made great bellies of their sails, and rushed the
vessel on by arms invisible as irresistible; this seemed the symbol of
that unseen agency which so enslaved them to the race. | 1,115 |
PG15 | 328 | They were one man, not thirty. For as the one ship that held them all;
though it was put together of all contrasting thingsoak, and maple,
and pine wood; iron, and pitch, and hempyet all these ran into each
other in the one concrete hull, which shot on its way, both balanced
and directed by the long central keel; even so, all the individualities
of the crew, this mans valor, that mans fear; guilt and guiltiness,
all varieties were welded into oneness, and were all directed to that
fatal goal which Ahab their one lord and keel did point to.
The rigging lived. The mast-heads, like the tops of tall palms, were
outspreadingly tufted with arms and legs. Clinging to a spar with one
hand, some reached forth the other with impatient wavings; others,
shading their eyes from the vivid sunlight, sat far out on the rocking
yards; all the spars in full bearing of mortals, ready and ripe for
their fate. Ah! how they still strove through that infinite blueness to
seek out the thing that might destroy them!
Why sing ye not out for him, if ye see him? cried Ahab, when, after
the lapse of some minutes since the first cry, no more had been heard.
Sway me up, men; ye have been deceived; not Moby Dick casts one odd
jet that way, and then disappears.
It was even so; in their headlong eagerness, the men had mistaken some
other thing for the whale-spout, as the event itself soon proved; for
hardly had Ahab reached his perch; hardly was the rope belayed to its
pin on deck, when he struck the key-note to an orchestra, that made the
air vibrate as with the combined discharges of rifles. The triumphant
halloo of thirty buckskin lungs was heard, asmuch nearer to the ship
than the place of the imaginary jet, less than a mile aheadMoby Dick
bodily burst into view! For not by any calm and indolent spoutings; not
by the peaceable gush of that mystic fountain in his head, did the
White Whale now reveal his vicinity; but by the far more wondrous
phenomenon of breaching. Rising with his utmost velocity from the
furthest depths, the Sperm Whale thus booms his entire bulk into the
pure element of air, and piling up a mountain of dazzling foam, shows
his place to the distance of seven miles and more. In those moments,
the torn, enraged waves he shakes off, seem his mane; in some cases,
this breaching is his act of defiance.
There she breaches! there she breaches! was the cry, as in his
immeasureable bravadoes the White Whale tossed himself salmon-like to
Heaven. So suddenly seen in the blue plain of the sea, and relieved
against the still bluer margin of the sky, the spray that he raised,
for the moment, intolerably glittered and glared like a glacier; and
stood there gradually fading and fading away from its first sparkling
intensity, to the dim mistiness of an advancing shower in a vale.
Aye, breach your last to the sun, Moby Dick! cried Ahab, thy hour
and thy harpoon are at hand!Down! down all of ye, but one man at the
fore. The boats!stand by!
Unmindful of the tedious rope-ladders of the shrouds, the men, like
shooting stars, slid to the deck, by the isolated back-stays and
halyards; while Ahab, less dartingly, but still rapidly was dropped
from his perch.
Lower away, he cried, so soon as he had reached his boata spare one,
rigged the afternoon previous. Mr. Starbuck, the ship is thinekeep
away from the boats, but keep near them. Lower, all!
As if to strike a quick terror into them, by this time being the first
assailant himself, Moby Dick had turned, and was now coming for the
three crews. Ahabs boat was central; and cheering his men, he told
them he would take the whale head-and-head,that is, pull straight up
to his forehead,a not uncommon thing; for when within a certain limit,
such a course excludes the coming onset from the whales sidelong
vision. But ere that close limit was gained, and while yet all three
boats were plain as the ships three masts to his eye; the White Whale
churning himself into furious speed, almost in an instant as it were,
rushing among the boats with open jaws, and a lashing tail, offered
appalling battle on every side; and heedless of the irons darted at him
from every boat, seemed only intent on annihilating each separate plank
of which those boats were made. But skilfully manuvred, incessantly
wheeling like trained chargers in the field; the boats for a while
eluded him; though, at times, but by a planks breadth; while all the
time, Ahabs unearthly slogan tore every other cry but his to shreds. | 1,111 |
PG15 | 329 | But at last in his untraceable evolutions, the White Whale so crossed
and recrossed, and in a thousand ways entangled the slack of the three
lines now fast to him, that they foreshortened, and, of themselves,
warped the devoted boats towards the planted irons in him; though now
for a moment the whale drew aside a little, as if to rally for a more
tremendous charge. Seizing that opportunity, Ahab first paid out more
line: and then was rapidly hauling and jerking in upon it againhoping
that way to disencumber it of some snarlswhen lo!a sight more savage
than the embattled teeth of sharks!
Caught and twistedcorkscrewed in the mazes of the line, loose harpoons
and lances, with all their bristling barbs and points, came flashing
and dripping up to the chocks in the bows of Ahabs boat. Only one
thing could be done. Seizing the boat-knife, he critically reached
withinthroughand then, withoutthe rays of steel; dragged in the line
beyond, passed it, inboard, to the bowsman, and then, twice sundering
the rope near the chocksdropped the intercepted fagot of steel into
the sea; and was all fast again. That instant, the White Whale made a
sudden rush among the remaining tangles of the other lines; by so
doing, irresistibly dragged the more involved boats of Stubb and Flask
towards his flukes; dashed them together like two rolling husks on a
surf-beaten beach, and then, diving down into the sea, disappeared in a
boiling maelstrom, in which, for a space, the odorous cedar chips of
the wrecks danced round and round, like the grated nutmeg in a swiftly
stirred bowl of punch.
While the two crews were yet circling in the waters, reaching out after
the revolving line-tubs, oars, and other floating furniture, while
aslope little Flask bobbed up and down like an empty vial, twitching
his legs upwards to escape the dreaded jaws of sharks; and Stubb was
lustily singing out for some one to ladle him up; and while the old
mans linenow partingadmitted of his pulling into the creamy pool to
rescue whom he could;in that wild simultaneousness of a thousand
concreted perils,Ahabs yet unstricken boat seemed drawn up towards
Heaven by invisible wires,as, arrow-like, shooting perpendicularly
from the sea, the White Whale dashed his broad forehead against its
bottom, and sent it, turning over and over, into the air; till it fell
againgunwale downwardsand Ahab and his men struggled out from under
it, like seals from a seaside cave.
The first uprising momentum of the whalemodifying its direction as he
struck the surfaceinvoluntarily launched him along it, to a little
distance from the centre of the destruction he had made; and with his
back to it, he now lay for a moment slowly feeling with his flukes from
side to side; and whenever a stray oar, bit of plank, the least chip or
crumb of the boats touched his skin, his tail swiftly drew back, and
came sideways smiting the sea. But soon, as if satisfied that his work
for that time was done, he pushed his pleated forehead through the
ocean, and trailing after him the intertangled lines, continued his
leeward way at a travellers methodic pace.
As before, the attentive ship having descried the whole fight, again
came bearing down to the rescue, and dropping a boat, picked up the
floating mariners, tubs, oars and whatever else could be caught at, and
safely landed them on her decks. Some sprained shoulders, wrists, and
ankles; livid contusions; wrenched harpoons and lances; inextricable
intricacies of rope; shattered oars and planks; all these were there;
but no fatal or even serious ill seemed to have befallen any one. As
with Fedallah the day before, so Ahab was now found grimly clinging to
his boats broken half, which afforded a comparatively easy float; nor
did it so exhaust him as the previous days mishap.
But when he was helped to the deck, all eyes were fastened upon him; as
instead of standing by himself he still half-hung upon the shoulder of
Starbuck, who had thus far been the foremost to assist him. His ivory
leg had been snapped off, leaving but one short sharp splinter.
Aye, aye, Starbuck, tis sweet to lean sometimes, be the leaner who he
will; and would old Ahab had leaned oftener than he has.
The ferrule has not stood, sir, said the carpenter, now coming up; I
put good work into that leg.
But no bones broken, sir, I hope, said Stubb with true concern. | 1,090 |
PG15 | 330 | Aye! and all splintered to pieces, Stubb!dye see it.But even with a
broken bone, old Ahab is untouched; and I account no living bone of
mine one jot more me, than this dead one thats lost. Nor white whale,
nor man, nor fiend, can so much as graze old Ahab in his own proper and
inaccessible being. Can any lead touch yonder floor, any mast scrape
yonder roof?Aloft there! which way?
Dead to leeward, sir.
Up helm, then; pile on the sail again, ship keepers! down the rest of
the spare boats and rig themMr. Starbuck away, and muster the boats
crews.
Let me first help thee towards the bulwarks, sir.
Oh, oh, oh! how this splinter gores me now! Accursed fate! that the
unconquerable captain in the soul should have such a craven mate!
Sir?
My body, man, not thee. Give me something for a canethere, that
shivered lance will do. Muster the men. Surely I have not seen him yet.
By heaven it cannot be!missing?quick! call them all.
The old mans hinted thought was true. Upon mustering the company, the
Parsee was not there.
The Parsee! cried Stubbhe must have been caught in
The black vomit wrench thee!run all of ye above, alow, cabin,
forecastlefind himnot gonenot gone!
But quickly they returned to him with the tidings that the Parsee was
nowhere to be found.
Aye, sir, said Stubbcaught among the tangles of your lineI thought
I saw him dragging under.
_My_ line! _my_ line? Gone?gone? What means that little word?What
death-knell rings in it, that old Ahab shakes as if he were the belfry.
The harpoon, too!toss over the litter there,dye see it?the forged
iron, men, the white whalesno, no, no,blistered fool; this hand did
dart it!tis in the fish!Aloft there! keep him nailedquick!all
hands to the rigging of the boatscollect the oarsharpooneers! the
irons, the irons!hoist the royals highera pull on all the
sheets!helm there! steady, steady for your life! Ill ten times girdle
the unmeasured globe; yea and dive straight through it, but Ill slay
him yet!
Great God! but for one single instant show thyself, cried Starbuck;
never, never wilt thou capture him, old manIn Jesus name no more of
this, thats worse than devils madness. Two days chased; twice stove
to splinters; thy very leg once more snatched from under thee; thy evil
shadow goneall good angels mobbing thee with warnings:what more
wouldst thou have?Shall we keep chasing this murderous fish till he
swamps the last man? Shall we be dragged by him to the bottom of the
sea? Shall we be towed by him to the infernal world? Oh, oh,Impiety
and blasphemy to hunt him more!
Starbuck, of late Ive felt strangely moved to thee; ever since that
hour we both sawthou knowst what, in one anothers eyes. But in this
matter of the whale, be the front of thy face to me as the palm of this
handa lipless, unfeatured blank. Ahab is for ever Ahab, man. This
whole acts immutably decreed. Twas rehearsed by thee and me a billion
years before this ocean rolled. Fool! I am the Fates lieutenant; I act
under orders. Look thou, underling! that thou obeyest mine.Stand round
me, men. Ye see an old man cut down to the stump; leaning on a shivered
lance; propped up on a lonely foot. Tis Ahabhis bodys part; but
Ahabs souls a centipede, that moves upon a hundred legs. I feel
strained, half stranded, as ropes that tow dismasted frigates in a
gale; and I may look so. But ere I break, yell hear me crack; and till
ye hear _that_, know that Ahabs hawser tows his purpose yet. Believe
ye, men, in the things called omens? Then laugh aloud, and cry encore!
For ere they drown, drowning things will twice rise to the surface;
then rise again, to sink for evermore. So with Moby Dicktwo days hes
floatedto-morrow will be the third. Aye, men, hell rise once
more,but only to spout his last! Dye feel brave men, brave?
As fearless fire, cried Stubb.
And as mechanical, muttered Ahab. Then as the men went forward, he
muttered on:The things called omens! And yesterday I talked the same
to Starbuck there, concerning my broken boat. Oh! how valiantly I seek
to drive out of others hearts whats clinched so fast in mine!The
Parseethe Parsee!gone, gone? and he was to go before:but still was
to be seen again ere I could perishHows that?Theres a riddle now
might baffle all the lawyers backed by the ghosts of the whole line of
judges:like a hawks beak it pecks my brain. _Ill, Ill_ solve it,
though! | 1,203 |
PG15 | 332 | CHAPTER CXXXV. THE CHASETHIRD DAY
The morning of the third day dawned fair and fresh, and once more the
solitary night-man at the fore-mast-head was relieved by crowds of the
daylight look-outs, who dotted every mast and almost every spar.
Dye see him? cried Ahab; but the whale was not yet in sight.
In his infallible wake, though; but follow that wake, thats all. Helm
there; steady, as thou goest, and hast been going. What a lovely day
again; were it a new-made world, and made for a summer-house to the
angels, and this morning the first of its throwing open to them, a
fairer day could not dawn upon that world. Heres food for thought, had
Ahab time to think; but Ahab never thinks; he only feels, feels, feels;
_thats_ tingling enough for mortal man! to thinks audacity. God only
has that right and privilege. Thinking is, or ought to be, a coolness
and a calmness; and our poor hearts throb, and our poor brains beat too
much for that. And yet, Ive sometimes thought my brain was very
calmfrozen calm, this old skull cracks so, like a glass in which the
contents turned to ice, and shiver it. And still this hair is growing
now; this moment growing, and heat must breed it; but no, its like
that sort of common grass that will grow anywhere, between the earthy
clefts of Greenland ice or in Vesuvius lava. How the wild winds blow
it; they whip it about me as the torn shreds of split sails lash the
tossed ship they cling to. A vile wind that has no doubt blown ere this
through prison corridors and cells, and wards of hospitals, and
ventilated them, and now comes blowing hither as innocent as fleeces.
Out upon it!its tainted. Were I the wind, Id blow no more on such a
wicked, miserable world. Id crawl somewhere to a cave, and slink
there. And yet, tis a noble and heroic thing, the wind! who ever
conquered it? In every fight it has the last and bitterest blow. Run
tilting at it, and you but run through it. Ha! a coward wind that
strikes stark naked men, but will not stand to receive a single blow.
Even Ahab is a braver thinga nobler thing than _that_. Would now the
wind but had a body; but all the things that most exasperate and
outrage mortal man, all these things are bodiless, but only bodiless as
objects, not as agents. Theres a most special, a most cunning, oh, a
most malicious difference! And yet, I say again, and swear it now, that
theres something all glorious and gracious in the wind. These warm
Trade Winds, at least, that in the clear heavens blow straight on, in
strong and steadfast, vigorous mildness; and veer not from their mark,
however the baser currents of the sea may turn and tack, and mightiest
Mississippies of the land swift and swerve about, uncertain where to go
at last. And by the eternal Poles! these same Trades that so directly
blow my good ship on; these Trades, or something like themsomething so
unchangeable, and full as strong, blow my keeled soul along! To it!
Aloft there! What dye see?
Nothing, sir.
Nothing! and noon at hand! The doubloon goes a-begging! See the sun!
Aye, aye, it must be so. Ive oversailed him. How, got the start? Aye,
hes chasing _me_ now; not I, _him_thats bad; I might have known it,
too. Fool! the linesthe harpoons hes towing. Aye, aye, I have run him
by last night. About! about! Come down, all of ye, but the regular look
outs! Man the braces!
Steering as she had done, the wind had been somewhat on the Pequods
quarter, so that now being pointed in the reverse direction, the braced
ship sailed hard upon the breeze as she rechurned the cream in her own
white wake.
Against the wind he now steers for the open jaw, murmured Starbuck to
himself, as he coiled the new-hauled main-brace upon the rail. God
keep us, but already my bones feel damp within me, and from the inside
wet my flesh. I misdoubt me that I disobey my God in obeying him!
Stand by to sway me up! cried Ahab, advancing to the hempen basket.
We should meet him soon.
Aye, aye, sir, and straightway Starbuck did Ahabs bidding, and once
more Ahab swung on high.
A whole hour now passed; gold-beaten out to ages. Time itself now held
long breaths with keen suspense. But at last, some three points off the
weather bow, Ahab descried the spout again, and instantly from the
three mast-heads three shrieks went up as if the tongues of fire had
voiced it. | 1,139 |
PG15 | 334 | The boats had not gone very far, when by a signal from the mast-headsa
downward pointed arm, Ahab knew that the whale had sounded; but
intending to be near him at the next rising, he held on his way a
little sideways from the vessel; the becharmed crew maintaining the
profoundest silence, as the head-beat waves hammered and hammered
against the opposing bow.
Drive, drive in your nails, oh ye waves! to their uttermost heads,
drive them in! ye but strike a thing without a lid; and no coffin and
no hearse can be mine:and hemp only can kill me! Ha! ha!
Suddenly the waters around them slowly swelled in broad circles; then
quickly upheaved, as if sideways sliding from a submerged berg of ice,
swiftly rising to the surface. A low rumbling sound was heard; a
subterraneous hum; and then all held their breaths; as bedraggled with
trailing ropes, and harpoons, and lances, a vast form shot lengthwise,
but obliquely from the sea. Shrouded in a thin drooping veil of mist,
it hovered for a moment in the rainbowed air; and then fell swamping
back into the deep. Crushed thirty feet upwards, the waters flashed for
an instant like heaps of fountains, then brokenly sank in a shower of
flakes, leaving the circling surface creamed like new milk round the
marble trunk of the whale.
Give way! cried Ahab to the oarsmen, and the boats darted forward to
the attack; but maddened by yesterdays fresh irons that corroded in
him, Moby Dick seemed combinedly possessed by all the angels that fell
from heaven. The wide tiers of welded tendons overspreading his broad
white forehead, beneath the transparent skin, looked knitted together;
as head on, he came churning his tail among the boats; and once more
flailed them apart; spilling out the irons and lances from the two
mates boats, and dashing in one side of the upper part of their bows,
but leaving Ahabs almost without a scar.
While Daggoo and Queequeg were stopping the strained planks; and as the
whale swimming out from them, turned, and showed one entire flank as he
shot by them again; at that moment a quick cry went up. Lashed round
and round to the fishs back; pinioned in the turns upon turns in
which, during the past night, the whale had reeled the involutions of
the lines around him, the half torn body of the Parsee was seen; his
sable raiment frayed to shreds; his distended eyes turned full upon old
Ahab.
The harpoon dropped from his hand.
Befooled, befooled!drawing in a long lean breathAye, Parsee! I see
thee again.Aye, and thou goest before; and this, _this_ then is the
hearse that thou didst promise. But I hold thee to the last letter of
thy word. Where is the second hearse? Away, mates, to the ship! those
boats are useless now; repair them if ye can in time, and return to me;
if not, Ahab is enough to dieDown, men! the first thing that but
offers to jump from this boat I stand in, that thing I harpoon. Ye are
not other men, but my arms and my legs; and so obey me.Wheres the
whale? gone down again?
But he looked too nigh the boat; for as if bent upon escaping with the
corpse he bore, and as if the particular place of the last encounter
had been but a stage in his leeward voyage, Moby Dick was now again
steadily swimming forward; and had almost passed the ship,which thus
far had been sailing in the contrary direction to him, though for the
present her headway had been stopped. He seemed swimming with his
utmost velocity, and now only intent upon pursuing his own straight
path in the sea.
Oh! Ahab, cried Starbuck, not too late is it, even now, the third
day, to desist. See! Moby Dick seeks thee not. It is thou, thou, that
madly seekest him!
Setting sail to the rising wind, the lonely boat was swiftly impelled
to leeward, by both oars and canvas. And at last when Ahab was sliding
by the vessel, so near as plainly to distinguish Starbucks face as he
leaned over the rail, he hailed him to turn the vessel about, and
follow him, not too swiftly, at a judicious interval. Glancing upwards,
he saw Tashtego, Queequeg, and Daggoo, eagerly mounting to the three
mast-heads; while the oarsmen were rocking in the two staved boats
which had but just been hoisted to the side, and were busily at work in
repairing them. One after the other, through the portholes, as he sped,
he also caught flying glimpses of Stubb and Flask, busying themselves
on deck among bundles of new irons and lances. As he saw all this; as
he heard the hammers in the broken boats; far other hammers seemed
driving a nail into his heart. But he rallied. And now marking that the
vane or flag was gone from the main-mast-head, he shouted to Tashtego,
who had just gained that perch, to descend again for another flag, and
a hammer and nails, and so nail it to the mast. | 1,216 |
PG15 | 335 | Whether fagged by the three days running chase, and the resistance to
his swimming in the knotted hamper he bore; or whether it was some
latent deceitfulness and malice in him: whichever was true, the White
Whales way now began to abate, as it seemed, from the boat so rapidly
nearing him once more; though indeed the whales last start had not
been so long a one as before. And still as Ahab glided over the waves
the unpitying sharks accompanied him; and so pertinaciously stuck to
the boat; and so continually bit at the plying oars, that the blades
became jagged and crunched, and left small splinters in the sea, at
almost every dip.
Heed them not! those teeth but give new rowlocks to your oars. Pull
on! tis the better rest, the sharks jaw than the yielding water.
But at every bite, sir, the thin blades grow smaller and smaller!
They will last long enough! pull on!But who can tellhe
mutteredwhether these sharks swim to feast on the whale or on
Ahab?But pull on! Aye, all alive, nowwe near him. The helm! take the
helm; let me pass,and so saying, two of the oarsmen helped him
forward to the bows of the still flying boat.
At length as the craft was cast to one side, and ran ranging along with
the White Whales flank, he seemed strangely oblivious of its
advanceas the whale sometimes willand Ahab was fairly within the
smoky mountain mist, which, thrown off from the whales spout, curled
round his great, Monadnock hump; he was even thus close to him; when,
with body arched back, and both arms lengthwise high-lifted to the
poise, he darted his fierce iron, and his far fiercer curse into the
hated whale. As both steel and curse sank to the socket, as if sucked
into a morass, Moby Dick sideways writhed; spasmodically rolled his
nigh flank against the bow, and, without staving a hole in it, so
suddenly canted the boat over, that had it not been for the elevated
part of the gunwale to which he then clung, Ahab would once more have
been tossed into the sea. As it was, three of the oarsmenwho foreknew
not the precise instant of the dart, and were therefore unprepared for
its effectsthese were flung out; but so fell, that, in an instant two
of them clutched the gunwale again, and rising to its level on a
combing wave, hurled themselves bodily inboard again; the third man
helplessly dropping astern, but still afloat and swimming.
Almost simultaneously, with a mighty volition of ungraduated,
instantaneous swiftness, the White Whale darted through the weltering
sea. But when Ahab cried out to the steersman to take new turns with
the line, and hold it so; and commanded the crew to turn round on their
seats, and tow the boat up to the mark; the moment the treacherous line
felt that double strain and tug, it snapped in the empty air!
What breaks in me? Some sinew cracks!tis whole again; oars! oars!
Burst in upon him!
Hearing the tremendous rush of the sea-crashing boat, the whale wheeled
round to present his blank forehead at bay; but in that evolution,
catching sight of the nearing black hull of the ship; seemingly seeing
in it the source of all his persecutions; bethinking itit may bea
larger and nobler foe; of a sudden, he bore down upon its advancing
prow, smiting his jaws amid fiery showers of foam.
Ahab staggered; his hand smote his forehead. I grow blind; hands!
stretch out before me that I may yet grope my way. Ist night?
The whale! The ship! cried the cringing oarsmen.
Oars! oars Slope downwards to thy depths, O sea, that ere it be for
ever too late, Ahab may slide this last, last time upon his mark; I
see: the ship! the ship! Dash on, my men! Will ye not save my ship?
But as the oarsmen violently forced their boat through the
sledge-hammering seas, the before whale-smitten bow-ends of two planks
burst through, and in an instant almost, the temporarily disabled boat
lay nearly level with the waves; its half-wading, splashing crew,
trying hard to stop the gap and bale out the pouring water.
Meantime, for that one beholding instant, Tashtegos mast-head hammer
remained suspended in his hand; and the red flag, half-wrapping him as
with a plaid, then streamed itself straight out from him, as his own
forward-flowing heart; while Starbuck and Stubb, standing upon the
bowsprit beneath, caught sight of the down-coming monster just as soon
as he. | 1,106 |
PG16 | 0 | Mrs. Darling loved to have everything just so, and Mr. Darling had a
passion for being exactly like his neighbours; so, of course, they had
a nurse. As they were poor, owing to the amount of milk the children
drank, this nurse was a prim Newfoundland dog, called Nana, who had
belonged to no one in particular until the Darlings engaged her. She
had always thought children important, however, and the Darlings had
become acquainted with her in Kensington Gardens, where she spent most
of her spare time peeping into perambulators, and was much hated by
careless nursemaids, whom she followed to their homes and complained of
to their mistresses. She proved to be quite a treasure of a nurse. How
thorough she was at bath-time, and up at any moment of the night if one
of her charges made the slightest cry. Of course her kennel was in the
nursery. She had a genius for knowing when a cough is a thing to have
no patience with and when it needs stocking around your throat. She
believed to her last day in old-fashioned remedies like rhubarb leaf,
and made sounds of contempt over all this new-fangled talk about germs,
and so on. It was a lesson in propriety to see her escorting the
children to school, walking sedately by their side when they were well
behaved, and butting them back into line if they strayed. On Johns
footer days she never once forgot his sweater, and she usually carried
an umbrella in her mouth in case of rain. There is a room in the
basement of Miss Fulsoms school where the nurses wait. They sat on
forms, while Nana lay on the floor, but that was the only difference.
They affected to ignore her as of an inferior social status to
themselves, and she despised their light talk. She resented visits to
the nursery from Mrs. Darlings friends, but if they did come she first
whipped off Michaels pinafore and put him into the one with blue
braiding, and smoothed out Wendy and made a dash at Johns hair.
No nursery could possibly have been conducted more correctly, and Mr.
Darling knew it, yet he sometimes wondered uneasily whether the
neighbours talked.
He had his position in the city to consider.
Nana also troubled him in another way. He had sometimes a feeling that
she did not admire him. I know she admires you tremendously, George,
Mrs. Darling would assure him, and then she would sign to the children
to be specially nice to father. Lovely dances followed, in which the
only other servant, Liza, was sometimes allowed to join. Such a midget
she looked in her long skirt and maids cap, though she had sworn, when
engaged, that she would never see ten again. The gaiety of those romps!
And gayest of all was Mrs. Darling, who would pirouette so wildly that
all you could see of her was the kiss, and then if you had dashed at
her you might have got it. There never was a simpler happier family
until the coming of Peter Pan.
Mrs. Darling first heard of Peter when she was tidying up her
childrens minds. It is the nightly custom of every good mother after
her children are asleep to rummage in their minds and put things
straight for next morning, repacking into their proper places the many
articles that have wandered during the day. If you could keep awake
(but of course you cant) you would see your own mother doing this, and
you would find it very interesting to watch her. It is quite like
tidying up drawers. You would see her on her knees, I expect, lingering
humorously over some of your contents, wondering where on earth you had
picked this thing up, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet,
pressing this to her cheek as if it were as nice as a kitten, and
hurriedly stowing that out of sight. When you wake in the morning, the
naughtiness and evil passions with which you went to bed have been
folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind and on the top,
beautifully aired, are spread out your prettier thoughts, ready for you
to put on.
I dont know whether you have ever seen a map of a persons mind.
Doctors sometimes draw maps of other parts of you, and your own map can
become intensely interesting, but catch them trying to draw a map of a
childs mind, which is not only confused, but keeps going round all the
time. There are zigzag lines on it, just like your temperature on a
card, and these are probably roads in the island, for the Neverland is
always more or less an island, with astonishing splashes of colour here
and there, and coral reefs and rakish-looking craft in the offing, and
savages and lonely lairs, and gnomes who are mostly tailors, and caves
through which a river runs, and princes with six elder brothers, and a
hut fast going to decay, and one very small old lady with a hooked
nose. It would be an easy map if that were all, but there is also first
day at school, religion, fathers, the round pond, needle-work, murders,
hangings, verbs that take the dative, chocolate pudding day, getting
into braces, say ninety-nine, three-pence for pulling out your tooth
yourself, and so on, and either these are part of the island or they
are another map showing through, and it is all rather confusing,
especially as nothing will stand still. | 1,211 |
PG16 | 1 | Of course the Neverlands vary a good deal. Johns, for instance, had a
lagoon with flamingoes flying over it at which John was shooting, while
Michael, who was very small, had a flamingo with lagoons flying over
it. John lived in a boat turned upside down on the sands, Michael in a
wigwam, Wendy in a house of leaves deftly sewn together. John had no
friends, Michael had friends at night, Wendy had a pet wolf forsaken by
its parents, but on the whole the Neverlands have a family resemblance,
and if they stood still in a row you could say of them that they have
each others nose, and so forth. On these magic shores children at play
are for ever beaching their coracles. We too have been there; we can
still hear the sound of the surf, though we shall land no more.
Of all delectable islands the Neverland is the snuggest and most
compact, not large and sprawly, you know, with tedious distances
between one adventure and another, but nicely crammed. When you play at
it by day with the chairs and table-cloth, it is not in the least
alarming, but in the two minutes before you go to sleep it becomes very
real. That is why there are night-lights.
Occasionally in her travels through her childrens minds Mrs. Darling
found things she could not understand, and of these quite the most
perplexing was the word Peter. She knew of no Peter, and yet he was
here and there in John and Michaels minds, while Wendys began to be
scrawled all over with him. The name stood out in bolder letters than
any of the other words, and as Mrs. Darling gazed she felt that it had
an oddly cocky appearance.
Yes, he is rather cocky, Wendy admitted with regret. Her mother had
been questioning her.
But who is he, my pet?
He is Peter Pan, you know, mother.
At first Mrs. Darling did not know, but after thinking back into her
childhood she just remembered a Peter Pan who was said to live with the
fairies. There were odd stories about him, as that when children died
he went part of the way with them, so that they should not be
frightened. She had believed in him at the time, but now that she was
married and full of sense she quite doubted whether there was any such
person.
Besides, she said to Wendy, he would be grown up by this time.
Oh no, he isnt grown up, Wendy assured her confidently, and he is
just my size. She meant that he was her size in both mind and body;
she didnt know how she knew, she just knew it.
Mrs. Darling consulted Mr. Darling, but he smiled pooh-pooh. Mark my
words, he said, it is some nonsense Nana has been putting into their
heads; just the sort of idea a dog would have. Leave it alone, and it
will blow over.
But it would not blow over and soon the troublesome boy gave Mrs.
Darling quite a shock.
Children have the strangest adventures without being troubled by them.
For instance, they may remember to mention, a week after the event
happened, that when they were in the wood they had met their dead
father and had a game with him. It was in this casual way that Wendy
one morning made a disquieting revelation. Some leaves of a tree had
been found on the nursery floor, which certainly were not there when
the children went to bed, and Mrs. Darling was puzzling over them when
Wendy said with a tolerant smile:
I do believe it is that Peter again!
Whatever do you mean, Wendy?
It is so naughty of him not to wipe his feet, Wendy said, sighing.
She was a tidy child.
She explained in quite a matter-of-fact way that she thought Peter
sometimes came to the nursery in the night and sat on the foot of her
bed and played on his pipes to her. Unfortunately she never woke, so
she didnt know how she knew, she just knew.
What nonsense you talk, precious. No one can get into the house
without knocking.
I think he comes in by the window, she said.
My love, it is three floors up.
Were not the leaves at the foot of the window, mother?
It was quite true; the leaves had been found very near the window.
Mrs. Darling did not know what to think, for it all seemed so natural
to Wendy that you could not dismiss it by saying she had been dreaming. | 981 |
PG16 | 2 | My child, the mother cried, why did you not tell me of this before?
I forgot, said Wendy lightly. She was in a hurry to get her
breakfast.
Oh, surely she must have been dreaming.
But, on the other hand, there were the leaves. Mrs. Darling examined
them very carefully; they were skeleton leaves, but she was sure they
did not come from any tree that grew in England. She crawled about the
floor, peering at it with a candle for marks of a strange foot. She
rattled the poker up the chimney and tapped the walls. She let down a
tape from the window to the pavement, and it was a sheer drop of thirty
feet, without so much as a spout to climb up by.
Certainly Wendy had been dreaming.
But Wendy had not been dreaming, as the very next night showed, the
night on which the extraordinary adventures of these children may be
said to have begun.
On the night we speak of all the children were once more in bed. It
happened to be Nanas evening off, and Mrs. Darling had bathed them and
sung to them till one by one they had let go her hand and slid away
into the land of sleep.
All were looking so safe and cosy that she smiled at her fears now and
sat down tranquilly by the fire to sew.
It was something for Michael, who on his birthday was getting into
shirts. The fire was warm, however, and the nursery dimly lit by three
night-lights, and presently the sewing lay on Mrs. Darlings lap. Then
her head nodded, oh, so gracefully. She was asleep. Look at the four of
them, Wendy and Michael over there, John here, and Mrs. Darling by the
fire. There should have been a fourth night-light.
While she slept she had a dream. She dreamt that the Neverland had come
too near and that a strange boy had broken through from it. He did not
alarm her, for she thought she had seen him before in the faces of many
women who have no children. Perhaps he is to be found in the faces of
some mothers also. But in her dream he had rent the film that obscures
the Neverland, and she saw Wendy and John and Michael peeping through
the gap.
The dream by itself would have been a trifle, but while she was
dreaming the window of the nursery blew open, and a boy did drop on the
floor. He was accompanied by a strange light, no bigger than your fist,
which darted about the room like a living thing and I think it must
have been this light that wakened Mrs. Darling.
She started up with a cry, and saw the boy, and somehow she knew at
once that he was Peter Pan. If you or I or Wendy had been there we
should have seen that he was very like Mrs. Darlings kiss. He was a
lovely boy, clad in skeleton leaves and the juices that ooze out of
trees but the most entrancing thing about him was that he had all his
first teeth. When he saw she was a grown-up, he gnashed the little
pearls at her. | 679 |
PG16 | 3 | Chapter II.
THE SHADOW
Mrs. Darling screamed, and, as if in answer to a bell, the door opened,
and Nana entered, returned from her evening out. She growled and sprang
at the boy, who leapt lightly through the window. Again Mrs. Darling
screamed, this time in distress for him, for she thought he was killed,
and she ran down into the street to look for his little body, but it
was not there; and she looked up, and in the black night she could see
nothing but what she thought was a shooting star.
She returned to the nursery, and found Nana with something in her
mouth, which proved to be the boys shadow. As he leapt at the window
Nana had closed it quickly, too late to catch him, but his shadow had
not had time to get out; slam went the window and snapped it off.
You may be sure Mrs. Darling examined the shadow carefully, but it was
quite the ordinary kind.
Nana had no doubt of what was the best thing to do with this shadow.
She hung it out at the window, meaning He is sure to come back for it;
let us put it where he can get it easily without disturbing the
children.
But unfortunately Mrs. Darling could not leave it hanging out at the
window, it looked so like the washing and lowered the whole tone of the
house. She thought of showing it to Mr. Darling, but he was totting up
winter great-coats for John and Michael, with a wet towel around his
head to keep his brain clear, and it seemed a shame to trouble him;
besides, she knew exactly what he would say: It all comes of having a
dog for a nurse.
She decided to roll the shadow up and put it away carefully in a
drawer, until a fitting opportunity came for telling her husband. Ah
me!
The opportunity came a week later, on that never-to-be-forgotten
Friday. Of course it was a Friday.
I ought to have been specially careful on a Friday, she used to say
afterwards to her husband, while perhaps Nana was on the other side of
her, holding her hand.
No, no, Mr. Darling always said, I am responsible for it all. I,
George Darling, did it. _Mea culpa, mea culpa_. He had had a classical
education.
They sat thus night after night recalling that fatal Friday, till every
detail of it was stamped on their brains and came through on the other
side like the faces on a bad coinage.
If only I had not accepted that invitation to dine at 27, Mrs.
Darling said.
If only I had not poured my medicine into Nanas bowl, said Mr.
Darling.
If only I had pretended to like the medicine, was what Nanas wet
eyes said.
My liking for parties, George.
My fatal gift of humour, dearest.
My touchiness about trifles, dear master and mistress.
Then one or more of them would break down altogether; Nana at the
thought, Its true, its true, they ought not to have had a dog for a
nurse. Many a time it was Mr. Darling who put the handkerchief to
Nanas eyes.
That fiend! Mr. Darling would cry, and Nanas bark was the echo of
it, but Mrs. Darling never upbraided Peter; there was something in the
right-hand corner of her mouth that wanted her not to call Peter names.
They would sit there in the empty nursery, recalling fondly every
smallest detail of that dreadful evening. It had begun so uneventfully,
so precisely like a hundred other evenings, with Nana putting on the
water for Michaels bath and carrying him to it on her back.
I wont go to bed, he had shouted, like one who still believed that
he had the last word on the subject, I wont, I wont. Nana, it isnt
six oclock yet. Oh dear, oh dear, I shant love you any more, Nana. I
tell you I wont be bathed, I wont, I wont!
Then Mrs. Darling had come in, wearing her white evening-gown. She had
dressed early because Wendy so loved to see her in her evening-gown,
with the necklace George had given her. She was wearing Wendys
bracelet on her arm; she had asked for the loan of it. Wendy loved to
lend her bracelet to her mother.
She had found her two older children playing at being herself and
father on the occasion of Wendys birth, and John was saying: | 975 |
PG16 | 4 | I am happy to inform you, Mrs. Darling, that you are now a mother, in
just such a tone as Mr. Darling himself may have used on the real
occasion.
Wendy had danced with joy, just as the real Mrs. Darling must have
done.
Then John was born, with the extra pomp that he conceived due to the
birth of a male, and Michael came from his bath to ask to be born also,
but John said brutally that they did not want any more.
Michael had nearly cried. Nobody wants me, he said, and of course the
lady in the evening-dress could not stand that.
I do, she said, I so want a third child.
Boy or girl? asked Michael, not too hopefully.
Boy.
Then he had leapt into her arms. Such a little thing for Mr. and Mrs.
Darling and Nana to recall now, but not so little if that was to be
Michaels last night in the nursery.
They go on with their recollections.
It was then that I rushed in like a tornado, wasnt it? Mr. Darling
would say, scorning himself; and indeed he had been like a tornado.
Perhaps there was some excuse for him. He, too, had been dressing for
the party, and all had gone well with him until he came to his tie. It
is an astounding thing to have to tell, but this man, though he knew
about stocks and shares, had no real mastery of his tie. Sometimes the
thing yielded to him without a contest, but there were occasions when
it would have been better for the house if he had swallowed his pride
and used a made-up tie.
This was such an occasion. He came rushing into the nursery with the
crumpled little brute of a tie in his hand.
Why, what is the matter, father dear?
Matter! he yelled; he really yelled. This tie, it will not tie. He
became dangerously sarcastic. Not round my neck! Round the bed-post!
Oh yes, twenty times have I made it up round the bed-post, but round my
neck, no! Oh dear no! begs to be excused!
He thought Mrs. Darling was not sufficiently impressed, and he went on
sternly, I warn you of this, mother, that unless this tie is round my
neck we dont go out to dinner to-night, and if I dont go out to
dinner to-night, I never go to the office again, and if I dont go to
the office again, you and I starve, and our children will be flung into
the streets.
