The E. Nesbit Megapack: 26 Classic Novels and Stories (39 page)

“Three cheers,” repeated the Lord High Islander, “for the Duke of Donors.”

What a cheer! All the islanders cheered and the M.A.’s and Lucy and Mr. Perrin and Mr. Noah, and from the inside of the ark came enthusiastic barkings and gruntings and roarings and squeakings—as the animals of course joined in as well as they could. Thousands of gulls, circling on white wings in the sun above, added their screams to the general chorus. And when the sound of the last cheer died away, a little near familiar voice said:

“Well done, Philip! I’m proud of you.”

It was the parrot who, perched on the rigging of the
Lightning Loose
, had started the cheering.

“So that’s all right,” it said, fluttered on to Philip’s shoulder and added, “I’ve heard you calling for me on the island all the week. But I felt I needed a rest. I’ve been talking too much. And that Pretenderette. And that cage. I assure you I needed a little time to get over my adventures.”

“We have all had our adventures,” said Mr. Noah gently. And Helen said:

“Won’t you land and take possession of the island? I’m sure we are longing to hear each other’s adventures.”

“You first,” said Mr. Noah to the Lord High Islander, who stepped ashore very gravely.

When Helen saw him come forward, she suddenly kissed Philip, and as the Lord High Islander’s foot touched the shore of that enchanted island, she simply and suddenly vanished.

“Oh!” cried Philip, “I wish I hadn’t.” And his mouth trembled as girls’ mouths do if they are going to cry.

“The more a present costs you, the more it’s worth,” said Mr. Noah. “This has cost you so much, it’s the most splendid present in the world.”

“I know,” said Philip; “make yourselves at home, won’t you?” he just managed to say. And then he found he could not say any more. He just turned and went into the forest. And when he was alone in a green glade, he flung himself down on his face and lay a long time without moving. It had been such a happy week. And he was so tired of adventures.

When at last he sniffed with an air of finality and raised his head, the first thing he saw was Lucy, sitting quite still with her back to him.

“Hullo!” he said rather crossly, “what are you doing here?”

“Saying the multiplication table,” said Lucy promptly and turned her head, “so as not even to think about you. And I haven’t even once turned round. I knew you wanted to be alone. But I wanted to be here when you’d done being alone. See? I’ve got something to say to you.”

“Fire ahead,” said Philip, still grumpy.

“I think you’re perfectly splendid,” said Lucy very seriously, “and I want it to be real pax for ever. And I’ll help you in the rest of the adventures. And if you’re cross, I’ll try not to mind. Napoleon was cross sometimes, I believe,” she added pensively, “and Julius Caesar.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Philip very awkwardly.

“Then we’re going to be real chums?”

“Oh yes, if you like. Only—I don’t mind just this once; and it was decent of you to come and sit there with your back to me—only I hate gas.”

“Yes,” said Lucy obediently, “I know. Only sometimes you feel you must gas a little or burst of admiration. And I’ve got your proper clothes in a bundle. I’ve been carrying them about ever since the islanders’ castle was washed away. Here they are.”

She produced the bundle. And this time Philip was really touched.

“Now I
do
call that something like,” he said. “The seaweed dress is all right here, but you ne
ver know what you may have to go through when you’re doing adventures. There might be thorns or snakes or anything. I’m jolly glad to get my boots back too. I say, come on. Let’s go to Helen’s palace and get a banquet ready. I know there’ll have to be a banquet. There always is, here. I know a first-rate bun-tree quite near here.”

“The cocoa-nut-ice plants looked beautiful as I came along,” said Lucy. “What a lovely island it is. And you made it!”

“No gas,” said Philip warningly. “Helen and I made it.”

“She’s the dearest darling,” said Lucy.

“Oh, well,” said Philip with resignation, “if you must gas, gas about her.”

The banquet was all that you can imagine of interesting and magnificent. And Philip was, of course, the hero of the hour. And when the banquet was finished and the last guest had departed to its own house—for the houses on the island were of course all ready to be occupied, furnished to the last point of comfort, with pin-cushions full of pins in every room, Mr. Noah and Lucy and Philip sat down on the terrace steps among the pink roses for a last little talk.

“Because,” said Philip, “we shall start the first thing in the morning. So please will you tell me now what the next deed is that I have to do?”

“Will you go by ark?” Mr. Noah asked, rolling up his yellow mat to make an elbow rest and leaning on it; “I shall be delighted.”

“I thought,” said Philip, “we might go in the
Lightning Loose
. I’ve never sailed her yet, you know. Do you think I
could?
”

“Of course you can,” said Mr. Noah; “and if not, Lucy can show you. Your charming yacht is steered on precisely the same principle as the ark. And in this land all the winds are favourable. You will find the yacht suitably provisioned. And I may add that you can go most of the way to your next deed by water—first the sea and then the river.”

