Nautilus Part 3

"Another time, sir," he said; "at future interview I will make arrangements with you, and hope to satisfy; at present I instruct these ladies a little in life under the sea.

"Lady," he said, and it was observable that although he spoke to Mrs.

Isaac Cutter, his eyes rested on Lena, and on the boy John, who stood behind her, "Nature of her abundance is very generous to the sea. Here all fishes swim, great and small; but more! All things that on earth find their place, of them you find a picture, copy, what you please to call it, at the bottom of the sea. A few only are yet found by men, yet strange things also have I seen. Not under the ocean do you think to find violets growing, is it so? yet here you observe a handful of violets, in colour as on a green bank, though without perfume, the sunshine wanting in those places."

He drew from a box some of the exquisite little violet snail-sh.e.l.ls, and gave them to Lena, who cried out with delight, and instantly resolved to have a pair of ear-rings made of them.

"The ladies are hungry?" the quiet voice went on. "They desire breakfast? I offer them a poached egg, grown under the sea. The colour and shape perfect; the water ladies eat them every morning, but with the air they grow hard and lose their flavour. Thank you, madam! for thirty cents only, the poached egg, not a rare variety. Your smile perhaps will make it soft again. I hope you enjoy it at luncheon.

"But before luncheon you desire to prepare your charming toilet? Here I offer you a comb, ladies, as they use under the sea. The story, that Venus, G.o.ddess of beauty, when she rose from the ocean, dropped from her hand the comb with which she arranged even then her locks of gold: hence the name, Venus's Comb. Observe the long teeth, necessary for fine hair, like that of Venus and these ladies."

Mrs. Isaac Cutter bridled, smoothed her "fluffy Fedora" (price one dollar and fifty cents, ready curled), and bought the "comb" on the spot.

"Of little boys under the sea," the Skipper continued,--and once more his smile fell on the boy John, and produced that agreeable sensation of warmth about the heart to which the little fellow had been long unaccustomed,--"there are many. They swim about, they play, they sport, they go to school, as little boys here. They ride, some persons have told me, on the horse-mackerel, but of that I have no knowledge. I see for myself, however, that they play tops, the small sea-boys. Here, little gentleman, is the Imperial Top,--very beautiful sh.e.l.l. You like to take it in your hand?"

John took the splendid thing, and straightway lost himself and the world in a dream of rapture, in which he descended to the depths that his soul desired, and played at spinning tops with the sea-boys, and rode a horse-mackerel, and did many other wonderful things.

"The bat sh.e.l.l!" the Skipper went on, lifting one treasure and then another. "The Voluta Aulica, extremely rare,--the Mitres, worn by bishops under the sea. The bishops must be chosen very small, lady, to fit the sh.e.l.l, since sh.e.l.ls were made first. The Queen Conch! This again,--pardon me, gentleman, you desire to a.s.sist me? Too kind, but I shall not give that trouble to a visitor!"

The last remark was addressed to Mr. Endymion Sc.r.a.per, who had for the last five minutes been sidling quietly, and as he thought un.o.bserved, toward the shelf on which lay the Voluta Musica. His claw-like fingers, after hovering over the prize, had finally closed upon it, and he was about to slip it into his pocket without more ado, when a strong brown hand descended upon his wrist. The sh.e.l.l was quietly taken from him, and looking up in impotent rage, he met the dark eyes of the Skipper gazing at him with cheerful gravity.

"Price five dollars!" he murmured, courteously. "In a box, gentleman?

But, certainly! A valuable specimen. Thank you kindly. Five-dollar bill, quite right! Exhibition is over for this morning, ladies and gentlemen, to resume in afternoon hours, if graciously pleased to honour the sh.e.l.l schooner,--schooner 'Nautilus,' from the Bahamas, with remarkable collection of marine curiosities."

CHAPTER IV.

ABOARD THE "NAUTILUS."

The sh.e.l.l schooner had many visitors during the next few days, as she lay by the wharf; visitors, of whom a few came to buy, but by far the greater part to look and gossip, and see the monkeys, and ask questions.

