Dick, Marjorie and Fidge: A Search for the Wonderful Dodo
"Oh, for goodness' sake let the lazy old thing go to sleep if it wants
to," said Dick, impatiently, while tender-hearted Marjorie went up to
the creature and stroked and comforted it as best she could.
Her pity was wasted, however, for almost before the last words were out
of its mouth the sloth-bear was snoring peacefully with a contented
smirk on its face.
"Come on," said Dick, "let's try and find the way ourselves. Oh! I
know," he exclaimed; "of course, why we've forgotten all about the power
we have of floating in the air; we'll rise up above the trees, and then
we shall soon see where the sea is."
No sooner said than done. The children just expressed the wish, and, as
the Little Panjandrum's Ambassador had promised them, they found that
they had the power of rising at will.
"Jolly, isn't it?" said Dick, as they floated upwards, leaving the Dodo
gazing after them enviously.
"Like being in a b'loon," chuckled Fidge, clutching at the leaves of a
tree as he passed through them. Fidge never would pronounce balloon
properly.
"Oh! look!" cried Marjorie, as they passed above the trees, "there's the
sea over there, and some houses, and people on the beach. I can see them
quite distinctly. Oh, jolly, we can soon fly over there; come on."
"What about the Dodo?" asked Dick.
"Oh, of course. I'd forgotten him. Let's see, he can't fly, can he?"
"Judging by the exhibition he made of himself when we first saw him, I
should say not," laughed Dick.
"Well, perhaps we could carry him between us," suggested Marjorie, "he
doesn't look _very_ heavy."
"All right, let's try," said her brother, and, having made quite sure of
the direction in which the sea lay, they slowly descended to the ground
again.
"Find out what you wanted to?" asked the Dodo, who had taken off his
gloves, and was blowing into them to take out the creases.
"Yes," said Dick, "there are a few houses by the side of the sea about
two miles to the left; do you think you could manage to fly as far as
that?"
The Dodo smiled in a sickly sort of way. "I'm a little out of practise,"
he faltered.
"Well, do you think that if we each took hold of one of
your--ahem--wings, we could get along that way?"
"You wouldn't crush my gloves?" asked the Dodo, anxiously.
"Oh, you could take them off, you know," said Dick, "and put them in
your p----" (he was going to say pocket, but suddenly remembered that
the Dodo hadn't one)--"in my pocket till we get there, if you like," he
added.
"What!" cried the Dodo, indignantly, "travel without my gloves! Never!
It wouldn't be respectable. I shouldn't think of doing such a thing!"
"Oh, well, come, on then; let's try this way," said Dick, putting his
arm under one of the Dodo's wings, while Marjorie did the same to the
other. "Now then--one--two--three."
Slowly, very slowly, the children rose, for the Dodo was rather heavy
after all, as he dangled down clumsily and uncomfortably between them.
I think they would have managed, however, but just as they had reached
the lower branches of the trees, they heard a voice scream furiously--
"_Now_, then, what are you up to?"
In their agitation they let go of the Dodo, who, after making several
frantic efforts to support himself, fell to the ground with a dull thud.
"What are you up to, I say?" said the voice again, and the children
could see that the parrot, who had been so insolent to them before, was
sitting on one of the branches near them.
"Pretty objects you are making of yourselves, I must say," he remarked,
sneeringly. "What do you think you are doing, I should like to know?"
"I don't see what it has to do with you," said Dick, crossly, while the
Dodo, with his eyes shut and his head on one side, ran about rubbing his
back with one pinion, and crying, "Oh! oh! oh!" for he had evidently
hurt himself very much.
"You don't, do you?" said the parrot. "Well, then, it has a great deal
to do with me. Trying to fly, weren't you? Well, you are not birds, and
it isn't allowed; do you hear? The idea of mere human creatures aping
their betters in that way. Flying, indeed! Don't you let me catch you at
it again, or you will be sorry for it, I can tell you. Now move on, and
walk on your feet in a sensible way, like rational human beings. Go
along! What next, I wonder!"
He was evidently so very angry that the children thought it best not to
provoke him further, so, leading the Dodo, who hobbled along painfully,
they walked silently away in the direction of the sea, while the parrot
watched them with a severe expression, screaming out--"Move on! move
on!" every time they stopped.
"What a disagreeable bird," whispered Marjorie, when they had gone some
little distance.
"Wretch!" declared the Dodo, rubbing his back.
"For two pins I'd wring his neck," muttered Dick, angrily.
"Much obliged, I'm sure," said a mocking voice overhead, and there was
that wretched parrot, looking down from one of the upper branches.
"Listeners never hear any good of themselves," remarked the Dodo.
"Pooh!--as though I cared what _you_ thought about me," said the parrot.
"Why, if I liked, I could--oh!" he cried, looking off to the left, "the
Skipper," and, spreading his wings, he flew rapidly away with every sign
of alarm.
The children followed his glance, and saw coming towards them a very
stout, very jolly-looking sailor, with a red, hearty face and a jovial
smile. To their great surprise, they saw that he was using a
skipping-rope, and skipping towards them, smiling good-naturedly.
"Thank goodness, here's a man at last," said Dick. "Now we shall be
able to find out something as to where we are, and how we are to get
home again."
"Ship ahoy!" called out the sailor, when he first saw them.
"How do you do?" said Dick, politely offering his hand.