Even then Mrs. Darling was placid. Let me try, dear, she said, and
indeed that was what he had come to ask her to do, and with her nice
cool hands she tied his tie for him, while the children stood around to
see their fate decided. Some men would have resented her being able to
do it so easily, but Mr. Darling had far too fine a nature for that; he
thanked her carelessly, at once forgot his rage, and in another moment
was dancing round the room with Michael on his back.
How wildly we romped! says Mrs. Darling now, recalling it.
Our last romp! Mr. Darling groaned.
O George, do you remember Michael suddenly said to me, How did you
get to know me, mother?
I remember!
They were rather sweet, dont you think, George?
And they were ours, ours! and now they are gone.
The romp had ended with the appearance of Nana, and most unluckily Mr.
Darling collided against her, covering his trousers with hairs. They
were not only new trousers, but they were the first he had ever had
with braid on them, and he had had to bite his lip to prevent the tears
coming. Of course Mrs. Darling brushed him, but he began to talk again
about its being a mistake to have a dog for a nurse.
George, Nana is a treasure.
No doubt, but I have an uneasy feeling at times that she looks upon
the children as puppies.
Oh no, dear one, I feel sure she knows they have souls.
I wonder, Mr. Darling said thoughtfully, I wonder. It was an
opportunity, his wife felt, for telling him about the boy. At first he
pooh-poohed the story, but he became thoughtful when she showed him the
shadow.
It is nobody I know, he said, examining it carefully, but it does
look a scoundrel.
We were still discussing it, you remember, says Mr. Darling, when
Nana came in with Michaels medicine. You will never carry the bottle
in your mouth again, Nana, and it is all my fault. | 1,016 |
PG16 | 5 | Strong man though he was, there is no doubt that he had behaved rather
foolishly over the medicine. If he had a weakness, it was for thinking
that all his life he had taken medicine boldly, and so now, when
Michael dodged the spoon in Nanas mouth, he had said reprovingly, Be
a man, Michael.
Wont; wont! Michael cried naughtily. Mrs. Darling left the room to
get a chocolate for him, and Mr. Darling thought this showed want of
firmness.
Mother, dont pamper him, he called after her. Michael, when I was
your age I took medicine without a murmur. I said, Thank you, kind
parents, for giving me bottles to make me well.
He really thought this was true, and Wendy, who was now in her
night-gown, believed it also, and she said, to encourage Michael, That
medicine you sometimes take, father, is much nastier, isnt it?
Ever so much nastier, Mr. Darling said bravely, and I would take it
now as an example to you, Michael, if I hadnt lost the bottle.
He had not exactly lost it; he had climbed in the dead of night to the
top of the wardrobe and hidden it there. What he did not know was that
the faithful Liza had found it, and put it back on his wash-stand.
I know where it is, father, Wendy cried, always glad to be of
service. Ill bring it, and she was off before he could stop her.
Immediately his spirits sank in the strangest way.
John, he said, shuddering, its most beastly stuff. Its that nasty,
sticky, sweet kind.
It will soon be over, father, John said cheerily, and then in rushed
Wendy with the medicine in a glass.
I have been as quick as I could, she panted.
You have been wonderfully quick, her father retorted, with a
vindictive politeness that was quite thrown away upon her. Michael
first, he said doggedly.
Father first, said Michael, who was of a suspicious nature.
I shall be sick, you know, Mr. Darling said threateningly.
Come on, father, said John.
Hold your tongue, John, his father rapped out.
Wendy was quite puzzled. I thought you took it quite easily, father.
That is not the point, he retorted. The point is, that there is more
in my glass than in Michaels spoon. His proud heart was nearly
bursting. And it isnt fair: I would say it though it were with my
last breath; it isnt fair.
Father, I am waiting, said Michael coldly.
Its all very well to say you are waiting; so am I waiting.
Fathers a cowardly custard.
So are you a cowardly custard.
Im not frightened.
Neither am I frightened.
Well, then, take it.
Well, then, you take it.
Wendy had a splendid idea. Why not both take it at the same time?
Certainly, said Mr. Darling. Are you ready, Michael?
Wendy gave the words, one, two, three, and Michael took his medicine,
but Mr. Darling slipped his behind his back.
There was a yell of rage from Michael, and O father! Wendy exclaimed.
What do you mean by O father? Mr. Darling demanded. Stop that row,
Michael. I meant to take mine, but II missed it.
It was dreadful the way all the three were looking at him, just as if
they did not admire him. Look here, all of you, he said entreatingly,
as soon as Nana had gone into the bathroom. I have just thought of a
splendid joke. I shall pour my medicine into Nanas bowl, and she will
drink it, thinking it is milk!
It was the colour of milk; but the children did not have their fathers
sense of humour, and they looked at him reproachfully as he poured the
medicine into Nanas bowl. What fun! he said doubtfully, and they did
not dare expose him when Mrs. Darling and Nana returned.
Nana, good dog, he said, patting her, I have put a little milk into
your bowl, Nana.
Nana wagged her tail, ran to the medicine, and began lapping it. Then
she gave Mr. Darling such a look, not an angry look: she showed him the
great red tear that makes us so sorry for noble dogs, and crept into
her kennel.
Mr. Darling was frightfully ashamed of himself, but he would not give
in. In a horrid silence Mrs. Darling smelt the bowl. O George, she
said, its your medicine!
It was only a joke, he roared, while she comforted her boys, and
Wendy hugged Nana. Much good, he said bitterly, my wearing myself to
the bone trying to be funny in this house. | 1,060 |
PG16 | 6 | And still Wendy hugged Nana. Thats right, he shouted. Coddle her!
Nobody coddles me. Oh dear no! I am only the breadwinner, why should I
be coddledwhy, why, why!
George, Mrs. Darling entreated him, not so loud; the servants will
hear you. Somehow they had got into the way of calling Liza the
servants.
Let them! he answered recklessly. Bring in the whole world. But I
refuse to allow that dog to lord it in my nursery for an hour longer.
The children wept, and Nana ran to him beseechingly, but he waved her
back. He felt he was a strong man again. In vain, in vain, he cried;
the proper place for you is the yard, and there you go to be tied up
this instant.
George, George, Mrs. Darling whispered, remember what I told you
about that boy.
Alas, he would not listen. He was determined to show who was master in
that house, and when commands would not draw Nana from the kennel, he
lured her out of it with honeyed words, and seizing her roughly,
dragged her from the nursery. He was ashamed of himself, and yet he did
it. It was all owing to his too affectionate nature, which craved for
admiration. When he had tied her up in the back-yard, the wretched
father went and sat in the passage, with his knuckles to his eyes.
In the meantime Mrs. Darling had put the children to bed in unwonted
silence and lit their night-lights. They could hear Nana barking, and
John whimpered, It is because he is chaining her up in the yard, but
Wendy was wiser.
That is not Nanas unhappy bark, she said, little guessing what was
about to happen; that is her bark when she smells danger.
Danger!
Are you sure, Wendy?
Oh, yes.
Mrs. Darling quivered and went to the window. It was securely fastened.
She looked out, and the night was peppered with stars. They were
crowding round the house, as if curious to see what was to take place
there, but she did not notice this, nor that one or two of the smaller
ones winked at her. Yet a nameless fear clutched at her heart and made
her cry, Oh, how I wish that I wasnt going to a party to-night!
Even Michael, already half asleep, knew that she was perturbed, and he
asked, Can anything harm us, mother, after the night-lights are lit?
Nothing, precious, she said; they are the eyes a mother leaves
behind her to guard her children.
She went from bed to bed singing enchantments over them, and little
Michael flung his arms round her. Mother, he cried, Im glad of
you. They were the last words she was to hear from him for a long
time.
No. 27 was only a few yards distant, but there had been a slight fall
of snow, and Father and Mother Darling picked their way over it deftly
not to soil their shoes. They were already the only persons in the
street, and all the stars were watching them. Stars are beautiful, but
they may not take an active part in anything, they must just look on
for ever. It is a punishment put on them for something they did so long
ago that no star now knows what it was. So the older ones have become
glassy-eyed and seldom speak (winking is the star language), but the
little ones still wonder. They are not really friendly to Peter, who
had a mischievous way of stealing up behind them and trying to blow
them out; but they are so fond of fun that they were on his side
to-night, and anxious to get the grown-ups out of the way. So as soon
as the door of 27 closed on Mr. and Mrs. Darling there was a commotion
in the firmament, and the smallest of all the stars in the Milky Way
screamed out:
Now, Peter! | 888 |
PG16 | 7 | Chapter III.
COME AWAY, COME AWAY!
For a moment after Mr. and Mrs. Darling left the house the night-lights
by the beds of the three children continued to burn clearly. They were
awfully nice little night-lights, and one cannot help wishing that they
could have kept awake to see Peter; but Wendys light blinked and gave
such a yawn that the other two yawned also, and before they could close
their mouths all the three went out.
There was another light in the room now, a thousand times brighter than
the night-lights, and in the time we have taken to say this, it had
been in all the drawers in the nursery, looking for Peters shadow,
rummaged the wardrobe and turned every pocket inside out. It was not
really a light; it made this light by flashing about so quickly, but
when it came to rest for a second you saw it was a fairy, no longer
than your hand, but still growing. It was a girl called Tinker Bell
exquisitely gowned in a skeleton leaf, cut low and square, through
which her figure could be seen to the best advantage. She was slightly
inclined to _embonpoint_.
A moment after the fairys entrance the window was blown open by the
breathing of the little stars, and Peter dropped in. He had carried
Tinker Bell part of the way, and his hand was still messy with the
fairy dust.
Tinker Bell, he called softly, after making sure that the children
were asleep, Tink, where are you? She was in a jug for the moment,
and liking it extremely; she had never been in a jug before.
Oh, do come out of that jug, and tell me, do you know where they put
my shadow?
The loveliest tinkle as of golden bells answered him. It is the fairy
language. You ordinary children can never hear it, but if you were to
hear it you would know that you had heard it once before.
Tink said that the shadow was in the big box. She meant the chest of
drawers, and Peter jumped at the drawers, scattering their contents to
the floor with both hands, as kings toss hapence to the crowd. In a
moment he had recovered his shadow, and in his delight he forgot that
he had shut Tinker Bell up in the drawer.
If he thought at all, but I dont believe he ever thought, it was that
he and his shadow, when brought near each other, would join like drops
of water, and when they did not he was appalled. He tried to stick it
on with soap from the bathroom, but that also failed. A shudder passed
through Peter, and he sat on the floor and cried.
His sobs woke Wendy, and she sat up in bed. She was not alarmed to see
a stranger crying on the nursery floor; she was only pleasantly
interested.
Boy, she said courteously, why are you crying?
Peter could be exceeding polite also, having learned the grand manner
at fairy ceremonies, and he rose and bowed to her beautifully. She was
much pleased, and bowed beautifully to him from the bed.
Whats your name? he asked.
Wendy Moira Angela Darling, she replied with some satisfaction. What
is your name?
Peter Pan.
She was already sure that he must be Peter, but it did seem a
comparatively short name.
Is that all?
Yes, he said rather sharply. He felt for the first time that it was a
shortish name.
Im so sorry, said Wendy Moira Angela.
It doesnt matter, Peter gulped.
She asked where he lived.
Second to the right, said Peter, and then straight on till morning.
What a funny address!
Peter had a sinking. For the first time he felt that perhaps it was a
funny address.
No, it isnt, he said.
I mean, Wendy said nicely, remembering that she was hostess, is that
what they put on the letters?
He wished she had not mentioned letters.
Dont get any letters, he said contemptuously.
But your mother gets letters?
Dont have a mother, he said. Not only had he no mother, but he had
not the slightest desire to have one. He thought them very over-rated
persons. Wendy, however, felt at once that she was in the presence of a
tragedy.
O Peter, no wonder you were crying, she said, and got out of bed and
ran to him.
I wasnt crying about mothers, he said rather indignantly. I was
crying because I cant get my shadow to stick on. Besides, I wasnt
crying. | 995 |
PG16 | 8 | It has come off?
Yes.
Then Wendy saw the shadow on the floor, looking so draggled, and she
was frightfully sorry for Peter. How awful! she said, but she could
not help smiling when she saw that he had been trying to stick it on
with soap. How exactly like a boy!
Fortunately she knew at once what to do. It must be sewn on, she
said, just a little patronisingly.
Whats sewn? he asked.
Youre dreadfully ignorant.
No, Im not.
But she was exulting in his ignorance. I shall sew it on for you, my
little man, she said, though he was tall as herself, and she got out
her housewife, and sewed the shadow on to Peters foot.
I daresay it will hurt a little, she warned him.
Oh, I shant cry, said Peter, who was already of the opinion that he
had never cried in his life. And he clenched his teeth and did not cry,
and soon his shadow was behaving properly, though still a little
creased.
Perhaps I should have ironed it, Wendy said thoughtfully, but Peter,
boylike, was indifferent to appearances, and he was now jumping about
in the wildest glee. Alas, he had already forgotten that he owed his
bliss to Wendy. He thought he had attached the shadow himself. How
clever I am! he crowed rapturously, oh, the cleverness of me!
It is humiliating to have to confess that this conceit of Peter was one
of his most fascinating qualities. To put it with brutal frankness,
there never was a cockier boy.
But for the moment Wendy was shocked. You conceit, she exclaimed,
with frightful sarcasm; of course I did nothing!
You did a little, Peter said carelessly, and continued to dance.
A little! she replied with hauteur; if I am no use I can at least
withdraw, and she sprang in the most dignified way into bed and
covered her face with the blankets.
To induce her to look up he pretended to be going away, and when this
failed he sat on the end of the bed and tapped her gently with his
foot. Wendy, he said, dont withdraw. I cant help crowing, Wendy,
when Im pleased with myself. Still she would not look up, though she
was listening eagerly. Wendy, he continued, in a voice that no woman
has ever yet been able to resist, Wendy, one girl is more use than
twenty boys.
Now Wendy was every inch a woman, though there were not very many
inches, and she peeped out of the bed-clothes.
Do you really think so, Peter?
Yes, I do.
I think its perfectly sweet of you, she declared, and Ill get up
again, and she sat with him on the side of the bed. She also said she
would give him a kiss if he liked, but Peter did not know what she
meant, and he held out his hand expectantly.
Surely you know what a kiss is? she asked, aghast.
I shall know when you give it to me, he replied stiffly, and not to
hurt his feeling she gave him a thimble.
Now, said he, shall I give you a kiss? and she replied with a
slight primness, If you please. She made herself rather cheap by
inclining her face toward him, but he merely dropped an acorn button
into her hand, so she slowly returned her face to where it had been
before, and said nicely that she would wear his kiss on the chain
around her neck. It was lucky that she did put it on that chain, for it
was afterwards to save her life.
When people in our set are introduced, it is customary for them to ask
each others age, and so Wendy, who always liked to do the correct
thing, asked Peter how old he was. It was not really a happy question
to ask him; it was like an examination paper that asks grammar, when
what you want to be asked is Kings of England.
I dont know, he replied uneasily, but I am quite young. He really
knew nothing about it, he had merely suspicions, but he said at a
venture, Wendy, I ran away the day I was born.
Wendy was quite surprised, but interested; and she indicated in the
charming drawing-room manner, by a touch on her night-gown, that he
could sit nearer her.
It was because I heard father and mother, he explained in a low
voice, talking about what I was to be when I became a man. He was
extraordinarily agitated now. I dont want ever to be a man, he said
with passion. I want always to be a little boy and to have fun. So I
ran away to Kensington Gardens and lived a long long time among the
fairies. | 1,056 |
PG16 | 9 | She gave him a look of the most intense admiration, and he thought it
was because he had run away, but it was really because he knew fairies.
Wendy had lived such a home life that to know fairies struck her as
quite delightful. She poured out questions about them, to his surprise,
for they were rather a nuisance to him, getting in his way and so on,
and indeed he sometimes had to give them a hiding. Still, he liked them
on the whole, and he told her about the beginning of fairies.
You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the first time, its
laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about,
and that was the beginning of fairies.
Tedious talk this, but being a stay-at-home she liked it.
And so, he went on good-naturedly, there ought to be one fairy for
every boy and girl.
Ought to be? Isnt there?
No. You see children know such a lot now, they soon dont believe in
fairies, and every time a child says, I dont believe in fairies,
there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead.
Really, he thought they had now talked enough about fairies, and it
struck him that Tinker Bell was keeping very quiet. I cant think
where she has gone to, he said, rising, and he called Tink by name.
Wendys heart went flutter with a sudden thrill.
Peter, she cried, clutching him, you dont mean to tell me that
there is a fairy in this room!
She was here just now, he said a little impatiently. You dont hear
her, do you? and they both listened.
The only sound I hear, said Wendy, is like a tinkle of bells.
Well, thats Tink, thats the fairy language. I think I hear her too.
The sound came from the chest of drawers, and Peter made a merry face.
No one could ever look quite so merry as Peter, and the loveliest of
gurgles was his laugh. He had his first laugh still.
Wendy, he whispered gleefully, I do believe I shut her up in the
drawer!
He let poor Tink out of the drawer, and she flew about the nursery
screaming with fury. You shouldnt say such things, Peter retorted.
Of course Im very sorry, but how could I know you were in the
drawer?
Wendy was not listening to him. O Peter, she cried, if she would
only stand still and let me see her!
They hardly ever stand still, he said, but for one moment Wendy saw
the romantic figure come to rest on the cuckoo clock. O the lovely!
she cried, though Tinks face was still distorted with passion.
Tink, said Peter amiably, this lady says she wishes you were her
fairy.
Tinker Bell answered insolently.
What does she say, Peter?
He had to translate. She is not very polite. She says you are a great
ugly girl, and that she is my fairy.
He tried to argue with Tink. You know you cant be my fairy, Tink,
because I am an gentleman and you are a lady.
To this Tink replied in these words, You silly ass, and disappeared
into the bathroom. She is quite a common fairy, Peter explained
apologetically, she is called Tinker Bell because she mends the pots
and kettles.
They were together in the armchair by this time, and Wendy plied him
with more questions.
If you dont live in Kensington Gardens now
Sometimes I do still.
But where do you live mostly now?
With the lost boys.
Who are they?
They are the children who fall out of their perambulators when the
nurse is looking the other way. If they are not claimed in seven days
they are sent far away to the Neverland to defray expenses. Im
captain.
What fun it must be!
Yes, said cunning Peter, but we are rather lonely. You see we have
no female companionship.
Are none of the others girls?
Oh, no; girls, you know, are much too clever to fall out of their
prams.
This flattered Wendy immensely. I think, she said, it is perfectly
lovely the way you talk about girls; John there just despises us.
For reply Peter rose and kicked John out of bed, blankets and all; one
kick. This seemed to Wendy rather forward for a first meeting, and she
told him with spirit that he was not captain in her house. However,
John continued to sleep so placidly on the floor that she allowed him
to remain there. And I know you meant to be kind, she said,
relenting, so you may give me a kiss. | 1,021 |
PG16 | 10 | For the moment she had forgotten his ignorance about kisses. I thought
you would want it back, he said a little bitterly, and offered to
return her the thimble.
Oh dear, said the nice Wendy, I dont mean a kiss, I mean a
thimble.
Whats that?
Its like this. She kissed him.
Funny! said Peter gravely. Now shall I give you a thimble?
If you wish to, said Wendy, keeping her head erect this time.
Peter thimbled her, and almost immediately she screeched. What is it,
Wendy?
It was exactly as if someone were pulling my hair.
That must have been Tink. I never knew her so naughty before.
And indeed Tink was darting about again, using offensive language.
She says she will do that to you, Wendy, every time I give you a
thimble.
But why?
Why, Tink?
Again Tink replied, You silly ass. Peter could not understand why,
but Wendy understood, and she was just slightly disappointed when he
admitted that he came to the nursery window not to see her but to
listen to stories.
You see, I dont know any stories. None of the lost boys knows any
stories.
How perfectly awful, Wendy said.
Do you know, Peter asked why swallows build in the eaves of houses?
It is to listen to the stories. O Wendy, your mother was telling you
such a lovely story.
Which story was it?
About the prince who couldnt find the lady who wore the glass
slipper.
Peter, said Wendy excitedly, that was Cinderella, and he found her,
and they lived happily ever after.
Peter was so glad that he rose from the floor, where they had been
sitting, and hurried to the window.
Where are you going? she cried with misgiving.
To tell the other boys.
Dont go Peter, she entreated, I know such lots of stories.
Those were her precise words, so there can be no denying that it was
she who first tempted him.
He came back, and there was a greedy look in his eyes now which ought
to have alarmed her, but did not.
Oh, the stories I could tell to the boys! she cried, and then Peter
gripped her and began to draw her toward the window.
Let me go! she ordered him.
Wendy, do come with me and tell the other boys.
Of course she was very pleased to be asked, but she said, Oh dear, I
cant. Think of mummy! Besides, I cant fly.
Ill teach you.
Oh, how lovely to fly.
Ill teach you how to jump on the winds back, and then away we go.
Oo! she exclaimed rapturously.
Wendy, Wendy, when you are sleeping in your silly bed you might be
flying about with me saying funny things to the stars.
Oo!
And, Wendy, there are mermaids.
Mermaids! With tails?
Such long tails.
Oh, cried Wendy, to see a mermaid!
He had become frightfully cunning. Wendy, he said, how we should all
respect you.
She was wriggling her body in distress. It was quite as if she were
trying to remain on the nursery floor.
But he had no pity for her.
Wendy, he said, the sly one, you could tuck us in at night.
Oo!
None of us has ever been tucked in at night.
Oo, and her arms went out to him.
And you could darn our clothes, and make pockets for us. None of us
has any pockets.
How could she resist. Of course its awfully fascinating! she cried.
Peter, would you teach John and Michael to fly too?
If you like, he said indifferently, and she ran to John and Michael
and shook them. Wake up, she cried, Peter Pan has come and he is to
teach us to fly.
John rubbed his eyes. Then I shall get up, he said. Of course he was
on the floor already. Hallo, he said, I am up!
Michael was up by this time also, looking as sharp as a knife with six
blades and a saw, but Peter suddenly signed silence. Their faces
assumed the awful craftiness of children listening for sounds from the
grown-up world. All was as still as salt. Then everything was right.
No, stop! Everything was wrong. Nana, who had been barking
distressfully all the evening, was quiet now. It was her silence they
had heard.
Out with the light! Hide! Quick! cried John, taking command for the
only time throughout the whole adventure. And thus when Liza entered,
holding Nana, the nursery seemed quite its old self, very dark, and you
would have sworn you heard its three wicked inmates breathing
angelically as they slept. They were really doing it artfully from
behind the window curtains. | 1,052 |
PG16 | 11 | Liza was in a bad temper, for she was mixing the Christmas puddings in
the kitchen, and had been drawn from them, with a raisin still on her
cheek, by Nanas absurd suspicions. She thought the best way of getting
a little quiet was to take Nana to the nursery for a moment, but in
custody of course.
There, you suspicious brute, she said, not sorry that Nana was in
disgrace. They are perfectly safe, arent they? Every one of the
little angels sound asleep in bed. Listen to their gentle breathing.
Here Michael, encouraged by his success, breathed so loudly that they
were nearly detected. Nana knew that kind of breathing, and she tried
to drag herself out of Lizas clutches.
But Liza was dense. No more of it, Nana, she said sternly, pulling
her out of the room. I warn you if you bark again I shall go straight
for master and missus and bring them home from the party, and then, oh,
wont master whip you, just.
She tied the unhappy dog up again, but do you think Nana ceased to
bark? Bring master and missus home from the party! Why, that was just
what she wanted. Do you think she cared whether she was whipped so long
as her charges were safe? Unfortunately Liza returned to her puddings,
and Nana, seeing that no help would come from her, strained and
strained at the chain until at last she broke it. In another moment she
had burst into the dining-room of 27 and flung up her paws to heaven,
her most expressive way of making a communication. Mr. and Mrs. Darling
knew at once that something terrible was happening in their nursery,
and without a good-bye to their hostess they rushed into the street.
But it was now ten minutes since three scoundrels had been breathing
behind the curtains, and Peter Pan can do a great deal in ten minutes.
We now return to the nursery.
Its all right, John announced, emerging from his hiding-place. I
say, Peter, can you really fly?
Instead of troubling to answer him Peter flew around the room, taking
the mantelpiece on the way.
How topping! said John and Michael.
How sweet! cried Wendy.
Yes, Im sweet, oh, I am sweet! said Peter, forgetting his manners
again.
It looked delightfully easy, and they tried it first from the floor and
then from the beds, but they always went down instead of up.
I say, how do you do it? asked John, rubbing his knee. He was quite a
practical boy.
You just think lovely wonderful thoughts, Peter explained, and they
lift you up in the air.
He showed them again.
Youre so nippy at it, John said, couldnt you do it very slowly
once?
Peter did it both slowly and quickly. Ive got it now, Wendy! cried
John, but soon he found he had not. Not one of them could fly an inch,
though even Michael was in words of two syllables, and Peter did not
know A from Z.
Of course Peter had been trifling with them, for no one can fly unless
the fairy dust has been blown on him. Fortunately, as we have
mentioned, one of his hands was messy with it, and he blew some on each
of them, with the most superb results.
Now just wiggle your shoulders this way, he said, and let go.
They were all on their beds, and gallant Michael let go first. He did
not quite mean to let go, but he did it, and immediately he was borne
across the room.
I flewed! he screamed while still in mid-air.
John let go and met Wendy near the bathroom.
Oh, lovely!
Oh, ripping!
Look at me!
Look at me!
Look at me!
They were not nearly so elegant as Peter, they could not help kicking a
little, but their heads were bobbing against the ceiling, and there is
almost nothing so delicious as that. Peter gave Wendy a hand at first,
but had to desist, Tink was so indignant.
Up and down they went, and round and round. Heavenly was Wendys word.
I say, cried John, why shouldnt we all go out?
Of course it was to this that Peter had been luring them.
Michael was ready: he wanted to see how long it took him to do a
billion miles. But Wendy hesitated.
Mermaids! said Peter again.
Oo!
And there are pirates.
Pirates, cried John, seizing his Sunday hat, let us go at once. | 990 |
PG16 | 13 | Chapter IV.
THE FLIGHT
Second to the right, and straight on till morning.
That, Peter had told Wendy, was the way to the Neverland; but even
birds, carrying maps and consulting them at windy corners, could not
have sighted it with these instructions. Peter, you see, just said
anything that came into his head.
At first his companions trusted him implicitly, and so great were the
delights of flying that they wasted time circling round church spires
or any other tall objects on the way that took their fancy.
John and Michael raced, Michael getting a start.
They recalled with contempt that not so long ago they had thought
themselves fine fellows for being able to fly round a room.
Not long ago. But how long ago? They were flying over the sea before
this thought began to disturb Wendy seriously. John thought it was
their second sea and their third night.
Sometimes it was dark and sometimes light, and now they were very cold
and again too warm. Did they really feel hungry at times, or were they
merely pretending, because Peter had such a jolly new way of feeding
them? His way was to pursue birds who had food in their mouths suitable
for humans and snatch it from them; then the birds would follow and
snatch it back; and they would all go chasing each other gaily for
miles, parting at last with mutual expressions of good-will. But Wendy
noticed with gentle concern that Peter did not seem to know that this
was rather an odd way of getting your bread and butter, nor even that
there are other ways.
Certainly they did not pretend to be sleepy, they were sleepy; and that
was a danger, for the moment they popped off, down they fell. The awful
thing was that Peter thought this funny.
There he goes again! he would cry gleefully, as Michael suddenly
dropped like a stone.
Save him, save him! cried Wendy, looking with horror at the cruel sea
far below. Eventually Peter would dive through the air, and catch
Michael just before he could strike the sea, and it was lovely the way
he did it; but he always waited till the last moment, and you felt it
was his cleverness that interested him and not the saving of human
life. Also he was fond of variety, and the sport that engrossed him one
moment would suddenly cease to engage him, so there was always the
possibility that the next time you fell he would let you go.
He could sleep in the air without falling, by merely lying on his back
and floating, but this was, partly at least, because he was so light
that if you got behind him and blew he went faster.
Do be more polite to him, Wendy whispered to John, when they were
playing Follow my Leader.
Then tell him to stop showing off, said John.
When playing Follow my Leader, Peter would fly close to the water and
touch each sharks tail in passing, just as in the street you may run
your finger along an iron railing. They could not follow him in this
with much success, so perhaps it was rather like showing off,
especially as he kept looking behind to see how many tails they missed.
You must be nice to him, Wendy impressed on her brothers. What could
we do if he were to leave us!
We could go back, Michael said.
How could we ever find our way back without him?
Well, then, we could go on, said John.
That is the awful thing, John. We should have to go on, for we dont
know how to stop.
This was true, Peter had forgotten to show them how to stop.
John said that if the worst came to the worst, all they had to do was
to go straight on, for the world was round, and so in time they must
come back to their own window.
And who is to get food for us, John?
I nipped a bit out of that eagles mouth pretty neatly, Wendy.
After the twentieth try, Wendy reminded him. And even though we
became good at picking up food, see how we bump against clouds and
things if he is not near to give us a hand.
Indeed they were constantly bumping. They could now fly strongly,
though they still kicked far too much; but if they saw a cloud in front
of them, the more they tried to avoid it, the more certainly did they
bump into it. If Nana had been with them, she would have had a bandage
round Michaels forehead by this time. | 959 |
PG16 | 14 | Peter was not with them for the moment, and they felt rather lonely up
there by themselves. He could go so much faster than they that he would
suddenly shoot out of sight, to have some adventure in which they had
no share. He would come down laughing over something fearfully funny he
had been saying to a star, but he had already forgotten what it was, or
he would come up with mermaid scales still sticking to him, and yet not
be able to say for certain what had been happening. It was really
rather irritating to children who had never seen a mermaid.
And if he forgets them so quickly, Wendy argued, how can we expect
that he will go on remembering us?
Indeed, sometimes when he returned he did not remember them, at least
not well. Wendy was sure of it. She saw recognition come into his eyes
as he was about to pass them the time of day and go on; once even she
had to call him by name.
Im Wendy, she said agitatedly.
He was very sorry. I say, Wendy, he whispered to her, always if you
see me forgetting you, just keep on saying Im Wendy, and then Ill
remember.
Of course this was rather unsatisfactory. However, to make amends he
showed them how to lie out flat on a strong wind that was going their
way, and this was such a pleasant change that they tried it several
times and found that they could sleep thus with security. Indeed they
would have slept longer, but Peter tired quickly of sleeping, and soon
he would cry in his captain voice, We get off here. So with
occasional tiffs, but on the whole rollicking, they drew near the
Neverland; for after many moons they did reach it, and, what is more,
they had been going pretty straight all the time, not perhaps so much
owing to the guidance of Peter or Tink as because the island was
looking for them. It is only thus that any one may sight those magic
shores.
There it is, said Peter calmly.
Where, where?
Where all the arrows are pointing.
Indeed a million golden arrows were pointing it out to the children,
all directed by their friend the sun, who wanted them to be sure of
their way before leaving them for the night.
Wendy and John and Michael stood on tip-toe in the air to get their
first sight of the island. Strange to say, they all recognized it at
once, and until fear fell upon them they hailed it, not as something
long dreamt of and seen at last, but as a familiar friend to whom they
were returning home for the holidays.
John, theres the lagoon.
Wendy, look at the turtles burying their eggs in the sand.
I say, John, I see your flamingo with the broken leg!
Look, Michael, theres your cave!
John, whats that in the brushwood?
Its a wolf with her whelps. Wendy, I do believe thats your little
whelp!
Theres my boat, John, with her sides stove in!
No, it isnt. Why, we burned your boat.
Thats her, at any rate. I say, John, I see the smoke of the redskin
camp!
Where? Show me, and Ill tell you by the way smoke curls whether they
are on the war-path.
There, just across the Mysterious River.
I see now. Yes, they are on the war-path right enough.
Peter was a little annoyed with them for knowing so much, but if he
wanted to lord it over them his triumph was at hand, for have I not
told you that anon fear fell upon them?
It came as the arrows went, leaving the island in gloom.
In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little
dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored patches arose in it
and spread, black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the beasts
of prey was quite different now, and above all, you lost the certainty
that you would win. You were quite glad that the night-lights were on.
You even liked Nana to say that this was just the mantelpiece over
here, and that the Neverland was all make-believe.
Of course the Neverland had been make-believe in those days, but it was
real now, and there were no night-lights, and it was getting darker
every moment, and where was Nana?
They had been flying apart, but they huddled close to Peter now. His
careless manner had gone at last, his eyes were sparkling, and a tingle
went through them every time they touched his body. They were now over
the fearsome island, flying so low that sometimes a tree grazed their
feet. Nothing horrid was visible in the air, yet their progress had
become slow and laboured, exactly as if they were pushing their way
through hostile forces. Sometimes they hung in the air until Peter had
beaten on it with his fists. | 1,071 |
PG16 | 15 | They dont want us to land, he explained.
Who are they? Wendy whispered, shuddering.
But he could not or would not say. Tinker Bell had been asleep on his
shoulder, but now he wakened her and sent her on in front.
Sometimes he poised himself in the air, listening intently, with his
hand to his ear, and again he would stare down with eyes so bright that
they seemed to bore two holes to earth. Having done these things, he
went on again.
His courage was almost appalling. Would you like an adventure now, he
said casually to John, or would you like to have your tea first?
Wendy said tea first quickly, and Michael pressed her hand in
gratitude, but the braver John hesitated.
What kind of adventure? he asked cautiously.
Theres a pirate asleep in the pampas just beneath us, Peter told
him. If you like, well go down and kill him.
I dont see him, John said after a long pause.
I do.
Suppose, John said, a little huskily, he were to wake up.
Peter spoke indignantly. You dont think I would kill him while he was
sleeping! I would wake him first, and then kill him. Thats the way I
always do.
I say! Do you kill many?
Tons.
John said How ripping, but decided to have tea first. He asked if
there were many pirates on the island just now, and Peter said he had
never known so many.
Who is captain now?
Hook, answered Peter, and his face became very stern as he said that
hated word.
Jas. Hook?
Ay.
Then indeed Michael began to cry, and even John could speak in gulps
only, for they knew Hooks reputation.
He was Blackbeards bosun, John whispered huskily. He is the worst
of them all. He is the only man of whom Barbecue was afraid.
Thats him, said Peter.
What is he like? Is he big?
He is not so big as he was.
How do you mean?
I cut off a bit of him.
You!
Yes, me, said Peter sharply.
I wasnt meaning to be disrespectful.
Oh, all right.
But, I say, what bit?
His right hand.
Then he cant fight now?
Oh, cant he just!
Left-hander?
He has an iron hook instead of a right hand, and he claws with it.
Claws!
I say, John, said Peter.
Yes.
Say, Ay, ay, sir.
Ay, ay, sir.
There is one thing, Peter continued, that every boy who serves under
me has to promise, and so must you.
John paled.
It is this, if we meet Hook in open fight, you must leave him to me.
I promise, John said loyally.
For the moment they were feeling less eerie, because Tink was flying
with them, and in her light they could distinguish each other.
Unfortunately she could not fly so slowly as they, and so she had to go
round and round them in a circle in which they moved as in a halo.
Wendy quite liked it, until Peter pointed out the drawbacks.
She tells me, he said, that the pirates sighted us before the
darkness came, and got Long Tom out.
The big gun?
Yes. And of course they must see her light, and if they guess we are
near it they are sure to let fly.
Wendy!
John!
Michael!
Tell her to go away at once, Peter, the three cried simultaneously,
but he refused.
She thinks we have lost the way, he replied stiffly, and she is
rather frightened. You dont think I would send her away all by herself
when she is frightened!
For a moment the circle of light was broken, and something gave Peter a
loving little pinch.
Then tell her, Wendy begged, to put out her light.
She cant put it out. That is about the only thing fairies cant do.
It just goes out of itself when she falls asleep, same as the stars.
Then tell her to sleep at once, John almost ordered.
She cant sleep except when shes sleepy. It is the only other thing
fairies cant do.
Seems to me, growled John, these are the only two things worth
doing.
Here he got a pinch, but not a loving one.
If only one of us had a pocket, Peter said, we could carry her in
it. However, they had set off in such a hurry that there was not a
pocket between the four of them.
He had a happy idea. Johns hat!
Tink agreed to travel by hat if it was carried in the hand. John
carried it, though she had hoped to be carried by Peter. Presently
Wendy took the hat, because John said it struck against his knee as he
flew; and this, as we shall see, led to mischief, for Tinker Bell hated
to be under an obligation to Wendy. | 1,065 |
PG16 | 16 | In the black topper the light was completely hidden, and they flew on
in silence. It was the stillest silence they had ever known, broken
once by a distant lapping, which Peter explained was the wild beasts
drinking at the ford, and again by a rasping sound that might have been
the branches of trees rubbing together, but he said it was the redskins
sharpening their knives.
Even these noises ceased. To Michael the loneliness was dreadful. If
only something would make a sound! he cried.
As if in answer to his request, the air was rent by the most tremendous
crash he had ever heard. The pirates had fired Long Tom at them.
The roar of it echoed through the mountains, and the echoes seemed to
cry savagely, Where are they, where are they, where are they?
Thus sharply did the terrified three learn the difference between an
island of make-believe and the same island come true.
When at last the heavens were steady again, John and Michael found
themselves alone in the darkness. John was treading the air
mechanically, and Michael without knowing how to float was floating.
Are you shot? John whispered tremulously.
I havent tried yet, Michael whispered back.
We know now that no one had been hit. Peter, however, had been carried
by the wind of the shot far out to sea, while Wendy was blown upwards
with no companion but Tinker Bell.
It would have been well for Wendy if at that moment she had dropped the
hat.
I dont know whether the idea came suddenly to Tink, or whether she had
planned it on the way, but she at once popped out of the hat and began
to lure Wendy to her destruction.
Tink was not all bad; or, rather, she was all bad just now, but, on the
other hand, sometimes she was all good. Fairies have to be one thing or
the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one
feeling only at a time. They are, however, allowed to change, only it
must be a complete change. At present she was full of jealousy of
Wendy. What she said in her lovely tinkle Wendy could not of course
understand, and I believe some of it was bad words, but it sounded
kind, and she flew back and forward, plainly meaning Follow me, and
all will be well.
What else could poor Wendy do? She called to Peter and John and
Michael, and got only mocking echoes in reply. She did not yet know
that Tink hated her with the fierce hatred of a very woman. And so,
bewildered, and now staggering in her flight, she followed Tink to her
doom. | 583 |
PG16 | 18 | In the midst of them, the blackest and largest in that dark setting,
reclined James Hook, or as he wrote himself, Jas. Hook, of whom it is
said he was the only man that the Sea-Cook feared. He lay at his ease
in a rough chariot drawn and propelled by his men, and instead of a
right hand he had the iron hook with which ever and anon he encouraged
them to increase their pace. As dogs this terrible man treated and
addressed them, and as dogs they obeyed him. In person he was
cadaverous and blackavized, and his hair was dressed in long curls,
which at a little distance looked like black candles, and gave a
singularly threatening expression to his handsome countenance. His eyes
were of the blue of the forget-me-not, and of a profound melancholy,
save when he was plunging his hook into you, at which time two red
spots appeared in them and lit them up horribly. In manner, something
of the grand seigneur still clung to him, so that he even ripped you up
with an air, and I have been told that he was a _raconteur_ of repute.
