The Feather

So on the next day they watched her carefully, though without hindering her going about.

The day went past just as the day before had done, and about the same time in the evening she asked the Prince to go down to the beach with her, and they went just as before. But all the while the Prince kept fast hold of her hand.

So they walked along the beach as the wind freshened, and they talked of all sorts of things, – it is not necessary to say what.

But the Princess noticed that the boat which Wopole had loaded with provisions was almost in the water, and Wopole and Mumkie were both standing talking by it.

So she drew the feather quietly out of her pocket, for you may be sure she had not forgotten to bring it. Suddenly she said:

‘Oh dear! my shoe’s full of sand. I must take it off and shake it out.’

‘Will you let me do it for you?’ said the Prince, who stepped easily into the trap.

‘Yes, you might, if it’s not too much trouble,’ she said.

So he knelt down, and unlaced her shoe, took it off, and shook out the sand, and then put it on again for her. He was just getting up again when the Princess gave him a little push, so that he lost his balance altogether, and before he could recover himself she put the feather to her hair, and ran along the sands to the boat which Wopole and Mumkie were just about to launch.

She stepped over the back just before they reached it, and then she went at once to the front of the boat in order not to be in the way of Wopole when he got on board. In a moment the boat was dancing on the water, and Wopole sprang in over the stern. The boat shipped a good deal over the bows, and the Princess got rather wet. However, she was too excited to care much about a little water.

In a few moments Wopole had hauled up the sail, and the boat began to move through the dancing waters. Just at this moment Treblo reached the edge of the sea, and saw the boat well out of his power.

‘Come back!’ he cried to Wopole.

‘Don’t you!’ said Mumkie.

‘You needn’t be afraid!’ Wopole called as loud as he could. ‘I shan’t come back!’

‘But you’ve got the Princess on board!’

‘You bet!’ remarked Wopole with familiar vulgarity now he was out of the Prince’s reach.

The Princess thought it was her turn to say something, so she called:

‘Good-bye, Treblo, my love, good-bye!’

Wopole was naturally somewhat surprised at this voice that appeared to come from nowhere in particular.

‘I suppose she’s hanging in the water,’ he said to himself out loud. ‘I shan’t trouble to help her on board if she is. I shall just let her drown.’

‘How very good of you,’ remarked Ernalie sweetly.

Wopole looked surprised.

‘Sounds as if she was on board. However, she isn’t.’

And as the Princess thought it best to be quiet, he remained of the same opinion.

All the while the boat had been getting rapidly out of the bay, and the Princess thought they were quite safe from pursuit. But suddenly Wopole rose from his seat in the stern and let down the sail.

‘What on earth is he going to do?’ thought the Princess. ‘He can’t be going to stop.’

However, it was soon pretty clear what he was going to do, for she noticed he was steering towards a large vessel that lay near them.

The way that the sail had left on the boat was sufficient to carry them to the vessel, which the boat soon bumped against. Wopole now seemed to be coming forward; and as there was not room in the boat for her to slip past him, she jumped from the bow and managed to scramble on board the ship, although it was rather difficult, and boats have a habit of slipping away under any one who tries jumping off them.

However, she luckily managed it, and was soon safe on board.

She was followed almost immediately by Wopole, who didn’t find much difficulty in getting on board; in fact, he came so quickly that he almost fell on top of the Princess. However, she just managed to slip out of his way, and he did not notice her, as he was occupied in tying the boat-rope to a cleat.

He then went through various nautical exercises – such as boxing the compass, and shivering his timbers, and danging his lee-deadlights, and other things which it takes a sailor, or a nautical novel-writer, to understand. The effect of these operations was to make the sails run up, and then the vessel bent to the freshening gale and began to walk the waters like a thing of life – at least, as like a thing of life as a wet sheet and a flowing sea and a wind to follow after, but no legs, could make it walk.

Wopole had taken the helm by this time, and he was steering a course east by west, so that they stood – that is, they walked – straight out from the shore. Thus they sailed on for an hour or two till the moon began to show itself, and then Wopole altered the course so that they sailed straight towards her. It might be as well to explain that in those days a ship was only provided with two sails, and so one man could manage a pretty large ship; and as Wopole was a very strong man, it stands to reason that he could manage a rather large ship. So, you see, it was not altogether so impossible as it looks to sail for three weeks alone on the sea, although I own it would be somewhat difficult nowadays.

