The marvellous land of Snergs
them to take the law into their own hands. She soothed them down with
diplomatic words, promised that the boy should receive castigation
proportional to his offence, and gave them each a ball of some
composition warranted to remove grease stains without injuring the
fabric.
Then she went for the Handy Encyclopædia to see what it had to say
about keel-hauling. It was as follows:
“_Keel-hauling._ A form of discipline once in great vogue among
seamen. The usual method of application was to attach ropes to the
four limbs of the delinquent, lower him over the bows of the ship,
and drag him to the stern post and up again, the process being
repeated as many times as was considered necessary to expiate the
offence. In very serious cases it was the custom to continue the
operation until such barnacles as had accumulated on the ship’s keel
had been scraped off. See _Shell Fish_.”
“I gather that they are vexed,” observed Miss Watkyns to herself as
she replaced the volume. Then--for in spite of her high ideals she was
human--“I should have liked to see that half-brick arriving.”
In the conference that followed Miss Scadging proposed that Joe should
be considered the sole culprit, since he was a boy and therefore it
was his duty to set an example to the weaker sex. Miss Gribblestone
objected to this on principle; she was by no means convinced that women
were the weaker sex and she recounted again how she had laid out Joe’s
father; also she quoted Police Court instances of crimes committed by
men at the instigation of females. Miss Watkyns was of opinion that a
good and quick way to settle the matter would be to hand Joe six or
ten of the very best with the back of a hairbrush before the assembled
children; but Miss Gribblestone objected strongly to this as tending to
break the boy’s spirit. She made the counter-suggestion of an appeal to
his pride.
It is no exaggeration to say that I could keep on like this for pages,
but I will not risk wearying the reader with a disquisition on the
arguments for and against corporal punishment. I will merely state that
it was finally decided to let Sylvia off for just this once, but to
incarcerate Joe for the rest of the day in the Turret Chamber on a diet
of bread and water.
THE TURRET CHAMBER
The Turret Chamber was, as its name implies, a chamber in a turret.
I have previously explained that the erection of the buildings was
done by the Snergs; also that their natural tendency was to indulge in
wild architectural freaks. By careful watching, however, Miss Watkyns
had managed to keep them building according to the neat plans she had
prepared, and to subdue their inclination to spoil the symmetry of the
houses by fantastic and unnecessary additions. But during her absence
one day on a picnic the Snergs broke loose and built a swift tower
in a corner of the main building, with some scalloped fancy work on
the walls and a twisting flight of stairs in the interior leading to
the chamber in question, and by the time she arrived home they were
already roofing it in. In appearance it resembled the more despicable
forms of lighthouses, and it was quite useless for anything practical,
being so narrow that a grown-up person ascending the stairs had to
writhe up like a snake, and the chamber atop being so small that Miss
Watkyns had considered the question of turning the whole business into
a pigeon-house. However, it did very well as a lock-up for Master Joe.
HOW JOE BORE CAPTIVITY
Hours had passed. The sun was not now so very high in the heavens.
From the direction of the beach came the sounds of happy shrieks; the
children were having a great time there. On the window-sill of the
turret chamber sat Joe, his hands in his shorts’ pockets and his feet
dangling outside, looking forth disconsolately. Behind him on the floor
was a platter with odd bits of dry bread, and a pitcher of clear cold
water from the pump. There was nothing else behind him but a little
wooden bench; the chamber was as bare and smooth as an empty jam-pot.
Above him was the bright blue sky. Before him was green grass and
waving forest. Below him was a nasty drop of twenty-seven feet. I don’t
think I have left anything out.
Joe started suddenly and looked about, for from somewhere he had heard
the hoot of the Aviola, or small downy owl, which by rights should
be still asleep at that hour. He replied with the half-whistle,
half-bleat of the Crested Grebe (these were secret signals), and Sylvia
came worming her way out from the neighbouring herbaceous border,
accompanied by their small but faithful hound. She parted her mass
of curls, which had fallen across her face in the passage, and stood
having a good look at him.
“Oh, Joe,” she said in the low voice of pity, “are you very beastly
lonely up there?”
“Yes, Sylvia, I’m just as lonely and miserable! And I’ve had nothing to
eat but some dry bread. I think they dried it on purpose.”
“And Tiger’s been wondering what’s the matter, Joe.” She held him up,
and Tiger caught sight of Joe and wriggled and made moans, as of a
puppy that wanted comfort. “But I’ve got something for you.”
She put down Tiger and produced a handkerchief. “I’ve got some apple
sauce on bits of bread that aren’t so dry, and a piece of seedy cake.
And some pears. I suppose you haven’t got a piece of string?”
“Yes I have,” he answered joyfully. “I’ve got my fishing line. Here it
is. I’ve been fishing for hours and hours trying to fish up something
to play with, but all I got was some bits of twigs and I couldn’t do
much with them.”
Sylvia hooked her handkerchief with the provisions on to the line, and
a moment later Joe was eating busily.
“You’re just like a captive princess in a tower,” she said after a
time. “Like Rapunzel.”
“Except I haven’t got such long hair. I feel like an old cat up a
pole--except I can’t get down. When are they going to let me out?”
“Miss Watkyns said when all of us are in bed. Isn’t she vicious?”