He was never more sinister than when he was most polite, which is
probably the truest test of breeding; and the elegance of his diction,
even when he was swearing, no less than the distinction of his
demeanour, showed him one of a different cast from his crew. A man of
indomitable courage, it was said that the only thing he shied at was
the sight of his own blood, which was thick and of an unusual colour.
In dress he somewhat aped the attire associated with the name of
Charles II, having heard it said in some earlier period of his career
that he bore a strange resemblance to the ill-fated Stuarts; and in his
mouth he had a holder of his own contrivance which enabled him to smoke
two cigars at once. But undoubtedly the grimmest part of him was his
iron claw.
Let us now kill a pirate, to show Hooks method. Skylights will do. As
they pass, Skylights lurches clumsily against him, ruffling his lace
collar; the hook shoots forth, there is a tearing sound and one
screech, then the body is kicked aside, and the pirates pass on. He has
not even taken the cigars from his mouth.
Such is the terrible man against whom Peter Pan is pitted. Which will
win?
On the trail of the pirates, stealing noiselessly down the war-path,
which is not visible to inexperienced eyes, come the redskins, every
one of them with his eyes peeled. They carry tomahawks and knives, and
their naked bodies gleam with paint and oil. Strung around them are
scalps, of boys as well as of pirates, for these are the Piccaninny
tribe, and not to be confused with the softer-hearted Delawares or the
Hurons. In the van, on all fours, is Great Big Little Panther, a brave
of so many scalps that in his present position they somewhat impede his
progress. Bringing up the rear, the place of greatest danger, comes
Tiger Lily, proudly erect, a princess in her own right. She is the most
beautiful of dusky Dianas and the belle of the Piccaninnies,
coquettish, cold and amorous by turns; there is not a brave who would
not have the wayward thing to wife, but she staves off the altar with a
hatchet. Observe how they pass over fallen twigs without making the
slightest noise. The only sound to be heard is their somewhat heavy
breathing. The fact is that they are all a little fat just now after
the heavy gorging, but in time they will work this off. For the moment,
however, it constitutes their chief danger.
The redskins disappear as they have come like shadows, and soon their
place is taken by the beasts, a great and motley procession: lions,
tigers, bears, and the innumerable smaller savage things that flee from
them, for every kind of beast, and, more particularly, all the
man-eaters, live cheek by jowl on the favoured island. Their tongues
are hanging out, they are hungry to-night.
When they have passed, comes the last figure of all, a gigantic
crocodile. We shall see for whom she is looking presently.
The crocodile passes, but soon the boys appear again, for the
procession must continue indefinitely until one of the parties stops or
changes its pace. Then quickly they will be on top of each other. | 1,003 |
PG16 | 19 | All are keeping a sharp look-out in front, but none suspects that the
danger may be creeping up from behind. This shows how real the island
was.
The first to fall out of the moving circle was the boys. They flung
themselves down on the sward, close to their underground home.
I do wish Peter would come back, every one of them said nervously,
though in height and still more in breadth they were all larger than
their captain.
I am the only one who is not afraid of the pirates, Slightly said, in
the tone that prevented his being a general favourite; but perhaps some
distant sound disturbed him, for he added hastily, but I wish he would
come back, and tell us whether he has heard anything more about
Cinderella.
They talked of Cinderella, and Tootles was confident that his mother
must have been very like her.
It was only in Peters absence that they could speak of mothers, the
subject being forbidden by him as silly.
All I remember about my mother, Nibs told them, is that she often
said to my father, Oh, how I wish I had a cheque-book of my own! I
dont know what a cheque-book is, but I should just love to give my
mother one.
While they talked they heard a distant sound. You or I, not being wild
things of the woods, would have heard nothing, but they heard it, and
it was the grim song:
Yo ho, yo ho, the pirate life,
The flag o skull and bones,
A merry hour, a hempen rope,
And hey for Davy Jones.
At once the lost boysbut where are they? They are no longer there.
Rabbits could not have disappeared more quickly.
I will tell you where they are. With the exception of Nibs, who has
darted away to reconnoitre, they are already in their home under the
ground, a very delightful residence of which we shall see a good deal
presently. But how have they reached it? for there is no entrance to be
seen, not so much as a large stone, which if rolled away, would
disclose the mouth of a cave. Look closely, however, and you may note
that there are here seven large trees, each with a hole in its hollow
trunk as large as a boy. These are the seven entrances to the home
under the ground, for which Hook has been searching in vain these many
moons. Will he find it tonight?
As the pirates advanced, the quick eye of Starkey sighted Nibs
disappearing through the wood, and at once his pistol flashed out. But
an iron claw gripped his shoulder.
Captain, let go! he cried, writhing.
Now for the first time we hear the voice of Hook. It was a black voice.
Put back that pistol first, it said threateningly.
It was one of those boys you hate. I could have shot him dead.
Ay, and the sound would have brought Tiger Lilys redskins upon us. Do
you want to lose your scalp?
Shall I after him, Captain, asked pathetic Smee, and tickle him with
Johnny Corkscrew? Smee had pleasant names for everything, and his
cutlass was Johnny Corkscrew, because he wiggled it in the wound. One
could mention many lovable traits in Smee. For instance, after killing,
it was his spectacles he wiped instead of his weapon.
Johnnys a silent fellow, he reminded Hook.
Not now, Smee, Hook said darkly. He is only one, and I want to
mischief all the seven. Scatter and look for them.
The pirates disappeared among the trees, and in a moment their Captain
and Smee were alone. Hook heaved a heavy sigh, and I know not why it
was, perhaps it was because of the soft beauty of the evening, but
there came over him a desire to confide to his faithful bosun the
story of his life. He spoke long and earnestly, but what it was all
about Smee, who was rather stupid, did not know in the least.
Anon he caught the word Peter.
Most of all, Hook was saying passionately, I want their captain,
Peter Pan. Twas he cut off my arm. He brandished the hook
threateningly. Ive waited long to shake his hand with this. Oh, Ill
tear him!
And yet, said Smee, I have often heard you say that hook was worth a
score of hands, for combing the hair and other homely uses.
Ay, the captain answered, if I was a mother I would pray to have my
children born with this instead of that, and he cast a look of pride
upon his iron hand and one of scorn upon the other. Then again he
frowned. | 1,030 |
PG16 | 20 | Peter flung my arm, he said, wincing, to a crocodile that happened
to be passing by.
I have often, said Smee, noticed your strange dread of crocodiles.
Not of crocodiles, Hook corrected him, but of that one crocodile.
He lowered his voice. It liked my arm so much, Smee, that it has
followed me ever since, from sea to sea and from land to land, licking
its lips for the rest of me.
In a way, said Smee, its sort of a compliment.
I want no such compliments, Hook barked petulantly. I want Peter
Pan, who first gave the brute its taste for me.
He sat down on a large mushroom, and now there was a quiver in his
voice. Smee, he said huskily, that crocodile would have had me
before this, but by a lucky chance it swallowed a clock which goes tick
tick inside it, and so before it can reach me I hear the tick and
bolt. He laughed, but in a hollow way.
Some day, said Smee, the clock will run down, and then hell get
you.
Hook wetted his dry lips. Ay, he said, thats the fear that haunts
me.
Since sitting down he had felt curiously warm. Smee, he said, this
seat is hot. He jumped up. Odds bobs, hammer and tongs Im burning.
They examined the mushroom, which was of a size and solidity unknown on
the mainland; they tried to pull it up, and it came away at once in
their hands, for it had no root. Stranger still, smoke began at once to
ascend. The pirates looked at each other. A chimney! they both
exclaimed.
They had indeed discovered the chimney of the home under the ground. It
was the custom of the boys to stop it with a mushroom when enemies were
in the neighbourhood.
Not only smoke came out of it. There came also childrens voices, for
so safe did the boys feel in their hiding-place that they were gaily
chattering. The pirates listened grimly, and then replaced the
mushroom. They looked around them and noted the holes in the seven
trees.
Did you hear them say Peter Pans from home? Smee whispered,
fidgeting with Johnny Corkscrew.
Hook nodded. He stood for a long time lost in thought, and at last a
curdling smile lit up his swarthy face. Smee had been waiting for it.
Unrip your plan, captain, he cried eagerly.
To return to the ship, Hook replied slowly through his teeth, and
cook a large rich cake of a jolly thickness with green sugar on it.
There can be but one room below, for there is but one chimney. The
silly moles had not the sense to see that they did not need a door
apiece. That shows they have no mother. We will leave the cake on the
shore of the Mermaids Lagoon. These boys are always swimming about
there, playing with the mermaids. They will find the cake and they will
gobble it up, because, having no mother, they dont know how dangerous
tis to eat rich damp cake. He burst into laughter, not hollow
laughter now, but honest laughter. Aha, they will die.
Smee had listened with growing admiration.
Its the wickedest, prettiest policy ever I heard of! he cried, and
in their exultation they danced and sang:
Avast, belay, when I appear,
By fear theyre overtook;
Noughts left upon your bones when you
Have shaken claws with Hook.
They began the verse, but they never finished it, for another sound
broke in and stilled them. There was at first such a tiny sound that a
leaf might have fallen on it and smothered it, but as it came nearer it
was more distinct.
Tick tick tick tick!
Hook stood shuddering, one foot in the air.
The crocodile! he gasped, and bounded away, followed by his bosun.
It was indeed the crocodile. It had passed the redskins, who were now
on the trail of the other pirates. It oozed on after Hook.
Once more the boys emerged into the open; but the dangers of the night
were not yet over, for presently Nibs rushed breathless into their
midst, pursued by a pack of wolves. The tongues of the pursuers were
hanging out; the baying of them was horrible.
Save me, save me! cried Nibs, falling on the ground.
But what can we do, what can we do?
It was a high compliment to Peter that at that dire moment their
thoughts turned to him. | 1,016 |
PG16 | 22 | Chapter VI.
THE LITTLE HOUSE
Foolish Tootles was standing like a conqueror over Wendys body when
the other boys sprang, armed, from their trees.
You are too late, he cried proudly, I have shot the Wendy. Peter
will be so pleased with me.
Overhead Tinker Bell shouted Silly ass! and darted into hiding. The
others did not hear her. They had crowded round Wendy, and as they
looked a terrible silence fell upon the wood. If Wendys heart had been
beating they would all have heard it.
Slightly was the first to speak. This is no bird, he said in a scared
voice. I think this must be a lady.
A lady? said Tootles, and fell a-trembling.
And we have killed her, Nibs said hoarsely.
They all whipped off their caps.
Now I see, Curly said: Peter was bringing her to us. He threw
himself sorrowfully on the ground.
A lady to take care of us at last, said one of the twins, and you
have killed her!
They were sorry for him, but sorrier for themselves, and when he took a
step nearer them they turned from him.
Tootles face was very white, but there was a dignity about him now
that had never been there before.
I did it, he said, reflecting. When ladies used to come to me in
dreams, I said, Pretty mother, pretty mother. But when at last she
really came, I shot her.
He moved slowly away.
Dont go, they called in pity.
I must, he answered, shaking; I am so afraid of Peter.
It was at this tragic moment that they heard a sound which made the
heart of every one of them rise to his mouth. They heard Peter crow.
Peter! they cried, for it was always thus that he signalled his
return.
Hide her, they whispered, and gathered hastily around Wendy. But
Tootles stood aloof.
Again came that ringing crow, and Peter dropped in front of them.
Greetings, boys, he cried, and mechanically they saluted, and then
again was silence.
He frowned.
I am back, he said hotly, why do you not cheer?
They opened their mouths, but the cheers would not come. He overlooked
it in his haste to tell the glorious tidings.
Great news, boys, he cried, I have brought at last a mother for you
all.
Still no sound, except a little thud from Tootles as he dropped on his
knees.
Have you not seen her? asked Peter, becoming troubled. She flew this
way.
Ah me! one voice said, and another said, Oh, mournful day.
Tootles rose. Peter, he said quietly, I will show her to you, and
when the others would still have hidden her he said, Back, twins, let
Peter see.
So they all stood back, and let him see, and after he had looked for a
little time he did not know what to do next.
She is dead, he said uncomfortably. Perhaps she is frightened at
being dead.
He thought of hopping off in a comic sort of way till he was out of
sight of her, and then never going near the spot any more. They would
all have been glad to follow if he had done this.
But there was the arrow. He took it from her heart and faced his band.
Whose arrow? he demanded sternly.
Mine, Peter, said Tootles on his knees.
Oh, dastard hand, Peter said, and he raised the arrow to use it as a
dagger.
Tootles did not flinch. He bared his breast. Strike, Peter, he said
firmly, strike true.
Twice did Peter raise the arrow, and twice did his hand fall. I cannot
strike, he said with awe, there is something stays my hand.
All looked at him in wonder, save Nibs, who fortunately looked at
Wendy.
It is she, he cried, the Wendy lady, see, her arm!
Wonderful to relate, Wendy had raised her arm. Nibs bent over her and
listened reverently. I think she said, Poor Tootles, he whispered.
She lives, Peter said briefly.
Slightly cried instantly, The Wendy lady lives.
Then Peter knelt beside her and found his button. You remember she had
put it on a chain that she wore round her neck.
See, he said, the arrow struck against this. It is the kiss I gave
her. It has saved her life.
I remember kisses, Slightly interposed quickly, let me see it. Ay,
thats a kiss.
Peter did not hear him. He was begging Wendy to get better quickly, so
that he could show her the mermaids. Of course she could not answer
yet, being still in a frightful faint; but from overhead came a wailing
note. | 1,056 |
PG16 | 23 | Listen to Tink, said Curly, she is crying because the Wendy lives.
Then they had to tell Peter of Tinks crime, and almost never had they
seen him look so stern.
Listen, Tinker Bell, he cried, I am your friend no more. Begone from
me for ever.
She flew on to his shoulder and pleaded, but he brushed her off. Not
until Wendy again raised her arm did he relent sufficiently to say,
Well, not for ever, but for a whole week.
Do you think Tinker Bell was grateful to Wendy for raising her arm? Oh
dear no, never wanted to pinch her so much. Fairies indeed are strange,
and Peter, who understood them best, often cuffed them.
But what to do with Wendy in her present delicate state of health?
Let us carry her down into the house, Curly suggested.
Ay, said Slightly, that is what one does with ladies.
No, no, Peter said, you must not touch her. It would not be
sufficiently respectful.
That, said Slightly, is what I was thinking.
But if she lies there, Tootles said, she will die.
Ay, she will die, Slightly admitted, but there is no way out.
Yes, there is, cried Peter. Let us build a little house round her.
They were all delighted. Quick, he ordered them, bring me each of
you the best of what we have. Gut our house. Be sharp.
In a moment they were as busy as tailors the night before a wedding.
They skurried this way and that, down for bedding, up for firewood, and
while they were at it, who should appear but John and Michael. As they
dragged along the ground they fell asleep standing, stopped, woke up,
moved another step and slept again.
John, John, Michael would cry, wake up! Where is Nana, John, and
mother?
And then John would rub his eyes and mutter, It is true, we did fly.
You may be sure they were very relieved to find Peter.
Hullo, Peter, they said.
Hullo, replied Peter amicably, though he had quite forgotten them. He
was very busy at the moment measuring Wendy with his feet to see how
large a house she would need. Of course he meant to leave room for
chairs and a table. John and Michael watched him.
Is Wendy asleep? they asked.
Yes.
John, Michael proposed, let us wake her and get her to make supper
for us, but as he said it some of the other boys rushed on carrying
branches for the building of the house. Look at them! he cried.
Curly, said Peter in his most captainy voice, see that these boys
help in the building of the house.
Ay, ay, sir.
Build a house? exclaimed John.
For the Wendy, said Curly.
For Wendy? John said, aghast. Why, she is only a girl!
That, explained Curly, is why we are her servants.
You? Wendys servants!
Yes, said Peter, and you also. Away with them.
The astounded brothers were dragged away to hack and hew and carry.
Chairs and a fender first, Peter ordered. Then we shall build a
house round them.
Ay, said Slightly, that is how a house is built; it all comes back
to me.
Peter thought of everything. Slightly, he cried, fetch a doctor.
Ay, ay, said Slightly at once, and disappeared, scratching his head.
But he knew Peter must be obeyed, and he returned in a moment, wearing
Johns hat and looking solemn.
Please, sir, said Peter, going to him, are you a doctor?
The difference between him and the other boys at such a time was that
they knew it was make-believe, while to him make-believe and true were
exactly the same thing. This sometimes troubled them, as when they had
to make-believe that they had had their dinners.
If they broke down in their make-believe he rapped them on the
knuckles.
Yes, my little man, Slightly anxiously replied, who had chapped
knuckles.
Please, sir, Peter explained, a lady lies very ill.
She was lying at their feet, but Slightly had the sense not to see her.
Tut, tut, tut, he said, where does she lie?
In yonder glade.
I will put a glass thing in her mouth, said Slightly, and he
made-believe to do it, while Peter waited. It was an anxious moment
when the glass thing was withdrawn.
How is she? inquired Peter.
Tut, tut, tut, said Slightly, this has cured her.
I am glad! Peter cried.
I will call again in the evening, Slightly said; give her beef tea
out of a cup with a spout to it; but after he had returned the hat to
John he blew big breaths, which was his habit on escaping from a
difficulty. | 1,069 |
PG16 | 24 | In the meantime the wood had been alive with the sound of axes; almost
everything needed for a cosy dwelling already lay at Wendys feet.
If only we knew, said one, the kind of house she likes best.
Peter, shouted another, she is moving in her sleep.
Her mouth opens, cried a third, looking respectfully into it. Oh,
lovely!
Perhaps she is going to sing in her sleep, said Peter. Wendy, sing
the kind of house you would like to have.
Immediately, without opening her eyes, Wendy began to sing:
I wish I had a pretty house,
The littlest ever seen,
With funny little red walls
And roof of mossy green.
They gurgled with joy at this, for by the greatest good luck the
branches they had brought were sticky with red sap, and all the ground
was carpeted with moss. As they rattled up the little house they broke
into song themselves:
Weve built the little walls and roof
And made a lovely door,
So tell us, mother Wendy,
What are you wanting more?
To this she answered greedily:
Oh, really next I think Ill have
Gay windows all about,
With roses peeping in, you know,
And babies peeping out.
With a blow of their fists they made windows, and large yellow leaves
were the blinds. But roses?
Roses, cried Peter sternly.
Quickly they made-believe to grow the loveliest roses up the walls.
Babies?
To prevent Peter ordering babies they hurried into song again:
Weve made the roses peeping out,
The babes are at the door,
We cannot make ourselves, you know,
Cos weve been made before.
Peter, seeing this to be a good idea, at once pretended that it was his
own. The house was quite beautiful, and no doubt Wendy was very cosy
within, though, of course, they could no longer see her. Peter strode
up and down, ordering finishing touches. Nothing escaped his eagle
eyes. Just when it seemed absolutely finished:
Theres no knocker on the door, he said.
They were very ashamed, but Tootles gave the sole of his shoe, and it
made an excellent knocker.
Absolutely finished now, they thought.
Not of bit of it. Theres no chimney, Peter said; we must have a
chimney.
It certainly does need a chimney, said John importantly. This gave
Peter an idea. He snatched the hat off Johns head, knocked out the
bottom, and put the hat on the roof. The little house was so pleased to
have such a capital chimney that, as if to say thank you, smoke
immediately began to come out of the hat.
Now really and truly it was finished. Nothing remained to do but to
knock.
All look your best, Peter warned them; first impressions are awfully
important.
He was glad no one asked him what first impressions are; they were all
too busy looking their best.
He knocked politely, and now the wood was as still as the children, not
a sound to be heard except from Tinker Bell, who was watching from a
branch and openly sneering.
What the boys were wondering was, would any one answer the knock? If a
lady, what would she be like?
The door opened and a lady came out. It was Wendy. They all whipped off
their hats.
She looked properly surprised, and this was just how they had hoped she
would look.
Where am I? she said.
Of course Slightly was the first to get his word in. Wendy lady, he
said rapidly, for you we built this house.
Oh, say youre pleased, cried Nibs.
Lovely, darling house, Wendy said, and they were the very words they
had hoped she would say.
And we are your children, cried the twins.
Then all went on their knees, and holding out their arms cried, O
Wendy lady, be our mother.
Ought I? Wendy said, all shining. Of course its frightfully
fascinating, but you see I am only a little girl. I have no real
experience.
That doesnt matter, said Peter, as if he were the only person
present who knew all about it, though he was really the one who knew
least. What we need is just a nice motherly person.
Oh dear! Wendy said, you see, I feel that is exactly what I am.
It is, it is, they all cried; we saw it at once.
Very well, she said, I will do my best. Come inside at once, you
naughty children; I am sure your feet are damp. And before I put you to
bed I have just time to finish the story of Cinderella. | 1,005 |
PG16 | 26 | Chapter VII.
THE HOME UNDER THE GROUND
One of the first things Peter did next day was to measure Wendy and
John and Michael for hollow trees. Hook, you remember, had sneered at
the boys for thinking they needed a tree apiece, but this was
ignorance, for unless your tree fitted you it was difficult to go up
and down, and no two of the boys were quite the same size. Once you
fitted, you drew in your breath at the top, and down you went at
exactly the right speed, while to ascend you drew in and let out
alternately, and so wriggled up. Of course, when you have mastered the
action you are able to do these things without thinking of them, and
nothing can be more graceful.
But you simply must fit, and Peter measures you for your tree as
carefully as for a suit of clothes: the only difference being that the
clothes are made to fit you, while you have to be made to fit the tree.
Usually it is done quite easily, as by your wearing too many garments
or too few, but if you are bumpy in awkward places or the only
available tree is an odd shape, Peter does some things to you, and
after that you fit. Once you fit, great care must be taken to go on
fitting, and this, as Wendy was to discover to her delight, keeps a
whole family in perfect condition.
Wendy and Michael fitted their trees at the first try, but John had to
be altered a little.
After a few days practice they could go up and down as gaily as
buckets in a well. And how ardently they grew to love their home under
the ground; especially Wendy. It consisted of one large room, as all
houses should do, with a floor in which you could dig if you wanted to
go fishing, and in this floor grew stout mushrooms of a charming
colour, which were used as stools. A Never tree tried hard to grow in
the centre of the room, but every morning they sawed the trunk through,
level with the floor. By tea-time it was always about two feet high,
and then they put a door on top of it, the whole thus becoming a table;
as soon as they cleared away, they sawed off the trunk again, and thus
there was more room to play. There was an enormous fireplace which was
in almost any part of the room where you cared to light it, and across
this Wendy stretched strings, made of fibre, from which she suspended
her washing. The bed was tilted against the wall by day, and let down
at 6:30, when it filled nearly half the room; and all the boys slept in
it, except Michael, lying like sardines in a tin. There was a strict
rule against turning round until one gave the signal, when all turned
at once. Michael should have used it also, but Wendy would have a baby,
and he was the littlest, and you know what women are, and the short and
long of it is that he was hung up in a basket.
It was rough and simple, and not unlike what baby bears would have made
of an underground house in the same circumstances. But there was one
recess in the wall, no larger than a bird-cage, which was the private
apartment of Tinker Bell. It could be shut off from the rest of the
house by a tiny curtain, which Tink, who was most fastidious, always
kept drawn when dressing or undressing. No woman, however large, could
have had a more exquisite boudoir and bed-chamber combined. The couch,
as she always called it, was a genuine Queen Mab, with club legs; and
she varied the bedspreads according to what fruit-blossom was in
season. Her mirror was a Puss-in-Boots, of which there are now only
three, unchipped, known to fairy dealers; the washstand was Pie-crust
and reversible, the chest of drawers an authentic Charming the Sixth,
and the carpet and rugs the best (the early) period of Margery and
Robin. There was a chandelier from Tiddlywinks for the look of the
thing, but of course she lit the residence herself. Tink was very
contemptuous of the rest of the house, as indeed was perhaps
inevitable, and her chamber, though beautiful, looked rather conceited,
having the appearance of a nose permanently turned up.
I suppose it was all especially entrancing to Wendy, because those
rampagious boys of hers gave her so much to do. Really there were whole
weeks when, except perhaps with a stocking in the evening, she was
never above ground. The cooking, I can tell you, kept her nose to the
pot, and even if there was nothing in it, even if there was no pot, she
had to keep watching that it came aboil just the same. You never
exactly knew whether there would be a real meal or just a make-believe,
it all depended upon Peters whim: he could eat, really eat, if it was
part of a game, but he could not stodge just to feel stodgy, which is
what most children like better than anything else; the next best thing
being to talk about it. Make-believe was so real to him that during a
meal of it you could see him getting rounder. Of course it was trying,
but you simply had to follow his lead, and if you could prove to him
that you were getting loose for your tree he let you stodge. | 1,197 |
PG16 | 27 | Wendys favourite time for sewing and darning was after they had all
gone to bed. Then, as she expressed it, she had a breathing time for
herself; and she occupied it in making new things for them, and putting
double pieces on the knees, for they were all most frightfully hard on
their knees.
When she sat down to a basketful of their stockings, every heel with a
hole in it, she would fling up her arms and exclaim, Oh dear, I am
sure I sometimes think spinsters are to be envied!
Her face beamed when she exclaimed this.
You remember about her pet wolf. Well, it very soon discovered that she
had come to the island and it found her out, and they just ran into
each others arms. After that it followed her about everywhere.
As time wore on did she think much about the beloved parents she had
left behind her? This is a difficult question, because it is quite
impossible to say how time does wear on in the Neverland, where it is
calculated by moons and suns, and there are ever so many more of them
than on the mainland. But I am afraid that Wendy did not really worry
about her father and mother; she was absolutely confident that they
would always keep the window open for her to fly back by, and this gave
her complete ease of mind. What did disturb her at times was that John
remembered his parents vaguely only, as people he had once known, while
Michael was quite willing to believe that she was really his mother.
These things scared her a little, and nobly anxious to do her duty, she
tried to fix the old life in their minds by setting them examination
papers on it, as like as possible to the ones she used to do at school.
The other boys thought this awfully interesting, and insisted on
joining, and they made slates for themselves, and sat round the table,
writing and thinking hard about the questions she had written on
another slate and passed round. They were the most ordinary
questionsWhat was the colour of Mothers eyes? Which was taller,
Father or Mother? Was Mother blonde or brunette? Answer all three
questions if possible. (A) Write an essay of not less than 40 words
on How I spent my last Holidays, or The Characters of Father and Mother
compared. Only one of these to be attempted. Or (1) Describe Mothers
laugh; (2) Describe Fathers laugh; (3) Describe Mothers Party Dress;
(4) Describe the Kennel and its Inmate.
They were just everyday questions like these, and when you could not
answer them you were told to make a cross; and it was really dreadful
what a number of crosses even John made. Of course the only boy who
replied to every question was Slightly, and no one could have been more
hopeful of coming out first, but his answers were perfectly ridiculous,
and he really came out last: a melancholy thing.
Peter did not compete. For one thing he despised all mothers except
Wendy, and for another he was the only boy on the island who could
neither write nor spell; not the smallest word. He was above all that
sort of thing.
By the way, the questions were all written in the past tense. What was
the colour of Mothers eyes, and so on. Wendy, you see, had been
forgetting, too.
Adventures, of course, as we shall see, were of daily occurrence; but
about this time Peter invented, with Wendys help, a new game that
fascinated him enormously, until he suddenly had no more interest in
it, which, as you have been told, was what always happened with his
games. It consisted in pretending not to have adventures, in doing the
sort of thing John and Michael had been doing all their lives, sitting
on stools flinging balls in the air, pushing each other, going out for
walks and coming back without having killed so much as a grizzly. To
see Peter doing nothing on a stool was a great sight; he could not help
looking solemn at such times, to sit still seemed to him such a comic
thing to do. He boasted that he had gone walking for the good of his
health. For several suns these were the most novel of all adventures to
him; and John and Michael had to pretend to be delighted also;
otherwise he would have treated them severely. | 948 |
PG16 | 28 | He often went out alone, and when he came back you were never
absolutely certain whether he had had an adventure or not. He might
have forgotten it so completely that he said nothing about it; and then
when you went out you found the body; and, on the other hand, he might
say a great deal about it, and yet you could not find the body.
Sometimes he came home with his head bandaged, and then Wendy cooed
over him and bathed it in lukewarm water, while he told a dazzling
tale. But she was never quite sure, you know. There were, however, many
adventures which she knew to be true because she was in them herself,
and there were still more that were at least partly true, for the other
boys were in them and said they were wholly true. To describe them all
would require a book as large as an English-Latin, Latin-English
Dictionary, and the most we can do is to give one as a specimen of an
average hour on the island. The difficulty is which one to choose.
Should we take the brush with the redskins at Slightly Gulch? It was a
sanguinary affair, and especially interesting as showing one of Peters
peculiarities, which was that in the middle of a fight he would
suddenly change sides. At the Gulch, when victory was still in the
balance, sometimes leaning this way and sometimes that, he called out,
Im redskin to-day; what are you, Tootles? And Tootles answered,
Redskin; what are you, Nibs? and Nibs said, Redskin; what are you
Twin? and so on; and they were all redskins; and of course this would
have ended the fight had not the real redskins fascinated by Peters
methods, agreed to be lost boys for that once, and so at it they all
went again, more fiercely than ever.
The extraordinary upshot of this adventure wasbut we have not decided
yet that this is the adventure we are to narrate. Perhaps a better one
would be the night attack by the redskins on the house under the
ground, when several of them stuck in the hollow trees and had to be
pulled out like corks. Or we might tell how Peter saved Tiger Lilys
life in the Mermaids Lagoon, and so made her his ally.
Or we could tell of that cake the pirates cooked so that the boys might
eat it and perish; and how they placed it in one cunning spot after
another; but always Wendy snatched it from the hands of her children,
so that in time it lost its succulence, and became as hard as a stone,
and was used as a missile, and Hook fell over it in the dark.
Or suppose we tell of the birds that were Peters friends, particularly
of the Never bird that built in a tree overhanging the lagoon, and how
the nest fell into the water, and still the bird sat on her eggs, and
Peter gave orders that she was not to be disturbed. That is a pretty
story, and the end shows how grateful a bird can be; but if we tell it
we must also tell the whole adventure of the lagoon, which would of
course be telling two adventures rather than just one. A shorter
adventure, and quite as exciting, was Tinker Bells attempt, with the
help of some street fairies, to have the sleeping Wendy conveyed on a
great floating leaf to the mainland. Fortunately the leaf gave way and
Wendy woke, thinking it was bath-time, and swam back. Or again, we
might choose Peters defiance of the lions, when he drew a circle round
him on the ground with an arrow and dared them to cross it; and though
he waited for hours, with the other boys and Wendy looking on
breathlessly from trees, not one of them dared to accept his challenge.
Which of these adventures shall we choose? The best way will be to toss
for it.
I have tossed, and the lagoon has won. This almost makes one wish that
the gulch or the cake or Tinks leaf had won. Of course I could do it
again, and make it best out of three; however, perhaps fairest to stick
to the lagoon. | 915 |
PG16 | 29 | Chapter VIII.
THE MERMAIDS LAGOON
If you shut your eyes and are a lucky one, you may see at times a
shapeless pool of lovely pale colours suspended in the darkness; then
if you squeeze your eyes tighter, the pool begins to take shape, and
the colours become so vivid that with another squeeze they must go on
fire. But just before they go on fire you see the lagoon. This is the
nearest you ever get to it on the mainland, just one heavenly moment;
if there could be two moments you might see the surf and hear the
mermaids singing.
The children often spent long summer days on this lagoon, swimming or
floating most of the time, playing the mermaid games in the water, and
so forth. You must not think from this that the mermaids were on
friendly terms with them: on the contrary, it was among Wendys lasting
regrets that all the time she was on the island she never had a civil
word from one of them. When she stole softly to the edge of the lagoon
she might see them by the score, especially on Marooners Rock, where
they loved to bask, combing out their hair in a lazy way that quite
irritated her; or she might even swim, on tiptoe as it were, to within
a yard of them, but then they saw her and dived, probably splashing her
with their tails, not by accident, but intentionally.
They treated all the boys in the same way, except of course Peter, who
chatted with them on Marooners Rock by the hour, and sat on their
tails when they got cheeky. He gave Wendy one of their combs.
The most haunting time at which to see them is at the turn of the moon,
when they utter strange wailing cries; but the lagoon is dangerous for
mortals then, and until the evening of which we have now to tell, Wendy
had never seen the lagoon by moonlight, less from fear, for of course
Peter would have accompanied her, than because she had strict rules
about every one being in bed by seven. She was often at the lagoon,
however, on sunny days after rain, when the mermaids come up in
extraordinary numbers to play with their bubbles. The bubbles of many
colours made in rainbow water they treat as balls, hitting them gaily
from one to another with their tails, and trying to keep them in the
rainbow till they burst. The goals are at each end of the rainbow, and
the keepers only are allowed to use their hands. Sometimes a dozen of
these games will be going on in the lagoon at a time, and it is quite a
pretty sight.
But the moment the children tried to join in they had to play by
themselves, for the mermaids immediately disappeared. Nevertheless we
have proof that they secretly watched the interlopers, and were not
above taking an idea from them; for John introduced a new way of
hitting the bubble, with the head instead of the hand, and the mermaids
adopted it. This is the one mark that John has left on the Neverland.
It must also have been rather pretty to see the children resting on a
rock for half an hour after their mid-day meal. Wendy insisted on their
doing this, and it had to be a real rest even though the meal was
make-believe. So they lay there in the sun, and their bodies glistened
in it, while she sat beside them and looked important.
It was one such day, and they were all on Marooners Rock. The rock was
not much larger than their great bed, but of course they all knew how
not to take up much room, and they were dozing, or at least lying with
their eyes shut, and pinching occasionally when they thought Wendy was
not looking. She was very busy, stitching.
While she stitched a change came to the lagoon. Little shivers ran over
it, and the sun went away and shadows stole across the water, turning
it cold. Wendy could no longer see to thread her needle, and when she
looked up, the lagoon that had always hitherto been such a laughing
place seemed formidable and unfriendly.
It was not, she knew, that night had come, but something as dark as
night had come. No, worse than that. It had not come, but it had sent
that shiver through the sea to say that it was coming. What was it? | 964 |
PG16 | 30 | There crowded upon her all the stories she had been told of Marooners
Rock, so called because evil captains put sailors on it and leave them
there to drown. They drown when the tide rises, for then it is
submerged.
Of course she should have roused the children at once; not merely
because of the unknown that was stalking toward them, but because it
was no longer good for them to sleep on a rock grown chilly. But she
was a young mother and she did not know this; she thought you simply
must stick to your rule about half an hour after the mid-day meal. So,
though fear was upon her, and she longed to hear male voices, she would
not waken them. Even when she heard the sound of muffled oars, though
her heart was in her mouth, she did not waken them. She stood over them
to let them have their sleep out. Was it not brave of Wendy?
It was well for those boys then that there was one among them who could
sniff danger even in his sleep. Peter sprang erect, as wide awake at
once as a dog, and with one warning cry he roused the others.
He stood motionless, one hand to his ear.
Pirates! he cried. The others came closer to him. A strange smile was
playing about his face, and Wendy saw it and shuddered. While that
smile was on his face no one dared address him; all they could do was
to stand ready to obey. The order came sharp and incisive.
Dive!
There was a gleam of legs, and instantly the lagoon seemed deserted.
Marooners Rock stood alone in the forbidding waters as if it were
itself marooned.
The boat drew nearer. It was the pirate dinghy, with three figures in
her, Smee and Starkey, and the third a captive, no other than Tiger
Lily. Her hands and ankles were tied, and she knew what was to be her
fate. She was to be left on the rock to perish, an end to one of her
race more terrible than death by fire or torture, for is it not written
in the book of the tribe that there is no path through water to the
happy hunting-ground? Yet her face was impassive; she was the daughter
of a chief, she must die as a chiefs daughter, it is enough.
They had caught her boarding the pirate ship with a knife in her mouth.
No watch was kept on the ship, it being Hooks boast that the wind of
his name guarded the ship for a mile around. Now her fate would help to
guard it also. One more wail would go the round in that wind by night.
In the gloom that they brought with them the two pirates did not see
the rock till they crashed into it.
Luff, you lubber, cried an Irish voice that was Smees; heres the
rock. Now, then, what we have to do is to hoist the redskin on to it
and leave her here to drown.
It was the work of one brutal moment to land the beautiful girl on the
rock; she was too proud to offer a vain resistance.
Quite near the rock, but out of sight, two heads were bobbing up and
down, Peters and Wendys. Wendy was crying, for it was the first
tragedy she had seen. Peter had seen many tragedies, but he had
forgotten them all. He was less sorry than Wendy for Tiger Lily: it was
two against one that angered him, and he meant to save her. An easy way
would have been to wait until the pirates had gone, but he was never
one to choose the easy way.
There was almost nothing he could not do, and he now imitated the voice
of Hook.
Ahoy there, you lubbers! he called. It was a marvellous imitation.
The captain! said the pirates, staring at each other in surprise.
He must be swimming out to us, Starkey said, when they had looked for
him in vain.
We are putting the redskin on the rock, Smee called out.
Set her free, came the astonishing answer.
Free!
Yes, cut her bonds and let her go.
But, captain
At once, dye hear, cried Peter, or Ill plunge my hook in you.
This is queer! Smee gasped.
Better do what the captain orders, said Starkey nervously.
Ay, ay, Smee said, and he cut Tiger Lilys cords. At once like an eel
she slid between Starkeys legs into the water. | 977 |
PG16 | 31 | Of course Wendy was very elated over Peters cleverness; but she knew
that he would be elated also and very likely crow and thus betray
himself, so at once her hand went out to cover his mouth. But it was
stayed even in the act, for Boat ahoy! rang over the lagoon in Hooks
voice, and this time it was not Peter who had spoken.
Peter may have been about to crow, but his face puckered in a whistle
of surprise instead.
Boat ahoy! again came the voice.
Now Wendy understood. The real Hook was also in the water.
He was swimming to the boat, and as his men showed a light to guide him
he had soon reached them. In the light of the lantern Wendy saw his
hook grip the boats side; she saw his evil swarthy face as he rose
dripping from the water, and, quaking, she would have liked to swim
away, but Peter would not budge. He was tingling with life and also
top-heavy with conceit. Am I not a wonder, oh, I am a wonder! he
whispered to her, and though she thought so also, she was really glad
for the sake of his reputation that no one heard him except herself.
He signed to her to listen.
The two pirates were very curious to know what had brought their
captain to them, but he sat with his head on his hook in a position of
profound melancholy.
Captain, is all well? they asked timidly, but he answered with a
hollow moan.
He sighs, said Smee.
He sighs again, said Starkey.
And yet a third time he sighs, said Smee.
Then at last he spoke passionately.
The games up, he cried, those boys have found a mother.
Affrighted though she was, Wendy swelled with pride.
O evil day! cried Starkey.