The monkeys, Jack and Jim, were no small part of the attraction, being delightful little beasts, bright of eye and friendly of heart, always ready to turn a somersault, or to run up the mast, or to make a bow to the ladies (always with Franci in their hearts), as the Skipper directed them.

Of course John was there at every available minute, whenever he could escape the searching of his guardian's eye and tongue; but Mr. Sc.r.a.per himself came several times to the "Nautilus;" so did pretty Lena Brown.

There was no doubt that Lena was a charming girl. She looked like moonlight, Rento thought; John thought so, too, though he knew that the resemblance went no further than looks. Her hair was soft and light, with a silvery glint when the sun struck it, and it had a pretty trick of falling down about her forehead in two Madonna-like bands, framing the soft, rose-tinted cheeks sweetly enough, and hiding with the pale shining tresses the narrowness of the white forehead.

Lena was apt to come with John, to whom she was always kind, though she thought him "cracked," and after a little desultory hovering about the sh.e.l.ls, for which she did not really care, except when they were made up with gla.s.s beads, she was apt to sit down on the after-deck, with John beside her (unless the Skipper appeared, in which case the boy flew to join his new friend), and with Franci, or Rento, or both, sure to be near by. The monkeys never failed to come and nestle down beside the boy, and examine his pockets and chatter confidentially in his ear; and John always nodded and seemed to understand, which Lena considered foolishness. She thought she came out of pure kindness for the boy, because "that old gimlet never would let him come alone, and the child was fairly possessed about the sh.e.l.ls;" but it is to be doubted whether she would have come so often if it had not been for Franci's admiring glances and Rento's deeper veneration, which seldom dared to look higher than the hem of her gown.

She would sit very demurely on the after-deck, apparently absorbed in the sh.e.l.ls and corals that lay spread before her; and by-and-by, it might be, Franci, who did not suffer from shyness, would venture on something more definite than admiring glances.

He would show her the sh.e.l.ls, making the most of his knowledge, which was not extensive, and calling in invention when information failed; but he liked better to talk of himself, Franci, and on that subject there was plenty to be said. He was a prince, he told Lena, in South America, where he came from. This was a poor country, miserable country; but in his own the houses were all of marble, pink marble, with mahogany door-steps.

"Is that so?" Lena would say, raising her limpid eyes to the dark velvety ones that were bent so softly on her.

"Oh, fine! fine!" said Franci. "Never I eat from a china dish in my country; silver, all silver! Only the pigs eat from china. Drink wine, eat peaches and ice-cream all days, all time. My sister wear gold clothes, trimmed diamonds, when she do her washing. Yes! Like to go there?" and he bent over Lena with an enchanting smile.

"Why do you tell such lies?" asked John, whom Franci had not observed, as he was lying in one of the schooner's boats, with a monkey on either arm. Franci's smile deepened as he turned toward the boy, swearing softly in Spanish, and feeling in his breast; but at that moment Rento happened to stroll that way, blushing deeply at Lena's nearness, yet with a warlike expression in his bright blue eyes. Franci told him he was the son of a pig that had died of the plague, and that he, Franci, devoutly hoped the son would share the fate of his mother, without time to consult a priest. Rento replied that he could jaw as much as he was a mind to, so long as he let the boy alone; and Lena looked from one to the other with a flush on her pretty cheek, and an instinct that made her heart beat a little faster.