When the moon rose, as I have mentioned before, Wopole steered straight for it, and he continued steering straight towards it all night – at least all the time that the moon could be seen.

Towards sunrise, however, the moon set; and as soon as he could see it no more, he let down the sail, threw his anchor overboard, and in a few moments the ship was at rest.

When this had been done he walked to a hatch, which he opened, and took out some beef, captain’s biscuits, and pickled pork. From these he cut slices and placed the slices on plates, after which he took the joints back to the hatchway and put them in the meat-safes again. Then he filled a glass with water from a little cistern that stood on deck.

After these preparations, he sat down and made a comfortable meal, and then he went downstairs – that is, down the hatchway – and into his cabin.

He seemed to have departed for good, so the Princess followed his example – at least, so far as the eating was concerned; only, she washed the knives, forks, and plates before she used them.

‘I wonder if he’ll see any difference in the size of the joints?’ she thought to herself. ‘If he does, he won’t know how it is, so that’s all right.’

So she made a hearty meal, and then replaced the things just as he had put them.

The question now was – how to pass away the time? – and it was a very difficult one to answer. There were no books to read – at least, she was not able to find any on deck. So she tried playing cat’s-cradle by herself; but that was not a very great success, because there was no one to take it up. She next attempted going to sleep, but that was not a success either. Then she tried counting how many times the ship rolled in the course of an hour; but she always forgot how many hundreds she had counted. At last she went and sat on one of the bulwarks and watched the porpoises as they played about the ship’s bows. So the day passed away and evening came, and just as the sun set Wopole came on deck yawning and stretching himself.

He looked at the vane, which was blown out nearly straight in the evening wind.

‘A nice breeze,’ the Princess heard him say to himself. ‘If the wind holds good like this it won’t take more than a fortnight.’

‘Thank goodness,’ the Princess said to herself; for she was beginning already to grow rather tired of the adventure. ‘I think I’ll go down and see what the vessel is like below-stairs.’

So she descended the dark hatchway as well as she could, though it was no easy matter, for the boat was beginning to roll in a most unpleasant manner; for, you see, the wind was freshening a good deal, and Wopole had not yet hoisted the sails. However, she managed to get to the bottom without tumbling down more than four steps at a time.

It was not quite dark in the cabin below, for an open port-hole let in the last rays of daylight.

The cabin was a very small one, though it did not seem very cosy; however, the Princess was delighted to see one thing, and that was that there were some books on a table in the centre of the cabin.

She went and looked at their titles, but it was too dark to read them, and she didn’t know where to find the matches. Through the porthole she could see that the sea was getting rougher, and the waves were beginning to dash loudly against the side of the boat.

‘It’ll be getting wet on deck,’ she thought to herself; ‘I think I shall stop where I am, for I hate being damp, and I’m quite comfortable here.’ Just at this moment she heard heavy steps coming down the hatchway. ‘Good gracious! here’s Wopole coming down. What does he want, I wonder?’

Wopole opened the door and looked in, but he didn’t seem to notice her. He just put his arm round the door and unhooked a tarpaulin coat that was hanging there. Then he took a sou’-wester from another peg and put it on his head and shut the door again, and she heard him tramp up on to the deck.

‘I suppose he’s gone for good,’ she said to herself. ‘Anyhow, I’ll lock the door, and then he won’t be able to get in.’ So she locked the door with the key that was in the lock. ‘Now I wonder where the bed is?’ she thought. ‘That place like a shelf can’t be it; but it’s got bed-clothes on it. However, I can’t get into it. I shall just lie on this sofa for the night.’

So she lay down and slept all night in spite of the noise that the wind and waves made.

She awoke next morning on hearing a most tremendous rumble and splashing.

‘What is that?’ she said to herself. ‘He must be letting out the anchor.’

And so he was; for in a moment she heard him coming downstairs.

‘I wonder what he’ll do when he finds the door locked?’ she thought.