Whats a mother? asked the ignorant Smee.
Wendy was so shocked that she exclaimed. He doesnt know! and always
after this she felt that if you could have a pet pirate Smee would be
her one.
Peter pulled her beneath the water, for Hook had started up, crying,
What was that?
I heard nothing, said Starkey, raising the lantern over the waters,
and as the pirates looked they saw a strange sight. It was the nest I
have told you of, floating on the lagoon, and the Never bird was
sitting on it.
See, said Hook in answer to Smees question, that is a mother. What
a lesson! The nest must have fallen into the water, but would the
mother desert her eggs? No.
There was a break in his voice, as if for a moment he recalled innocent
days whenbut he brushed away this weakness with his hook.
Smee, much impressed, gazed at the bird as the nest was borne past, but
the more suspicious Starkey said, If she is a mother, perhaps she is
hanging about here to help Peter.
Hook winced. Ay, he said, that is the fear that haunts me.
He was roused from this dejection by Smees eager voice.
Captain, said Smee, could we not kidnap these boys mother and make
her our mother?
It is a princely scheme, cried Hook, and at once it took practical
shape in his great brain. We will seize the children and carry them to
the boat: the boys we will make walk the plank, and Wendy shall be our
mother.
Again Wendy forgot herself.
Never! she cried, and bobbed.
What was that?
But they could see nothing. They thought it must have been a leaf in
the wind. Do you agree, my bullies? asked Hook.
There is my hand on it, they both said.
And there is my hook. Swear.
They all swore. By this time they were on the rock, and suddenly Hook
remembered Tiger Lily.
Where is the redskin? he demanded abruptly.
He had a playful humour at moments, and they thought this was one of
the moments.
That is all right, captain, Smee answered complacently; we let her
go.
Let her go! cried Hook.
Twas your own orders, the bosun faltered.
You called over the water to us to let her go, said Starkey.
Brimstone and gall, thundered Hook, what cozening is going on here!
His face had gone black with rage, but he saw that they believed their
words, and he was startled. Lads, he said, shaking a little, I gave
no such order.
It is passing queer, Smee said, and they all fidgeted uncomfortably.
Hook raised his voice, but there was a quiver in it. | 1,015 |
PG16 | 32 | Spirit that haunts this dark lagoon to-night, he cried, dost hear
me?
Of course Peter should have kept quiet, but of course he did not. He
immediately answered in Hooks voice:
Odds, bobs, hammer and tongs, I hear you.
In that supreme moment Hook did not blanch, even at the gills, but Smee
and Starkey clung to each other in terror.
Who are you, stranger? Speak! Hook demanded.
I am James Hook, replied the voice, captain of the _Jolly Roger_.
You are not; you are not, Hook cried hoarsely.
Brimstone and gall, the voice retorted, say that again, and Ill
cast anchor in you.
Hook tried a more ingratiating manner. If you are Hook, he said
almost humbly, come tell me, who am I?
A codfish, replied the voice, only a codfish.
A codfish! Hook echoed blankly, and it was then, but not till then,
that his proud spirit broke. He saw his men draw back from him.
Have we been captained all this time by a codfish! they muttered. It
is lowering to our pride.
They were his dogs snapping at him, but, tragic figure though he had
become, he scarcely heeded them. Against such fearful evidence it was
not their belief in him that he needed, it was his own. He felt his ego
slipping from him. Dont desert me, bully, he whispered hoarsely to
it.
In his dark nature there was a touch of the feminine, as in all the
great pirates, and it sometimes gave him intuitions. Suddenly he tried
the guessing game.
Hook, he called, have you another voice?
Now Peter could never resist a game, and he answered blithely in his
own voice, I have.
And another name?
Ay, ay.
Vegetable? asked Hook.
No.
Mineral?
No.
Animal?
Yes.
Man?
No! This answer rang out scornfully.
Boy?
Yes.
Ordinary boy?
No!
Wonderful boy?
To Wendys pain the answer that rang out this time was Yes.
Are you in England?
No.
Are you here?
Yes.
Hook was completely puzzled. You ask him some questions, he said to
the others, wiping his damp brow.
Smee reflected. I cant think of a thing, he said regretfully.
Cant guess, cant guess! crowed Peter. Do you give it up?
Of course in his pride he was carrying the game too far, and the
miscreants saw their chance.
Yes, yes, they answered eagerly.
Well, then, he cried, I am Peter Pan.
Pan!
In a moment Hook was himself again, and Smee and Starkey were his
faithful henchmen.
Now we have him, Hook shouted. Into the water, Smee. Starkey, mind
the boat. Take him dead or alive!
He leaped as he spoke, and simultaneously came the gay voice of Peter.
Are you ready, boys?
Ay, ay, from various parts of the lagoon.
Then lam into the pirates.
The fight was short and sharp. First to draw blood was John, who
gallantly climbed into the boat and held Starkey. There was fierce
struggle, in which the cutlass was torn from the pirates grasp. He
wriggled overboard and John leapt after him. The dinghy drifted away.
Here and there a head bobbed up in the water, and there was a flash of
steel followed by a cry or a whoop. In the confusion some struck at
their own side. The corkscrew of Smee got Tootles in the fourth rib,
but he was himself pinked in turn by Curly. Farther from the rock
Starkey was pressing Slightly and the twins hard.
Where all this time was Peter? He was seeking bigger game.
The others were all brave boys, and they must not be blamed for backing
from the pirate captain. His iron claw made a circle of dead water
round him, from which they fled like affrighted fishes.
But there was one who did not fear him: there was one prepared to enter
that circle.
Strangely, it was not in the water that they met. Hook rose to the rock
to breathe, and at the same moment Peter scaled it on the opposite
side. The rock was slippery as a ball, and they had to crawl rather
than climb. Neither knew that the other was coming. Each feeling for a
grip met the others arm: in surprise they raised their heads; their
faces were almost touching; so they met.
Some of the greatest heroes have confessed that just before they fell
to they had a sinking. Had it been so with Peter at that moment I would
admit it. After all, he was the only man that the Sea-Cook had feared.
But Peter had no sinking, he had one feeling only, gladness; and he
gnashed his pretty teeth with joy. Quick as thought he snatched a knife
from Hooks belt and was about to drive it home, when he saw that he
was higher up the rock than his foe. It would not have been fighting
fair. He gave the pirate a hand to help him up. | 1,123 |
PG16 | 33 | It was then that Hook bit him.
Not the pain of this but its unfairness was what dazed Peter. It made
him quite helpless. He could only stare, horrified. Every child is
affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly. All he thinks he
has a right to when he comes to you to be yours is fairness. After you
have been unfair to him he will love you again, but will never
afterwards be quite the same boy. No one ever gets over the first
unfairness; no one except Peter. He often met it, but he always forgot
it. I suppose that was the real difference between him and all the
rest.
So when he met it now it was like the first time; and he could just
stare, helpless. Twice the iron hand clawed him.
A few moments afterwards the other boys saw Hook in the water striking
wildly for the ship; no elation on the pestilent face now, only white
fear, for the crocodile was in dogged pursuit of him. On ordinary
occasions the boys would have swum alongside cheering; but now they
were uneasy, for they had lost both Peter and Wendy, and were scouring
the lagoon for them, calling them by name. They found the dinghy and
went home in it, shouting Peter, Wendy as they went, but no answer
came save mocking laughter from the mermaids. They must be swimming
back or flying, the boys concluded. They were not very anxious,
because they had such faith in Peter. They chuckled, boylike, because
they would be late for bed; and it was all mother Wendys fault!
When their voices died away there came cold silence over the lagoon,
and then a feeble cry.
Help, help!
Two small figures were beating against the rock; the girl had fainted
and lay on the boys arm. With a last effort Peter pulled her up the
rock and then lay down beside her. Even as he also fainted he saw that
the water was rising. He knew that they would soon be drowned, but he
could do no more.
As they lay side by side a mermaid caught Wendy by the feet, and began
pulling her softly into the water. Peter, feeling her slip from him,
woke with a start, and was just in time to draw her back. But he had to
tell her the truth.
We are on the rock, Wendy, he said, but it is growing smaller. Soon
the water will be over it.
She did not understand even now.
We must go, she said, almost brightly.
Yes, he answered faintly.
Shall we swim or fly, Peter?
He had to tell her.
Do you think you could swim or fly as far as the island, Wendy,
without my help?
She had to admit that she was too tired.
He moaned.
What is it? she asked, anxious about him at once.
I cant help you, Wendy. Hook wounded me. I can neither fly nor swim.
Do you mean we shall both be drowned?
Look how the water is rising.
They put their hands over their eyes to shut out the sight. They
thought they would soon be no more. As they sat thus something brushed
against Peter as light as a kiss, and stayed there, as if saying
timidly, Can I be of any use?
It was the tail of a kite, which Michael had made some days before. It
had torn itself out of his hand and floated away.
Michaels kite, Peter said without interest, but next moment he had
seized the tail, and was pulling the kite toward him.
It lifted Michael off the ground, he cried; why should it not carry
you?
Both of us!
It cant lift two; Michael and Curly tried.
Let us draw lots, Wendy said bravely.
And you a lady; never. Already he had tied the tail round her. She
clung to him; she refused to go without him; but with a Good-bye,
Wendy, he pushed her from the rock; and in a few minutes she was borne
out of his sight. Peter was alone on the lagoon.
The rock was very small now; soon it would be submerged. Pale rays of
light tiptoed across the waters; and by and by there was to be heard a
sound at once the most musical and the most melancholy in the world:
the mermaids calling to the moon.
Peter was not quite like other boys; but he was afraid at last. A
tremour ran through him, like a shudder passing over the sea; but on
the sea one shudder follows another till there are hundreds of them,
and Peter felt just the one. Next moment he was standing erect on the
rock again, with that smile on his face and a drum beating within him.
It was saying, To die will be an awfully big adventure. | 1,035 |
PG16 | 35 | Chapter IX.
THE NEVER BIRD
The last sound Peter heard before he was quite alone were the mermaids
retiring one by one to their bedchambers under the sea. He was too far
away to hear their doors shut; but every door in the coral caves where
they live rings a tiny bell when it opens or closes (as in all the
nicest houses on the mainland), and he heard the bells.
Steadily the waters rose till they were nibbling at his feet; and to
pass the time until they made their final gulp, he watched the only
thing on the lagoon. He thought it was a piece of floating paper,
perhaps part of the kite, and wondered idly how long it would take to
drift ashore.
Presently he noticed as an odd thing that it was undoubtedly out upon
the lagoon with some definite purpose, for it was fighting the tide,
and sometimes winning; and when it won, Peter, always sympathetic to
the weaker side, could not help clapping; it was such a gallant piece
of paper.
It was not really a piece of paper; it was the Never bird, making
desperate efforts to reach Peter on the nest. By working her wings, in
a way she had learned since the nest fell into the water, she was able
to some extent to guide her strange craft, but by the time Peter
recognised her she was very exhausted. She had come to save him, to
give him her nest, though there were eggs in it. I rather wonder at the
bird, for though he had been nice to her, he had also sometimes
tormented her. I can suppose only that, like Mrs. Darling and the rest
of them, she was melted because he had all his first teeth.
She called out to him what she had come for, and he called out to her
what she was doing there; but of course neither of them understood the
others language. In fanciful stories people can talk to the birds
freely, and I wish for the moment I could pretend that this were such a
story, and say that Peter replied intelligently to the Never bird; but
truth is best, and I want to tell you only what really happened. Well,
not only could they not understand each other, but they forgot their
manners.
Iwantyoutogetintothenest, the bird called, speaking as slowly
and distinctly as possible, andthenyoucandriftashore,
butIamtootiredtobringitanynearersoyoumusttry
toswimtoit.
What are you quacking about? Peter answered. Why dont you let the
nest drift as usual?
Iwantyou the bird said, and repeated it all over.
Then Peter tried slow and distinct.
Whatareyouquackingabout? and so on.
The Never bird became irritated; they have very short tempers.
You dunderheaded little jay! she screamed, Why dont you do as I
tell you?
Peter felt that she was calling him names, and at a venture he retorted
hotly:
So are you!
Then rather curiously they both snapped out the same remark:
Shut up!
Shut up!
Nevertheless the bird was determined to save him if she could, and by
one last mighty effort she propelled the nest against the rock. Then up
she flew; deserting her eggs, so as to make her meaning clear.
Then at last he understood, and clutched the nest and waved his thanks
to the bird as she fluttered overhead. It was not to receive his
thanks, however, that she hung there in the sky; it was not even to
watch him get into the nest; it was to see what he did with her eggs.
There were two large white eggs, and Peter lifted them up and
reflected. The bird covered her face with her wings, so as not to see
the last of them; but she could not help peeping between the feathers.
I forget whether I have told you that there was a stave on the rock,
driven into it by some buccaneers of long ago to mark the site of
buried treasure. The children had discovered the glittering hoard, and
when in a mischievous mood used to fling showers of moidores, diamonds,
pearls and pieces of eight to the gulls, who pounced upon them for
food, and then flew away, raging at the scurvy trick that had been
played upon them. The stave was still there, and on it Starkey had hung
his hat, a deep tarpaulin, watertight, with a broad brim. Peter put the
eggs into this hat and set it on the lagoon. It floated beautifully.
The Never bird saw at once what he was up to, and screamed her
admiration of him; and, alas, Peter crowed his agreement with her. Then
he got into the nest, reared the stave in it as a mast, and hung up his
shirt for a sail. At the same moment the bird fluttered down upon the
hat and once more sat snugly on her eggs. She drifted in one direction,
and he was borne off in another, both cheering. | 1,109 |
PG16 | 37 | Chapter X.
THE HAPPY HOME
One important result of the brush on the lagoon was that it made the
redskins their friends. Peter had saved Tiger Lily from a dreadful
fate, and now there was nothing she and her braves would not do for
him. All night they sat above, keeping watch over the home under the
ground and awaiting the big attack by the pirates which obviously could
not be much longer delayed. Even by day they hung about, smoking the
pipe of peace, and looking almost as if they wanted tit-bits to eat.
They called Peter the Great White Father, prostrating themselves before
him; and he liked this tremendously, so that it was not really good for
him.
The great white father, he would say to them in a very lordly manner,
as they grovelled at his feet, is glad to see the Piccaninny warriors
protecting his wigwam from the pirates.
Me Tiger Lily, that lovely creature would reply. Peter Pan save me,
me his velly nice friend. Me no let pirates hurt him.
She was far too pretty to cringe in this way, but Peter thought it his
due, and he would answer condescendingly, It is good. Peter Pan has
spoken.
Always when he said, Peter Pan has spoken, it meant that they must
now shut up, and they accepted it humbly in that spirit; but they were
by no means so respectful to the other boys, whom they looked upon as
just ordinary braves. They said How-do? to them, and things like
that; and what annoyed the boys was that Peter seemed to think this all
right.
Secretly Wendy sympathised with them a little, but she was far too
loyal a housewife to listen to any complaints against father. Father
knows best, she always said, whatever her private opinion must be. Her
private opinion was that the redskins should not call her a squaw.
We have now reached the evening that was to be known among them as the
Night of Nights, because of its adventures and their upshot. The day,
as if quietly gathering its forces, had been almost uneventful, and now
the redskins in their blankets were at their posts above, while, below,
the children were having their evening meal; all except Peter, who had
gone out to get the time. The way you got the time on the island was to
find the crocodile, and then stay near him till the clock struck.
The meal happened to be a make-believe tea, and they sat around the
board, guzzling in their greed; and really, what with their chatter and
recriminations, the noise, as Wendy said, was positively deafening. To
be sure, she did not mind noise, but she simply would not have them
grabbing things, and then excusing themselves by saying that Tootles
had pushed their elbow. There was a fixed rule that they must never hit
back at meals, but should refer the matter of dispute to Wendy by
raising the right arm politely and saying, I complain of so-and-so;
but what usually happened was that they forgot to do this or did it too
much.
Silence, cried Wendy when for the twentieth time she had told them
that they were not all to speak at once. Is your mug empty, Slightly
darling?
Not quite empty, mummy, Slightly said, after looking into an
imaginary mug.
He hasnt even begun to drink his milk, Nibs interposed.
This was telling, and Slightly seized his chance.
I complain of Nibs, he cried promptly.
John, however, had held up his hand first.
Well, John?
May I sit in Peters chair, as he is not here?
Sit in fathers chair, John! Wendy was scandalised. Certainly not.
He is not really our father, John answered. He didnt even know how
a father does till I showed him.
This was grumbling. We complain of John, cried the twins.
Tootles held up his hand. He was so much the humblest of them, indeed
he was the only humble one, that Wendy was specially gentle with him.
I dont suppose, Tootles said diffidently, that I could be father.
No, Tootles.
Once Tootles began, which was not very often, he had a silly way of
going on.
As I cant be father, he said heavily, I dont suppose, Michael, you
would let me be baby?
No, I wont, Michael rapped out. He was already in his basket.
As I cant be baby, Tootles said, getting heavier and heavier and
heavier, do you think I could be a twin? | 1,002 |
PG16 | 38 | No, indeed, replied the twins; its awfully difficult to be a twin.
As I cant be anything important, said Tootles, would any of you
like to see me do a trick?
No, they all replied.
Then at last he stopped. I hadnt really any hope, he said.
The hateful telling broke out again.
Slightly is coughing on the table.
The twins began with cheese-cakes.
Curly is taking both butter and honey.
Nibs is speaking with his mouth full.
I complain of the twins.
I complain of Curly.
I complain of Nibs.
Oh dear, oh dear, cried Wendy, Im sure I sometimes think that
spinsters are to be envied.
She told them to clear away, and sat down to her work-basket, a heavy
load of stockings and every knee with a hole in it as usual.
Wendy, remonstrated Michael, Im too big for a cradle.
I must have somebody in a cradle, she said almost tartly, and you
are the littlest. A cradle is such a nice homely thing to have about a
house.
While she sewed they played around her; such a group of happy faces and
dancing limbs lit up by that romantic fire. It had become a very
familiar scene, this, in the home under the ground, but we are looking
on it for the last time.
There was a step above, and Wendy, you may be sure, was the first to
recognize it.
Children, I hear your fathers step. He likes you to meet him at the
door.
Above, the redskins crouched before Peter.
Watch well, braves. I have spoken.
And then, as so often before, the gay children dragged him from his
tree. As so often before, but never again.
He had brought nuts for the boys as well as the correct time for Wendy.
Peter, you just spoil them, you know, Wendy simpered.
Ah, old lady, said Peter, hanging up his gun.
It was me told him mothers are called old lady, Michael whispered to
Curly.
I complain of Michael, said Curly instantly.
The first twin came to Peter. Father, we want to dance.
Dance away, my little man, said Peter, who was in high good humour.
But we want you to dance.
Peter was really the best dancer among them, but he pretended to be
scandalised.
Me! My old bones would rattle!
And mummy too.
What, cried Wendy, the mother of such an armful, dance!
But on a Saturday night, Slightly insinuated.
It was not really Saturday night, at least it may have been, for they
had long lost count of the days; but always if they wanted to do
anything special they said this was Saturday night, and then they did
it.
Of course it is Saturday night, Peter, Wendy said, relenting.
People of our figure, Wendy!
But it is only among our own progeny.
True, true.
So they were told they could dance, but they must put on their nighties
first.
Ah, old lady, Peter said aside to Wendy, warming himself by the fire
and looking down at her as she sat turning a heel, there is nothing
more pleasant of an evening for you and me when the days toil is over
than to rest by the fire with the little ones near by.
It is sweet, Peter, isnt it? Wendy said, frightfully gratified.
Peter, I think Curly has your nose.
Michael takes after you.
She went to him and put her hand on his shoulder.
Dear Peter, she said, with such a large family, of course, I have
now passed my best, but you dont want to change me, do you?
No, Wendy.
Certainly he did not want a change, but he looked at her uncomfortably,
blinking, you know, like one not sure whether he was awake or asleep.
Peter, what is it?
I was just thinking, he said, a little scared. It is only
make-believe, isnt it, that I am their father?
Oh yes, Wendy said primly.
You see, he continued apologetically, it would make me seem so old
to be their real father.
But they are ours, Peter, yours and mine.
But not really, Wendy? he asked anxiously.
Not if you dont wish it, she replied; and she distinctly heard his
sigh of relief. Peter, she asked, trying to speak firmly, what are
your exact feelings to me?
Those of a devoted son, Wendy.
I thought so, she said, and went and sat by herself at the extreme
end of the room.
You are so queer, he said, frankly puzzled, and Tiger Lily is just
the same. There is something she wants to be to me, but she says it is
not my mother. | 1,038 |
PG16 | 39 | No, indeed, it is not, Wendy replied with frightful emphasis. Now we
know why she was prejudiced against the redskins.
Then what is it?
It isnt for a lady to tell.
Oh, very well, Peter said, a little nettled. Perhaps Tinker Bell
will tell me.
Oh yes, Tinker Bell will tell you, Wendy retorted scornfully. She is
an abandoned little creature.
Here Tink, who was in her bedroom, eavesdropping, squeaked out
something impudent.
She says she glories in being abandoned, Peter interpreted.
He had a sudden idea. Perhaps Tink wants to be my mother?
You silly ass! cried Tinker Bell in a passion.
She had said it so often that Wendy needed no translation.
I almost agree with her, Wendy snapped. Fancy Wendy snapping! But she
had been much tried, and she little knew what was to happen before the
night was out. If she had known she would not have snapped.
None of them knew. Perhaps it was best not to know. Their ignorance
gave them one more glad hour; and as it was to be their last hour on
the island, let us rejoice that there were sixty glad minutes in it.
They sang and danced in their night-gowns. Such a deliciously creepy
song it was, in which they pretended to be frightened at their own
shadows, little witting that so soon shadows would close in upon them,
from whom they would shrink in real fear. So uproariously gay was the
dance, and how they buffeted each other on the bed and out of it! It
was a pillow fight rather than a dance, and when it was finished, the
pillows insisted on one bout more, like partners who know that they may
never meet again. The stories they told, before it was time for Wendys
good-night story! Even Slightly tried to tell a story that night, but
the beginning was so fearfully dull that it appalled not only the
others but himself, and he said gloomily:
Yes, it is a dull beginning. I say, let us pretend that it is the
end.
And then at last they all got into bed for Wendys story, the story
they loved best, the story Peter hated. Usually when she began to tell
this story he left the room or put his hands over his ears; and
possibly if he had done either of those things this time they might all
still be on the island. But to-night he remained on his stool; and we
shall see what happened. | 542 |
PG16 | 40 | Chapter XI.
WENDYS STORY
Listen, then, said Wendy, settling down to her story, with Michael at
her feet and seven boys in the bed. There was once a gentleman
I had rather he had been a lady, Curly said.
I wish he had been a white rat, said Nibs.
Quiet, their mother admonished them. There was a lady also, and
Oh, mummy, cried the first twin, you mean that there is a lady also,
dont you? She is not dead, is she?
Oh, no.
I am awfully glad she isnt dead, said Tootles. Are you glad, John?
Of course I am.
Are you glad, Nibs?
Rather.
Are you glad, Twins?
We are glad.
Oh dear, sighed Wendy.
Little less noise there, Peter called out, determined that she should
have fair play, however beastly a story it might be in his opinion.
The gentlemans name, Wendy continued, was Mr. Darling, and her name
was Mrs. Darling.
I knew them, John said, to annoy the others.
I think I knew them, said Michael rather doubtfully.
They were married, you know, explained Wendy, and what do you think
they had?
White rats, cried Nibs, inspired.
No.
Its awfully puzzling, said Tootles, who knew the story by heart.
Quiet, Tootles. They had three descendants.
What is descendants?
Well, you are one, Twin.
Did you hear that, John? I am a descendant.
Descendants are only children, said John.
Oh dear, oh dear, sighed Wendy. Now these three children had a
faithful nurse called Nana; but Mr. Darling was angry with her and
chained her up in the yard, and so all the children flew away.
Its an awfully good story, said Nibs.
They flew away, Wendy continued, to the Neverland, where the lost
children are.
I just thought they did, Curly broke in excitedly. I dont know how
it is, but I just thought they did!
O Wendy, cried Tootles, was one of the lost children called
Tootles?
Yes, he was.
I am in a story. Hurrah, I am in a story, Nibs.
Hush. Now I want you to consider the feelings of the unhappy parents
with all their children flown away.
Oo! they all moaned, though they were not really considering the
feelings of the unhappy parents one jot.
Think of the empty beds!
Oo!
Its awfully sad, the first twin said cheerfully.
I dont see how it can have a happy ending, said the second twin. Do
you, Nibs?
Im frightfully anxious.
If you knew how great is a mothers love, Wendy told them
triumphantly, you would have no fear. She had now come to the part
that Peter hated.
I do like a mothers love, said Tootles, hitting Nibs with a pillow.
Do you like a mothers love, Nibs?
I do just, said Nibs, hitting back.
You see, Wendy said complacently, our heroine knew that the mother
would always leave the window open for her children to fly back by; so
they stayed away for years and had a lovely time.
Did they ever go back?
Let us now, said Wendy, bracing herself up for her finest effort,
take a peep into the future; and they all gave themselves the twist
that makes peeps into the future easier. Years have rolled by, and who
is this elegant lady of uncertain age alighting at London Station?
O Wendy, who is she? cried Nibs, every bit as excited as if he didnt
know.
Can it beyesnoit isthe fair Wendy!
Oh!
And who are the two noble portly figures accompanying her, now grown
to mans estate? Can they be John and Michael? They are!
Oh!
See, dear brothers, says Wendy pointing upwards, there is the
window still standing open. Ah, now we are rewarded for our sublime
faith in a mothers love. So up they flew to their mummy and daddy,
and pen cannot describe the happy scene, over which we draw a veil.
That was the story, and they were as pleased with it as the fair
narrator herself. Everything just as it should be, you see. Off we skip
like the most heartless things in the world, which is what children
are, but so attractive; and we have an entirely selfish time, and then
when we have need of special attention we nobly return for it,
confident that we shall be rewarded instead of smacked.
So great indeed was their faith in a mothers love that they felt they
could afford to be callous for a bit longer.
But there was one there who knew better, and when Wendy finished he
uttered a hollow groan. | 1,038 |
PG16 | 41 | What is it, Peter? she cried, running to him, thinking he was ill.
She felt him solicitously, lower down than his chest. Where is it,
Peter?
It isnt that kind of pain, Peter replied darkly.
Then what kind is it?
Wendy, you are wrong about mothers.
They all gathered round him in affright, so alarming was his agitation;
and with a fine candour he told them what he had hitherto concealed.
Long ago, he said, I thought like you that my mother would always
keep the window open for me, so I stayed away for moons and moons and
moons, and then flew back; but the window was barred, for mother had
forgotten all about me, and there was another little boy sleeping in my
bed.
I am not sure that this was true, but Peter thought it was true; and it
scared them.
Are you sure mothers are like that?
Yes.
So this was the truth about mothers. The toads!
Still it is best to be careful; and no one knows so quickly as a child
when he should give in. Wendy, let us go home, cried John and Michael
together.
Yes, she said, clutching them.
Not to-night? asked the lost boys bewildered. They knew in what they
called their hearts that one can get on quite well without a mother,
and that it is only the mothers who think you cant.
At once, Wendy replied resolutely, for the horrible thought had come
to her: Perhaps mother is in half mourning by this time.
This dread made her forgetful of what must be Peters feelings, and she
said to him rather sharply, Peter, will you make the necessary
arrangements?
If you wish it, he replied, as coolly as if she had asked him to pass
the nuts.
Not so much as a sorry-to-lose-you between them! If she did not mind
the parting, he was going to show her, was Peter, that neither did he.
But of course he cared very much; and he was so full of wrath against
grown-ups, who, as usual, were spoiling everything, that as soon as he
got inside his tree he breathed intentionally quick short breaths at
the rate of about five to a second. He did this because there is a
saying in the Neverland that, every time you breathe, a grown-up dies;
and Peter was killing them off vindictively as fast as possible.
Then having given the necessary instructions to the redskins he
returned to the home, where an unworthy scene had been enacted in his
absence. Panic-stricken at the thought of losing Wendy the lost boys
had advanced upon her threateningly.
It will be worse than before she came, they cried.
We shant let her go.
Lets keep her prisoner.
Ay, chain her up.
In her extremity an instinct told her to which of them to turn.
Tootles, she cried, I appeal to you.
Was it not strange? She appealed to Tootles, quite the silliest one.
Grandly, however, did Tootles respond. For that one moment he dropped
his silliness and spoke with dignity.
I am just Tootles, he said, and nobody minds me. But the first who
does not behave to Wendy like an English gentleman I will blood him
severely.
He drew back his hanger; and for that instant his sun was at noon. The
others held back uneasily. Then Peter returned, and they saw at once
that they would get no support from him. He would keep no girl in the
Neverland against her will.
Wendy, he said, striding up and down, I have asked the redskins to
guide you through the wood, as flying tires you so.
Thank you, Peter.
Then, he continued, in the short sharp voice of one accustomed to be
obeyed, Tinker Bell will take you across the sea. Wake her, Nibs.
Nibs had to knock twice before he got an answer, though Tink had really
been sitting up in bed listening for some time.
Who are you? How dare you? Go away, she cried.
You are to get up, Tink, Nibs called, and take Wendy on a journey.
Of course Tink had been delighted to hear that Wendy was going; but she
was jolly well determined not to be her courier, and she said so in
still more offensive language. Then she pretended to be asleep again.
She says she wont! Nibs exclaimed, aghast at such insubordination,
whereupon Peter went sternly toward the young ladys chamber.
Tink, he rapped out, if you dont get up and dress at once I will
open the curtains, and then we shall all see you in your _neglige_. | 1,020 |
PG16 | 42 | This made her leap to the floor. Who said I wasnt getting up? she
cried.
In the meantime the boys were gazing very forlornly at Wendy, now
equipped with John and Michael for the journey. By this time they were
dejected, not merely because they were about to lose her, but also
because they felt that she was going off to something nice to which
they had not been invited. Novelty was beckoning to them as usual.
Crediting them with a nobler feeling Wendy melted.
Dear ones, she said, if you will all come with me I feel almost sure
I can get my father and mother to adopt you.
The invitation was meant specially for Peter, but each of the boys was
thinking exclusively of himself, and at once they jumped with joy.
But wont they think us rather a handful? Nibs asked in the middle of
his jump.
Oh no, said Wendy, rapidly thinking it out, it will only mean having
a few beds in the drawing-room; they can be hidden behind the screens
on first Thursdays.
Peter, can we go? they all cried imploringly. They took it for
granted that if they went he would go also, but really they scarcely
cared. Thus children are ever ready, when novelty knocks, to desert
their dearest ones.
All right, Peter replied with a bitter smile, and immediately they
rushed to get their things.
And now, Peter, Wendy said, thinking she had put everything right, I
am going to give you your medicine before you go. She loved to give
them medicine, and undoubtedly gave them too much. Of course it was
only water, but it was out of a bottle, and she always shook the bottle
and counted the drops, which gave it a certain medicinal quality. On
this occasion, however, she did not give Peter his draught, for just as
she had prepared it, she saw a look on his face that made her heart
sink.
Get your things, Peter, she cried, shaking.
No, he answered, pretending indifference, I am not going with you,
Wendy.
Yes, Peter.
No.
To show that her departure would leave him unmoved, he skipped up and
down the room, playing gaily on his heartless pipes. She had to run
about after him, though it was rather undignified.
To find your mother, she coaxed.
Now, if Peter had ever quite had a mother, he no longer missed her. He
could do very well without one. He had thought them out, and remembered
only their bad points.
No, no, he told Wendy decisively; perhaps she would say I was old,
and I just want always to be a little boy and to have fun.
But, Peter
No.
And so the others had to be told.
Peter isnt coming.
Peter not coming! They gazed blankly at him, their sticks over their
backs, and on each stick a bundle. Their first thought was that if
Peter was not going he had probably changed his mind about letting them
go.
But he was far too proud for that. If you find your mothers, he said
darkly, I hope you will like them.
The awful cynicism of this made an uncomfortable impression, and most
of them began to look rather doubtful. After all, their faces said,
were they not noodles to want to go?
Now then, cried Peter, no fuss, no blubbering; good-bye, Wendy; and
he held out his hand cheerily, quite as if they must really go now, for
he had something important to do.
She had to take his hand, and there was no indication that he would
prefer a thimble.
You will remember about changing your flannels, Peter? she said,
lingering over him. She was always so particular about their flannels.
Yes.
And you will take your medicine?
Yes.
That seemed to be everything, and an awkward pause followed. Peter,
however, was not the kind that breaks down before other people. Are
you ready, Tinker Bell? he called out.
Ay, ay.
Then lead the way.
Tink darted up the nearest tree; but no one followed her, for it was at
this moment that the pirates made their dreadful attack upon the
redskins. Above, where all had been so still, the air was rent with
shrieks and the clash of steel. Below, there was dead silence. Mouths
opened and remained open. Wendy fell on her knees, but her arms were
extended toward Peter. All arms were extended to him, as if suddenly
blown in his direction; they were beseeching him mutely not to desert
them. As for Peter, he seized his sword, the same he thought he had
slain Barbecue with, and the lust of battle was in his eye. | 1,031 |
PG16 | 44 | Chapter XII.
THE CHILDREN ARE CARRIED OFF
The pirate attack had been a complete surprise: a sure proof that the
unscrupulous Hook had conducted it improperly, for to surprise redskins
fairly is beyond the wit of the white man.
By all the unwritten laws of savage warfare it is always the redskin
who attacks, and with the wiliness of his race he does it just before
the dawn, at which time he knows the courage of the whites to be at its
lowest ebb. The white men have in the meantime made a rude stockade on
the summit of yonder undulating ground, at the foot of which a stream
runs, for it is destruction to be too far from water. There they await
the onslaught, the inexperienced ones clutching their revolvers and
treading on twigs, but the old hands sleeping tranquilly until just
before the dawn. Through the long black night the savage scouts
wriggle, snake-like, among the grass without stirring a blade. The
brushwood closes behind them, as silently as sand into which a mole has
dived. Not a sound is to be heard, save when they give vent to a
wonderful imitation of the lonely call of the coyote. The cry is
answered by other braves; and some of them do it even better than the
coyotes, who are not very good at it. So the chill hours wear on, and
the long suspense is horribly trying to the paleface who has to live
through it for the first time; but to the trained hand those ghastly
calls and still ghastlier silences are but an intimation of how the
night is marching.
That this was the usual procedure was so well known to Hook that in
disregarding it he cannot be excused on the plea of ignorance.
The Piccaninnies, on their part, trusted implicitly to his honour, and
their whole action of the night stands out in marked contrast to his.
They left nothing undone that was consistent with the reputation of
their tribe. With that alertness of the senses which is at once the
marvel and despair of civilised peoples, they knew that the pirates
were on the island from the moment one of them trod on a dry stick; and
in an incredibly short space of time the coyote cries began. Every foot
of ground between the spot where Hook had landed his forces and the
home under the trees was stealthily examined by braves wearing their
mocassins with the heels in front. They found only one hillock with a
stream at its base, so that Hook had no choice; here he must establish
himself and wait for just before the dawn. Everything being thus mapped
out with almost diabolical cunning, the main body of the redskins
folded their blankets around them, and in the phlegmatic manner that is
to them, the pearl of manhood squatted above the childrens home,
awaiting the cold moment when they should deal pale death.
Here dreaming, though wide-awake, of the exquisite tortures to which
they were to put him at break of day, those confiding savages were
found by the treacherous Hook. From the accounts afterwards supplied by
such of the scouts as escaped the carnage, he does not seem even to
have paused at the rising ground, though it is certain that in that
grey light he must have seen it: no thought of waiting to be attacked
appears from first to last to have visited his subtle mind; he would
not even hold off till the night was nearly spent; on he pounded with
no policy but to fall to. What could the bewildered scouts do, masters
as they were of every war-like artifice save this one, but trot
helplessly after him, exposing themselves fatally to view, while they
gave pathetic utterance to the coyote cry.
Around the brave Tiger Lily were a dozen of her stoutest warriors, and
they suddenly saw the perfidious pirates bearing down upon them. Fell
from their eyes then the film through which they had looked at victory.
No more would they torture at the stake. For them the happy
hunting-grounds was now. They knew it; but as their fathers sons they
acquitted themselves. Even then they had time to gather in a phalanx
that would have been hard to break had they risen quickly, but this
they were forbidden to do by the traditions of their race. It is
written that the noble savage must never express surprise in the
presence of the white. Thus terrible as the sudden appearance of the
pirates must have been to them, they remained stationary for a moment,
not a muscle moving; as if the foe had come by invitation. Then,
indeed, the tradition gallantly upheld, they seized their weapons, and
the air was torn with the war-cry; but it was now too late. | 1,040 |
PG16 | 45 | It is no part of ours to describe what was a massacre rather than a
fight. Thus perished many of the flower of the Piccaninny tribe. Not
all unavenged did they die, for with Lean Wolf fell Alf Mason, to
disturb the Spanish Main no more, and among others who bit the dust
were Geo. Scourie, Chas. Turley, and the Alsatian Foggerty. Turley fell
to the tomahawk of the terrible Panther, who ultimately cut a way
through the pirates with Tiger Lily and a small remnant of the tribe.
To what extent Hook is to blame for his tactics on this occasion is for
the historian to decide. Had he waited on the rising ground till the
proper hour he and his men would probably have been butchered; and in
judging him it is only fair to take this into account. What he should
perhaps have done was to acquaint his opponents that he proposed to
follow a new method. On the other hand, this, as destroying the element
of surprise, would have made his strategy of no avail, so that the
whole question is beset with difficulties. One cannot at least withhold
a reluctant admiration for the wit that had conceived so bold a scheme,
and the fell genius with which it was carried out.
What were his own feelings about himself at that triumphant moment?
Fain would his dogs have known, as breathing heavily and wiping their
cutlasses, they gathered at a discreet distance from his hook, and
squinted through their ferret eyes at this extraordinary man. Elation
must have been in his heart, but his face did not reflect it: ever a
dark and solitary enigma, he stood aloof from his followers in spirit
as in substance.
The nights work was not yet over, for it was not the redskins he had
come out to destroy; they were but the bees to be smoked, so that he
should get at the honey. It was Pan he wanted, Pan and Wendy and their
band, but chiefly Pan.
Peter was such a small boy that one tends to wonder at the mans hatred
of him. True he had flung Hooks arm to the crocodile, but even this
and the increased insecurity of life to which it led, owing to the
crocodiles pertinacity, hardly account for a vindictiveness so
relentless and malignant. The truth is that there was a something about
Peter which goaded the pirate captain to frenzy. It was not his
courage, it was not his engaging appearance, it was not. There is no
beating about the bush, for we know quite well what it was, and have
got to tell. It was Peters cockiness.
This had got on Hooks nerves; it made his iron claw twitch, and at
night it disturbed him like an insect. While Peter lived, the tortured
man felt that he was a lion in a cage into which a sparrow had come.
The question now was how to get down the trees, or how to get his dogs
down? He ran his greedy eyes over them, searching for the thinnest
ones. They wriggled uncomfortably, for they knew he would not scruple
to ram them down with poles.