“But that’s hours and hours! Oh, Sylvia, I _must_ get out!” He bounced
up and down on the window-sill, and Sylvia squawked.
“Oh, Joe, you ass, you’ll fall!”
“Not me, don’t you think it.” He bounced up and down again to show his
skill.
“Look here, Joe, shall I hook on Tiger? I’ll tie him in my hankie so
that he won’t fall and then you can play with him for a bit--No, you
_keep_ him up there with you, and then won’t Miss Watkyns be surprised
when she finds him there! She’ll think he’s got wings somehow.”
“Yes, that’d be fine. But I’ve got a much better idea, Sylvia. You just
bring me that clothes-line over there.”
“What for? And it’s got nighties drying on it.”
“I don’t want them, I want only the rope. Do, Sylvia, it’s something
delicious. If you don’t I’ll show you how to hang out of a window head
downwards.”
“No, _don’t_!” cried Sylvia. “I’ll bring it.” She ran off and came
back a minute later with the clothes-line, which she fastened to his
fish-hook. “Nighties all over the grass. There’ll be a fine row over it
if they catch me. You are a headstrong boy, Joe.”
Joe did not answer, for he was busy. He hauled up the rope and fastened
one end of it to the bench, and then managed to jam the bench across
the window frame. Then he called to Sylvia to stand from under.
“Because,” he said, “it’s rather a rotten piece of rope, and besides, I
don’t think this silly old bench is going to stand much jerking about.
But we’ll soon see.”
On the next instant, Sylvia gave a screech, for there was Joe outside
the window, spinning round on the rope. But before you could count ten
he had slid down to the ground and Tiger was leaping and trying to get
at his face so as to lick it. Not a very wonderful trick for a circus
boy, but then Sylvia didn’t know anything about circuses. She put her
arms round his neck and hugged him.
“Oh, Joe,” she said, “you are a brave boy! You looked just like a clean
monkey coming down--except that you haven’t got a tail. But how are you
going to get the rope put back?”
“I’m not bothering about the rope,” said Joe. “You see we’re just going
to run away.”
“Run away! What for?”
“For fun. I’m not going to be locked up by anybody. I’m going over to
see the Snergs, and you’ve got to come with me. Tiger’s coming, too, of
course. We’ll have a glorious time!”
“What do you mean, you contentious infant?” (She sometimes used words
she had heard from Miss Watkyns and other ladies.) “It’s miles and
miles and miles! And you don’t know the way there.”
“Yes I do. It’s straight over there, just a little bit this side of
where the sun goes under. We’ll just go that way until we can’t see it,
and then we’ll sleep in a nice place in the forest.”
“Yes, Clever, and what about to-morrow? The sun’s always over the sea
in the morning.”
“Then all we’ve got to do is to go the _other_ way. Can’t you see?”
Sylvia was rather impressed by his resourcefulness. “Yes, but what
about afterwards, Joe,” she said after a moment. “What will Miss
Watkyns do when she knows about it?”
“Yes, but what happens afterwards will happen _afterwards_. Can’t
you see? Come along, Sylvia, it’s adventures, like those tales your
nurse told you about. And it’s much better _being_ a tale than just
hearing it. We’ll sleep in the forest to-night--it’s nice and warm--and
to-morrow sometime we’ll be at the Snerg’s place and have a jolly time
with them. Just think what the other kids will think of us. Won’t they
be jealous!”
How it happened Sylvia could never quite make out, but she found
herself running along hand-in-hand with Joe over the soft turf, with
Tiger bouncing alongside of them and sometimes tumbling over his own
barks, drawing nearer and nearer to the trees which looked so cool and
inviting on that warm afternoon.
“Oh, Joe,” she panted as she ran, “_what_ an absurd mite you are!”
THE FOREST LAND
It seemed to these precocious infants that the forest was deeper and
shadier and more silent, and the grass softer than they had ever
known it before; but perhaps that was because before they had always
gone with troops of young ones, which would at least do away with the
quietness. In parts where the trees were not so very thick the grass
was all dappled with spots of sun, and sometimes there were great
shafts of light through the trees to make a guide for them, for all
they had to do so far was to go as fast as they could in the direction
of the sun. And they ran on and on and on, with the pretence idea that
they were fleeing from enemies who knew no touch of mercy and they must
get as far as possible while they could.
At length they had to stop running and walk, but they walked hard
because Joe said they must keep on for hours and hours. But it was
not so very long before they had to sit down and rest, for they were
all hot and sticky and getting very hungry. Joe opened Sylvia’s
handkerchief, in which he carried the rest of the pears she had
brought. There were five left, rather soft with the jolting, being
ripe, but they ate them, squashed parts and peel and all, and then
they had a draught from a stream, lying down on their stomachs and
drinking like hunters. Tiger’s share of the meal was as much water as
he liked to drink, and the sight of him sitting up and thinking after
this meagre diet brought into Sylvia’s head an idea that perhaps they
had been a tiny bit rash. But Joe said that Tiger could make up for it
to-morrow by a good blow-out, entirely omitting to consider the many
weary miles that lay between them and the country of the Snergs and the
slim chance they had of ever finding their way there at all. He said it
was really adventures, like the one her nurse had told her of, and he
pointed out how very likely it was that something exciting would happen