"Stop a bit, my hearty," said the sailor. "Salt!" and he began skipping
rather quickly. "Pepper!!" and he quickened the pace considerably.
"Mustard!!!" and the rope flew round so quickly that the children could
hardly see it, while the jolly fat sailor skipped up and down furiously.
Presently he stopped, and sank exhausted on a stone, puffing and blowing
with all his might.
"I'm a Skipper," he panted, in an explanatory tone.
"A Skipper!" exclaimed the children.
"Yes, they calls me a Skipper," said he, "because I skips."
"But I thought a Skipper was a kind of Captain or something," said
Marjorie.
"Quite right, my little dear; I'm Captain of the tidiest craft ye ever
set eyes on. She's lying out yonder. Will ye come and have a look at
her?"
"Oh, yes, please," said Dick, delightedly; "and perhaps you can tell us
the way to get to England?"
"To be sure I can," said the Skipper. "There are my men," he said,
proudly, as they came to an open space, where a dozen or more sailors,
of all ages, sat at spinning wheels, working industriously.
"Whatever are they doing?" inquired Marjorie, curiously.
"Spinning yarns," explained the Skipper; "each sailor is spinning a
yarn--they always do that in their spare time, you know. Here, Bill," he
called out to one of the sailors, who answered, "Aye, aye, Sir," and
touched his forelock. "Bring some of your yarn here, and show this young
lady."
The man said, "Aye, aye, Sir," again, and came forward with some coarse
brown worsted.
"This," said the Skipper, "is the toughest yarn you will find anywhere.
We are celebrated for it here."
CHAPTER XII.
THE ARCHAEOPTERYX.
"But we always thought----" began Marjorie--
"That when people spoke of a sailor 'spinning a yarn,' they meant
telling a story," finished Dick.
"Oh! oh! how _could_ you think such a thing," said the sailors,
indignantly. "Sailors always tell the truth; don't they, Skipper?"
The Skipper winked at Dick with one eye, and answered, guardedly, "Ahem!
I _have_ heard a sailor speak the truth, certainly, but----"
"Let's change the subject," said the sailors, getting up from their
wheels. "Isn't it nearly time for us to be starting on another voyage?"
"When we get some passengers, it will be," responded the Skipper,
gruffly. "By-the-bye," he added, turning to the children; "_you_ want to
go somewhere or another, don't you?"
"Yes, to England," said Dick, eagerly. "Do you go there, please?"
"H'm! Never heard of the place as I knows of," said the Skipper,
scratching his head. "We might cruise about till we come across it, if
you like, though."
"Never heard of England!" exclaimed Dick.
"No," said the Skipper, unconcernedly. "I never had no time to study
goggerfy, I didn't, so there's lots of places I don't know, no more than
the Man in the Moon."
"But don't you find it very awkward?" cried the children; "however do
you know how to go from one place to another?"
"We don't know," said the Skipper, laughing; "that's just the fun of the
thing. We get into our ship, and just go on and on till we come to
somewhere or another, and then we land, you know. It's much the best
way, and saves such a lot of bother."
"I am afraid we should be a long while reaching England that way,"
remarked Dick, dubiously.
"Oh, I don't know," said the Skipper, "we might drop across it the first
time, you know. You see, it's not much use knowing in which direction
it lies, because, once you get out to sea, there are no roads and
things, so one way is as good as another."
"But don't you use a compass?" asked Marjorie.
"What's that, Miss?" asked the Skipper.
"Why, a little thing that always points to the North," said Marjorie.
"Blessed if I know, Miss," said the Skipper, good-naturedly. "Here,
Bill," he called to one of the sailors, "do we use a little thing that
always points to the North?"
"Not as I knows on," answered the man, sulkily. "We ain't got none of
them newfangled things, and don't want 'em."
"Dear me, what a very odd ship yours must be," said Dick. "Is it a
steamer, or a sailing vessel, please?"
"Oh, it's partly a sailing vessel and partly a rowing boat," said the
Skipper. "She's a very fine ship," he added, proudly, "come and have a
look at her."
The children followed him to a kind of rough harbor, where a most
extraordinary craft was moored. She looked very like a picture which
all the children remembered having seen in an old book at home, and
although there was a small sail, a number of gaily-painted paddles
sticking through the side of the huge boat, showed that, as the Skipper
had said, rowing played a very important part in moving it along.
"What a dear old-fashioned thing," exclaimed Marjorie, directly she saw
it.
The Skipper looked rather hurt. "It isn't more than a thousand years
old," he remarked.
"Well, that's an awful long time for a ship to last, isn't it?" said
Marjorie, pleasantly.
"Our family is much older than that," chimed in the Dodo,
consequentially. "We date back to----"
"Oh, please don't go into ancient history," said the Skipper, "I can't
bear it; it reminds me so of my younger days, when I was first learning
to skip."
"What _do_ you mean?" asked the children.
"Why, when I was a little boy, you know," explained the Skipper, "I used
to skip all the dry parts of a book--and the pages and pages I used to
skip of my ancient history you'd never believe. It was that which
decided my parents upon making me a Skipper. 'He'll never do for
anything else,' they used to say?"
"Well, are you going aboard or not?" he added, "because, if so, we ought
to be starting."
"Oh, yes, let's go," pleaded Marjorie, "we might just as well be on
board as at this place, you know, and we shall, at any rate, be going
somewhere, and perhaps we shall find some one who knows the way to
England on the sea."