In the meantime, what of the boys? We have seen them at the first clang
of the weapons, turned as it were into stone figures, open-mouthed, all
appealing with outstretched arms to Peter; and we return to them as
their mouths close, and their arms fall to their sides. The pandemonium
above has ceased almost as suddenly as it arose, passed like a fierce
gust of wind; but they know that in the passing it has determined their
fate.
Which side had won?
The pirates, listening avidly at the mouths of the trees, heard the
question put by every boy, and alas, they also heard Peters answer.
If the redskins have won, he said, they will beat the tom-tom; it is
always their sign of victory.
Now Smee had found the tom-tom, and was at that moment sitting on it.
You will never hear the tom-tom again, he muttered, but inaudibly of
course, for strict silence had been enjoined. To his amazement Hook
signed him to beat the tom-tom, and slowly there came to Smee an
understanding of the dreadful wickedness of the order. Never, probably,
had this simple man admired Hook so much.
Twice Smee beat upon the instrument, and then stopped to listen
gleefully.
The tom-tom, the miscreants heard Peter cry; an Indian victory! | 986 |
PG16 | 47 | Chapter XIII.
DO YOU BELIEVE IN FAIRIES?
The more quickly this horror is disposed of the better. The first to
emerge from his tree was Curly. He rose out of it into the arms of
Cecco, who flung him to Smee, who flung him to Starkey, who flung him
to Bill Jukes, who flung him to Noodler, and so he was tossed from one
to another till he fell at the feet of the black pirate. All the boys
were plucked from their trees in this ruthless manner; and several of
them were in the air at a time, like bales of goods flung from hand to
hand.
A different treatment was accorded to Wendy, who came last. With
ironical politeness Hook raised his hat to her, and, offering her his
arm, escorted her to the spot where the others were being gagged. He
did it with such an air, he was so frightfully _distingu_, that she
was too fascinated to cry out. She was only a little girl.
Perhaps it is tell-tale to divulge that for a moment Hook entranced
her, and we tell on her only because her slip led to strange results.
Had she haughtily unhanded him (and we should have loved to write it of
her), she would have been hurled through the air like the others, and
then Hook would probably not have been present at the tying of the
children; and had he not been at the tying he would not have discovered
Slightlys secret, and without the secret he could not presently have
made his foul attempt on Peters life.
They were tied to prevent their flying away, doubled up with their
knees close to their ears; and for the trussing of them the black
pirate had cut a rope into nine equal pieces. All went well until
Slightlys turn came, when he was found to be like those irritating
parcels that use up all the string in going round and leave no tags
with which to tie a knot. The pirates kicked him in their rage, just as
you kick the parcel (though in fairness you should kick the string);
and strange to say it was Hook who told them to belay their violence.
His lip was curled with malicious triumph. While his dogs were merely
sweating because every time they tried to pack the unhappy lad tight in
one part he bulged out in another, Hooks master mind had gone far
beneath Slightlys surface, probing not for effects but for causes; and
his exultation showed that he had found them. Slightly, white to the
gills, knew that Hook had surprised his secret, which was this, that no
boy so blown out could use a tree wherein an average man need stick.
Poor Slightly, most wretched of all the children now, for he was in a
panic about Peter, bitterly regretted what he had done. Madly addicted
to the drinking of water when he was hot, he had swelled in consequence
to his present girth, and instead of reducing himself to fit his tree
he had, unknown to the others, whittled his tree to make it fit him.
Sufficient of this Hook guessed to persuade him that Peter at last lay
at his mercy, but no word of the dark design that now formed in the
subterranean caverns of his mind crossed his lips; he merely signed
that the captives were to be conveyed to the ship, and that he would be
alone.
How to convey them? Hunched up in their ropes they might indeed be
rolled down hill like barrels, but most of the way lay through a
morass. Again Hooks genius surmounted difficulties. He indicated that
the little house must be used as a conveyance. The children were flung
into it, four stout pirates raised it on their shoulders, the others
fell in behind, and singing the hateful pirate chorus the strange
procession set off through the wood. I dont know whether any of the
children were crying; if so, the singing drowned the sound; but as the
little house disappeared in the forest, a brave though tiny jet of
smoke issued from its chimney as if defying Hook.
Hook saw it, and it did Peter a bad service. It dried up any trickle of
pity for him that may have remained in the pirates infuriated breast.
The first thing he did on finding himself alone in the fast falling
night was to tiptoe to Slightlys tree, and make sure that it provided
him with a passage. Then for long he remained brooding; his hat of ill
omen on the sward, so that any gentle breeze which had arisen might
play refreshingly through his hair. Dark as were his thoughts his blue
eyes were as soft as the periwinkle. Intently he listened for any sound
from the nether world, but all was as silent below as above; the house
under the ground seemed to be but one more empty tenement in the void.
Was that boy asleep, or did he stand waiting at the foot of Slightlys
tree, with his dagger in his hand? | 1,094 |
PG16 | 48 | There was no way of knowing, save by going down. Hook let his cloak
slip softly to the ground, and then biting his lips till a lewd blood
stood on them, he stepped into the tree. He was a brave man, but for a
moment he had to stop there and wipe his brow, which was dripping like
a candle. Then, silently, he let himself go into the unknown.
He arrived unmolested at the foot of the shaft, and stood still again,
biting at his breath, which had almost left him. As his eyes became
accustomed to the dim light various objects in the home under the trees
took shape; but the only one on which his greedy gaze rested, long
sought for and found at last, was the great bed. On the bed lay Peter
fast asleep.
Unaware of the tragedy being enacted above, Peter had continued, for a
little time after the children left, to play gaily on his pipes: no
doubt rather a forlorn attempt to prove to himself that he did not
care. Then he decided not to take his medicine, so as to grieve Wendy.
Then he lay down on the bed outside the coverlet, to vex her still
more; for she had always tucked them inside it, because you never know
that you may not grow chilly at the turn of the night. Then he nearly
cried; but it struck him how indignant she would be if he laughed
instead; so he laughed a haughty laugh and fell asleep in the middle of
it.
Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams, and they were more painful
than the dreams of other boys. For hours he could not be separated from
these dreams, though he wailed piteously in them. They had to do, I
think, with the riddle of his existence. At such times it had been
Wendys custom to take him out of bed and sit with him on her lap,
soothing him in dear ways of her own invention, and when he grew calmer
to put him back to bed before he quite woke up, so that he should not
know of the indignity to which she had subjected him. But on this
occasion he had fallen at once into a dreamless sleep. One arm dropped
over the edge of the bed, one leg was arched, and the unfinished part
of his laugh was stranded on his mouth, which was open, showing the
little pearls.
Thus defenceless Hook found him. He stood silent at the foot of the
tree looking across the chamber at his enemy. Did no feeling of
compassion disturb his sombre breast? The man was not wholly evil; he
loved flowers (I have been told) and sweet music (he was himself no
mean performer on the harpsichord); and, let it be frankly admitted,
the idyllic nature of the scene stirred him profoundly. Mastered by his
better self he would have returned reluctantly up the tree, but for one
thing.
What stayed him was Peters impertinent appearance as he slept. The
open mouth, the drooping arm, the arched knee: they were such a
personification of cockiness as, taken together, will never again, one
may hope, be presented to eyes so sensitive to their offensiveness.
They steeled Hooks heart. If his rage had broken him into a hundred
pieces every one of them would have disregarded the incident, and leapt
at the sleeper.
Though a light from the one lamp shone dimly on the bed, Hook stood in
darkness himself, and at the first stealthy step forward he discovered
an obstacle, the door of Slightlys tree. It did not entirely fill the
aperture, and he had been looking over it. Feeling for the catch, he
found to his fury that it was low down, beyond his reach. To his
disordered brain it seemed then that the irritating quality in Peters
face and figure visibly increased, and he rattled the door and flung
himself against it. Was his enemy to escape him after all?
But what was that? The red in his eye had caught sight of Peters
medicine standing on a ledge within easy reach. He fathomed what it was
straightaway, and immediately knew that the sleeper was in his power.
Lest he should be taken alive, Hook always carried about his person a
dreadful drug, blended by himself of all the death-dealing rings that
had come into his possession. These he had boiled down into a yellow
liquid quite unknown to science, which was probably the most virulent
poison in existence. | 982 |
PG16 | 49 | Five drops of this he now added to Peters cup. His hand shook, but it
was in exultation rather than in shame. As he did it he avoided
glancing at the sleeper, but not lest pity should unnerve him; merely
to avoid spilling. Then one long gloating look he cast upon his victim,
and turning, wormed his way with difficulty up the tree. As he emerged
at the top he looked the very spirit of evil breaking from its hole.
Donning his hat at its most rakish angle, he wound his cloak around
him, holding one end in front as if to conceal his person from the
night, of which it was the blackest part, and muttering strangely to
himself, stole away through the trees.
Peter slept on. The light guttered and went out, leaving the tenement
in darkness; but still he slept. It must have been not less than ten
oclock by the crocodile, when he suddenly sat up in his bed, wakened
by he knew not what. It was a soft cautious tapping on the door of his
tree.
Soft and cautious, but in that stillness it was sinister. Peter felt
for his dagger till his hand gripped it. Then he spoke.
Who is that?
For long there was no answer: then again the knock.
Who are you?
No answer.
He was thrilled, and he loved being thrilled. In two strides he reached
the door. Unlike Slightlys door, it filled the aperture, so that he
could not see beyond it, nor could the one knocking see him.
I wont open unless you speak, Peter cried.
Then at last the visitor spoke, in a lovely bell-like voice.
Let me in, Peter.
It was Tink, and quickly he unbarred to her. She flew in excitedly, her
face flushed and her dress stained with mud.
What is it?
Oh, you could never guess! she cried, and offered him three guesses.
Out with it! he shouted, and in one ungrammatical sentence, as long
as the ribbons that conjurers pull from their mouths, she told of the
capture of Wendy and the boys.
Peters heart bobbed up and down as he listened. Wendy bound, and on
the pirate ship; she who loved everything to be just so!
Ill rescue her! he cried, leaping at his weapons. As he leapt he
thought of something he could do to please her. He could take his
medicine.
His hand closed on the fatal draught.
No! shrieked Tinker Bell, who had heard Hook mutter about his deed as
he sped through the forest.
Why not?
It is poisoned.
Poisoned? Who could have poisoned it?
Hook.
Dont be silly. How could Hook have got down here?
Alas, Tinker Bell could not explain this, for even she did not know the
dark secret of Slightlys tree. Nevertheless Hooks words had left no
room for doubt. The cup was poisoned.
Besides, said Peter, quite believing himself, I never fell asleep.
He raised the cup. No time for words now; time for deeds; and with one
of her lightning movements Tink got between his lips and the draught,
and drained it to the dregs.
Why, Tink, how dare you drink my medicine?
But she did not answer. Already she was reeling in the air.
What is the matter with you? cried Peter, suddenly afraid.
It was poisoned, Peter, she told him softly; and now I am going to
be dead.
O Tink, did you drink it to save me?
Yes.
But why, Tink?
Her wings would scarcely carry her now, but in reply she alighted on
his shoulder and gave his nose a loving bite. She whispered in his ear
You silly ass, and then, tottering to her chamber, lay down on the
bed.
His head almost filled the fourth wall of her little room as he knelt
near her in distress. Every moment her light was growing fainter; and
he knew that if it went out she would be no more. She liked his tears
so much that she put out her beautiful finger and let them run over it.
Her voice was so low that at first he could not make out what she said.
Then he made it out. She was saying that she thought she could get well
again if children believed in fairies.
Peter flung out his arms. There were no children there, and it was
night time; but he addressed all who might be dreaming of the
Neverland, and who were therefore nearer to him than you think: boys
and girls in their nighties, and naked papooses in their baskets hung
from trees. | 1,001 |
PG16 | 50 | Do you believe? he cried.
Tink sat up in bed almost briskly to listen to her fate.
She fancied she heard answers in the affirmative, and then again she
wasnt sure.
What do you think? she asked Peter.
If you believe, he shouted to them, clap your hands; dont let Tink
die.
Many clapped.
Some didnt.
A few beasts hissed.
The clapping stopped suddenly; as if countless mothers had rushed to
their nurseries to see what on earth was happening; but already Tink
was saved. First her voice grew strong, then she popped out of bed,
then she was flashing through the room more merry and impudent than
ever. She never thought of thanking those who believed, but she would
have liked to get at the ones who had hissed.
And now to rescue Wendy!
The moon was riding in a cloudy heaven when Peter rose from his tree,
begirt with weapons and wearing little else, to set out upon his
perilous quest. It was not such a night as he would have chosen. He had
hoped to fly, keeping not far from the ground so that nothing unwonted
should escape his eyes; but in that fitful light to have flown low
would have meant trailing his shadow through the trees, thus disturbing
birds and acquainting a watchful foe that he was astir.
He regretted now that he had given the birds of the island such strange
names that they are very wild and difficult of approach.
There was no other course but to press forward in redskin fashion, at
which happily he was an adept. But in what direction, for he could not
be sure that the children had been taken to the ship? A light fall of
snow had obliterated all footmarks; and a deathly silence pervaded the
island, as if for a space Nature stood still in horror of the recent
carnage. He had taught the children something of the forest lore that
he had himself learned from Tiger Lily and Tinker Bell, and knew that
in their dire hour they were not likely to forget it. Slightly, if he
had an opportunity, would blaze the trees, for instance, Curly would
drop seeds, and Wendy would leave her handkerchief at some important
place. The morning was needed to search for such guidance, and he could
not wait. The upper world had called him, but would give no help.
The crocodile passed him, but not another living thing, not a sound,
not a movement; and yet he knew well that sudden death might be at the
next tree, or stalking him from behind.
He swore this terrible oath: Hook or me this time.
Now he crawled forward like a snake, and again erect, he darted across
a space on which the moonlight played, one finger on his lip and his
dagger at the ready. He was frightfully happy. | 611 |
PG16 | 51 | Chapter XIV.
THE PIRATE SHIP
One green light squinting over Kidds Creek, which is near the mouth of
the pirate river, marked where the brig, the _Jolly Roger_, lay, low in
the water; a rakish-looking craft foul to the hull, every beam in her
detestable, like ground strewn with mangled feathers. She was the
cannibal of the seas, and scarce needed that watchful eye, for she
floated immune in the horror of her name.
She was wrapped in the blanket of night, through which no sound from
her could have reached the shore. There was little sound, and none
agreeable save the whir of the ships sewing machine at which Smee sat,
ever industrious and obliging, the essence of the commonplace, pathetic
Smee. I know not why he was so infinitely pathetic, unless it were
because he was so pathetically unaware of it; but even strong men had
to turn hastily from looking at him, and more than once on summer
evenings he had touched the fount of Hooks tears and made it flow. Of
this, as of almost everything else, Smee was quite unconscious.
A few of the pirates leant over the bulwarks, drinking in the miasma of
the night; others sprawled by barrels over games of dice and cards; and
the exhausted four who had carried the little house lay prone on the
deck, where even in their sleep they rolled skillfully to this side or
that out of Hooks reach, lest he should claw them mechanically in
passing.
Hook trod the deck in thought. O man unfathomable. It was his hour of
triumph. Peter had been removed for ever from his path, and all the
other boys were in the brig, about to walk the plank. It was his
grimmest deed since the days when he had brought Barbecue to heel; and
knowing as we do how vain a tabernacle is man, could we be surprised
had he now paced the deck unsteadily, bellied out by the winds of his
success?
But there was no elation in his gait, which kept pace with the action
of his sombre mind. Hook was profoundly dejected.
He was often thus when communing with himself on board ship in the
quietude of the night. It was because he was so terribly alone. This
inscrutable man never felt more alone than when surrounded by his dogs.
They were socially inferior to him.
Hook was not his true name. To reveal who he really was would even at
this date set the country in a blaze; but as those who read between the
lines must already have guessed, he had been at a famous public school;
and its traditions still clung to him like garments, with which indeed
they are largely concerned. Thus it was offensive to him even now to
board a ship in the same dress in which he grappled her, and he still
adhered in his walk to the schools distinguished slouch. But above all
he retained the passion for good form.
Good form! However much he may have degenerated, he still knew that
this is all that really matters.
From far within him he heard a creaking as of rusty portals, and
through them came a stern tap-tap-tap, like hammering in the night when
one cannot sleep. Have you been good form to-day? was their eternal
question.
Fame, fame, that glittering bauble, it is mine, he cried.
Is it quite good form to be distinguished at anything? the tap-tap
from his school replied.
I am the only man whom Barbecue feared, he urged, and Flint feared
Barbecue.
Barbecue, Flintwhat house? came the cutting retort.
Most disquieting reflection of all, was it not bad form to think about
good form?
His vitals were tortured by this problem. It was a claw within him
sharper than the iron one; and as it tore him, the perspiration dripped
down his tallow countenance and streaked his doublet. Ofttimes he drew
his sleeve across his face, but there was no damming that trickle.
Ah, envy not Hook.
There came to him a presentiment of his early dissolution. It was as if
Peters terrible oath had boarded the ship. Hook felt a gloomy desire
to make his dying speech, lest presently there should be no time for
it.
Better for Hook, he cried, if he had had less ambition! It was in
his darkest hours only that he referred to himself in the third person.
No little children to love me!
Strange that he should think of this, which had never troubled him
before; perhaps the sewing machine brought it to his mind. For long he
muttered to himself, staring at Smee, who was hemming placidly, under
the conviction that all children feared him. | 1,051 |
PG16 | 52 | Feared him! Feared Smee! There was not a child on board the brig that
night who did not already love him. He had said horrid things to them
and hit them with the palm of his hand, because he could not hit with
his fist, but they had only clung to him the more. Michael had tried on
his spectacles.
To tell poor Smee that they thought him lovable! Hook itched to do it,
but it seemed too brutal. Instead, he revolved this mystery in his
mind: why do they find Smee lovable? He pursued the problem like the
sleuth-hound that he was. If Smee was lovable, what was it that made
him so? A terrible answer suddenly presented itselfGood form?
Had the bosun good form without knowing it, which is the best form of
all?
He remembered that you have to prove you dont know you have it before
you are eligible for Pop.
With a cry of rage he raised his iron hand over Smees head; but he did
not tear. What arrested him was this reflection:
To claw a man because he is good form, what would that be?
Bad form!
The unhappy Hook was as impotent as he was damp, and he fell forward
like a cut flower.
His dogs thinking him out of the way for a time, discipline instantly
relaxed; and they broke into a bacchanalian dance, which brought him to
his feet at once, all traces of human weakness gone, as if a bucket of
water had passed over him.
Quiet, you scugs, he cried, or Ill cast anchor in you; and at once
the din was hushed. Are all the children chained, so that they cannot
fly away?
Ay, ay.
Then hoist them up.
The wretched prisoners were dragged from the hold, all except Wendy,
and ranged in line in front of him. For a time he seemed unconscious of
their presence. He lolled at his ease, humming, not unmelodiously,
snatches of a rude song, and fingering a pack of cards. Ever and anon
the light from his cigar gave a touch of colour to his face.
Now then, bullies, he said briskly, six of you walk the plank
to-night, but I have room for two cabin boys. Which of you is it to
be?
Dont irritate him unnecessarily, had been Wendys instructions in
the hold; so Tootles stepped forward politely. Tootles hated the idea
of signing under such a man, but an instinct told him that it would be
prudent to lay the responsibility on an absent person; and though a
somewhat silly boy, he knew that mothers alone are always willing to be
the buffer. All children know this about mothers, and despise them for
it, but make constant use of it.
So Tootles explained prudently, You see, sir, I dont think my mother
would like me to be a pirate. Would your mother like you to be a
pirate, Slightly?
He winked at Slightly, who said mournfully, I dont think so, as if
he wished things had been otherwise. Would your mother like you to be
a pirate, Twin?
I dont think so, said the first twin, as clever as the others.
Nibs, would
Stow this gab, roared Hook, and the spokesmen were dragged back.
You, boy, he said, addressing John, you look as if you had a little
pluck in you. Didst never want to be a pirate, my hearty?
Now John had sometimes experienced this hankering at maths. prep.; and
he was struck by Hooks picking him out.
I once thought of calling myself Red-handed Jack, he said
diffidently.
And a good name too. Well call you that here, bully, if you join.
What do you think, Michael? asked John.
What would you call me if I join? Michael demanded.
Blackbeard Joe.
Michael was naturally impressed. What do you think, John? He wanted
John to decide, and John wanted him to decide.
Shall we still be respectful subjects of the King? John inquired.
Through Hooks teeth came the answer: You would have to swear, Down
with the King.
Perhaps John had not behaved very well so far, but he shone out now.
Then I refuse, he cried, banging the barrel in front of Hook.
And I refuse, cried Michael.
Rule Britannia! squeaked Curly.
The infuriated pirates buffeted them in the mouth; and Hook roared out,
That seals your doom. Bring up their mother. Get the plank ready.
They were only boys, and they went white as they saw Jukes and Cecco
preparing the fatal plank. But they tried to look brave when Wendy was
brought up. | 1,028 |
PG16 | 53 | No words of mine can tell you how Wendy despised those pirates. To the
boys there was at least some glamour in the pirate calling; but all
that she saw was that the ship had not been tidied for years. There was
not a porthole on the grimy glass of which you might not have written
with your finger Dirty pig; and she had already written it on
several. But as the boys gathered round her she had no thought, of
course, save for them.
So, my beauty, said Hook, as if he spoke in syrup, you are to see
your children walk the plank.
Fine gentlemen though he was, the intensity of his communings had
soiled his ruff, and suddenly he knew that she was gazing at it. With a
hasty gesture he tried to hide it, but he was too late.
Are they to die? asked Wendy, with a look of such frightful contempt
that he nearly fainted.
They are, he snarled. Silence all, he called gloatingly, for a
mothers last words to her children.
At this moment Wendy was grand. These are my last words, dear boys,
she said firmly. I feel that I have a message to you from your real
mothers, and it is this: We hope our sons will die like English
gentlemen.
Even the pirates were awed, and Tootles cried out hysterically, I am
going to do what my mother hopes. What are you to do, Nibs?
What my mother hopes. What are you to do, Twin?
What my mother hopes. John, what are
But Hook had found his voice again.
Tie her up! he shouted.
It was Smee who tied her to the mast. See here, honey, he whispered,
Ill save you if you promise to be my mother.
But not even for Smee would she make such a promise. I would almost
rather have no children at all, she said disdainfully.
It is sad to know that not a boy was looking at her as Smee tied her to
the mast; the eyes of all were on the plank: that last little walk they
were about to take. They were no longer able to hope that they would
walk it manfully, for the capacity to think had gone from them; they
could stare and shiver only.
Hook smiled on them with his teeth closed, and took a step toward
Wendy. His intention was to turn her face so that she should see the
boys walking the plank one by one. But he never reached her, he never
heard the cry of anguish he hoped to wring from her. He heard something
else instead.
It was the terrible tick-tick of the crocodile.
They all heard itpirates, boys, Wendy; and immediately every head was
blown in one direction; not to the water whence the sound proceeded,
but toward Hook. All knew that what was about to happen concerned him
alone, and that from being actors they were suddenly become spectators.
Very frightful was it to see the change that came over him. It was as
if he had been clipped at every joint. He fell in a little heap.
The sound came steadily nearer; and in advance of it came this ghastly
thought, The crocodile is about to board the ship!
Even the iron claw hung inactive; as if knowing that it was no
intrinsic part of what the attacking force wanted. Left so fearfully
alone, any other man would have lain with his eyes shut where he fell:
but the gigantic brain of Hook was still working, and under its
guidance he crawled on the knees along the deck as far from the sound
as he could go. The pirates respectfully cleared a passage for him, and
it was only when he brought up against the bulwarks that he spoke.
Hide me! he cried hoarsely.
They gathered round him, all eyes averted from the thing that was
coming aboard. They had no thought of fighting it. It was Fate.
Only when Hook was hidden from them did curiosity loosen the limbs of
the boys so that they could rush to the ships side to see the
crocodile climbing it. Then they got the strangest surprise of the
Night of Nights; for it was no crocodile that was coming to their aid.
It was Peter.
He signed to them not to give vent to any cry of admiration that might
rouse suspicion. Then he went on ticking. | 940 |
PG16 | 54 | Chapter XV.
HOOK OR ME THIS TIME
Odd things happen to all of us on our way through life without our
noticing for a time that they have happened. Thus, to take an instance,
we suddenly discover that we have been deaf in one ear for we dont
know how long, but, say, half an hour. Now such an experience had come
that night to Peter. When last we saw him he was stealing across the
island with one finger to his lips and his dagger at the ready. He had
seen the crocodile pass by without noticing anything peculiar about it,
but by and by he remembered that it had not been ticking. At first he
thought this eerie, but soon concluded rightly that the clock had run
down.
Without giving a thought to what might be the feelings of a
fellow-creature thus abruptly deprived of its closest companion, Peter
began to consider how he could turn the catastrophe to his own use; and
he decided to tick, so that wild beasts should believe he was the
crocodile and let him pass unmolested. He ticked superbly, but with one
unforeseen result. The crocodile was among those who heard the sound,
and it followed him, though whether with the purpose of regaining what
it had lost, or merely as a friend under the belief that it was again
ticking itself, will never be certainly known, for, like slaves to a
fixed idea, it was a stupid beast.
Peter reached the shore without mishap, and went straight on, his legs
encountering the water as if quite unaware that they had entered a new
element. Thus many animals pass from land to water, but no other human
of whom I know. As he swam he had but one thought: Hook or me this
time. He had ticked so long that he now went on ticking without
knowing that he was doing it. Had he known he would have stopped, for
to board the brig by help of the tick, though an ingenious idea, had
not occurred to him.
On the contrary, he thought he had scaled her side as noiseless as a
mouse; and he was amazed to see the pirates cowering from him, with
Hook in their midst as abject as if he had heard the crocodile.
The crocodile! No sooner did Peter remember it than he heard the
ticking. At first he thought the sound did come from the crocodile, and
he looked behind him swiftly. Then he realised that he was doing it
himself, and in a flash he understood the situation. How clever of
me! he thought at once, and signed to the boys not to burst into
applause.
It was at this moment that Ed Teynte the quartermaster emerged from the
forecastle and came along the deck. Now, reader, time what happened by
your watch. Peter struck true and deep. John clapped his hands on the
ill-fated pirates mouth to stifle the dying groan. He fell forward.
Four boys caught him to prevent the thud. Peter gave the signal, and
the carrion was cast overboard. There was a splash, and then silence.
How long has it taken?
One! (Slightly had begun to count.)
None too soon, Peter, every inch of him on tiptoe, vanished into the
cabin; for more than one pirate was screwing up his courage to look
round. They could hear each others distressed breathing now, which
showed them that the more terrible sound had passed.
Its gone, captain, Smee said, wiping off his spectacles. Alls
still again.
Slowly Hook let his head emerge from his ruff, and listened so intently
that he could have caught the echo of the tick. There was not a sound,
and he drew himself up firmly to his full height.
Then heres to Johnny Plank! he cried brazenly, hating the boys more
than ever because they had seen him unbend. He broke into the
villainous ditty:
Yo ho, yo ho, the frisky plank,
You walks along it so,
Till it goes down and you goes down
To Davy Jones below!
To terrorise the prisoners the more, though with a certain loss of
dignity, he danced along an imaginary plank, grimacing at them as he
sang; and when he finished he cried, Do you want a touch of the cat
before you walk the plank?
At that they fell on their knees. No, no! they cried so piteously
that every pirate smiled.
Fetch the cat, Jukes, said Hook; its in the cabin. | 986 |
PG16 | 55 | The cabin! Peter was in the cabin! The children gazed at each other.
Ay, ay, said Jukes blithely, and he strode into the cabin. They
followed him with their eyes; they scarce knew that Hook had resumed
his song, his dogs joining in with him:
Yo ho, yo ho, the scratching cat,
Its tails are nine, you know,
And when theyre writ upon your back
What was the last line will never be known, for of a sudden the song
was stayed by a dreadful screech from the cabin. It wailed through the
ship, and died away. Then was heard a crowing sound which was well
understood by the boys, but to the pirates was almost more eerie than
the screech.
What was that? cried Hook.
Two, said Slightly solemnly.
The Italian Cecco hesitated for a moment and then swung into the cabin.
He tottered out, haggard.
Whats the matter with Bill Jukes, you dog? hissed Hook, towering
over him.
The matter wi him is hes dead, stabbed, replied Cecco in a hollow
voice.
Bill Jukes dead! cried the startled pirates.
The cabins as black as a pit, Cecco said, almost gibbering, but
there is something terrible in there: the thing you heard crowing.
The exultation of the boys, the lowering looks of the pirates, both
were seen by Hook.
Cecco, he said in his most steely voice, go back and fetch me out
that doodle-doo.
Cecco, bravest of the brave, cowered before his captain, crying No,
no; but Hook was purring to his claw.
Did you say you would go, Cecco? he said musingly.
Cecco went, first flinging his arms despairingly. There was no more
singing, all listened now; and again came a death-screech and again a
crow.
No one spoke except Slightly. Three, he said.
Hook rallied his dogs with a gesture. Sdeath and odds fish, he
thundered, who is to bring me that doodle-doo?
Wait till Cecco comes out, growled Starkey, and the others took up
the cry.
I think I heard you volunteer, Starkey, said Hook, purring again.
No, by thunder! Starkey cried.
My hook thinks you did, said Hook, crossing to him. I wonder if it
would not be advisable, Starkey, to humour the hook?
Ill swing before I go in there, replied Starkey doggedly, and again
he had the support of the crew.
Is this mutiny? asked Hook more pleasantly than ever. Starkeys
ringleader!
Captain, mercy! Starkey whimpered, all of a tremble now.
Shake hands, Starkey, said Hook, proffering his claw.
Starkey looked round for help, but all deserted him. As he backed up
Hook advanced, and now the red spark was in his eye. With a despairing
scream the pirate leapt upon Long Tom and precipitated himself into the
sea.
Four, said Slightly.
And now, Hook said courteously, did any other gentlemen say mutiny?
Seizing a lantern and raising his claw with a menacing gesture, Ill
bring out that doodle-doo myself, he said, and sped into the cabin.
Five. How Slightly longed to say it. He wetted his lips to be ready,
but Hook came staggering out, without his lantern.
Something blew out the light, he said a little unsteadily.
Something! echoed Mullins.
What of Cecco? demanded Noodler.
Hes as dead as Jukes, said Hook shortly.
His reluctance to return to the cabin impressed them all unfavourably,
and the mutinous sounds again broke forth. All pirates are
superstitious, and Cookson cried, They do say the surest sign a ships
accurst is when theres one on board more than can be accounted for.
Ive heard, muttered Mullins, he always boards the pirate craft
last. Had he a tail, captain?
They say, said another, looking viciously at Hook, that when he
comes its in the likeness of the wickedest man aboard.
Had he a hook, captain? asked Cookson insolently; and one after
another took up the cry, The ships doomed! At this the children
could not resist raising a cheer. Hook had well-nigh forgotten his
prisoners, but as he swung round on them now his face lit up again.
Lads, he cried to his crew, now heres a notion. Open the cabin door
and drive them in. Let them fight the doodle-doo for their lives. If
they kill him, were so much the better; if he kills them, were none
the worse.
For the last time his dogs admired Hook, and devotedly they did his
bidding. The boys, pretending to struggle, were pushed into the cabin
and the door was closed on them.
Now, listen! cried Hook, and all listened. But not one dared to face
the door. Yes, one, Wendy, who all this time had been bound to the
mast. It was for neither a scream nor a crow that she was watching, it
was for the reappearance of Peter. | 1,135 |
PG16 | 56 | She had not long to wait. In the cabin he had found the thing for which
he had gone in search: the key that would free the children of their
manacles, and now they all stole forth, armed with such weapons as they
could find. First signing them to hide, Peter cut Wendys bonds, and
then nothing could have been easier than for them all to fly off
together; but one thing barred the way, an oath, Hook or me this
time. So when he had freed Wendy, he whispered for her to conceal
herself with the others, and himself took her place by the mast, her
cloak around him so that he should pass for her. Then he took a great
breath and crowed.
To the pirates it was a voice crying that all the boys lay slain in the
cabin; and they were panic-stricken. Hook tried to hearten them; but
like the dogs he had made them they showed him their fangs, and he knew
that if he took his eyes off them now they would leap at him.
Lads, he said, ready to cajole or strike as need be, but never
quailing for an instant, Ive thought it out. Theres a Jonah aboard.
Ay, they snarled, a man wi a hook.
No, lads, no, its the girl. Never was luck on a pirate ship wi a
woman on board. Well right the ship when shes gone.
Some of them remembered that this had been a saying of Flints. Its
worth trying, they said doubtfully.
Fling the girl overboard, cried Hook; and they made a rush at the
figure in the cloak.
Theres none can save you now, missy, Mullins hissed jeeringly.
Theres one, replied the figure.
Whos that?
Peter Pan the avenger! came the terrible answer; and as he spoke
Peter flung off his cloak. Then they all knew who twas that had been
undoing them in the cabin, and twice Hook essayed to speak and twice he
failed. In that frightful moment I think his fierce heart broke.
At last he cried, Cleave him to the brisket! but without conviction.
Down, boys, and at them! Peters voice rang out; and in another
moment the clash of arms was resounding through the ship. Had the
pirates kept together it is certain that they would have won; but the
onset came when they were still unstrung, and they ran hither and
thither, striking wildly, each thinking himself the last survivor of
the crew. Man to man they were the stronger; but they fought on the
defensive only, which enabled the boys to hunt in pairs and choose
their quarry. Some of the miscreants leapt into the sea; others hid in
dark recesses, where they were found by Slightly, who did not fight,
but ran about with a lantern which he flashed in their faces, so that
they were half blinded and fell as an easy prey to the reeking swords
of the other boys. There was little sound to be heard but the clang of
weapons, an occasional screech or splash, and Slightly monotonously
countingfivesixseveneightnineteneleven.
I think all were gone when a group of savage boys surrounded Hook, who
seemed to have a charmed life, as he kept them at bay in that circle of
fire. They had done for his dogs, but this man alone seemed to be a
match for them all. Again and again they closed upon him, and again and
again he hewed a clear space. He had lifted up one boy with his hook,
and was using him as a buckler, when another, who had just passed his
sword through Mullins, sprang into the fray.
Put up your swords, boys, cried the newcomer, this man is mine.
Thus suddenly Hook found himself face to face with Peter. The others
drew back and formed a ring around them.
For long the two enemies looked at one another, Hook shuddering
slightly, and Peter with the strange smile upon his face.
So, Pan, said Hook at last, this is all your doing.
Ay, James Hook, came the stern answer, it is all my doing.
Proud and insolent youth, said Hook, prepare to meet thy doom.
Dark and sinister man, Peter answered, have at thee.
Without more words they fell to, and for a space there was no advantage
to either blade. Peter was a superb swordsman, and parried with
dazzling rapidity; ever and anon he followed up a feint with a lunge
that got past his foes defence, but his shorter reach stood him in ill
stead, and he could not drive the steel home. Hook, scarcely his
inferior in brilliancy, but not quite so nimble in wrist play, forced
him back by the weight of his onset, hoping suddenly to end all with a
favourite thrust, taught him long ago by Barbecue at Rio; but to his
astonishment he found this thrust turned aside again and again. Then he
sought to close and give the quietus with his iron hook, which all this
time had been pawing the air; but Peter doubled under it and, lunging
fiercely, pierced him in the ribs. At the sight of his own blood, whose
peculiar colour, you remember, was offensive to him, the sword fell
from Hooks hand, and he was at Peters mercy. | 1,180 |
PG16 | 57 | Now! cried all the boys, but with a magnificent gesture Peter invited
his opponent to pick up his sword. Hook did so instantly, but with a
tragic feeling that Peter was showing good form.
Hitherto he had thought it was some fiend fighting him, but darker
suspicions assailed him now.
Pan, who and what art thou? he cried huskily.
Im youth, Im joy, Peter answered at a venture, Im a little bird
that has broken out of the egg.
This, of course, was nonsense; but it was proof to the unhappy Hook
that Peter did not know in the least who or what he was, which is the
very pinnacle of good form.
Tot again, he cried despairingly.
He fought now like a human flail, and every sweep of that terrible
sword would have severed in twain any man or boy who obstructed it; but
Peter fluttered round him as if the very wind it made blew him out of
the danger zone. And again and again he darted in and pricked.
Hook was fighting now without hope. That passionate breast no longer
asked for life; but for one boon it craved: to see Peter show bad form
before it was cold forever.
Abandoning the fight he rushed into the powder magazine and fired it.
In two minutes, he cried, the ship will be blown to pieces.
Now, now, he thought, true form will show.
But Peter issued from the powder magazine with the shell in his hands,
and calmly flung it overboard.
What sort of form was Hook himself showing? Misguided man though he
was, we may be glad, without sympathising with him, that in the end he
was true to the traditions of his race. The other boys were flying
around him now, flouting, scornful; and he staggered about the deck
striking up at them impotently, his mind was no longer with them; it
was slouching in the playing fields of long ago, or being sent up for
good, or watching the wall-game from a famous wall. And his shoes were
right, and his waistcoat was right, and his tie was right, and his
socks were right.
James Hook, thou not wholly unheroic figure, farewell.
For we have come to his last moment.
Seeing Peter slowly advancing upon him through the air with dagger
poised, he sprang upon the bulwarks to cast himself into the sea. He
did not know that the crocodile was waiting for him; for we purposely
stopped the clock that this knowledge might be spared him: a little
mark of respect from us at the end.
He had one last triumph, which I think we need not grudge him. As he
stood on the bulwark looking over his shoulder at Peter gliding through
the air, he invited him with a gesture to use his foot. It made Peter
kick instead of stab.
At last Hook had got the boon for which he craved.
Bad form, he cried jeeringly, and went content to the crocodile.
Thus perished James Hook.
Seventeen, Slightly sang out; but he was not quite correct in his
figures. Fifteen paid the penalty for their crimes that night; but two
reached the shore: Starkey to be captured by the redskins, who made him
nurse for all their papooses, a melancholy come-down for a pirate; and
Smee, who henceforth wandered about the world in his spectacles, making
a precarious living by saying he was the only man that Jas. Hook had
feared.
Wendy, of course, had stood by taking no part in the fight, though
watching Peter with glistening eyes; but now that all was over she
became prominent again. She praised them equally, and shuddered
delightfully when Michael showed her the place where he had killed one;
and then she took them into Hooks cabin and pointed to his watch which
was hanging on a nail. It said half-past one!
The lateness of the hour was almost the biggest thing of all. She got
them to bed in the pirates bunks pretty quickly, you may be sure; all
but Peter, who strutted up and down on the deck, until at last he fell
asleep by the side of Long Tom. He had one of his dreams that night,
and cried in his sleep for a long time, and Wendy held him tightly. | 946 |
PG16 | 58 | Chapter XVI.
THE RETURN HOME
By three bells that morning they were all stirring their stumps; for
there was a big sea running; and Tootles, the bosun, was among them,
with a ropes end in his hand and chewing tobacco. They all donned
pirate clothes cut off at the knee, shaved smartly, and tumbled up,
with the true nautical roll and hitching their trousers.
