The marvellous land of Snergs
Will it be thought by the readers at this point that the promised
moral lesson is long in coming? It is not improbable. So far I have
chronicled a comparatively glorious result of the two children’s
mutinous behaviour. They had arrived safely, after a journey which,
though tiring, was full of interest, and had been received, dined, and
wined in the manner of foreign potentates, and to their simple minds it
seemed that all they had to do now was to go comfortably home and brag
about it. But read on; the moral lesson is coming.
It was one of the quaint old customs of the Snergs to rise an hour or
two later on the day after a feast. Consequently, when Joe and Sylvia
woke up refreshed and happy, and with none of the sense of guilt
befitting children who had wantonly run away from wise and kind rule,
they found the whole place very quiet, the only sounds being those of
swallows outside the open lattice of their room, and from the adjoining
room (the Royal bedchamber), two different kinds of snores.
They crept downstairs and found a smiling old female person sifting
cinders outside the kitchen door, and they asked her if she could
please tell them when breakfast would be ready. She said it would
not be for a long time but she could get them something to help them
wait, and she took them into the kitchen and gave them each a warm
cake, rather like a rusk only softer, and some milk. They talked about
whales, in which she was much interested for she had never seen the
ocean; few of the female Snergs ever travel.
They went for a walk down the deserted street and suddenly, in the
paved yard where the pump is, they saw Gorbo. He had just soused his
head and was drying it on a little coarse towel. They greeted joyfully
and sat down on three buckets that happened to be there and talked of
the news while Gorbo combed his wild head with a piece of comb that he
had.
The news was this. A Snerg messenger had come on the run from Miss
Watkyns late in the evening, saying that they had disappeared and would
the King please turn all hands out at once to hunt for them, taking
something to eat and a bottle of milk in case. Vanderdecken’s men in
the meantime were ranging along the seashore, poking into caverns and
places to see if they could find them, and sweeping the horizon for
anything new, such as a raft flying the black flag--for they believed
almost anything possible of Joe. Apparently there was great trouble
and excitement over the matter at Watkyns Bay, and both children were
very proud to be the cause of it all. They would be; they were just
that kind.
Of course, as the fleet messengers dispatched by the King must have
arrived and calmed Miss Watkyns’ fears by this time, there was no need
to bother any more, and it had been arranged that Joe and Sylvia were
to leave some time after breakfast on two domestic bears, with an
escort of six Snergs who would carry four small blankets, two pillows,
a kettle, a frying-pan, and some provisions; all these of course
because they would have to spend the night in the forest. Joe felt
rather upset that the adventures were coming to an end, but Sylvia was
pleased. She had had a good deal of fun out of the trip and she felt
it would be nice to get back again and be pardoned and petted in due
course and tell all the other kids what a riotous time they had had.
They went for a walk with Gorbo across some fields, with Tiger
careering ahead of them, for his long rest had done his paws good
and he was feeling refreshed and full of prunes. Gorbo pointed out
various objects of interest, such as the mill that belonged to his
half-brother, and the hillside where the last dragon was killed, long
ago when he was a tiny fellow. He remembered quite well some men
rushing back and calling out “More arrows! More arrows!” when they
had the dragon badly wounded and unable to fly, and how they went
dashing back with the fresh supply of arrows and all shot at it until
it looked like a pincushion and they could get near enough to stick
it with spears and finish it. More than a hundred Snergs lost their
lives on that occasion. He was too young to remember the fierce fights
that took place when a wandering band of Kelps (possibly a corruption
of Kelpies) came through the country, setting fire to the woods and
robbing and slaying, but he took them on to rising ground and showed
them the dark line that crossed the trees a mile or so away and which
marked the deep river, and pointed out more or less the spot where the
last battle had been fought. The Kelps had made a stand on a high rock,
but the Snergs had gone solidly for them and pierced them with showers
of arrows and cut them to bits with swords and pitched the rest into
the river. And that, as Gorbo said, was that.
The most interesting feature of the forest land, he said, was the
region of twisted trees, which reached to within a short distance
of the town. It was not healthy to go too far in among these trees,
but if they liked he would show them a few just on the outskirts, as
breakfast wouldn’t be ready for at least another hour. The children
were delighted at the chance of seeing these strange natural objects,
so off they went into the woods.
THE TWISTED TREES
It did not take long to reach the spot where the first few twisted
trees were growing. They were wonderful things, with thick smooth grey
trunks and smooth grey branches that touched the ground here and there
like great quiet serpents. Leaves grew only on the higher parts, but
they were thick and matted like a thatch and made it rather dark and
creepy underneath. Gorbo led them along to where there were more and
much better specimens of this wonderful flora, and Sylvia and Joe were
proud that they of all the children had had a chance of seeing them.
Gorbo said it was time to get back and he turned and led the way.
Suddenly he stopped and looked about under the writhing grey branches
and over them; then he turned in another direction. Again he stopped,
and this time he had a particularly silly smile.
“I’d better be careful,” he said, “or we’ll get lost.”