Mr. Sc.r.a.per's visits were apt to be made in the evening; his pa.s.sion for sh.e.l.ls was like that for drink, and he would fain have hidden it from the eyes of his neighbours. It was always a trial to Franci to know that the old miser, as he called Mr. Endymion, was in the cabin, and that he, Franci, must keep watch on deck while this withered anatomy sat on the cabin chairs and drank with the Patron. Franci's way of keeping watch was to lie at full length on the deck with his feet in the air, smoking cigarettes. It was not the regulation way, but Franci did not care for that. That beast of a Rento was asleep, snoring like a pig that he was, while his betters must keep awake and gaze at this desolating prospect; the Patron was in the cabin with the miser, and no one thought of the individual who alone gave charm to the schooner. He, Franci, would make himself as comfortable as might be, and would not care a puff of his cigar if the schooner and all that were in it, except himself, should go to the bottom the next minute. No! Rather would he dance for joy, and wave his hand, and cry, "Good voyage, Patron! Good voyage, brute of a pig-faced Rento! Good voyage, old 'Nautilus!' Go all to the bottom with my blessing, and I dance on the wharf, and marry the pretty Lena, and get all the old miser's money, and wear velvet coats. Ah!

Franci, my handsome little boy, why did you let them send you to sea, hearts of stone that they were! You, born to shine, to adorn, to break the hearts of maidens! Why? tell me that!" He waved his legs in the air, and contemplated with delight their proportions, which were certainly exquisite. "Caramba!" he murmured; "beauty, that is it! Otherwise one might better be a swine,--yes, truly!"

At this point, perhaps, Rento appeared, rubbing his eyes, evidently just awake, and ready to take his watch; whereupon the beautiful one sat up, and, fixing his eyes on his fellow-seaman, executed a series of grimaces which did great credit to his invention and power of facial expression. Then he delivered himself of an harangue in purest Spanish, to the effect that the day was not far distant when he, Franci, would slit Rento's nose with a knife, and carve his initials on his cheeks, and finally run him through the so detestable body and give him to the fish to devour, though with strong fears of his disagreeing with them.

To which Rento replied that he might try it just as soon as he was a mind to, but that at this present moment he was to get out; which the beautiful youth accordingly did, retiring with a dancing step, expressive of scorn and disgust.

On one such night as this the scene in the little cabin was a curious one. A lamp burned brightly on the table, and its lights shone on a number of objects, some lying openly on the green table-cover, some reclining superbly in velvet-lined cases. Sh.e.l.ls! Yes, but not such sh.e.l.ls as were heaped in profusion on shelf and counter. Those were lovely, indeed, and some of them of considerable value; but it was a fortune, no less, that lay now spread before the eyes of the Skipper and his guest. For these were the days when fine sh.e.l.ls could not be bought on every hand, as they can to-day; when a good specimen of the Imperial Harp brought two hundred and fifty dollars easily, and when a collector would give anything, even to the half of his kingdom (if he were a collector of the right sort), for a Precious Wentletrap.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

It was a Wentletrap on which the little red eyes of Mr. Endymion Sc.r.a.per were fixed at this moment. The morocco case in which it lay was lined with crimson velvet, and the wonderful sh.e.l.l shone purely white against the glowing colour,--snow upon ice; for the body of the sh.e.l.l was semi-transparent, the denser substance of the spiral whorls turning them to heavy snow against the shining clearness beneath them. Has any of my readers seen a Precious Wentletrap? Then he knows one of the most beautiful things that G.o.d has made.

Apparently the Skipper had just opened the case, for Mr. Sc.r.a.per was sitting with his mouth wide open, staring at it with greedy, almost frightened eyes. Truly, a perfect specimen of this sh.e.l.l was, in those days, a thing seen only in kings' cabinets; yet no flaw appeared in this, no blot upon its perfect beauty. The old miser sat and stared, and only his hands, which clutched the table-cloth in a convulsive grasp, and his greedy eyes, showed that he was not turned to stone. He had been amazed enough by the other treasures, as the Skipper had taken them one by one from the iron safe in the corner, whose door now hung idly open.

Where had been seen such Pheasants as these,--the fragile, the exquisite, the rarely perfect? Even the Australian Pheasant, rarest of all, lay here before him, with its marvellous pencillings of rose and carmine and gray. Mr. Endymion's mouth had watered at the mere description of the sh.e.l.l in the catalogue, but he had never thought to see one, except the imperfect specimen in the museum at Havenborough.