It need not be said who was the captain. Nibs and John were first and
second mate. There was a woman aboard. The rest were tars before the
mast, and lived in the focsle. Peter had already lashed himself to
the wheel; but he piped all hands and delivered a short address to
them; said he hoped they would do their duty like gallant hearties, but
that he knew they were the scum of Rio and the Gold Coast, and if they
snapped at him he would tear them. The bluff strident words struck the
note sailors understood, and they cheered him lustily. Then a few sharp
orders were given, and they turned the ship round, and nosed her for
the mainland.
Captain Pan calculated, after consulting the ships chart, that if this
weather lasted they should strike the Azores about the 21st of June,
after which it would save time to fly.
Some of them wanted it to be an honest ship and others were in favour
of keeping it a pirate; but the captain treated them as dogs, and they
dared not express their wishes to him even in a round robin. Instant
obedience was the only safe thing. Slightly got a dozen for looking
perplexed when told to take soundings. The general feeling was that
Peter was honest just now to lull Wendys suspicions, but that there
might be a change when the new suit was ready, which, against her will,
she was making for him out of some of Hooks wickedest garments. It was
afterwards whispered among them that on the first night he wore this
suit he sat long in the cabin with Hooks cigar-holder in his mouth and
one hand clenched, all but for the forefinger, which he bent and held
threateningly aloft like a hook.
Instead of watching the ship, however, we must now return to that
desolate home from which three of our characters had taken heartless
flight so long ago. It seems a shame to have neglected No. 14 all this
time; and yet we may be sure that Mrs. Darling does not blame us. If we
had returned sooner to look with sorrowful sympathy at her, she would
probably have cried, Dont be silly; what do I matter? Do go back and
keep an eye on the children. So long as mothers are like this their
children will take advantage of them; and they may lay to that.
Even now we venture into that familiar nursery only because its lawful
occupants are on their way home; we are merely hurrying on in advance
of them to see that their beds are properly aired and that Mr. and Mrs.
Darling do not go out for the evening. We are no more than servants.
Why on earth should their beds be properly aired, seeing that they left
them in such a thankless hurry? Would it not serve them jolly well
right if they came back and found that their parents were spending the
week-end in the country? It would be the moral lesson they have been in
need of ever since we met them; but if we contrived things in this way
Mrs. Darling would never forgive us.
One thing I should like to do immensely, and that is to tell her, in
the way authors have, that the children are coming back, that indeed
they will be here on Thursday week. This would spoil so completely the
surprise to which Wendy and John and Michael are looking forward. They
have been planning it out on the ship: mothers rapture, fathers shout
of joy, Nanas leap through the air to embrace them first, when what
they ought to be prepared for is a good hiding. How delicious to spoil
it all by breaking the news in advance; so that when they enter grandly
Mrs. Darling may not even offer Wendy her mouth, and Mr. Darling may
exclaim pettishly, Dash it all, here are those boys again. However,
we should get no thanks even for this. We are beginning to know Mrs.
Darling by this time, and may be sure that she would upbraid us for
depriving the children of their little pleasure. | 968 |
PG16 | 59 | But, my dear madam, it is ten days till Thursday week; so that by
telling you whats what, we can save you ten days of unhappiness.
Yes, but at what a cost! By depriving the children of ten minutes of
delight.
Oh, if you look at it in that way!
What other way is there in which to look at it?
You see, the woman had no proper spirit. I had meant to say
extraordinarily nice things about her; but I despise her, and not one
of them will I say now. She does not really need to be told to have
things ready, for they are ready. All the beds are aired, and she never
leaves the house, and observe, the window is open. For all the use we
are to her, we might well go back to the ship. However, as we are here
we may as well stay and look on. That is all we are, lookers-on. Nobody
really wants us. So let us watch and say jaggy things, in the hope that
some of them will hurt.
The only change to be seen in the night-nursery is that between nine
and six the kennel is no longer there. When the children flew away, Mr.
Darling felt in his bones that all the blame was his for having chained
Nana up, and that from first to last she had been wiser than he. Of
course, as we have seen, he was quite a simple man; indeed he might
have passed for a boy again if he had been able to take his baldness
off; but he had also a noble sense of justice and a lions courage to
do what seemed right to him; and having thought the matter out with
anxious care after the flight of the children, he went down on all
fours and crawled into the kennel. To all Mrs. Darlings dear
invitations to him to come out he replied sadly but firmly:
No, my own one, this is the place for me.
In the bitterness of his remorse he swore that he would never leave the
kennel until his children came back. Of course this was a pity; but
whatever Mr. Darling did he had to do in excess, otherwise he soon gave
up doing it. And there never was a more humble man than the once proud
George Darling, as he sat in the kennel of an evening talking with his
wife of their children and all their pretty ways.
Very touching was his deference to Nana. He would not let her come into
the kennel, but on all other matters he followed her wishes implicitly.
Every morning the kennel was carried with Mr. Darling in it to a cab,
which conveyed him to his office, and he returned home in the same way
at six. Something of the strength of character of the man will be seen
if we remember how sensitive he was to the opinion of neighbours: this
man whose every movement now attracted surprised attention. Inwardly he
must have suffered torture; but he preserved a calm exterior even when
the young criticised his little home, and he always lifted his hat
courteously to any lady who looked inside.
It may have been Quixotic, but it was magnificent. Soon the inward
meaning of it leaked out, and the great heart of the public was
touched. Crowds followed the cab, cheering it lustily; charming girls
scaled it to get his autograph; interviews appeared in the better class
of papers, and society invited him to dinner and added, Do come in the
kennel.
On that eventful Thursday week, Mrs. Darling was in the night-nursery
awaiting Georges return home; a very sad-eyed woman. Now that we look
at her closely and remember the gaiety of her in the old days, all gone
now just because she has lost her babes, I find I wont be able to say
nasty things about her after all. If she was too fond of her rubbishy
children, she couldnt help it. Look at her in her chair, where she has
fallen asleep. The corner of her mouth, where one looks first, is
almost withered up. Her hand moves restlessly on her breast as if she
had a pain there. Some like Peter best, and some like Wendy best, but I
like her best. Suppose, to make her happy, we whisper to her in her
sleep that the brats are coming back. They are really within two miles
of the window now, and flying strong, but all we need whisper is that
they are on the way. Lets. | 980 |
PG16 | 60 | It is a pity we did it, for she has started up, calling their names;
and there is no one in the room but Nana.
O Nana, I dreamt my dear ones had come back.
Nana had filmy eyes, but all she could do was put her paw gently on her
mistresss lap; and they were sitting together thus when the kennel was
brought back. As Mr. Darling puts his head out to kiss his wife, we see
that his face is more worn than of yore, but has a softer expression.
He gave his hat to Liza, who took it scornfully; for she had no
imagination, and was quite incapable of understanding the motives of
such a man. Outside, the crowd who had accompanied the cab home were
still cheering, and he was naturally not unmoved.
Listen to them, he said; it is very gratifying.
Lots of little boys, sneered Liza.
There were several adults to-day, he assured her with a faint flush;
but when she tossed her head he had not a word of reproof for her.
Social success had not spoilt him; it had made him sweeter. For some
time he sat with his head out of the kennel, talking with Mrs. Darling
of this success, and pressing her hand reassuringly when she said she
hoped his head would not be turned by it.
But if I had been a weak man, he said. Good heavens, if I had been a
weak man!
And, George, she said timidly, you are as full of remorse as ever,
arent you?
Full of remorse as ever, dearest! See my punishment: living in a
kennel.
But it is punishment, isnt it, George? You are sure you are not
enjoying it?
My love!
You may be sure she begged his pardon; and then, feeling drowsy, he
curled round in the kennel.
Wont you play me to sleep, he asked, on the nursery piano? and as
she was crossing to the day-nursery he added thoughtlessly, And shut
that window. I feel a draught.
O George, never ask me to do that. The window must always be left open
for them, always, always.
Now it was his turn to beg her pardon; and she went into the
day-nursery and played, and soon he was asleep; and while he slept,
Wendy and John and Michael flew into the room.
Oh no. We have written it so, because that was the charming arrangement
planned by them before we left the ship; but something must have
happened since then, for it is not they who have flown in, it is Peter
and Tinker Bell.
Peters first words tell all.
Quick Tink, he whispered, close the window; bar it! Thats right.
Now you and I must get away by the door; and when Wendy comes she will
think her mother has barred her out; and she will have to go back with
me.
Now I understand what had hitherto puzzled me, why when Peter had
exterminated the pirates he did not return to the island and leave Tink
to escort the children to the mainland. This trick had been in his head
all the time.
Instead of feeling that he was behaving badly he danced with glee; then
he peeped into the day-nursery to see who was playing. He whispered to
Tink, Its Wendys mother! She is a pretty lady, but not so pretty as
my mother. Her mouth is full of thimbles, but not so full as my
mothers was.
Of course he knew nothing whatever about his mother; but he sometimes
bragged about her.
He did not know the tune, which was Home, Sweet Home, but he knew it
was saying, Come back, Wendy, Wendy, Wendy; and he cried exultantly,
You will never see Wendy again, lady, for the window is barred!
He peeped in again to see why the music had stopped, and now he saw
that Mrs. Darling had laid her head on the box, and that two tears were
sitting on her eyes.
She wants me to unbar the window, thought Peter, but I wont, not
I!
He peeped again, and the tears were still there, or another two had
taken their place.
Shes awfully fond of Wendy, he said to himself. He was angry with
her now for not seeing why she could not have Wendy.
The reason was so simple: Im fond of her too. We cant both have her,
lady.
But the lady would not make the best of it, and he was unhappy. He
ceased to look at her, but even then she would not let go of him. He
skipped about and made funny faces, but when he stopped it was just as
if she were inside him, knocking. | 1,046 |
PG16 | 61 | Oh, all right, he said at last, and gulped. Then he unbarred the
window. Come on, Tink, he cried, with a frightful sneer at the laws
of nature; we dont want any silly mothers; and he flew away.
Thus Wendy and John and Michael found the window open for them after
all, which of course was more than they deserved. They alighted on the
floor, quite unashamed of themselves, and the youngest one had already
forgotten his home.
John, he said, looking around him doubtfully, I think I have been
here before.
Of course you have, you silly. There is your old bed.
So it is, Michael said, but not with much conviction.
I say, cried John, the kennel! and he dashed across to look into
it.
Perhaps Nana is inside it, Wendy said.
But John whistled. Hullo, he said, theres a man inside it.
Its father! exclaimed Wendy.
Let me see father, Michael begged eagerly, and he took a good look.
He is not so big as the pirate I killed, he said with such frank
disappointment that I am glad Mr. Darling was asleep; it would have
been sad if those had been the first words he heard his little Michael
say.
Wendy and John had been taken aback somewhat at finding their father in
the kennel.
Surely, said John, like one who had lost faith in his memory, he
used not to sleep in the kennel?
John, Wendy said falteringly, perhaps we dont remember the old life
as well as we thought we did.
A chill fell upon them; and serve them right.
It is very careless of mother, said that young scoundrel John, not
to be here when we come back.
It was then that Mrs. Darling began playing again.
Its mother! cried Wendy, peeping.
So it is! said John.
Then are you not really our mother, Wendy? asked Michael, who was
surely sleepy.
Oh dear! exclaimed Wendy, with her first real twinge of remorse, it
was quite time we came back.
Let us creep in, John suggested, and put our hands over her eyes.
But Wendy, who saw that they must break the joyous news more gently,
had a better plan.
Let us all slip into our beds, and be there when she comes in, just as
if we had never been away.
And so when Mrs. Darling went back to the night-nursery to see if her
husband was asleep, all the beds were occupied. The children waited for
her cry of joy, but it did not come. She saw them, but she did not
believe they were there. You see, she saw them in their beds so often
in her dreams that she thought this was just the dream hanging around
her still.
She sat down in the chair by the fire, where in the old days she had
nursed them.
They could not understand this, and a cold fear fell upon all the three
of them.
Mother! Wendy cried.
Thats Wendy, she said, but still she was sure it was the dream.
Mother!
Thats John, she said.
Mother! cried Michael. He knew her now.
Thats Michael, she said, and she stretched out her arms for the
three little selfish children they would never envelop again. Yes, they
did, they went round Wendy and John and Michael, who had slipped out of
bed and run to her.
George, George! she cried when she could speak; and Mr. Darling woke
to share her bliss, and Nana came rushing in. There could not have been
a lovelier sight; but there was none to see it except a little boy who
was staring in at the window. He had had ecstasies innumerable that
other children can never know; but he was looking through the window at
the one joy from which he must be for ever barred. | 843 |
PG16 | 62 | Chapter XVII.
WHEN WENDY GREW UP
I hope you want to know what became of the other boys. They were
waiting below to give Wendy time to explain about them; and when they
had counted five hundred they went up. They went up by the stair,
because they thought this would make a better impression. They stood in
a row in front of Mrs. Darling, with their hats off, and wishing they
were not wearing their pirate clothes. They said nothing, but their
eyes asked her to have them. They ought to have looked at Mr. Darling
also, but they forgot about him.
Of course Mrs. Darling said at once that she would have them; but Mr.
Darling was curiously depressed, and they saw that he considered six a
rather large number.
I must say, he said to Wendy, that you dont do things by halves, a
grudging remark which the twins thought was pointed at them.
The first twin was the proud one, and he asked, flushing, Do you think
we should be too much of a handful, sir? Because, if so, we can go
away.
Father! Wendy cried, shocked; but still the cloud was on him. He knew
he was behaving unworthily, but he could not help it.
We could lie doubled up, said Nibs.
I always cut their hair myself, said Wendy.
George! Mrs. Darling exclaimed, pained to see her dear one showing
himself in such an unfavourable light.
Then he burst into tears, and the truth came out. He was as glad to
have them as she was, he said, but he thought they should have asked
his consent as well as hers, instead of treating him as a cypher in his
own house.
I dont think he is a cypher, Tootles cried instantly. Do you think
he is a cypher, Curly?
No, I dont. Do you think he is a cypher, Slightly?
Rather not. Twin, what do you think?
It turned out that not one of them thought him a cypher; and he was
absurdly gratified, and said he would find space for them all in the
drawing-room if they fitted in.
Well fit in, sir, they assured him.
Then follow the leader, he cried gaily. Mind you, I am not sure that
we have a drawing-room, but we pretend we have, and its all the same.
Hoop la!
He went off dancing through the house, and they all cried Hoop la!
and danced after him, searching for the drawing-room; and I forget
whether they found it, but at any rate they found corners, and they all
fitted in.
As for Peter, he saw Wendy once again before he flew away. He did not
exactly come to the window, but he brushed against it in passing so
that she could open it if she liked and call to him. That is what she
did.
Hullo, Wendy, good-bye, he said.
Oh dear, are you going away?
Yes.
You dont feel, Peter, she said falteringly, that you would like to
say anything to my parents about a very sweet subject?
No.
About me, Peter?
No.
Mrs. Darling came to the window, for at present she was keeping a sharp
eye on Wendy. She told Peter that she had adopted all the other boys,
and would like to adopt him also.
Would you send me to school? he inquired craftily.
Yes.
And then to an office?
I suppose so.
Soon I would be a man?
Very soon.
I dont want to go to school and learn solemn things, he told her
passionately. I dont want to be a man. O Wendys mother, if I was to
wake up and feel there was a beard!
Peter, said Wendy the comforter, I should love you in a beard; and
Mrs. Darling stretched out her arms to him, but he repulsed her.
Keep back, lady, no one is going to catch me and make me a man.
But where are you going to live?
With Tink in the house we built for Wendy. The fairies are to put it
high up among the tree tops where they sleep at nights.
How lovely, cried Wendy so longingly that Mrs. Darling tightened her
grip.
I thought all the fairies were dead, Mrs. Darling said.
There are always a lot of young ones, explained Wendy, who was now
quite an authority, because you see when a new baby laughs for the
first time a new fairy is born, and as there are always new babies
there are always new fairies. They live in nests on the tops of trees;
and the mauve ones are boys and the white ones are girls, and the blue
ones are just little sillies who are not sure what they are. | 1,030 |
PG16 | 63 | I shall have such fun, said Peter, with eye on Wendy.
It will be rather lonely in the evening, she said, sitting by the
fire.
I shall have Tink.
Tink cant go a twentieth part of the way round, she reminded him a
little tartly.
Sneaky tell-tale! Tink called out from somewhere round the corner.
It doesnt matter, Peter said.
O Peter, you know it matters.
Well, then, come with me to the little house.
May I, mummy?
Certainly not. I have got you home again, and I mean to keep you.
But he does so need a mother.
So do you, my love.
Oh, all right, Peter said, as if he had asked her from politeness
merely; but Mrs. Darling saw his mouth twitch, and she made this
handsome offer: to let Wendy go to him for a week every year to do his
spring cleaning. Wendy would have preferred a more permanent
arrangement; and it seemed to her that spring would be long in coming;
but this promise sent Peter away quite gay again. He had no sense of
time, and was so full of adventures that all I have told you about him
is only a halfpenny-worth of them. I suppose it was because Wendy knew
this that her last words to him were these rather plaintive ones:
You wont forget me, Peter, will you, before spring cleaning time
comes?
Of course Peter promised; and then he flew away. He took Mrs. Darlings
kiss with him. The kiss that had been for no one else, Peter took quite
easily. Funny. But she seemed satisfied.
Of course all the boys went to school; and most of them got into Class
III, but Slightly was put first into Class IV and then into Class V.
Class I is the top class. Before they had attended school a week they
saw what goats they had been not to remain on the island; but it was
too late now, and soon they settled down to being as ordinary as you or
me or Jenkins minor. It is sad to have to say that the power to fly
gradually left them. At first Nana tied their feet to the bed-posts so
that they should not fly away in the night; and one of their diversions
by day was to pretend to fall off buses; but by and by they ceased to
tug at their bonds in bed, and found that they hurt themselves when
they let go of the bus. In time they could not even fly after their
hats. Want of practice, they called it; but what it really meant was
that they no longer believed.
Michael believed longer than the other boys, though they jeered at him;
so he was with Wendy when Peter came for her at the end of the first
year. She flew away with Peter in the frock she had woven from leaves
and berries in the Neverland, and her one fear was that he might notice
how short it had become; but he never noticed, he had so much to say
about himself.
She had looked forward to thrilling talks with him about old times, but
new adventures had crowded the old ones from his mind.
Who is Captain Hook? he asked with interest when she spoke of the
arch enemy.
Dont you remember, she asked, amazed, how you killed him and saved
all our lives?
I forget them after I kill them, he replied carelessly.
When she expressed a doubtful hope that Tinker Bell would be glad to
see her he said, Who is Tinker Bell?
O Peter, she said, shocked; but even when she explained he could not
remember.
There are such a lot of them, he said. I expect she is no more.
I expect he was right, for fairies dont live long, but they are so
little that a short time seems a good while to them.
Wendy was pained too to find that the past year was but as yesterday to
Peter; it had seemed such a long year of waiting to her. But he was
exactly as fascinating as ever, and they had a lovely spring cleaning
in the little house on the tree tops.
Next year he did not come for her. She waited in a new frock because
the old one simply would not meet; but he never came.
Perhaps he is ill, Michael said.
You know he is never ill.
Michael came close to her and whispered, with a shiver, Perhaps there
is no such person, Wendy! and then Wendy would have cried if Michael
had not been crying. | 967 |
PG16 | 64 | Peter came next spring cleaning; and the strange thing was that he
never knew he had missed a year.
That was the last time the girl Wendy ever saw him. For a little longer
she tried for his sake not to have growing pains; and she felt she was
untrue to him when she got a prize for general knowledge. But the years
came and went without bringing the careless boy; and when they met
again Wendy was a married woman, and Peter was no more to her than a
little dust in the box in which she had kept her toys. Wendy was grown
up. You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes
to grow up. In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker
than other girls.
All the boys were grown up and done for by this time; so it is scarcely
worth while saying anything more about them. You may see the twins and
Nibs and Curly any day going to an office, each carrying a little bag
and an umbrella. Michael is an engine-driver. Slightly married a lady
of title, and so he became a lord. You see that judge in a wig coming
out at the iron door? That used to be Tootles. The bearded man who
doesnt know any story to tell his children was once John.
Wendy was married in white with a pink sash. It is strange to think
that Peter did not alight in the church and forbid the banns.
Years rolled on again, and Wendy had a daughter. This ought not to be
written in ink but in a golden splash.
She was called Jane, and always had an odd inquiring look, as if from
the moment she arrived on the mainland she wanted to ask questions.
When she was old enough to ask them they were mostly about Peter Pan.
She loved to hear of Peter, and Wendy told her all she could remember
in the very nursery from which the famous flight had taken place. It
was Janes nursery now, for her father had bought it at the three per
cents from Wendys father, who was no longer fond of stairs. Mrs.
Darling was now dead and forgotten.
There were only two beds in the nursery now, Janes and her nurses;
and there was no kennel, for Nana also had passed away. She died of old
age, and at the end she had been rather difficult to get on with; being
very firmly convinced that no one knew how to look after children
except herself.
Once a week Janes nurse had her evening off; and then it was Wendys
part to put Jane to bed. That was the time for stories. It was Janes
invention to raise the sheet over her mothers head and her own, thus
making a tent, and in the awful darkness to whisper:
What do we see now?
I dont think I see anything to-night, says Wendy, with a feeling
that if Nana were here she would object to further conversation.
Yes, you do, says Jane, you see when you were a little girl.
That is a long time ago, sweetheart, says Wendy. Ah me, how time
flies!
Does it fly, asks the artful child, the way you flew when you were a
little girl?
The way I flew? Do you know, Jane, I sometimes wonder whether I ever
did really fly.
Yes, you did.
The dear old days when I could fly!
Why cant you fly now, mother?
Because I am grown up, dearest. When people grow up they forget the
way.
Why do they forget the way?
Because they are no longer gay and innocent and heartless. It is only
the gay and innocent and heartless who can fly.
What is gay and innocent and heartless? I do wish I were gay and
innocent and heartless.
Or perhaps Wendy admits she does see something.
I do believe, she says, that it is this nursery.
I do believe it is, says Jane. Go on.
They are now embarked on the great adventure of the night when Peter
flew in looking for his shadow.
The foolish fellow, says Wendy, tried to stick it on with soap, and
when he could not he cried, and that woke me, and I sewed it on for
him.
You have missed a bit, interrupts Jane, who now knows the story
better than her mother. When you saw him sitting on the floor crying,
what did you say? | 941 |
PG16 | 65 | I sat up in bed and I said, Boy, why are you crying?
Yes, that was it, says Jane, with a big breath.
And then he flew us all away to the Neverland and the fairies and the
pirates and the redskins and the mermaids lagoon, and the home under
the ground, and the little house.
Yes! which did you like best of all?
I think I liked the home under the ground best of all.
Yes, so do I. What was the last thing Peter ever said to you?
The last thing he ever said to me was, Just always be waiting for me,
and then some night you will hear me crowing.
Yes.
But, alas, he forgot all about me, Wendy said it with a smile. She
was as grown up as that.
What did his crow sound like? Jane asked one evening.
It was like this, Wendy said, trying to imitate Peters crow.
No, it wasnt, Jane said gravely, it was like this; and she did it
ever so much better than her mother.
Wendy was a little startled. My darling, how can you know?
I often hear it when I am sleeping, Jane said.
Ah yes, many girls hear it when they are sleeping, but I was the only
one who heard it awake.
Lucky you, said Jane.
And then one night came the tragedy. It was the spring of the year, and
the story had been told for the night, and Jane was now asleep in her
bed. Wendy was sitting on the floor, very close to the fire, so as to
see to darn, for there was no other light in the nursery; and while she
sat darning she heard a crow. Then the window blew open as of old, and
Peter dropped in on the floor.
He was exactly the same as ever, and Wendy saw at once that he still
had all his first teeth.
He was a little boy, and she was grown up. She huddled by the fire not
daring to move, helpless and guilty, a big woman.
Hullo, Wendy, he said, not noticing any difference, for he was
thinking chiefly of himself; and in the dim light her white dress might
have been the nightgown in which he had seen her first.
Hullo, Peter, she replied faintly, squeezing herself as small as
possible. Something inside her was crying Woman, Woman, let go of me.
Hullo, where is John? he asked, suddenly missing the third bed.
John is not here now, she gasped.
Is Michael asleep? he asked, with a careless glance at Jane.
Yes, she answered; and now she felt that she was untrue to Jane as
well as to Peter.
That is not Michael, she said quickly, lest a judgment should fall on
her.
Peter looked. Hullo, is it a new one?
Yes.
Boy or girl?
Girl.
Now surely he would understand; but not a bit of it.
Peter, she said, faltering, are you expecting me to fly away with
you?
Of course; that is why I have come. He added a little sternly, Have
you forgotten that this is spring cleaning time?
She knew it was useless to say that he had let many spring cleaning
times pass.
I cant come, she said apologetically, I have forgotten how to fly.
Ill soon teach you again.
O Peter, dont waste the fairy dust on me.
She had risen; and now at last a fear assailed him. What is it? he
cried, shrinking.
I will turn up the light, she said, and then you can see for
yourself.
For almost the only time in his life that I know of, Peter was afraid.
Dont turn up the light, he cried.
She let her hands play in the hair of the tragic boy. She was not a
little girl heart-broken about him; she was a grown woman smiling at it
all, but they were wet-eyed smiles.
Then she turned up the light, and Peter saw. He gave a cry of pain; and
when the tall beautiful creature stooped to lift him in her arms he
drew back sharply.
What is it? he cried again.
She had to tell him.
I am old, Peter. I am ever so much more than twenty. I grew up long
ago.
You promised not to!
I couldnt help it. I am a married woman, Peter.
No, youre not.
Yes, and the little girl in the bed is my baby.
No, shes not.
But he supposed she was; and he took a step towards the sleeping child
with his dagger upraised. Of course he did not strike. He sat down on
the floor instead and sobbed; and Wendy did not know how to comfort
him, though she could have done it so easily once. She was only a woman
now, and she ran out of the room to try to think. | 1,047 |
PG24 | 0 | One January day, thirty years ago, the little town of Hanover, anchored
on a windy Nebraska tableland, was trying not to be blown away. A mist
of fine snowflakes was curling and eddying about the cluster of low
drab buildings huddled on the gray prairie, under a gray sky. The
dwelling-houses were set about haphazard on the tough prairie sod; some
of them looked as if they had been moved in overnight, and others as if
they were straying off by themselves, headed straight for the open
plain. None of them had any appearance of permanence, and the howling
wind blew under them as well as over them. The main street was a deeply
rutted road, now frozen hard, which ran from the squat red railway
station and the grain elevator at the north end of the town to the
lumber yard and the horse pond at the south end. On either side of this
road straggled two uneven rows of wooden buildings; the general
merchandise stores, the two banks, the drug store, the feed store, the
saloon, the post-office. The board sidewalks were gray with trampled
snow, but at two oclock in the afternoon the shopkeepers, having come
back from dinner, were keeping well behind their frosty windows. The
children were all in school, and there was nobody abroad in the streets
but a few rough-looking countrymen in coarse overcoats, with their long
caps pulled down to their noses. Some of them had brought their wives
to town, and now and then a red or a plaid shawl flashed out of one
store into the shelter of another. At the hitch-bars along the street a
few heavy work-horses, harnessed to farm wagons, shivered under their
blankets. About the station everything was quiet, for there would not
be another train in until night.
On the sidewalk in front of one of the stores sat a little Swede boy,
crying bitterly. He was about five years old. His black cloth coat was
much too big for him and made him look like a little old man. His
shrunken brown flannel dress had been washed many times and left a long
stretch of stocking between the hem of his skirt and the tops of his
clumsy, copper-toed shoes. His cap was pulled down over his ears; his
nose and his chubby cheeks were chapped and red with cold. He cried
quietly, and the few people who hurried by did not notice him. He was
afraid to stop any one, afraid to go into the store and ask for help,
so he sat wringing his long sleeves and looking up a telegraph pole
beside him, whimpering, My kitten, oh, my kitten! Her will fweeze! At
the top of the pole crouched a shivering gray kitten, mewing faintly
and clinging desperately to the wood with her claws. The boy had been
left at the store while his sister went to the doctors office, and in
her absence a dog had chased his kitten up the pole. The little
creature had never been so high before, and she was too frightened to
move. Her master was sunk in despair. He was a little country boy, and
this village was to him a very strange and perplexing place, where
people wore fine clothes and had hard hearts. He always felt shy and
awkward here, and wanted to hide behind things for fear some one might
laugh at him. Just now, he was too unhappy to care who laughed. At last
he seemed to see a ray of hope: his sister was coming, and he got up
and ran toward her in his heavy shoes.
His sister was a tall, strong girl, and she walked rapidly and
resolutely, as if she knew exactly where she was going and what she was
going to do next. She wore a mans long ulster (not as if it were an
affliction, but as if it were very comfortable and belonged to her;
carried it like a young soldier), and a round plush cap, tied down with
a thick veil. She had a serious, thoughtful face, and her clear, deep
blue eyes were fixed intently on the distance, without seeming to see
anything, as if she were in trouble. She did not notice the little boy
until he pulled her by the coat. Then she stopped short and stooped
down to wipe his wet face.
Why, Emil! I told you to stay in the store and not to come out. What
is the matter with you? | 982 |
PG24 | 1 | My kitten, sister, my kitten! A man put her out, and a dog chased her
up there. His forefinger, projecting from the sleeve of his coat,
pointed up to the wretched little creature on the pole.
Oh, Emil! Didnt I tell you shed get us into trouble of some kind, if
you brought her? What made you tease me so? But there, I ought to have
known better myself. She went to the foot of the pole and held out her
arms, crying, Kitty, kitty, kitty, but the kitten only mewed and
faintly waved its tail. Alexandra turned away decidedly. No, she wont
come down. Somebody will have to go up after her. I saw the Linstrums
wagon in town. Ill go and see if I can find Carl. Maybe he can do
something. Only you must stop crying, or I wont go a step. Wheres
your comforter? Did you leave it in the store? Never mind. Hold still,
till I put this on you.
She unwound the brown veil from her head and tied it about his throat.
A shabby little traveling man, who was just then coming out of the
store on his way to the saloon, stopped and gazed stupidly at the
shining mass of hair she bared when she took off her veil; two thick
braids, pinned about her head in the German way, with a fringe of
reddish-yellow curls blowing out from under her cap. He took his cigar
out of his mouth and held the wet end between the fingers of his woolen
glove. My God, girl, what a head of hair! he exclaimed, quite
innocently and foolishly. She stabbed him with a glance of Amazonian
fierceness and drew in her lower lipmost unnecessary severity. It gave
the little clothing drummer such a start that he actually let his cigar
fall to the sidewalk and went off weakly in the teeth of the wind to
the saloon. His hand was still unsteady when he took his glass from the
bartender. His feeble flirtatious instincts had been crushed before,
but never so mercilessly. He felt cheap and ill-used, as if some one
had taken advantage of him. When a drummer had been knocking about in
little drab towns and crawling across the wintry country in dirty
smoking-cars, was he to be blamed if, when he chanced upon a fine human
creature, he suddenly wished himself more of a man?
While the little drummer was drinking to recover his nerve, Alexandra
hurried to the drug store as the most likely place to find Carl
Linstrum. There he was, turning over a portfolio of chromo studies
which the druggist sold to the Hanover women who did china-painting.
Alexandra explained her predicament, and the boy followed her to the
corner, where Emil still sat by the pole.
Ill have to go up after her, Alexandra. I think at the depot they
have some spikes I can strap on my feet. Wait a minute. Carl thrust
his hands into his pockets, lowered his head, and darted up the street
against the north wind. He was a tall boy of fifteen, slight and
narrow-chested. When he came back with the spikes, Alexandra asked him
what he had done with his overcoat.
I left it in the drug store. I couldnt climb in it, anyhow. Catch me
if I fall, Emil, he called back as he began his ascent. Alexandra
watched him anxiously; the cold was bitter enough on the ground. The
kitten would not budge an inch. Carl had to go to the very top of the
pole, and then had some difficulty in tearing her from her hold. When
he reached the ground, he handed the cat to her tearful little master.
Now go into the store with her, Emil, and get warm. He opened the
door for the child. Wait a minute, Alexandra. Why cant I drive for
you as far as our place? Its getting colder every minute. Have you
seen the doctor?
Yes. He is coming over to-morrow. But he says father cant get better;
cant get well. The girls lip trembled. She looked fixedly up the
bleak street as if she were gathering her strength to face something,
as if she were trying with all her might to grasp a situation which, no
matter how painful, must be met and dealt with somehow. The wind
flapped the skirts of her heavy coat about her.
Carl did not say anything, but she felt his sympathy. He, too, was
lonely. He was a thin, frail boy, with brooding dark eyes, very quiet
in all his movements. There was a delicate pallor in his thin face, and
his mouth was too sensitive for a boys. The lips had already a little
curl of bitterness and skepticism. The two friends stood for a few
moments on the windy street corner, not speaking a word, as two
travelers, who have lost their way, sometimes stand and admit their
perplexity in silence. When Carl turned away he said, Ill see to your
team. Alexandra went into the store to have her purchases packed in
the egg-boxes, and to get warm before she set out on her long cold
drive. | 1,138 |
PG24 | 2 | When she looked for Emil, she found him sitting on a step of the
staircase that led up to the clothing and carpet department. He was
playing with a little Bohemian girl, Marie Tovesky, who was tying her
handkerchief over the kittens head for a bonnet. Marie was a stranger
in the country, having come from Omaha with her mother to visit her
uncle, Joe Tovesky. She was a dark child, with brown curly hair, like a
brunette dolls, a coaxing little red mouth, and round, yellow-brown
eyes. Every one noticed her eyes; the brown iris had golden glints that
made them look like gold-stone, or, in softer lights, like that
Colorado mineral called tiger-eye.
The country children thereabouts wore their dresses to their shoe-tops,
but this city child was dressed in what was then called the Kate
Greenaway manner, and her red cashmere frock, gathered full from the
yoke, came almost to the floor. This, with her poke bonnet, gave her
the look of a quaint little woman. She had a white fur tippet about her
neck and made no fussy objections when Emil fingered it admiringly.
Alexandra had not the heart to take him away from so pretty a
playfellow, and she let them tease the kitten together until Joe
Tovesky came in noisily and picked up his little niece, setting her on
his shoulder for every one to see. His children were all boys, and he
adored this little creature. His cronies formed a circle about him,
admiring and teasing the little girl, who took their jokes with great
good nature. They were all delighted with her, for they seldom saw so
pretty and carefully nurtured a child. They told her that she must
choose one of them for a sweetheart, and each began pressing his suit
and offering her bribes; candy, and little pigs, and spotted calves.
She looked archly into the big, brown, mustached faces, smelling of
spirits and tobacco, then she ran her tiny forefinger delicately over
Joes bristly chin and said, Here is my sweetheart.
The Bohemians roared with laughter, and Maries uncle hugged her until
she cried, Please dont, Uncle Joe! You hurt me. Each of Joes
friends gave her a bag of candy, and she kissed them all around, though
she did not like country candy very well. Perhaps that was why she
bethought herself of Emil. Let me down, Uncle Joe, she said, I want
to give some of my candy to that nice little boy I found. She walked
graciously over to Emil, followed by her lusty admirers, who formed a
new circle and teased the little boy until he hid his face in his
sisters skirts, and she had to scold him for being such a baby.
The farm people were making preparations to start for home. The women
were checking over their groceries and pinning their big red shawls
about their heads. The men were buying tobacco and candy with what
money they had left, were showing each other new boots and gloves and
blue flannel shirts. Three big Bohemians were drinking raw alcohol,
tinctured with oil of cinnamon. This was said to fortify one
effectually against the cold, and they smacked their lips after each
pull at the flask. Their volubility drowned every other noise in the
place, and the overheated store sounded of their spirited language as
it reeked of pipe smoke, damp woolens, and kerosene.
Carl came in, wearing his overcoat and carrying a wooden box with a
brass handle. Come, he said, Ive fed and watered your team, and the
wagon is ready. He carried Emil out and tucked him down in the straw
in the wagonbox. The heat had made the little boy sleepy, but he still
clung to his kitten.
You were awful good to climb so high and get my kitten, Carl. When I
get big Ill climb and get little boys kittens for them, he murmured
drowsily. Before the horses were over the first hill, Emil and his cat
were both fast asleep.
Although it was only four oclock, the winter day was fading. The road
led southwest, toward the streak of pale, watery light that glimmered
in the leaden sky. The light fell upon the two sad young faces that
were turned mutely toward it: upon the eyes of the girl, who seemed to
be looking with such anguished perplexity into the future; upon the
sombre eyes of the boy, who seemed already to be looking into the past.
The little town behind them had vanished as if it had never been, had
fallen behind the swell of the prairie, and the stern frozen country
received them into its bosom. The homesteads were few and far apart;
here and there a windmill gaunt against the sky, a sod house crouching
in a hollow. But the great fact was the land itself, which seemed to
overwhelm the little beginnings of human society that struggled in its
sombre wastes. It was from facing this vast hardness that the boys
mouth had become so bitter; because he felt that men were too weak to
make any mark here, that the land wanted to be let alone, to preserve
its own fierce strength, its peculiar, savage kind of beauty, its
uninterrupted mournfulness. | 1,176 |
PG24 | 3 | The wagon jolted along over the frozen road. The two friends had less
to say to each other than usual, as if the cold had somehow penetrated
to their hearts.
Did Lou and Oscar go to the Blue to cut wood to-day? Carl asked.
Yes. Im almost sorry I let them go, its turned so cold. But mother
frets if the wood gets low. She stopped and put her hand to her
forehead, brushing back her hair. I dont know what is to become of
us, Carl, if father has to die. I dont dare to think about it. I wish
we could all go with him and let the grass grow back over everything.
Carl made no reply. Just ahead of them was the Norwegian graveyard,
where the grass had, indeed, grown back over everything, shaggy and
red, hiding even the wire fence. Carl realized that he was not a very
helpful companion, but there was nothing he could say.
Of course, Alexandra went on, steadying her voice a little, the boys
are strong and work hard, but weve always depended so on father that I
dont see how we can go ahead. I almost feel as if there were nothing
to go ahead for.
Does your father know?
Yes, I think he does. He lies and counts on his fingers all day. I
think he is trying to count up what he is leaving for us. Its a
comfort to him that my chickens are laying right on through the cold
weather and bringing in a little money. I wish we could keep his mind
off such things, but I dont have much time to be with him now.
I wonder if hed like to have me bring my magic lantern over some
evening?
Alexandra turned her face toward him. Oh, Carl! Have you got it?
Yes. Its back there in the straw. Didnt you notice the box I was
carrying? I tried it all morning in the drug-store cellar, and it
worked ever so well, makes fine big pictures.
What are they about?
Oh, hunting pictures in Germany, and Robinson Crusoe and funny
pictures about cannibals. Im going to paint some slides for it on
glass, out of the Hans Andersen book.