He went on again and the children followed him, hoping that he would
find the way out soon, as breakfast was a thing they wanted quickly.
But it was getting dark; the sky was now hidden by a roof of matted
leaves, and on all sides and above them the thick smooth branches
twisted and crossed and locked together. The air was damp and smelt
of mould and old moss, and there was a horrid silence. A great
leather-skinned bat flickered past them, almost brushing against
Sylvia’s hair, so that she ducked and gave out a little squeal.
Gorbo at last swarmed up one of the bigger trees and, after a lot of
struggling, managed to force his way out through the leaves, disturbing
numbers of bats that came flopping and wheeling about. Joe had to put
his arms round Sylvia’s head and hide it as well as he could until the
foul things had gone to settle elsewhere. A minute or two later, Gorbo
came sliding down.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I couldn’t see much else but leaves, but I
saw the sun so I know which way to go now. The sun is just over”--here
he stopped and thought and scratched his head. “Yes, I _think_ it’s
over that way. You see I got twisted round a bit coming down.”
They followed him again, working their way over and under the branches.
After a time he stopped and thought again, and then began climbing and
creeping in another direction--it was all climbing and creeping now.
Then he stopped and looked at them in dismay. The horrible writhing
grey trunks surrounded them on all sides like an ugly giant net, in
a gloom so deep that their shapes were lost to the eye a dozen yards
away. Gorbo, the clever one, the woodsman, had done this thing. They
were lost.
He did not look at them for long; the sight of Sylvia’s scared face as
she crept from under one of the grey limbs roused him up.
“It’s all right, Sylvia,” he said. “They’ll find we’re missing, and
this is the first place they’ll look for us in. You see they’ll start
shouting and yelling, and then we’ll start shouting and yelling and
work our way to where we hear them. It’s quite easy. But won’t the King
go for me! No Brazen Nutmeg for poor old Gorbo. There’s a little bigger
space over there; let’s go and see if we can find a place to sit down
comfortably.”
They worked their way on, and sure enough there was a little space
ahead that was more open owing to there being a huge tree which had, so
to speak, pushed all smaller ones out of its way. It was gloomy enough,
but there was at least room to stand upright and move about if they
felt like it.
“Look!” said Sylvia and Joe suddenly, both together.
Gorbo turned and then stared. In the big tree was a door about four
feet high, a queer looking door with mighty iron hinges and clasps, all
red with rust or green with moss. In the deep shadow and at a little
distance away it was difficult to distinguish it from the trunk.
Gorbo scratched his head and continued to stare. “I’ve never heard of
any door,” he said at length. “The Kelps never made any door; they
hadn’t sense enough; all biting and screaming and killing, I’ve heard.
And it’s ever so much too small for Golithos.”
“Who’s Golithos?” asked Joe quickly.
“Golithos’ an ogre,” replied Gorbo, truthfully, but like the silly fool
he was. Sylvia gave a scream and clutched hold of Joe.
“It’s all right, Sylvia,” said Gorbo in a hurry. “He _was_ an ogre, but
he’s not now. He’s reformed. Besides, he’s been on the other side of
the river for ever so long. Don’t be frightened.”
He went to the door and gave a good pull at a great iron knob. The door
swung open quite easily. He poked his head inside.
“Very dark and smells of cheese,” he said after a moment.
He went in a little way. “No, it’s not quite dark; there’s a light
coming from somewhere. There’s a little flight of steps going down.
Come and look.”
Joe picked up Tiger and, taking Sylvia by the hand, stepped with her
inside the door.
“See,” said Gorbo, “there’s the steps. Shall we go down and see what we
can see?”
“Yes,” said Joe eagerly. “Let’s!”
“N--n--no,” said Sylvia at the same time. “I don’t like it.”
“Anyway,” went on Gorbo, “we’ll make sure that the door doesn’t shut
behind us. I’ll push it wide open and then----”
He did not finish what he was going to say, for the door had gently
closed. He flung himself furiously at it, but, strong as he was, made
no more impression on it than if it had been a stone wall.
Gorbo, that lout, had really done it this time.
_Part II_
TROUBLE AT WATKYNS BAY
Bitter was the grief and deep the perplexity of Miss Watkyns and all
the ladies when news came by other fleet messengers that Sylvia and
Joe had disappeared again, and this time in a quite unaccountable way.
A little while later King Merse II himself came to Watkyns Bay and
explained how bands of responsible Snergs had been sent to explore
everywhere and especially in the region of twisted trees, taking with
them little sacks of lime to mark their trails, and how they had
shouted and yelled until they were hoarse, but without avail, since no
answer had come from anywhere, and they had returned home with sore
hearts and sore throats. He tried to cheer them up by saying that the
children would certainly be found in time, but he did not say anything
about his real fear, which was that they had somehow got mixed up with
one or other of the magic snares which, tradition had it, were very
plentiful among the twisted trees. He quoted old sayings to comfort
them, such as it is best not to meet trouble half-way, and that care
killed the cat when there was really nothing amiss with the animal.