Here, too, was the Orange Cowry; here the Bishop's Mitre, and the precious Voluta Aulica; while yonder,--what was this man, that he should have a Voluta Junonia, of which only a few specimens are possessed in the known world? What did it all mean?

The Skipper sat beside the table, quiet and self-contained as usual. His arm lay on the table, his hand was never far from the more precious sh.e.l.ls, and his eyes did not leave the old man's face; but he showed no sign of uneasiness. Why should he, when he could have lifted Mr.

Endymion with his left hand and set him at any minute at the top of the cabin stairs? Now and then he took up a sh.e.l.l with apparent carelessness (though in reality he handled them with fingers as fine as a woman's, knowing their every tenderest part, and where they might best be approached without offence to their delicacy), looked it over, and made some remark about its quality or value; but for the most part he was silent, letting the sh.e.l.ls speak for themselves and make their own effect.

The old man had been wheezing and grunting painfully for some minutes, opening and shutting his hands, and actually scratching the table-cloth in his distress. At length he broke out, after a long silence.

"Who are ye, I want to know? How come you by these sh.e.l.ls? I know something about what they're wuth--that is--well, I know they aint wuth what you say they are, well enough; but they air wuth a good deal,--I know that. What I want to understand is, what you're after here! What do you want, and why do you show me these things if--if--you come by them honestly. Hey?"

The Skipper smiled meditatively. "Yes!" he said, "we all like to know things,--part of our nature, sir--part of our nature. I, now, I like to know things, too. What you going to do with that boy, Mr. Sc.r.a.pe? I like to know that. You tell me, and perhaps you hear something about the sh.e.l.ls, who know?"

The old man's face darkened into a very ugly look.

"My name is Sc.r.a.per, thank ye, not Sc.r.a.pe!" he said, dryly; "and as for the boy, I don't know exactly where you come in there."

The Skipper nodded. "True!" he said, tracing with his finger the fine lines of the Voluta Aulica; "you do not know where I come in there. In us both, knowledge has a limit, Mr. Sc.r.a.per; yet I at the least am acquaint with your name. It is a fine name you have there,--Endymion!

You should be a person of poetry, with this and your love for sh.e.l.ls, hein? You love, without doubt, to gaze on the moon, Sir Sc.r.a.per? You feel with her a connection, yes?"

"What the d.i.c.kens are you talking about?" asked the old gentleman, testily. "How much do you want to swindle me out of for this Junonia, hey? not that I shall buy it, mind ye!"

"Three hundred!" said the Skipper; "and a bargain at that!"

CHAPTER V.

MYSTERY.

John was at work in the garden. At least, so it would have appeared to an ordinary observer; in reality he was carrying on a sanguinary combat, and dealing death on every side. His name was George Washington, and he was at Bunker Hill (where he certainly had no business to be), and the British were intrenched behind the cabbages. "They've just got down into the ground, they are so frightened!" he said to himself, pausing to straighten his aching back, and toss the red curls out of his eyes. "See 'em, all scrooched down, with their feet in the earth, trying to make believe they grow there! But I'll have 'em out! Whack! there goes the general. Come out, I say!" He wrestled fiercely with an enormous Britisher, disguised as a stalk of pig-weed, and, after a breathless tussle, dragged him bodily out of the ground, and flung his headless corpse on the neighbouring pile of weeds.

"Ha! that was fine!" cried the boy. "I shouldn't be a bit surprised if that was George the Third himself; it was ugly enough for him. Come up here! hi! down with you! Now Jack the Giant-Killer is coming to help me, and the British have got Cormoran (this was before Jack killed him), and there's going to be a terrible row." But General Washington waves his gallant sword, and calls to his men, and says,--

"Good morning, sir! you make a busy day, I see."

It was not General Washington who spoke. It was the Skipper, and he was leaning on the gate and looking at the boy John and smiling. "You make a busy day," he repeated. "I think there are soon no more weeds in Sir Sc.r.a.per's garden."