Alexandra seemed actually cheered. There is often a good deal of the
child left in people who have had to grow up too soon. Do bring it
over, Carl. I can hardly wait to see it, and Im sure it will please
father. Are the pictures colored? Then I know hell like them. He likes
the calendars I get him in town. I wish I could get more. You must
leave me here, mustnt you? Its been nice to have company.
Carl stopped the horses and looked dubiously up at the black sky. Its
pretty dark. Of course the horses will take you home, but I think Id
better light your lantern, in case you should need it.
He gave her the reins and climbed back into the wagon-box, where he
crouched down and made a tent of his overcoat. After a dozen trials he
succeeded in lighting the lantern, which he placed in front of
Alexandra, half covering it with a blanket so that the light would not
shine in her eyes. Now, wait until I find my box. Yes, here it is.
Good-night, Alexandra. Try not to worry. Carl sprang to the ground and
ran off across the fields toward the Linstrum homestead. Hoo,
hoo-o-o-o! he called back as he disappeared over a ridge and dropped
into a sand gully. The wind answered him like an echo, Hoo,
hoo-o-o-o-o-o! Alexandra drove off alone. The rattle of her wagon was
lost in the howling of the wind, but her lantern, held firmly between
her feet, made a moving point of light along the highway, going deeper
and deeper into the dark country.
II
On one of the ridges of that wintry waste stood the low log house in
which John Bergson was dying. The Bergson homestead was easier to find
than many another, because it overlooked Norway Creek, a shallow, muddy
stream that sometimes flowed, and sometimes stood still, at the bottom
of a winding ravine with steep, shelving sides overgrown with brush and
cottonwoods and dwarf ash. This creek gave a sort of identity to the
farms that bordered upon it. Of all the bewildering things about a new
country, the absence of human landmarks is one of the most depressing
and disheartening. The houses on the Divide were small and were usually
tucked away in low places; you did not see them until you came directly
upon them. Most of them were built of the sod itself, and were only the
unescapable ground in another form. The roads were but faint tracks in
the grass, and the fields were scarcely noticeable. The record of the
plow was insignificant, like the feeble scratches on stone left by
prehistoric races, so indeterminate that they may, after all, be only
the markings of glaciers, and not a record of human strivings. | 1,092 |
PG24 | 4 | In eleven long years John Bergson had made but little impression upon
the wild land he had come to tame. It was still a wild thing that had
its ugly moods; and no one knew when they were likely to come, or why.
Mischance hung over it. Its Genius was unfriendly to man. The sick man
was feeling this as he lay looking out of the window, after the doctor
had left him, on the day following Alexandras trip to town. There it
lay outside his door, the same land, the same lead-colored miles. He
knew every ridge and draw and gully between him and the horizon. To the
south, his plowed fields; to the east, the sod stables, the cattle
corral, the pond,and then the grass.
Bergson went over in his mind the things that had held him back. One
winter his cattle had perished in a blizzard. The next summer one of
his plow horses broke its leg in a prairiedog hole and had to be shot.
Another summer he lost his hogs from cholera, and a valuable stallion
died from a rattlesnake bite. Time and again his crops had failed. He
had lost two children, boys, that came between Lou and Emil, and there
had been the cost of sickness and death. Now, when he had at last
struggled out of debt, he was going to die himself. He was only
forty-six, and had, of course, counted upon more time.
Bergson had spent his first five years on the Divide getting into debt,
and the last six getting out. He had paid off his mortgages and had
ended pretty much where he began, with the land. He owned exactly six
hundred and forty acres of what stretched outside his door; his own
original homestead and timber claim, making three hundred and twenty
acres, and the half-section adjoining, the homestead of a younger
brother who had given up the fight, gone back to Chicago to work in a
fancy bakery and distinguish himself in a Swedish athletic club. So far
John had not attempted to cultivate the second half-section, but used
it for pasture land, and one of his sons rode herd there in open
weather.
John Bergson had the Old-World belief that land, in itself, is
desirable. But this land was an enigma. It was like a horse that no one
knows how to break to harness, that runs wild and kicks things to
pieces. He had an idea that no one understood how to farm it properly,
and this he often discussed with Alexandra. Their neighbors, certainly,
knew even less about farming than he did. Many of them had never worked
on a farm until they took up their homesteads. They had been
_handwerkers_ at home; tailors, locksmiths, joiners, cigar-makers, etc.
Bergson himself had worked in a shipyard.
For weeks, John Bergson had been thinking about these things. His bed
stood in the sitting-room, next to the kitchen. Through the day, while
the baking and washing and ironing were going on, the father lay and
looked up at the roof beams that he himself had hewn, or out at the
cattle in the corral. He counted the cattle over and over. It diverted
him to speculate as to how much weight each of the steers would
probably put on by spring. He often called his daughter in to talk to
her about this. Before Alexandra was twelve years old she had begun to
be a help to him, and as she grew older he had come to depend more and
more upon her resourcefulness and good judgment. His boys were willing
enough to work, but when he talked with them they usually irritated
him. It was Alexandra who read the papers and followed the markets, and
who learned by the mistakes of their neighbors. It was Alexandra who
could always tell about what it had cost to fatten each steer, and who
could guess the weight of a hog before it went on the scales closer
than John Bergson himself. Lou and Oscar were industrious, but he could
never teach them to use their heads about their work.
Alexandra, her father often said to himself, was like her grandfather;
which was his way of saying that she was intelligent. John Bergsons
father had been a shipbuilder, a man of considerable force and of some
fortune. Late in life he married a second time, a Stockholm woman of
questionable character, much younger than he, who goaded him into every
sort of extravagance. On the shipbuilders part, this marriage was an
infatuation, the despairing folly of a powerful man who cannot bear to
grow old. In a few years his unprincipled wife warped the probity of a
lifetime. He speculated, lost his own fortune and funds entrusted to
him by poor seafaring men, and died disgraced, leaving his children
nothing. But when all was said, he had come up from the sea himself,
had built up a proud little business with no capital but his own skill
and foresight, and had proved himself a man. In his daughter, John
Bergson recognized the strength of will, and the simple direct way of
thinking things out, that had characterized his father in his better
days. He would much rather, of course, have seen this likeness in one
of his sons, but it was not a question of choice. As he lay there day
after day he had to accept the situation as it was, and to be thankful
that there was one among his children to whom he could entrust the
future of his family and the possibilities of his hard-won land. | 1,222 |
PG24 | 5 | The winter twilight was fading. The sick man heard his wife strike a
match in the kitchen, and the light of a lamp glimmered through the
cracks of the door. It seemed like a light shining far away. He turned
painfully in his bed and looked at his white hands, with all the work
gone out of them. He was ready to give up, he felt. He did not know how
it had come about, but he was quite willing to go deep under his fields
and rest, where the plow could not find him. He was tired of making
mistakes. He was content to leave the tangle to other hands; he thought
of his Alexandras strong ones.
_Dotter_, he called feebly, _dotter!_ He heard her quick step and
saw her tall figure appear in the doorway, with the light of the lamp
behind her. He felt her youth and strength, how easily she moved and
stooped and lifted. But he would not have had it again if he could, not
he! He knew the end too well to wish to begin again. He knew where it
all went to, what it all became.
His daughter came and lifted him up on his pillows. She called him by
an old Swedish name that she used to call him when she was little and
took his dinner to him in the shipyard.
Tell the boys to come here, daughter. I want to speak to them.
They are feeding the horses, father. They have just come back from the
Blue. Shall I call them?
He sighed. No, no. Wait until they come in. Alexandra, you will have
to do the best you can for your brothers. Everything will come on you.
I will do all I can, father.
Dont let them get discouraged and go off like Uncle Otto. I want them
to keep the land.
We will, father. We will never lose the land.
There was a sound of heavy feet in the kitchen. Alexandra went to the
door and beckoned to her brothers, two strapping boys of seventeen and
nineteen. They came in and stood at the foot of the bed. Their father
looked at them searchingly, though it was too dark to see their faces;
they were just the same boys, he told himself, he had not been mistaken
in them. The square head and heavy shoulders belonged to Oscar, the
elder. The younger boy was quicker, but vacillating.
Boys, said the father wearily, I want you to keep the land together
and to be guided by your sister. I have talked to her since I have been
sick, and she knows all my wishes. I want no quarrels among my
children, and so long as there is one house there must be one head.
Alexandra is the oldest, and she knows my wishes. She will do the best
she can. If she makes mistakes, she will not make so many as I have
made. When you marry, and want a house of your own, the land will be
divided fairly, according to the courts. But for the next few years you
will have it hard, and you must all keep together. Alexandra will
manage the best she can.
Oscar, who was usually the last to speak, replied because he was the
older, Yes, father. It would be so anyway, without your speaking. We
will all work the place together.
And you will be guided by your sister, boys, and be good brothers to
her, and good sons to your mother? That is good. And Alexandra must not
work in the fields any more. There is no necessity now. Hire a man when
you need help. She can make much more with her eggs and butter than the
wages of a man. It was one of my mistakes that I did not find that out
sooner. Try to break a little more land every year; sod corn is good
for fodder. Keep turning the land, and always put up more hay than you
need. Dont grudge your mother a little time for plowing her garden and
setting out fruit trees, even if it comes in a busy season. She has
been a good mother to you, and she has always missed the old country.
When they went back to the kitchen the boys sat down silently at the
table. Throughout the meal they looked down at their plates and did not
lift their red eyes. They did not eat much, although they had been
working in the cold all day, and there was a rabbit stewed in gravy for
supper, and prune pies. | 974 |
PG24 | 6 | John Bergson had married beneath him, but he had married a good
housewife. Mrs. Bergson was a fair-skinned, corpulent woman, heavy and
placid like her son, Oscar, but there was something comfortable about
her; perhaps it was her own love of comfort. For eleven years she had
worthily striven to maintain some semblance of household order amid
conditions that made order very difficult. Habit was very strong with
Mrs. Bergson, and her unremitting efforts to repeat the routine of her
old life among new surroundings had done a great deal to keep the
family from disintegrating morally and getting careless in their ways.
The Bergsons had a log house, for instance, only because Mrs. Bergson
would not live in a sod house. She missed the fish diet of her own
country, and twice every summer she sent the boys to the river, twenty
miles to the southward, to fish for channel cat. When the children were
little she used to load them all into the wagon, the baby in its crib,
and go fishing herself.
Alexandra often said that if her mother were cast upon a desert island,
she would thank God for her deliverance, make a garden, and find
something to preserve. Preserving was almost a mania with Mrs. Bergson.
Stout as she was, she roamed the scrubby banks of Norway Creek looking
for fox grapes and goose plums, like a wild creature in search of prey.
She made a yellow jam of the insipid ground-cherries that grew on the
prairie, flavoring it with lemon peel; and she made a sticky dark
conserve of garden tomatoes. She had experimented even with the rank
buffalo-pea, and she could not see a fine bronze cluster of them
without shaking her head and murmuring, What a pity! When there was
nothing more to preserve, she began to pickle. The amount of sugar she
used in these processes was sometimes a serious drain upon the family
resources. She was a good mother, but she was glad when her children
were old enough not to be in her way in the kitchen. She had never
quite forgiven John Bergson for bringing her to the end of the earth;
but, now that she was there, she wanted to be let alone to reconstruct
her old life in so far as that was possible. She could still take some
comfort in the world if she had bacon in the cave, glass jars on the
shelves, and sheets in the press. She disapproved of all her neighbors
because of their slovenly housekeeping, and the women thought her very
proud. Once when Mrs. Bergson, on her way to Norway Creek, stopped to
see old Mrs. Lee, the old woman hid in the haymow for fear Mis
Bergson would catch her barefoot.
III
One Sunday afternoon in July, six months after John Bergsons death,
Carl was sitting in the doorway of the Linstrum kitchen, dreaming over
an illustrated paper, when he heard the rattle of a wagon along the
hill road. Looking up he recognized the Bergsons team, with two seats
in the wagon, which meant they were off for a pleasure excursion. Oscar
and Lou, on the front seat, wore their cloth hats and coats, never worn
except on Sundays, and Emil, on the second seat with Alexandra, sat
proudly in his new trousers, made from a pair of his fathers, and a
pink-striped shirt, with a wide ruffled collar. Oscar stopped the
horses and waved to Carl, who caught up his hat and ran through the
melon patch to join them.
Want to go with us? Lou called. Were going to Crazy Ivars to buy a
hammock.
Sure. Carl ran up panting, and clambering over the wheel sat down
beside Emil. Ive always wanted to see Ivars pond. They say its the
biggest in all the country. Arent you afraid to go to Ivars in that
new shirt, Emil? He might want it and take it right off your back.
Emil grinned. Id be awful scared to go, he admitted, if you big
boys werent along to take care of me. Did you ever hear him howl,
Carl? People say sometimes he runs about the country howling at night
because he is afraid the Lord will destroy him. Mother thinks he must
have done something awful wicked.
Lou looked back and winked at Carl. What would you do, Emil, if you
was out on the prairie by yourself and seen him coming?
Emil stared. Maybe I could hide in a badger-hole, he suggested
doubtfully. | 996 |
PG24 | 7 | But suppose there wasnt any badger-hole, Lou persisted. Would you
run?
No, Id be too scared to run, Emil admitted mournfully, twisting his
fingers. I guess Id sit right down on the ground and say my prayers.
The big boys laughed, and Oscar brandished his whip over the broad
backs of the horses.
He wouldnt hurt you, Emil, said Carl persuasively. He came to
doctor our mare when she ate green corn and swelled up most as big as
the water-tank. He petted her just like you do your cats. I couldnt
understand much he said, for he dont talk any English, but he kept
patting her and groaning as if he had the pain himself, and saying,
There now, sister, thats easier, thats better!
Lou and Oscar laughed, and Emil giggled delightedly and looked up at
his sister.
I dont think he knows anything at all about doctoring, said Oscar
scornfully. They say when horses have distemper he takes the medicine
himself, and then prays over the horses.
Alexandra spoke up. Thats what the Crows said, but he cured their
horses, all the same. Some days his mind is cloudy, like. But if you
can get him on a clear day, you can learn a great deal from him. He
understands animals. Didnt I see him take the horn off the Berquists
cow when she had torn it loose and went crazy? She was tearing all over
the place, knocking herself against things. And at last she ran out on
the roof of the old dugout and her legs went through and there she
stuck, bellowing. Ivar came running with his white bag, and the moment
he got to her she was quiet and let him saw her horn off and daub the
place with tar.
Emil had been watching his sister, his face reflecting the sufferings
of the cow. And then didnt it hurt her any more? he asked.
Alexandra patted him. No, not any more. And in two days they could use
her milk again.
The road to Ivars homestead was a very poor one. He had settled in the
rough country across the county line, where no one lived but some
Russians,half a dozen families who dwelt together in one long house,
divided off like barracks. Ivar had explained his choice by saying that
the fewer neighbors he had, the fewer temptations. Nevertheless, when
one considered that his chief business was horse-doctoring, it seemed
rather short-sighted of him to live in the most inaccessible place he
could find. The Bergson wagon lurched along over the rough hummocks and
grass banks, followed the bottom of winding draws, or skirted the
margin of wide lagoons, where the golden coreopsis grew up out of the
clear water and the wild ducks rose with a whirr of wings.
Lou looked after them helplessly. I wish Id brought my gun, anyway,
Alexandra, he said fretfully. I could have hidden it under the straw
in the bottom of the wagon.
Then wed have had to lie to Ivar. Besides, they say he can smell dead
birds. And if he knew, we wouldnt get anything out of him, not even a
hammock. I want to talk to him, and he wont talk sense if hes angry.
It makes him foolish.
Lou sniffed. Whoever heard of him talking sense, anyhow! Id rather
have ducks for supper than Crazy Ivars tongue.
Emil was alarmed. Oh, but, Lou, you dont want to make him mad! He
might howl!
They all laughed again, and Oscar urged the horses up the crumbling
side of a clay bank. They had left the lagoons and the red grass behind
them. In Crazy Ivars country the grass was short and gray, the draws
deeper than they were in the Bergsons neighborhood, and the land was
all broken up into hillocks and clay ridges. The wild flowers
disappeared, and only in the bottom of the draws and gullies grew a few
of the very toughest and hardiest: shoestring, and ironweed, and
snow-on-the-mountain.
Look, look, Emil, theres Ivars big pond! Alexandra pointed to a
shining sheet of water that lay at the bottom of a shallow draw. At one
end of the pond was an earthen dam, planted with green willow bushes,
and above it a door and a single window were set into the hillside. You
would not have seen them at all but for the reflection of the sunlight
upon the four panes of window-glass. And that was all you saw. Not a
shed, not a corral, not a well, not even a path broken in the curly
grass. But for the piece of rusty stovepipe sticking up through the
sod, you could have walked over the roof of Ivars dwelling without
dreaming that you were near a human habitation. Ivar had lived for
three years in the clay bank, without defiling the face of nature any
more than the coyote that had lived there before him had done. | 1,111 |
PG24 | 8 | When the Bergsons drove over the hill, Ivar was sitting in the doorway
of his house, reading the Norwegian Bible. He was a queerly shaped old
man, with a thick, powerful body set on short bow-legs. His shaggy
white hair, falling in a thick mane about his ruddy cheeks, made him
look older than he was. He was barefoot, but he wore a clean shirt of
unbleached cotton, open at the neck. He always put on a clean shirt
when Sunday morning came round, though he never went to church. He had
a peculiar religion of his own and could not get on with any of the
denominations. Often he did not see anybody from one weeks end to
another. He kept a calendar, and every morning he checked off a day, so
that he was never in any doubt as to which day of the week it was. Ivar
hired himself out in threshing and corn-husking time, and he doctored
sick animals when he was sent for. When he was at home, he made
hammocks out of twine and committed chapters of the Bible to memory.
Ivar found contentment in the solitude he had sought out for himself.
He disliked the litter of human dwellings: the broken food, the bits of
broken china, the old wash-boilers and tea-kettles thrown into the
sunflower patch. He preferred the cleanness and tidiness of the wild
sod. He always said that the badgers had cleaner houses than people,
and that when he took a housekeeper her name would be Mrs. Badger. He
best expressed his preference for his wild homestead by saying that his
Bible seemed truer to him there. If one stood in the doorway of his
cave, and looked off at the rough land, the smiling sky, the curly
grass white in the hot sunlight; if one listened to the rapturous song
of the lark, the drumming of the quail, the burr of the locust against
that vast silence, one understood what Ivar meant.
On this Sunday afternoon his face shone with happiness. He closed the
book on his knee, keeping the place with his horny finger, and repeated
softly:
He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills;
They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild asses quench
their thirst.
The trees of the Lord are full of sap; the cedars of Lebanon which he
hath planted;
Where the birds make their nests: as for the stork, the fir trees are
her house.
The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats; and the rocks for the
conies.
Before he opened his Bible again, Ivar heard the Bergsons wagon
approaching, and he sprang up and ran toward it.
No guns, no guns! he shouted, waving his arms distractedly.
No, Ivar, no guns, Alexandra called reassuringly.
He dropped his arms and went up to the wagon, smiling amiably and
looking at them out of his pale blue eyes.
We want to buy a hammock, if you have one, Alexandra explained, and
my little brother, here, wants to see your big pond, where so many
birds come.
Ivar smiled foolishly, and began rubbing the horses noses and feeling
about their mouths behind the bits. Not many birds just now. A few
ducks this morning; and some snipe come to drink. But there was a crane
last week. She spent one night and came back the next evening. I dont
know why. It is not her season, of course. Many of them go over in the
fall. Then the pond is full of strange voices every night.
Alexandra translated for Carl, who looked thoughtful. Ask him,
Alexandra, if it is true that a sea gull came here once. I have heard
so.
She had some difficulty in making the old man understand.
He looked puzzled at first, then smote his hands together as he
remembered. Oh, yes, yes! A big white bird with long wings and pink
feet. My! what a voice she had! She came in the afternoon and kept
flying about the pond and screaming until dark. She was in trouble of
some sort, but I could not understand her. She was going over to the
other ocean, maybe, and did not know how far it was. She was afraid of
never getting there. She was more mournful than our birds here; she
cried in the night. She saw the light from my window and darted up to
it. Maybe she thought my house was a boat, she was such a wild thing.
Next morning, when the sun rose, I went out to take her food, but she
flew up into the sky and went on her way. Ivar ran his fingers through
his thick hair. I have many strange birds stop with me here. They come
from very far away and are great company. I hope you boys never shoot
wild birds? | 1,078 |
PG24 | 9 | Lou and Oscar grinned, and Ivar shook his bushy head. Yes, I know boys
are thoughtless. But these wild things are Gods birds. He watches over
them and counts them, as we do our cattle; Christ says so in the New
Testament.
Now, Ivar, Lou asked, may we water our horses at your pond and give
them some feed? Its a bad road to your place.
Yes, yes, it is. The old man scrambled about and began to loose the
tugs. A bad road, eh, girls? And the bay with a colt at home!
Oscar brushed the old man aside. Well take care of the horses, Ivar.
Youll be finding some disease on them. Alexandra wants to see your
hammocks.
Ivar led Alexandra and Emil to his little cave house. He had but one
room, neatly plastered and whitewashed, and there was a wooden floor.
There was a kitchen stove, a table covered with oilcloth, two chairs, a
clock, a calendar, a few books on the window-shelf; nothing more. But
the place was as clean as a cupboard.
But where do you sleep, Ivar? Emil asked, looking about.
Ivar unslung a hammock from a hook on the wall; in it was rolled a
buffalo robe. There, my son. A hammock is a good bed, and in winter I
wrap up in this skin. Where I go to work, the beds are not half so easy
as this.
By this time Emil had lost all his timidity. He thought a cave a very
superior kind of house. There was something pleasantly unusual about it
and about Ivar. Do the birds know you will be kind to them, Ivar? Is
that why so many come? he asked.
Ivar sat down on the floor and tucked his feet under him. See, little
brother, they have come from a long way, and they are very tired. From
up there where they are flying, our country looks dark and flat. They
must have water to drink and to bathe in before they can go on with
their journey. They look this way and that, and far below them they see
something shining, like a piece of glass set in the dark earth. That is
my pond. They come to it and are not disturbed. Maybe I sprinkle a
little corn. They tell the other birds, and next year more come this
way. They have their roads up there, as we have down here.
Emil rubbed his knees thoughtfully. And is that true, Ivar, about the
head ducks falling back when they are tired, and the hind ones taking
their place?
Yes. The point of the wedge gets the worst of it; they cut the wind.
They can only stand it there a little whilehalf an hour, maybe. Then
they fall back and the wedge splits a little, while the rear ones come
up the middle to the front. Then it closes up and they fly on, with a
new edge. They are always changing like that, up in the air. Never any
confusion; just like soldiers who have been drilled.
Alexandra had selected her hammock by the time the boys came up from
the pond. They would not come in, but sat in the shade of the bank
outside while Alexandra and Ivar talked about the birds and about his
housekeeping, and why he never ate meat, fresh or salt.
Alexandra was sitting on one of the wooden chairs, her arms resting on
the table. Ivar was sitting on the floor at her feet. Ivar, she said
suddenly, beginning to trace the pattern on the oilcloth with her
forefinger, I came to-day more because I wanted to talk to you than
because I wanted to buy a hammock.
Yes? The old man scraped his bare feet on the plank floor.
We have a big bunch of hogs, Ivar. I wouldnt sell in the spring, when
everybody advised me to, and now so many people are losing their hogs
that I am frightened. What can be done?
Ivars little eyes began to shine. They lost their vagueness.
You feed them swill and such stuff? Of course! And sour milk? Oh, yes!
And keep them in a stinking pen? I tell you, sister, the hogs of this
country are put upon! They become unclean, like the hogs in the Bible.
If you kept your chickens like that, what would happen? You have a
little sorghum patch, maybe? Put a fence around it, and turn the hogs
in. Build a shed to give them shade, a thatch on poles. Let the boys
haul water to them in barrels, clean water, and plenty. Get them off
the old stinking ground, and do not let them go back there until
winter. Give them only grain and clean feed, such as you would give
horses or cattle. Hogs do not like to be filthy. | 1,070 |
PG24 | 10 | The boys outside the door had been listening. Lou nudged his brother.
Come, the horses are done eating. Lets hitch up and get out of here.
Hell fill her full of notions. Shell be for having the pigs sleep
with us, next.
Oscar grunted and got up. Carl, who could not understand what Ivar
said, saw that the two boys were displeased. They did not mind hard
work, but they hated experiments and could never see the use of taking
pains. Even Lou, who was more elastic than his older brother, disliked
to do anything different from their neighbors. He felt that it made
them conspicuous and gave people a chance to talk about them.
Once they were on the homeward road, the boys forgot their ill-humor
and joked about Ivar and his birds. Alexandra did not propose any
reforms in the care of the pigs, and they hoped she had forgotten
Ivars talk. They agreed that he was crazier than ever, and would never
be able to prove up on his land because he worked it so little.
Alexandra privately resolved that she would have a talk with Ivar about
this and stir him up. The boys persuaded Carl to stay for supper and go
swimming in the pasture pond after dark.
That evening, after she had washed the supper dishes, Alexandra sat
down on the kitchen doorstep, while her mother was mixing the bread. It
was a still, deep-breathing summer night, full of the smell of the hay
fields. Sounds of laughter and splashing came up from the pasture, and
when the moon rose rapidly above the bare rim of the prairie, the pond
glittered like polished metal, and she could see the flash of white
bodies as the boys ran about the edge, or jumped into the water.
Alexandra watched the shimmering pool dreamily, but eventually her eyes
went back to the sorghum patch south of the barn, where she was
planning to make her new pig corral.
IV
For the first three years after John Bergsons death, the affairs of
his family prospered. Then came the hard times that brought every one
on the Divide to the brink of despair; three years of drouth and
failure, the last struggle of a wild soil against the encroaching
plowshare. The first of these fruitless summers the Bergson boys bore
courageously. The failure of the corn crop made labor cheap. Lou and
Oscar hired two men and put in bigger crops than ever before. They lost
everything they spent. The whole country was discouraged. Farmers who
were already in debt had to give up their land. A few foreclosures
demoralized the county. The settlers sat about on the wooden sidewalks
in the little town and told each other that the country was never meant
for men to live in; the thing to do was to get back to Iowa, to
Illinois, to any place that had been proved habitable. The Bergson
boys, certainly, would have been happier with their uncle Otto, in the
bakery shop in Chicago. Like most of their neighbors, they were meant
to follow in paths already marked out for them, not to break trails in
a new country. A steady job, a few holidays, nothing to think about,
and they would have been very happy. It was no fault of theirs that
they had been dragged into the wilderness when they were little boys. A
pioneer should have imagination, should be able to enjoy the idea of
things more than the things themselves.
The second of these barren summers was passing. One September afternoon
Alexandra had gone over to the garden across the draw to dig sweet
potatoesthey had been thriving upon the weather that was fatal to
everything else. But when Carl Linstrum came up the garden rows to find
her, she was not working. She was standing lost in thought, leaning
upon her pitchfork, her sunbonnet lying beside her on the ground. The
dry garden patch smelled of drying vines and was strewn with yellow
seed-cucumbers and pumpkins and citrons. At one end, next the rhubarb,
grew feathery asparagus, with red berries. Down the middle of the
garden was a row of gooseberry and currant bushes. A few tough zenias
and marigolds and a row of scarlet sage bore witness to the buckets of
water that Mrs. Bergson had carried there after sundown, against the
prohibition of her sons. Carl came quietly and slowly up the garden
path, looking intently at Alexandra. She did not hear him. She was
standing perfectly still, with that serious ease so characteristic of
her. Her thick, reddish braids, twisted about her head, fairly burned
in the sunlight. The air was cool enough to make the warm sun pleasant
on ones back and shoulders, and so clear that the eye could follow a
hawk up and up, into the blazing blue depths of the sky. Even Carl,
never a very cheerful boy, and considerably darkened by these last two
bitter years, loved the country on days like this, felt something
strong and young and wild come out of it, that laughed at care. | 1,108 |
PG24 | 11 | Alexandra, he said as he approached her, I want to talk to you.
Lets sit down by the gooseberry bushes. He picked up her sack of
potatoes and they crossed the garden. Boys gone to town? he asked as
he sank down on the warm, sun-baked earth. Well, we have made up our
minds at last, Alexandra. We are really going away.
She looked at him as if she were a little frightened. Really, Carl? Is
it settled?
Yes, father has heard from St. Louis, and they will give him back his
old job in the cigar factory. He must be there by the first of
November. They are taking on new men then. We will sell the place for
whatever we can get, and auction the stock. We havent enough to ship.
I am going to learn engraving with a German engraver there, and then
try to get work in Chicago.
Alexandras hands dropped in her lap. Her eyes became dreamy and filled
with tears.
Carls sensitive lower lip trembled. He scratched in the soft earth
beside him with a stick. Thats all I hate about it, Alexandra, he
said slowly. Youve stood by us through so much and helped father out
so many times, and now it seems as if we were running off and leaving
you to face the worst of it. But it isnt as if we could really ever be
of any help to you. We are only one more drag, one more thing you look
out for and feel responsible for. Father was never meant for a farmer,
you know that. And I hate it. Wed only get in deeper and deeper.
Yes, yes, Carl, I know. You are wasting your life here. You are able
to do much better things. You are nearly nineteen now, and I wouldnt
have you stay. Ive always hoped you would get away. But I cant help
feeling scared when I think how I will miss youmore than you will ever
know. She brushed the tears from her cheeks, not trying to hide them.
But, Alexandra, he said sadly and wistfully, Ive never been any
real help to you, beyond sometimes trying to keep the boys in a good
humor.
Alexandra smiled and shook her head. Oh, its not that. Nothing like
that. Its by understanding me, and the boys, and mother, that youve
helped me. I expect that is the only way one person ever really can
help another. I think you are about the only one that ever helped me.
Somehow it will take more courage to bear your going than everything
that has happened before.
Carl looked at the ground. You see, weve all depended so on you, he
said, even father. He makes me laugh. When anything comes up he always
says, I wonder what the Bergsons are going to do about that? I guess
Ill go and ask her. Ill never forget that time, when we first came
here, and our horse had the colic, and I ran over to your placeyour
father was away, and you came home with me and showed father how to let
the wind out of the horse. You were only a little girl then, but you
knew ever so much more about farm work than poor father. You remember
how homesick I used to get, and what long talks we used to have coming
from school? Weve someway always felt alike about things.
Yes, thats it; weve liked the same things and weve liked them
together, without anybody else knowing. And weve had good times,
hunting for Christmas trees and going for ducks and making our plum
wine together every year. Weve never either of us had any other close
friend. And now Alexandra wiped her eyes with the corner of her
apron, and now I must remember that you are going where you will have
many friends, and will find the work you were meant to do. But youll
write to me, Carl? That will mean a great deal to me here.
Ill write as long as I live, cried the boy impetuously. And Ill be
working for you as much as for myself, Alexandra. I want to do
something youll like and be proud of. Im a fool here, but I know I
can do something! He sat up and frowned at the red grass.
Alexandra sighed. How discouraged the boys will be when they hear.
They always come home from town discouraged, anyway. So many people are
trying to leave the country, and they talk to our boys and make them
low-spirited. Im afraid they are beginning to feel hard toward me
because I wont listen to any talk about going. Sometimes I feel like
Im getting tired of standing up for this country. | 1,016 |
PG24 | 12 | I wont tell the boys yet, if youd rather not.
Oh, Ill tell them myself, to-night, when they come home. Theyll be
talking wild, anyway, and no good comes of keeping bad news. Its all
harder on them than it is on me. Lou wants to get married, poor boy,
and he cant until times are better. See, there goes the sun, Carl. I
must be getting back. Mother will want her potatoes. Its chilly
already, the moment the light goes.
Alexandra rose and looked about. A golden afterglow throbbed in the
west, but the country already looked empty and mournful. A dark moving
mass came over the western hill, the Lee boy was bringing in the herd
from the other half-section. Emil ran from the windmill to open the
corral gate. From the log house, on the little rise across the draw,
the smoke was curling. The cattle lowed and bellowed. In the sky the
pale half-moon was slowly silvering. Alexandra and Carl walked together
down the potato rows. I have to keep telling myself what is going to
happen, she said softly. Since you have been here, ten years now, I
have never really been lonely. But I can remember what it was like
before. Now I shall have nobody but Emil. But he is my boy, and he is
tender-hearted.
That night, when the boys were called to supper, they sat down moodily.
They had worn their coats to town, but they ate in their striped shirts
and suspenders. They were grown men now, and, as Alexandra said, for
the last few years they had been growing more and more like themselves.
Lou was still the slighter of the two, the quicker and more
intelligent, but apt to go off at half-cock. He had a lively blue eye,
a thin, fair skin (always burned red to the neckband of his shirt in
summer), stiff, yellow hair that would not lie down on his head, and a
bristly little yellow mustache, of which he was very proud. Oscar could
not grow a mustache; his pale face was as bare as an egg, and his white
eyebrows gave it an empty look. He was a man of powerful body and
unusual endurance; the sort of man you could attach to a corn-sheller
as you would an engine. He would turn it all day, without hurrying,
without slowing down. But he was as indolent of mind as he was
unsparing of his body. His love of routine amounted to a vice. He
worked like an insect, always doing the same thing over in the same
way, regardless of whether it was best or no. He felt that there was a
sovereign virtue in mere bodily toil, and he rather liked to do things
in the hardest way. If a field had once been in corn, he couldnt bear
to put it into wheat. He liked to begin his corn-planting at the same
time every year, whether the season were backward or forward. He seemed
to feel that by his own irreproachable regularity he would clear
himself of blame and reprove the weather. When the wheat crop failed,
he threshed the straw at a dead loss to demonstrate how little grain
there was, and thus prove his case against Providence.
Lou, on the other hand, was fussy and flighty; always planned to get
through two days work in one, and often got only the least important
things done. He liked to keep the place up, but he never got round to
doing odd jobs until he had to neglect more pressing work to attend to
them. In the middle of the wheat harvest, when the grain was over-ripe
and every hand was needed, he would stop to mend fences or to patch the
harness; then dash down to the field and overwork and be laid up in bed
for a week. The two boys balanced each other, and they pulled well
together. They had been good friends since they were children. One
seldom went anywhere, even to town, without the other.
To-night, after they sat down to supper, Oscar kept looking at Lou as
if he expected him to say something, and Lou blinked his eyes and
frowned at his plate. It was Alexandra herself who at last opened the
discussion.
The Linstrums, she said calmly, as she put another plate of hot
biscuit on the table, are going back to St. Louis. The old man is
going to work in the cigar factory again. | 985 |
PG24 | 13 | At this Lou plunged in. You see, Alexandra, everybody who can crawl
out is going away. Theres no use of us trying to stick it out, just to
be stubborn. Theres something in knowing when to quit.
Where do you want to go, Lou?
Any place where things will grow, said Oscar grimly.
Lou reached for a potato. Chris Arnson has traded his half-section for
a place down on the river.
Who did he trade with?
Charley Fuller, in town.
Fuller the real estate man? You see, Lou, that Fuller has a head on
him. Hes buying and trading for every bit of land he can get up here.
Itll make him a rich man, some day.
Hes rich now, thats why he can take a chance.
Why cant we? Well live longer than he will. Some day the land itself
will be worth more than all we can ever raise on it.
Lou laughed. It could be worth that, and still not be worth much. Why,
Alexandra, you dont know what youre talking about. Our place wouldnt
bring now what it would six years ago. The fellows that settled up here
just made a mistake. Now theyre beginning to see this high land wasnt
never meant to grow nothing on, and everybody who aint fixed to graze
cattle is trying to crawl out. Its too high to farm up here. All the
Americans are skinning out. That man Percy Adams, north of town, told
me that he was going to let Fuller take his land and stuff for four
hundred dollars and a ticket to Chicago.
Theres Fuller again! Alexandra exclaimed. I wish that man would
take me for a partner. Hes feathering his nest! If only poor people
could learn a little from rich people! But all these fellows who are
running off are bad farmers, like poor Mr. Linstrum. They couldnt get
ahead even in good years, and they all got into debt while father was
getting out. I think we ought to hold on as long as we can on fathers
account. He was so set on keeping this land. He must have seen harder
times than this, here. How was it in the early days, mother?
Mrs. Bergson was weeping quietly. These family discussions always
depressed her, and made her remember all that she had been torn away
from. I dont see why the boys are always taking on about going away,
she said, wiping her eyes. I dont want to move again; out to some raw
place, maybe, where wed be worse off than we are here, and all to do
over again. I wont move! If the rest of you go, I will ask some of the
neighbors to take me in, and stay and be buried by father. Im not
going to leave him by himself on the prairie, for cattle to run over.
She began to cry more bitterly.
The boys looked angry. Alexandra put a soothing hand on her mothers
shoulder. Theres no question of that, mother. You dont have to go if
you dont want to. A third of the place belongs to you by American law,
and we cant sell without your consent. We only want you to advise us.
How did it use to be when you and father first came? Was it really as
bad as this, or not?
Oh, worse! Much worse, moaned Mrs. Bergson. Drouth, chince-bugs,
hail, everything! My garden all cut to pieces like sauerkraut. No
grapes on the creek, no nothing. The people all lived just like
coyotes.
Oscar got up and tramped out of the kitchen. Lou followed him. They
felt that Alexandra had taken an unfair advantage in turning their
mother loose on them. The next morning they were silent and reserved.
They did not offer to take the women to church, but went down to the
barn immediately after breakfast and stayed there all day. When Carl
Linstrum came over in the afternoon, Alexandra winked to him and
pointed toward the barn. He understood her and went down to play cards
with the boys. They believed that a very wicked thing to do on Sunday,
and it relieved their feelings.
Alexandra stayed in the house. On Sunday afternoon Mrs. Bergson always
took a nap, and Alexandra read. During the week she read only the
newspaper, but on Sunday, and in the long evenings of winter, she read
a good deal; read a few things over a great many times. She knew long
portions of the Frithjof Saga by heart, and, like most Swedes who
read at all, she was fond of Longfellows verse,the ballads and the
Golden Legend and The Spanish Student. To-day she sat in the wooden
rocking-chair with the Swedish Bible open on her knees, but she was not
reading. She was looking thoughtfully away at the point where the
upland road disappeared over the rim of the prairie. Her body was in an
attitude of perfect repose, such as it was apt to take when she was
thinking earnestly. Her mind was slow, truthful, steadfast. She had not
the least spark of cleverness. | 1,116 |
PG24 | 14 | All afternoon the sitting-room was full of quiet and sunlight. Emil was
making rabbit traps in the kitchen shed. The hens were clucking and
scratching brown holes in the flower beds, and the wind was teasing the
princes feather by the door.
That evening Carl came in with the boys to supper.
Emil, said Alexandra, when they were all seated at the table, how
would you like to go traveling? Because I am going to take a trip, and
you can go with me if you want to.
The boys looked up in amazement; they were always afraid of Alexandras
schemes. Carl was interested.
Ive been thinking, boys, she went on, that maybe I am too set
against making a change. Im going to take Brigham and the buckboard
to-morrow and drive down to the river country and spend a few days
looking over what theyve got down there. If I find anything good, you
boys can go down and make a trade.