“And what,” asked Philip, “is the next deed?”

“In the extreme north of Polistarchia,” said Mr. Noah instructively, “lies a town called Somnolentia. It used to be called Briskford in happier days. A river then ran through the town, a rapid river that brought much gold from the mountains. The people used to work very hard to keep the channel clear of the lumps of gold which continually threatened to choke it. Their fields were then well-watered and fruitful, and the inhabitants were cheerful and happy. But when the Hippogriff was let out
of the book, a Great Sloth got out too. Evading all efforts to secure him, the Great Sloth journeyed northward. He is a very large and striking animal, and by some means, either fear or admiration, he obtained a complete ascendancy over the inhabitants of Briskford. He induced them to build him a temple of solid gold, and while they were doing this the river bed became choked up and the stream was diverted into another channel far from the town. Since then the place is fallen into decay. The fields are parched and untilled. Such water as the people need for drinking is drawn by great labour from a well. Washing has become shockingly infrequent.”

“Are we to teach the dirty chaps to wash?” asked Philip in disgust.

“Do not interrupt,” said Mr. Noah. “You destroy the thread of my narrative. Where was I?”

“Washing infrequent,” said Lucy; “but if the fields are dried up, what do they live on?”

“Pine-apples,” replied Mr. Noah, “which grow freely and do not need much water. Gathering these is the sole industry of this degraded people. Pine-apples are not considered a fruit but a vegetable,” he added hastily, seeing another question trembling on Philip’s lips. “Whatever of their waking time can be spared from the gathering and eating of the pine-apples is spent in singing choric songs in honour of the Great Sloth. And even this time is short, for such is his influence on the Somnolentians that when he sleeps they sleep too, and,” added Mr. Noah impressively, “he sleeps almost all the time. Your deed is to devise some means of keeping the Great Sloth awake and busy. And I think you’ve got your work cut out. When you’ve disposed of the Great Sloth you can report yourself to me here. I shall remain here for some little time. I need a holiday. The parrot will accompany you. It knows its way about as well as any bird in the land. Good-night. And good luck! You will excuse my not being down to breakfast.”

And the next morning, dewy-early, Philip and Lucy and the parrot went aboard the yacht and loosed her from her moorings, and Lucy showed Philip how to steer, and the parrot sat on the mast and called out instructions.

They made for the mouth of a river. (“I never built a river,” said Philip. “No,” said the parrot, “it came out of the poetry book.”) And when they were hungry they let down the anchor and went into the cabin for breakfast. And two people sprang to meet them, almost knocking Lucy down with the violence of their welcome. The two people were Max and Brenda.

“Oh, you dear dogs,” Lucy cried, and Philip patted them, one with each hand, “how did you get here?”

“It was a little surprise of Mr. Noah’s,” said the parrot.

Max and Brenda whined and barked and gushed.

“I wish we could understand what they’re saying,” said Lucy.

“If you only knew the magic word that the Hippogriff obeys,” said the parrot, “you could say it, and then you’d understand all animal talk. Only, of course, I mustn’t tell it you. It’s one of the eleven mysteries.”

“But I know it,” said Philip, and at once breathed the word in the tiny silky ear of Brenda and then in the longer silkier ear of Max, and instantly—

“Oh, my dears!” they heard Brenda say in a softly shrill excited voice; “oh, my dearie dears! We
are
so pleased to see you. I’m only a poor little faithful doggy; I’m not clever, you know, but my affectionate nature makes me almost mad with joy to see my dear master and mistress again.”

“Very glad to see you, sir,” said Max with heavy politeness. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. There’s no comfort for a dog like being with his master.”

And with that he sat down and went to sleep, and the others had breakfast. It is rather fun cooking in yachts. And there was something new and charming in Brenda’s delicate way of sitting up and begging and saying at the same time, “I do
hate
to bother my darling master and mistress, but if you
could
spare another
tiny
bit of bacon—Oh,
thank you
, how good and generous you are!”

They sailed the yacht successfully into the river which presently ran into the shadow of a tropical forest. Also out of a book.

“You might go on during the night,” said the parrot, “if the dogs would steer under my directions. You could tie one end of a rope to their collars and another to the helm. It’s easier than turning spits.”

“Delighted!” said Max; “only, of course, it’s understood that we sleep through the day?”

“Of course,” said everybody. So that was settled. And the children went to bed.