Just then he reached the door and turned the handle, but the door refused to move; and although he kicked and banged, it was all no use.

‘I’ll go and fetch a hatchet and prise it open,’ he grunted, out of breath with his exertions; and he thumped up the stairs again.

But meanwhile the Princess unlocked the door, and seizing a couple of books at random off the bookshelf she ran up on deck; but she kept possession of the door-key.

Now it so happened that Wopole had dropped his hatchet in front of the hatchway, and he was bending down to pick it up just as she came out of it, so that the result was a collision; and as Wopole was bending down he got considerably the worst of it, although the books that the Princess was carrying were thrown right out of her hands.

Wopole got up from the sitting posture which the sudden shock had made him assume.

‘Well, this is extraordinary! Shiver my old lee-scuppers if it isn’t! Here first I can’t get into my cabin, and then I’m knocked over by my own books that come flying at my head. I think it’s those books that are the cause of the mischief, and I’ll just throw them overboard,’ and he was just bending over to pick them up. But this was too much for the Princess, who had no wish to be left for the whole of another day without books. So she snatched the books from just under his hand – at least, the book he was going to pick up – and as soon as she touched it, it became invisible.

Wopole shook his head dismally as if he had quite expected it, and then he tried to pick up the other one; but just the same thing happened. Now the Princess had just been bending down to pick the book up as he bent down, and the wind blew her hair right across his eyes. He, feeling the tickling, put his hand up to his face and caught the hair before she could draw it away.

‘What is this now?’ he said, as he examined his hand. ‘Feels like hair,’ he mused. But in his fit of musing he let his fingers relax their grasp, and she drew her hair away very quickly.

‘I thought so,’ Wopole said. ‘It was only the hair – the wind, I mean. I wonder what’s the matter with the books, though? It must be the cabin that’s bewitched them. I won’t sleep in that cabin to-day. I’ll change my apartments at once.’

And he did. So, for the rest of the time, the Princess had the cabin all to herself, and she was quite contented; for Wopole was so sure that it was bewitched, that he moved his clothes and things out of it, and never came near it again.

And the Princess had decidedly the best of it; for Wopole slept all day and watched all night, and she kept awake all day and slept all night just as usual. So the time passed away, and every night the moon got larger and larger as they got nearer and nearer, until it was quite close.

They had been a fortnight and three days out before they came to the edge of the sea, but it was eight o’clock in the evening, and the moon had just left the water, as it flew into the air like a large – a very large – white bird.

‘What a confounded nuisance!’ Ernalie heard Wopole say. ‘Now I shall have to wait the whole of another day for it to rise above the sea; and then it’s so jolly dangerous.’

The Princess couldn’t help wondering why it was so jolly dangerous; and how, if it were dangerous, it could be jolly. So she asked – quite without thinking that she was invisible:

‘Why?’

‘Why, you dunderhead!’ retorted Wopole; ‘because we’re quite near the edge of the world, and if a strong wind should rise we should be blown right over it, and then we should fall right into the sun. See, stupid?’

The Princess replied meekly:

‘I thank you.’

‘I should think you ought to thank me,’ Wopole retorted angrily. ‘It’s bad enough to have spirits on board a temperance ship without having to talk to them.’

‘But I’m not a spirit,’ said Ernalie.

‘Then who are you?’

‘I’m – ’ But she thought it best not to tell him more.

‘Oh, you are, are you?’ he replied. ‘Thanks for the information. I’m sure it wasn’t necessary for you to tell me so much, and I don’t want to know any more about you. Only, look here, I don’t know whether you want to be roasted?’

‘Of course not,’ answered the Princess.

‘Well, then, if a storm comes up it will blow us right over the world’s end into the sun; so look out. If the anchor holds, we are safe.’

‘What does the anchor hold?’ asked Ernalie.

‘The ground, of course. If it doesn’t, we shall have to hoist the sails and try to beat against the wind.’

‘I suppose you beat against the wind to make it run away?’ said Ernalie.

But Wopole replied gruffly:

‘No puns allowed on board. Now, if we have to beat against the wind, I shall have to manage the sails, so you must go to the helm.’

‘What is the helm?’ she asked.