Nobody down there will trade for anything up here, said Oscar
gloomily.
Thats just what I want to find out. Maybe they are just as
discontented down there as we are up here. Things away from home often
look better than they are. You know what your Hans Andersen book says,
Carl, about the Swedes liking to buy Danish bread and the Danes liking
to buy Swedish bread, because people always think the bread of another
country is better than their own. Anyway, Ive heard so much about the
river farms, I wont be satisfied till Ive seen for myself.
Lou fidgeted. Look out! Dont agree to anything. Dont let them fool
you.
Lou was apt to be fooled himself. He had not yet learned to keep away
from the shell-game wagons that followed the circus.
After supper Lou put on a necktie and went across the fields to court
Annie Lee, and Carl and Oscar sat down to a game of checkers, while
Alexandra read The Swiss Family Robinson aloud to her mother and
Emil. It was not long before the two boys at the table neglected their
game to listen. They were all big children together, and they found the
adventures of the family in the tree house so absorbing that they gave
them their undivided attention.
V
Alexandra and Emil spent five days down among the river farms, driving
up and down the valley. Alexandra talked to the men about their crops
and to the women about their poultry. She spent a whole day with one
young farmer who had been away at school, and who was experimenting
with a new kind of clover hay. She learned a great deal. As they drove
along, she and Emil talked and planned. At last, on the sixth day,
Alexandra turned Brighams head northward and left the river behind.
Theres nothing in it for us down there, Emil. There are a few fine
farms, but they are owned by the rich men in town, and couldnt be
bought. Most of the land is rough and hilly. They can always scrape
along down there, but they can never do anything big. Down there they
have a little certainty, but up with us there is a big chance. We must
have faith in the high land, Emil. I want to hold on harder than ever,
and when youre a man youll thank me. She urged Brigham forward.
When the road began to climb the first long swells of the Divide,
Alexandra hummed an old Swedish hymn, and Emil wondered why his sister
looked so happy. Her face was so radiant that he felt shy about asking
her. For the first time, perhaps, since that land emerged from the
waters of geologic ages, a human face was set toward it with love and
yearning. It seemed beautiful to her, rich and strong and glorious. Her
eyes drank in the breadth of it, until her tears blinded her. Then the
Genius of the Divide, the great, free spirit which breathes across it,
must have bent lower than it ever bent to a human will before. The
history of every country begins in the heart of a man or a woman.
Alexandra reached home in the afternoon. That evening she held a family
council and told her brothers all that she had seen and heard.
I want you boys to go down yourselves and look it over. Nothing will
convince you like seeing with your own eyes. The river land was settled
before this, and so they are a few years ahead of us, and have learned
more about farming. The land sells for three times as much as this, but
in five years we will double it. The rich men down there own all the
best land, and they are buying all they can get. The thing to do is to
sell our cattle and what little old corn we have, and buy the Linstrum
place. Then the next thing to do is to take out two loans on our
half-sections, and buy Peter Crows place; raise every dollar we can,
and buy every acre we can. | 1,076 |
PG24 | 15 | Mortgage the homestead again? Lou cried. He sprang up and began to
wind the clock furiously. I wont slave to pay off another mortgage.
Ill never do it. Youd just as soon kill us all, Alexandra, to carry
out some scheme!
Oscar rubbed his high, pale forehead. How do you propose to pay off
your mortgages?
Alexandra looked from one to the other and bit her lip. They had never
seen her so nervous. See here, she brought out at last. We borrow
the money for six years. Well, with the money we buy a half-section
from Linstrum and a half from Crow, and a quarter from Struble, maybe.
That will give us upwards of fourteen hundred acres, wont it? You
wont have to pay off your mortgages for six years. By that time, any
of this land will be worth thirty dollars an acreit will be worth
fifty, but well say thirty; then you can sell a garden patch anywhere,
and pay off a debt of sixteen hundred dollars. Its not the principal
Im worried about, its the interest and taxes. Well have to strain to
meet the payments. But as sure as we are sitting here to-night, we can
sit down here ten years from now independent landowners, not struggling
farmers any longer. The chance that father was always looking for has
come.
Lou was pacing the floor. But how do you _know_ that land is going to
go up enough to pay the mortgages and
And make us rich besides? Alexandra put in firmly. I cant explain
that, Lou. Youll have to take my word for it. I _know_, thats all.
When you drive about over the country you can feel it coming.
Oscar had been sitting with his head lowered, his hands hanging between
his knees. But we cant work so much land, he said dully, as if he
were talking to himself. We cant even try. It would just lie there
and wed work ourselves to death. He sighed, and laid his calloused
fist on the table.
Alexandras eyes filled with tears. She put her hand on his shoulder.
You poor boy, you wont have to work it. The men in town who are
buying up other peoples land dont try to farm it. They are the men to
watch, in a new country. Lets try to do like the shrewd ones, and not
like these stupid fellows. I dont want you boys always to have to work
like this. I want you to be independent, and Emil to go to school.
Lou held his head as if it were splitting. Everybody will say we are
crazy. It must be crazy, or everybody would be doing it.
If they were, we wouldnt have much chance. No, Lou, I was talking
about that with the smart young man who is raising the new kind of
clover. He says the right thing is usually just what everybody dont
do. Why are we better fixed than any of our neighbors? Because father
had more brains. Our people were better people than these in the old
country. We _ought_ to do more than they do, and see further ahead.
Yes, mother, Im going to clear the table now.
Alexandra rose. The boys went to the stable to see to the stock, and
they were gone a long while. When they came back Lou played on his
_dragharmonika_ and Oscar sat figuring at his fathers secretary all
evening. They said nothing more about Alexandras project, but she felt
sure now that they would consent to it. Just before bedtime Oscar went
out for a pail of water. When he did not come back, Alexandra threw a
shawl over her head and ran down the path to the windmill. She found
him sitting there with his head in his hands, and she sat down beside
him.
Dont do anything you dont want to do, Oscar, she whispered. She
waited a moment, but he did not stir. I wont say any more about it,
if youd rather not. What makes you so discouraged?
I dread signing my name to them pieces of paper, he said slowly. All
the time I was a boy we had a mortgage hanging over us.
Then dont sign one. I dont want you to, if you feel that way.
Oscar shook his head. No, I can see theres a chance that way. Ive
thought a good while there might be. Were in so deep now, we might as
well go deeper. But its hard work pulling out of debt. Like pulling a
threshing-machine out of the mud; breaks your back. Me and Lous worked
hard, and I cant see its got us ahead much. | 1,004 |
PG24 | 16 | Nobody knows about that as well as I do, Oscar. Thats why I want to
try an easier way. I dont want you to have to grub for every dollar.
Yes, I know what you mean. Maybe itll come out right. But signing
papers is signing papers. There aint no maybe about that. He took his
pail and trudged up the path to the house.
Alexandra drew her shawl closer about her and stood leaning against the
frame of the mill, looking at the stars which glittered so keenly
through the frosty autumn air. She always loved to watch them, to think
of their vastness and distance, and of their ordered march. It
fortified her to reflect upon the great operations of nature, and when
she thought of the law that lay behind them, she felt a sense of
personal security. That night she had a new consciousness of the
country, felt almost a new relation to it. Even her talk with the boys
had not taken away the feeling that had overwhelmed her when she drove
back to the Divide that afternoon. She had never known before how much
the country meant to her. The chirping of the insects down in the long
grass had been like the sweetest music. She had felt as if her heart
were hiding down there, somewhere, with the quail and the plover and
all the little wild things that crooned or buzzed in the sun. Under the
long shaggy ridges, she felt the future stirring.
PART II.
Neighboring Fields
I
IT is sixteen years since John Bergson died. His wife now lies beside
him, and the white shaft that marks their graves gleams across the
wheat-fields. Could he rise from beneath it, he would not know the
country under which he has been asleep. The shaggy coat of the prairie,
which they lifted to make him a bed, has vanished forever. From the
Norwegian graveyard one looks out over a vast checker-board, marked off
in squares of wheat and corn; light and dark, dark and light. Telephone
wires hum along the white roads, which always run at right angles. From
the graveyard gate one can count a dozen gayly painted farmhouses; the
gilded weather-vanes on the big red barns wink at each other across the
green and brown and yellow fields. The light steel windmills tremble
throughout their frames and tug at their moorings, as they vibrate in
the wind that often blows from one weeks end to another across that
high, active, resolute stretch of country.
The Divide is now thickly populated. The rich soil yields heavy
harvests; the dry, bracing climate and the smoothness of the land make
labor easy for men and beasts. There are few scenes more gratifying
than a spring plowing in that country, where the furrows of a single
field often lie a mile in length, and the brown earth, with such a
strong, clean smell, and such a power of growth and fertility in it,
yields itself eagerly to the plow; rolls away from the shear, not even
dimming the brightness of the metal, with a soft, deep sigh of
happiness. The wheat-cutting sometimes goes on all night as well as all
day, and in good seasons there are scarcely men and horses enough to do
the harvesting. The grain is so heavy that it bends toward the blade
and cuts like velvet.
There is something frank and joyous and young in the open face of the
country. It gives itself ungrudgingly to the moods of the season,
holding nothing back. Like the plains of Lombardy, it seems to rise a
little to meet the sun. The air and the earth are curiously mated and
intermingled, as if the one were the breath of the other. You feel in
the atmosphere the same tonic, puissant quality that is in the tilth,
the same strength and resoluteness.
One June morning a young man stood at the gate of the Norwegian
graveyard, sharpening his scythe in strokes unconsciously timed to the
tune he was whistling. He wore a flannel cap and duck trousers, and the
sleeves of his white flannel shirt were rolled back to the elbow. When
he was satisfied with the edge of his blade, he slipped the whetstone
into his hip pocket and began to swing his scythe, still whistling, but
softly, out of respect to the quiet folk about him. Unconscious
respect, probably, for he seemed intent upon his own thoughts, and,
like the Gladiators, they were far away. He was a splendid figure of a
boy, tall and straight as a young pine tree, with a handsome head, and
stormy gray eyes, deeply set under a serious brow. The space between
his two front teeth, which were unusually far apart, gave him the
proficiency in whistling for which he was distinguished at college. (He
also played the cornet in the University band.) | 1,080 |
PG24 | 17 | When the grass required his close attention, or when he had to stoop to
cut about a head-stone, he paused in his lively air,the Jewel
song,taking it up where he had left it when his scythe swung free
again. He was not thinking about the tired pioneers over whom his blade
glittered. The old wild country, the struggle in which his sister was
destined to succeed while so many men broke their hearts and died, he
can scarcely remember. That is all among the dim things of childhood
and has been forgotten in the brighter pattern life weaves to-day, in
the bright facts of being captain of the track team, and holding the
interstate record for the high jump, in the all-suffusing brightness of
being twenty-one. Yet sometimes, in the pauses of his work, the young
man frowned and looked at the ground with an intentness which suggested
that even twenty-one might have its problems.
When he had been mowing the better part of an hour, he heard the rattle
of a light cart on the road behind him. Supposing that it was his
sister coming back from one of her farms, he kept on with his work. The
cart stopped at the gate and a merry contralto voice called, Almost
through, Emil? He dropped his scythe and went toward the fence, wiping
his face and neck with his handkerchief. In the cart sat a young woman
who wore driving gauntlets and a wide shade hat, trimmed with red
poppies. Her face, too, was rather like a poppy, round and brown, with
rich color in her cheeks and lips, and her dancing yellow-brown eyes
bubbled with gayety. The wind was flapping her big hat and teasing a
curl of her chestnut-colored hair. She shook her head at the tall
youth.
What time did you get over here? Thats not much of a job for an
athlete. Here Ive been to town and back. Alexandra lets you sleep
late. Oh, I know! Lous wife was telling me about the way she spoils
you. I was going to give you a lift, if you were done. She gathered up
her reins.
But I will be, in a minute. Please wait for me, Marie, Emil coaxed.
Alexandra sent me to mow our lot, but Ive done half a dozen others,
you see. Just wait till I finish off the Kourdnas. By the way, they
were Bohemians. Why arent they up in the Catholic graveyard?
Free-thinkers, replied the young woman laconically.
Lots of the Bohemian boys at the University are, said Emil, taking up
his scythe again. What did you ever burn John Huss for, anyway? Its
made an awful row. They still jaw about it in history classes.
Wed do it right over again, most of us, said the young woman hotly.
Dont they ever teach you in your history classes that youd all be
heathen Turks if it hadnt been for the Bohemians?
Emil had fallen to mowing. Oh, theres no denying youre a spunky
little bunch, you Czechs, he called back over his shoulder.
Marie Shabata settled herself in her seat and watched the rhythmical
movement of the young mans long arms, swinging her foot as if in time
to some air that was going through her mind. The minutes passed. Emil
mowed vigorously and Marie sat sunning herself and watching the long
grass fall. She sat with the ease that belongs to persons of an
essentially happy nature, who can find a comfortable spot almost
anywhere; who are supple, and quick in adapting themselves to
circumstances. After a final swish, Emil snapped the gate and sprang
into the cart, holding his scythe well out over the wheel. There, he
sighed. I gave old man Lee a cut or so, too. Lous wife neednt talk.
I never see Lous scythe over here.
Marie clucked to her horse. Oh, you know Annie! She looked at the
young mans bare arms. How brown youve got since you came home. I
wish I had an athlete to mow my orchard. I get wet to my knees when I
go down to pick cherries.
You can have one, any time you want him. Better wait until after it
rains. Emil squinted off at the horizon as if he were looking for
clouds.
Will you? Oh, theres a good boy! She turned her head to him with a
quick, bright smile. He felt it rather than saw it. Indeed, he had
looked away with the purpose of not seeing it. Ive been up looking at
Angliques wedding clothes, Marie went on, and Im so excited I can
hardly wait until Sunday. Amde will be a handsome bridegroom. Is
anybody but you going to stand up with him? Well, then it will be a
handsome wedding party. She made a droll face at Emil, who flushed.
Frank, Marie continued, flicking her horse, is cranky at me because
I loaned his saddle to Jan Smirka, and Im terribly afraid he wont
take me to the dance in the evening. Maybe the supper will tempt him.
All Angliques folks are baking for it, and all Amdes twenty
cousins. There will be barrels of beer. If once I get Frank to the
supper, Ill see that I stay for the dance. And by the way, Emil, you
mustnt dance with me but once or twice. You must dance with all the
French girls. It hurts their feelings if you dont. They think youre
proud because youve been away to school or something. | 1,244 |
PG24 | 19 | Alexandra herself has changed very little. Her figure is fuller, and
she has more color. She seems sunnier and more vigorous than she did as
a young girl. But she still has the same calmness and deliberation of
manner, the same clear eyes, and she still wears her hair in two braids
wound round her head. It is so curly that fiery ends escape from the
braids and make her head look like one of the big double sunflowers
that fringe her vegetable garden. Her face is always tanned in summer,
for her sunbonnet is oftener on her arm than on her head. But where her
collar falls away from her neck, or where her sleeves are pushed back
from her wrist, the skin is of such smoothness and whiteness as none
but Swedish women ever possess; skin with the freshness of the snow
itself.
Alexandra did not talk much at the table, but she encouraged her men to
talk, and she always listened attentively, even when they seemed to be
talking foolishly.
To-day Barney Flinn, the big red-headed Irishman who had been with
Alexandra for five years and who was actually her foreman, though he
had no such title, was grumbling about the new silo she had put up that
spring. It happened to be the first silo on the Divide, and Alexandras
neighbors and her men were skeptical about it. To be sure, if the
thing dont work, well have plenty of feed without it, indeed, Barney
conceded.
Nelse Jensen, Signas gloomy suitor, had his word. Lou, he says he
wouldnt have no silo on his place if youd give it to him. He says the
feed outen it gives the stock the bloat. He heard of somebody lost four
head of horses, feedin em that stuff.
Alexandra looked down the table from one to another. Well, the only
way we can find out is to try. Lou and I have different notions about
feeding stock, and thats a good thing. Its bad if all the members of
a family think alike. They never get anywhere. Lou can learn by my
mistakes and I can learn by his. Isnt that fair, Barney?
The Irishman laughed. He had no love for Lou, who was always uppish
with him and who said that Alexandra paid her hands too much. Ive no
thought but to give the thing an honest try, mum. T would be only
right, after puttin so much expense into it. Maybe Emil will come out
an have a look at it wid me. He pushed back his chair, took his hat
from the nail, and marched out with Emil, who, with his university
ideas, was supposed to have instigated the silo. The other hands
followed them, all except old Ivar. He had been depressed throughout
the meal and had paid no heed to the talk of the men, even when they
mentioned cornstalk bloat, upon which he was sure to have opinions.
Did you want to speak to me, Ivar? Alexandra asked as she rose from
the table. Come into the sitting-room.
The old man followed Alexandra, but when she motioned him to a chair he
shook his head. She took up her workbasket and waited for him to speak.
He stood looking at the carpet, his bushy head bowed, his hands clasped
in front of him. Ivars bandy legs seemed to have grown shorter with
years, and they were completely misfitted to his broad, thick body and
heavy shoulders.
Well, Ivar, what is it? Alexandra asked after she had waited longer
than usual.
Ivar had never learned to speak English and his Norwegian was quaint
and grave, like the speech of the more old-fashioned people. He always
addressed Alexandra in terms of the deepest respect, hoping to set a
good example to the kitchen girls, whom he thought too familiar in
their manners.
Mistress, he began faintly, without raising his eyes, the folk have
been looking coldly at me of late. You know there has been talk.
Talk about what, Ivar?
About sending me away; to the asylum.
Alexandra put down her sewing-basket. Nobody has come to me with such
talk, she said decidedly. Why need you listen? You know I would never
consent to such a thing.
Ivar lifted his shaggy head and looked at her out of his little eyes.
They say that you cannot prevent it if the folk complain of me, if
your brothers complain to the authorities. They say that your brothers
are afraidGod forbid!that I may do you some injury when my spells are
on me. Mistress, how can any one think that?that I could bite the hand
that fed me! The tears trickled down on the old mans beard. | 1,038 |
PG24 | 20 | Alexandra frowned. Ivar, I wonder at you, that you should come
bothering me with such nonsense. I am still running my own house, and
other people have nothing to do with either you or me. So long as I am
suited with you, there is nothing to be said.
Ivar pulled a red handkerchief out of the breast of his blouse and
wiped his eyes and beard. But I should not wish you to keep me if, as
they say, it is against your interests, and if it is hard for you to
get hands because I am here.
Alexandra made an impatient gesture, but the old man put out his hand
and went on earnestly:
Listen, mistress, it is right that you should take these things into
account. You know that my spells come from God, and that I would not
harm any living creature. You believe that every one should worship God
in the way revealed to him. But that is not the way of this country.
The way here is for all to do alike. I am despised because I do not
wear shoes, because I do not cut my hair, and because I have visions.
At home, in the old country, there were many like me, who had been
touched by God, or who had seen things in the graveyard at night and
were different afterward. We thought nothing of it, and let them alone.
But here, if a man is different in his feet or in his head, they put
him in the asylum. Look at Peter Kralik; when he was a boy, drinking
out of a creek, he swallowed a snake, and always after that he could
eat only such food as the creature liked, for when he ate anything
else, it became enraged and gnawed him. When he felt it whipping about
in him, he drank alcohol to stupefy it and get some ease for himself.
He could work as good as any man, and his head was clear, but they
locked him up for being different in his stomach. That is the way; they
have built the asylum for people who are different, and they will not
even let us live in the holes with the badgers. Only your great
prosperity has protected me so far. If you had had ill-fortune, they
would have taken me to Hastings long ago.
As Ivar talked, his gloom lifted. Alexandra had found that she could
often break his fasts and long penances by talking to him and letting
him pour out the thoughts that troubled him. Sympathy always cleared
his mind, and ridicule was poison to him.
There is a great deal in what you say, Ivar. Like as not they will be
wanting to take me to Hastings because I have built a silo; and then I
may take you with me. But at present I need you here. Only dont come
to me again telling me what people say. Let people go on talking as
they like, and we will go on living as we think best. You have been
with me now for twelve years, and I have gone to you for advice oftener
than I have ever gone to any one. That ought to satisfy you.
Ivar bowed humbly. Yes, mistress, I shall not trouble you with their
talk again. And as for my feet, I have observed your wishes all these
years, though you have never questioned me; washing them every night,
even in winter.
Alexandra laughed. Oh, never mind about your feet, Ivar. We can
remember when half our neighbors went barefoot in summer. I expect old
Mrs. Lee would love to slip her shoes off now sometimes, if she dared.
Im glad Im not Lous mother-in-law.
Ivar looked about mysteriously and lowered his voice almost to a
whisper. You know what they have over at Lous house? A great white
tub, like the stone water-troughs in the old country, to wash
themselves in. When you sent me over with the strawberries, they were
all in town but the old woman Lee and the baby. She took me in and
showed me the thing, and she told me it was impossible to wash yourself
clean in it, because, in so much water, you could not make a strong
suds. So when they fill it up and send her in there, she pretends, and
makes a splashing noise. Then, when they are all asleep, she washes
herself in a little wooden tub she keeps under her bed. | 971 |
PG24 | 21 | Alexandra shook with laughter. Poor old Mrs. Lee! They wont let her
wear nightcaps, either. Never mind; when she comes to visit me, she can
do all the old things in the old way, and have as much beer as she
wants. Well start an asylum for old-time people, Ivar.
Ivar folded his big handkerchief carefully and thrust it back into his
blouse. This is always the way, mistress. I come to you sorrowing, and
you send me away with a light heart. And will you be so good as to tell
the Irishman that he is not to work the brown gelding until the sore on
its shoulder is healed?
That I will. Now go and put Emils mare to the cart. I am going to
drive up to the north quarter to meet the man from town who is to buy
my alfalfa hay.
III
Alexandra was to hear more of Ivars case, however. On Sunday her
married brothers came to dinner. She had asked them for that day
because Emil, who hated family parties, would be absent, dancing at
Amde Chevaliers wedding, up in the French country. The table was set
for company in the dining-room, where highly varnished wood and colored
glass and useless pieces of china were conspicuous enough to satisfy
the standards of the new prosperity. Alexandra had put herself into the
hands of the Hanover furniture dealer, and he had conscientiously done
his best to make her dining-room look like his display window. She said
frankly that she knew nothing about such things, and she was willing to
be governed by the general conviction that the more useless and utterly
unusable objects were, the greater their virtue as ornament. That
seemed reasonable enough. Since she liked plain things herself, it was
all the more necessary to have jars and punchbowls and candlesticks in
the company rooms for people who did appreciate them. Her guests liked
to see about them these reassuring emblems of prosperity.
The family party was complete except for Emil, and Oscars wife who, in
the country phrase, was not going anywhere just now. Oscar sat at the
foot of the table and his four tow-headed little boys, aged from twelve
to five, were ranged at one side. Neither Oscar nor Lou has changed
much; they have simply, as Alexandra said of them long ago, grown to be
more and more like themselves. Lou now looks the older of the two; his
face is thin and shrewd and wrinkled about the eyes, while Oscars is
thick and dull. For all his dullness, however, Oscar makes more money
than his brother, which adds to Lous sharpness and uneasiness and
tempts him to make a show. The trouble with Lou is that he is tricky,
and his neighbors have found out that, as Ivar says, he has not a foxs
face for nothing. Politics being the natural field for such talents, he
neglects his farm to attend conventions and to run for county offices.
Lous wife, formerly Annie Lee, has grown to look curiously like her
husband. Her face has become longer, sharper, more aggressive. She
wears her yellow hair in a high pompadour, and is bedecked with rings
and chains and beauty pins. Her tight, high-heeled shoes give her an
awkward walk, and she is always more or less preoccupied with her
clothes. As she sat at the table, she kept telling her youngest
daughter to be careful now, and not drop anything on mother.
The conversation at the table was all in English. Oscars wife, from
the malaria district of Missouri, was ashamed of marrying a foreigner,
and his boys do not understand a word of Swedish. Annie and Lou
sometimes speak Swedish at home, but Annie is almost as much afraid of
being caught at it as ever her mother was of being caught barefoot.
Oscar still has a thick accent, but Lou speaks like anybody from Iowa.
When I was in Hastings to attend the convention, he was saying, I
saw the superintendent of the asylum, and I was telling him about
Ivars symptoms. He says Ivars case is one of the most dangerous kind,
and its a wonder he hasnt done something violent before this.
Alexandra laughed good-humoredly. Oh, nonsense, Lou! The doctors would
have us all crazy if they could. Ivars queer, certainly, but he has
more sense than half the hands I hire.
Lou flew at his fried chicken. Oh, I guess the doctor knows his
business, Alexandra. He was very much surprised when I told him how
youd put up with Ivar. He says hes likely to set fire to the barn any
night, or to take after you and the girls with an axe. | 1,025 |
PG24 | 22 | Little Signa, who was waiting on the table, giggled and fled to the
kitchen. Alexandras eyes twinkled. That was too much for Signa, Lou.
We all know that Ivars perfectly harmless. The girls would as soon
expect me to chase them with an axe.
Lou flushed and signaled to his wife. All the same, the neighbors will
be having a say about it before long. He may burn anybodys barn. Its
only necessary for one property-owner in the township to make
complaint, and hell be taken up by force. Youd better send him
yourself and not have any hard feelings.
Alexandra helped one of her little nephews to gravy. Well, Lou, if any
of the neighbors try that, Ill have myself appointed Ivars guardian
and take the case to court, thats all. I am perfectly satisfied with
him.
Pass the preserves, Lou, said Annie in a warning tone. She had
reasons for not wishing her husband to cross Alexandra too openly. But
dont you sort of hate to have people see him around here, Alexandra?
she went on with persuasive smoothness. He IS a disgraceful object,
and youre fixed up so nice now. It sort of makes people distant with
you, when they never know when theyll hear him scratching about. My
girls are afraid as death of him, arent you, Milly, dear?
Milly was fifteen, fat and jolly and pompadoured, with a creamy
complexion, square white teeth, and a short upper lip. She looked like
her grandmother Bergson, and had her comfortable and comfort-loving
nature. She grinned at her aunt, with whom she was a great deal more at
ease than she was with her mother. Alexandra winked a reply.
Milly neednt be afraid of Ivar. Shes an especial favorite of his. In
my opinion Ivar has just as much right to his own way of dressing and
thinking as we have. But Ill see that he doesnt bother other people.
Ill keep him at home, so dont trouble any more about him, Lou. Ive
been wanting to ask you about your new bathtub. How does it work?
Annie came to the fore to give Lou time to recover himself. Oh, it
works something grand! I cant keep him out of it. He washes himself
all over three times a week now, and uses all the hot water. I think
its weakening to stay in as long as he does. You ought to have one,
Alexandra.
Im thinking of it. I might have one put in the barn for Ivar, if it
will ease peoples minds. But before I get a bathtub, Im going to get
a piano for Milly.
Oscar, at the end of the table, looked up from his plate. What does
Milly want of a pianny? Whats the matter with her organ? She can make
some use of that, and play in church.
Annie looked flustered. She had begged Alexandra not to say anything
about this plan before Oscar, who was apt to be jealous of what his
sister did for Lous children. Alexandra did not get on with Oscars
wife at all. Milly can play in church just the same, and shell still
play on the organ. But practising on it so much spoils her touch. Her
teacher says so, Annie brought out with spirit.
Oscar rolled his eyes. Well, Milly must have got on pretty good if
shes got past the organ. I know plenty of grown folks that aint, he
said bluntly.
Annie threw up her chin. She has got on good, and shes going to play
for her commencement when she graduates in town next year.
Yes, said Alexandra firmly, I think Milly deserves a piano. All the
girls around here have been taking lessons for years, but Milly is the
only one of them who can ever play anything when you ask her. Ill tell
you when I first thought I would like to give you a piano, Milly, and
that was when you learned that book of old Swedish songs that your
grandfather used to sing. He had a sweet tenor voice, and when he was a
young man he loved to sing. I can remember hearing him singing with the
sailors down in the shipyard, when I was no bigger than Stella here,
pointing to Annies younger daughter.
Milly and Stella both looked through the door into the sitting-room,
where a crayon portrait of John Bergson hung on the wall. Alexandra had
had it made from a little photograph, taken for his friends just before
he left Sweden; a slender man of thirty-five, with soft hair curling
about his high forehead, a drooping mustache, and wondering, sad eyes
that looked forward into the distance, as if they already beheld the
New World. | 1,035 |
PG24 | 23 | After dinner Lou and Oscar went to the orchard to pick cherriesthey
had neither of them had the patience to grow an orchard of their
ownand Annie went down to gossip with Alexandras kitchen girls while
they washed the dishes. She could always find out more about
Alexandras domestic economy from the prattling maids than from
Alexandra herself, and what she discovered she used to her own
advantage with Lou. On the Divide, farmers daughters no longer went
out into service, so Alexandra got her girls from Sweden, by paying
their fare over. They stayed with her until they married, and were
replaced by sisters or cousins from the old country.
Alexandra took her three nieces into the flower garden. She was fond of
the little girls, especially of Milly, who came to spend a week with
her aunt now and then, and read aloud to her from the old books about
the house, or listened to stories about the early days on the Divide.
While they were walking among the flower beds, a buggy drove up the
hill and stopped in front of the gate. A man got out and stood talking
to the driver. The little girls were delighted at the advent of a
stranger, some one from very far away, they knew by his clothes, his
gloves, and the sharp, pointed cut of his dark beard. The girls fell
behind their aunt and peeped out at him from among the castor beans.
The stranger came up to the gate and stood holding his hat in his hand,
smiling, while Alexandra advanced slowly to meet him. As she approached
he spoke in a low, pleasant voice.
Dont you know me, Alexandra? I would have known you, anywhere.
Alexandra shaded her eyes with her hand. Suddenly she took a quick step
forward. Can it be! she exclaimed with feeling; can it be that it is
Carl Linstrum? Why, Carl, it is! She threw out both her hands and
caught his across the gate. Sadie, Milly, run tell your father and
Uncle Oscar that our old friend Carl Linstrum is here. Be quick! Why,
Carl, how did it happen? I cant believe this! Alexandra shook the
tears from her eyes and laughed.
The stranger nodded to his driver, dropped his suitcase inside the
fence, and opened the gate. Then you are glad to see me, and you can
put me up overnight? I couldnt go through this country without
stopping off to have a look at you. How little you have changed! Do you
know, I was sure it would be like that. You simply couldnt be
different. How fine you are! He stepped back and looked at her
admiringly.
Alexandra blushed and laughed again. But you yourself, Carlwith that
beardhow could I have known you? You went away a little boy. She
reached for his suitcase and when he intercepted her she threw up her
hands. You see, I give myself away. I have only women come to visit
me, and I do not know how to behave. Where is your trunk?
Its in Hanover. I can stay only a few days. I am on my way to the
coast.
They started up the path. A few days? After all these years!
Alexandra shook her finger at him. See this, you have walked into a
trap. You do not get away so easy. She put her hand affectionately on
his shoulder. You owe me a visit for the sake of old times. Why must
you go to the coast at all?
Oh, I must! I am a fortune hunter. From Seattle I go on to Alaska.
Alaska? She looked at him in astonishment. Are you going to paint
the Indians?
Paint? the young man frowned. Oh! Im not a painter, Alexandra. Im
an engraver. I have nothing to do with painting.
But on my parlor wall I have the paintings
He interrupted nervously. Oh, water-color sketchesdone for amusement.
I sent them to remind you of me, not because they were good. What a
wonderful place you have made of this, Alexandra. He turned and looked
back at the wide, map-like prospect of field and hedge and pasture. I
would never have believed it could be done. Im disappointed in my own
eye, in my imagination.
At this moment Lou and Oscar came up the hill from the orchard. They
did not quicken their pace when they saw Carl; indeed, they did not
openly look in his direction. They advanced distrustfully, and as if
they wished the distance were longer. | 992 |
PG24 | 24 | Alexandra beckoned to them. They think I am trying to fool them. Come,
boys, its Carl Linstrum, our old Carl!
Lou gave the visitor a quick, sidelong glance and thrust out his hand.
Glad to see you.
Oscar followed with How d do. Carl could not tell whether their
offishness came from unfriendliness or from embarrassment. He and
Alexandra led the way to the porch.
Carl, Alexandra explained, is on his way to Seattle. He is going to
Alaska.
Oscar studied the visitors yellow shoes. Got business there? he
asked.
Carl laughed. Yes, very pressing business. Im going there to get
rich. Engravings a very interesting profession, but a man never makes
any money at it. So Im going to try the goldfields.
Alexandra felt that this was a tactful speech, and Lou looked up with
some interest. Ever done anything in that line before?
No, but Im going to join a friend of mine who went out from New York
and has done well. He has offered to break me in.
Turrible cold winters, there, I hear, remarked Oscar. I thought
people went up there in the spring.
They do. But my friend is going to spend the winter in Seattle and I
am to stay with him there and learn something about prospecting before
we start north next year.
Lou looked skeptical. Lets see, how long have you been away from
here?
Sixteen years. You ought to remember that, Lou, for you were married
just after we went away.
Going to stay with us some time? Oscar asked.
A few days, if Alexandra can keep me.
I expect youll be wanting to see your old place, Lou observed more
cordially. You wont hardly know it. But theres a few chunks of your
old sod house left. Alexandra wouldnt never let Frank Shabata plough
over it.
Annie Lee, who, ever since the visitor was announced, had been touching
up her hair and settling her lace and wishing she had worn another
dress, now emerged with her three daughters and introduced them. She
was greatly impressed by Carls urban appearance, and in her excitement
talked very loud and threw her head about. And you aint married yet?
At your age, now! Think of that! Youll have to wait for Milly. Yes,
weve got a boy, too. The youngest. Hes at home with his grandma. You
must come over to see mother and hear Milly play. Shes the musician of
the family. She does pyrography, too. Thats burnt wood, you know. You
wouldnt believe what she can do with her poker. Yes, she goes to
school in town, and she is the youngest in her class by two years.
Milly looked uncomfortable and Carl took her hand again. He liked her
creamy skin and happy, innocent eyes, and he could see that her
mothers way of talking distressed her. Im sure shes a clever little
girl, he murmured, looking at her thoughtfully. Let me seeAh, its
your mother that she looks like, Alexandra. Mrs. Bergson must have
looked just like this when she was a little girl. Does Milly run about
over the country as you and Alexandra used to, Annie?
Millys mother protested. Oh, my, no! Things has changed since we was
girls. Milly has it very different. We are going to rent the place and
move into town as soon as the girls are old enough to go out into
company. A good many are doing that here now. Lou is going into
business.
Lou grinned. Thats what she says. You better go get your things on.
Ivars hitching up, he added, turning to Annie.
Young farmers seldom address their wives by name. It is always you,
or she.
Having got his wife out of the way, Lou sat down on the step and began
to whittle. Well, what do folks in New York think of William Jennings
Bryan? Lou began to bluster, as he always did when he talked politics.
We gave Wall Street a scare in ninety-six, all right, and were fixing
another to hand them. Silver wasnt the only issue, he nodded
mysteriously. Theres a good many things got to be changed. The West
is going to make itself heard.
Carl laughed. But, surely, it did do that, if nothing else.
Lous thin face reddened up to the roots of his bristly hair. Oh,
weve only begun. Were waking up to a sense of our responsibilities,
out here, and we aint afraid, neither. You fellows back there must be
a tame lot. If you had any nerve youd get together and march down to
Wall Street and blow it up. Dynamite it, I mean, with a threatening
nod. | 1,044 |
PG24 | 25 | He was so much in earnest that Carl scarcely knew how to answer him.
That would be a waste of powder. The same business would go on in
another street. The street doesnt matter. But what have you fellows
out here got to kick about? You have the only safe place there is.
Morgan himself couldnt touch you. One only has to drive through this
country to see that youre all as rich as barons.
We have a good deal more to say than we had when we were poor, said
Lou threateningly. Were getting on to a whole lot of things.
As Ivar drove a double carriage up to the gate, Annie came out in a hat
that looked like the model of a battleship. Carl rose and took her down
to the carriage, while Lou lingered for a word with his sister.
What do you suppose hes come for? he asked, jerking his head toward
the gate.
Why, to pay us a visit. Ive been begging him to for years.
Oscar looked at Alexandra. He didnt let you know he was coming?
No. Why should he? I told him to come at any time.
Lou shrugged his shoulders. He doesnt seem to have done much for
himself. Wandering around this way!
Oscar spoke solemnly, as from the depths of a cavern. He never was
much account.
Alexandra left them and hurried down to the gate where Annie was
rattling on to Carl about her new dining-room furniture. You must
bring Mr. Linstrum over real soon, only be sure to telephone me first,
she called back, as Carl helped her into the carriage. Old Ivar, his
white head bare, stood holding the horses. Lou came down the path and
climbed into the front seat, took up the reins, and drove off without
saying anything further to any one. Oscar picked up his youngest boy
and trudged off down the road, the other three trotting after him.
Carl, holding the gate open for Alexandra, began to laugh. Up and
coming on the Divide, eh, Alexandra? he cried gayly.
IV
Carl had changed, Alexandra felt, much less than one might have
expected. He had not become a trim, self-satisfied city man. There was
still something homely and wayward and definitely personal about him.
Even his clothes, his Norfolk coat and his very high collars, were a
little unconventional. He seemed to shrink into himself as he used to
do; to hold himself away from things, as if he were afraid of being
hurt. In short, he was more self-conscious than a man of thirty-five is
expected to be. He looked older than his years and not very strong. His
black hair, which still hung in a triangle over his pale forehead, was
thin at the crown, and there were fine, relentless lines about his
eyes. His back, with its high, sharp shoulders, looked like the back of
an over-worked German professor off on his holiday. His face was
intelligent, sensitive, unhappy.
That evening after supper, Carl and Alexandra were sitting by the clump
of castor beans in the middle of the flower garden. The gravel paths
glittered in the moonlight, and below them the fields lay white and
still.
Do you know, Alexandra, he was saying, Ive been thinking how
strangely things work out. Ive been away engraving other mens
pictures, and youve stayed at home and made your own. He pointed with
his cigar toward the sleeping landscape. How in the world have you
done it? How have your neighbors done it?
We hadnt any of us much to do with it, Carl. The land did it. It had
its little joke. It pretended to be poor because nobody knew how to
work it right; and then, all at once, it worked itself. It woke up out
of its sleep and stretched itself, and it was so big, so rich, that we
suddenly found we were rich, just from sitting still. As for me, you
remember when I began to buy land. For years after that I was always
squeezing and borrowing until I was ashamed to show my face in the
banks. And then, all at once, men began to come to me offering to lend
me moneyand I didnt need it! Then I went ahead and built this house.
I really built it for Emil. I want you to see Emil, Carl. He is so
different from the rest of us!
How different?
Oh, youll see! Im sure it was to have sons like Emil, and to give
them a chance, that father left the old country. Its curious, too; on
the outside Emil is just like an American boy,he graduated from the
State University in June, you know,but underneath he is more Swedish
than any of us. Sometimes he is so like father that he frightens me; he
is so violent in his feelings like that. | 1,055 |
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