It was in the middle of the night that the parrot roused Philip with his usual gentle beak-touch. Then—

“Wake up,” it said; “this is not the right river. It’s not the right direction. Nothing’s right. The ship’s all wrong. I’m very much afraid some one has been opening a book and this river has got out.”

Philip hurried out on deck, and by the light of the lamps from the cabin, gazed out at the banks of the river. At least he looked for them. But there weren’t any banks. Instead, steep and rugged cliffs rose on each side, and overhead, instead of a starry sky, was a great arched roof of a cavern glistening with moisture and dark as a raven’s feathers.

“We must turn back,” said Philip. “I don’t like this at all.”

“Unfortunately,” said the parrot, “there is no room to turn back, and the
Lightning Loose
is not constructed for going backwards.”

“Oh, dear,” whispered Brenda, “I wish we hadn’t come. Dear little dogs ought to be taken comfortable care of and not be sent out on nasty ships that can’t turn back when it’s dangerous.”

“My dear,” said Max with slow firmness, “dear little dogs can’t help themselves now. So they had better look out for chances of helping their masters.”

“But what can we
do
, then?” said Philip impatiently.

“I fear,” said the parrot, “that we can do nothing but go straight on. If this river is in a book it will come out somewhere. No river in a book ever runs underground and stays there.”

“I shan’t wake Lucy,” said Philip; “she might be frightened.”

“You needn’t,” said Lucy, “she’s awake, and she’s no more frightened than you are.”

(“You hear that,” said Max to Brenda; “you take example by her, my dear!”)

“But if we are going the wrong way, we shan’t reach the Great Sloth,” Lucy went on.

“Sooner or later, one way or another, we shall come to him,” said the parrot; “and time is of no importance to a Great Sloth.”

It was now very cold, and our travellers were glad to wrap themselves in the flags of all nations with which the yacht was handsomely provided. Philip made a sort of tabard of the Union Jack and the old Royal Arms of England, with the lilies and leopards; and Lucy wore the Japanese flag as a shawl. She said the picture of the sun on it made her feel warm. But Philip shivered under his complicated crosses and lions, as the
Lightning Loose
swept on over the dark tide between the dark walls and under the dark roof of the cavern.

“Cheer up,” said the parrot. “Think what a lot of adventures you’re having that no one else has ever had: think what a lot of things you’ll have to tell the other boys when you go to school.”

“The other boys wouldn’t believe a word of it,” said Philip in gloom. “I wouldn’t unless I knew it was true.”

“What I think is,” said Lucy, watching the yellow light from the lamps rushing ahead along the roof, “that we shan’t want to tell people. It’ll be just enough to know it ourselves and talk about it, just Philip and me together.”

“Well, as to that—” the parrot was beginning doubtfully, when he broke off to exclaim:

“Do my claws deceive me or is there a curious vibration, and noticeable acceleration of velocity?”

“Eh?” said Philip, which is not manners, and he knew it.

“He means,” said Max stolidly, “aren’t we going rather fast and rather wobbly?”

We certainly were. The
Lightning Loose
was going faster and faster along that subterranean channel, and every now and then gave a lurch and a shiver.

“Oh!” whined Brenda; “this is a dreadful place for dear little dogs!”

“Philip!” said Lucy in a low voice, “I know something is going to happen. Something dreadful. We
are
friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” said Philip firmly.

“Then I wish you’d kiss me.”

“I can like you just as much without that,” said Philip uneasily. “Kissing people—it’s silly, don’t you think?”

“Nobody’s kissed me since daddy went away,” she said, “except Helen. And you don’t mind kissing Helen. She
said
you were going to adopt me for your sister.”

“Oh! all right,” said Philip, and put his arm round her and kissed her. She felt so little and helpless and bony in his arm that he suddenly felt sorry for her, kissed her again more kindly and then, withdrawing his arm, thumped her hearteningly on the back.

“Be a man,” he said in tones of comradeship and encouragement. “I’m perfectly certain nothing’s going to happen. We’re just going through a tunnel, and presently we shall just come out into the open air again, with the sky and the stars going on as usual.”

He spoke this standing on the prow beside Lucy, and as he spoke she clutched his arm.

“Oh, look,” she breathed, “oh, listen!”

He listened. And he heard a dull echoing roar that got louder and louder. And he looked. The light of the lamps shone ahead on the dark gleaming water, and then quite suddenly it did not shine on the water because there was no longer any water for it to shine on. Only great empty black darkness. A great hole, ahead, into which the stream poured itself. And now they were at the edge of the gulf. The
Lightning Loose
gave a shudder and a bound and hung for what seemed a long moment on the edge of the precipice down which the underground river was pouring itself in a smooth sleek stream, rather like poured treacle, over what felt like the edge of everything solid.