‘That’s it,’ said Wopole, pointing to it.

‘Oh, that’s the helm; and what am I to do with it?’

‘Do what I tell you.’

‘Very well.’

‘That’s all.’

So the Princess, not seeing anything better to do, went down below to bed.

The night passed safely, and nearly the whole of the next day; but towards evening the wind began to get up. Wopole was on deck, and as he did not seem to wish to talk she let him alone. About seven the moon was to rise, and at about half-past five Ernalie went down to her cabin to get a book. She selected a small one that she had not noticed before. It was called ‘The Life and Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe of Hull, Mariner, who – ’ But before she had half finished the title-page – which, by the bye, is rather long – a sudden reeling of the vessel threw her right over to one corner of the room, and at the same time from above there sounded a shrieking as of ten thousand demons.

‘What on earth is that?’ she thought as well as she could, for she was lying in one corner of the room among chairs and various other articles of furniture. However, she got out of it as quickly as she could, and ran on deck, or at least she tried to run, for the vessel was rolling and pitching, and the shrieking continued to resound from above. At last she did reach the deck; but she rather wished she had stopped below, for the wind was so biting it nearly bit her hair off, and this same wind behaved so badly to the ropes of the vessel that they shrieked in their pain as the blast cut past them, causing the strange sounds that the Princess had heard below.

It was nearly as difficult to stand on deck as it had been in the cabin, and the spray that came dashing over the boat made it very difficult to see, for it got into her eyes and half blinded her.

However, she managed to steady herself by holding on to a rope, and in a few minutes she was able to see Wopole standing in the bow of the boat, and looking over the side. So she went towards him as well as she could, for the wind and spray came from over the bows. Nevertheless, she reached him somehow. He was leaning quietly against the bulwarks over the hawser-hole watching the straining cable, just as calm as if there were nothing in particular depending on whether the anchor held or not.

As soon as she could find her breath she touched him on the shoulder and shouted in his ear as loud as she could:

‘Will the rope break?’ But it was no use trying to out-roar the tempest – at least for her.

When Wopole felt something touch him on the shoulder he looked round.

‘Oh, it’s you, is it?’ she heard him cry. But the wind was still too high for her to answer. She only nodded; but she might have spared herself the trouble.

Presently, after she had waited some minutes in silence, the wind fell, almost as suddenly as it had risen.

‘Thank goodness! It’s over now,’ she said, and it was so quiet that Wopole overheard her easily.

‘Don’t hulloa till you’re out of the wood,’ he said. ‘Look there!’

The Princess did look, and she saw that the horizon was hidden by masses of white foam that rose and fell as if the sea were one great cauldron full of boiling water.

‘That’s the storm coming down again,’ Wopole went on. ‘Hurry to the helm and put it hard down when I hoist the sail, for the cable will snap like thread before it. Quick – quick!’

The Princess ran like lightning along the deck, for the sea was quite quiet, and the vessel hardly pitched at all, and she reached the helm in a very few minutes.

When she got there she stood still and listened. Everything was quiet and still; the vessel only rolled slightly, and the cordage creaked uneasily, as if it feared the coming strain that it would have to stand. From where the sea boiled a noise came – so low and grumbling that it might have been the faint growl of an angry cat before it makes a spring.

Just then Wopole looked towards the helm:

‘Mind and put it hard down!’ he shouted.

‘I wonder why he wants me to put it down,’ she thought.

But before she could ask the storm was upon them again. Swifter than the arrow leaps from the bow it came, and the churned sea fled from the attack of the wind like a mighty white horse. The flying scud and rain beat mercilessly against her face; but she held bravely to the tiller, and stemmed the storm as well as she could, with her eyes shut and her teeth set.

The noise the storm made would have frightened Neptune himself; but high over it she heard Wopole shout:

‘The cable’s parted! Hard down!’

And she pressed on the tiller as hard as she could; but the stubborn bar refused to go down, and though she leant her whole weight on it, it only fell away to one side, and she had only strength to lie against it in vain hope of putting it down. Just then the sail began to raise itself, and the vessel seemed to feel its influence, for it was turning slowly round. Suddenly she saw Wopole appear in the mist of rain.

‘Let me have the tiller!’ he shouted; and she let go. Instantly he seized it and pushed it the other way with all his might.

But at this critical moment a disaster happened, that made it look as if everything had conspired against them. The tiller broke in half under the strong hands of Wopole, and before they could wink the vessel had turned its back to the wind, and they were carried at racing speed towards the end of the world. They had but a mile or so to go, and a mile is soon covered.

The last part of the journey was through a thick mist; but it didn’t much matter to Ernalie.

‘Anyhow, Wopole won’t be able to cut the strings,’ she thought.

Just then the fog began to get lighter, as if some great fire were just outside it, and in a few seconds they burst through the veil of mist into a light so blinding that the Princess could not keep her eyes open.

‘This must be the sun we’ve fallen into,’ she thought. ‘But it doesn’t seem very hot.’ Then there was a bump, as if the boat had run into a lump of mud, and then a greasy slide, and then Ernalie fainted.

When she came to herself, she heard voices close to her. One sounded like the voice of an old man, and the other, she was quite sure, was that of Wopole; but she had never heard him so polite before. They had evidently only just met, for Wopole was saying:

‘I am very happy to make your acquaintance, sir. May I trouble you to tell me your name?’

‘It’s a great deal of trouble,’ grumbled the other; ‘but I’ll tell you. I’m the Man.’

‘How strange – I too happen to be a man.’

‘You’re only a man. I’m the Man.’

‘The Man in the Moon, I should think?’ said Wopole.

‘Exactly,’ answered the voice.

‘Why, we must be in the moon,’ thought the Princess; and it was the case, for the ship had run right over the edge of the world on to the moon, which had been hidden behind the clouds.

‘I’ll just go and look at him,’ she said to herself, and so she sat up to look where the voices came from. ‘They seem to be behind the sail,’ she went on. So she walked to the sail, and peeped round the corner, and there sure enough he was.

I daresay you’ve often seen the Man in the Moon – at all events, you ought to have. Perhaps you mayn’t have; if so, this is what the Princess saw.

He was a very old man, and looked very much as if he was in his second childhood, and he carried an enormous lanthorn, which made him even more bent than he might have been if he had not carried it so often. On his shoulders he carried a bundle of thorns, which appeared to prick him and cause him a good deal of uneasiness generally; and besides this he had an ugly little dog by his side, which made continual attacks on Wopole’s shins, and it made such a noise with its barking that the old man in a temper aimed a vicious kick at it; but he missed his mark, and the weight of the lanthorn overbalancing him he sat down rather suddenly, and during the rest of the evening he remained there.

But the conversation proceeded just as if nothing in particular had happened.

‘Being the Man in the Moon, perhaps you would be so kind as to direct me to the place where the Misses Parker reside?’ Wopole said.

‘That I won’t,’ said the Man. ‘Why should I?’

‘I thought that you might be so good as to direct me, and I had intended presenting you with a loaf of bread. However, that does not matter. Good-day. I daresay I shall find the house by myself,’ and Wopole made preparations for getting over the side of the vessel.

But the Man no sooner heard the word ‘bread’ than he became very eager to help him on the way.

‘Oh, wait a minute,’ he said; and Wopole accordingly waited.

‘If you’ll give me two loaves I’ll show you,’ he went on.

‘I’ll give you one now, and the other when I have paid my visit and am safely back on the ship.’

‘Well, that’ll do. Give me the one, and I’ll show you at once.’

So Wopole went to the hatch which covered the pantry and took out a large loaf, which he handed to the old Man.

‘Now trot,’ he said; and the Man hurried to the side of the vessel and scrambled down as well as he could, followed by Wopole and the Princess.

It was curious how bright it was when they got over the side; for although it was past nine o’clock p. m. by the Princess’s watch, the ground itself seemed to shoot out light, and what was still more funny, they threw no shadows, although that was easily explained; for as the moon itself provided the light, it would be rather difficult to throw a shadow on the moon.

They plodded on for some time in silence; but although the old Man hobbled very much he managed to get along very fast, almost too fast for the Princess, for the walking was very heavy.

Presently Wopole said:

‘How soft the ground is; is it all the same about here?’