III The Soup-Spring
“Thunder and blazes!” cried Ruhet, looking about, “who will know it? There is not a soul in sight.”
“The law of nations first, sir. Second, our conscience. Both are everywhere.”
“Well, where are they?” and Ruhet looked about again as if they could somewhere be seen. “Hang bridle,” he cried to the gunner, “you just fire and don’t bother about being polite with your gun. If conscience and law are anywhere about here, they’ll let us know.”
The gunner did so at once, for he hated the first officer as much as the first officer hated him, when he bothered about hating anybody, and he loved his bluff and straight-forward admiral.
At once there broke out from the small craft a multitude of flags.
“I told you so, excellency,” said Nicht Wahr.
“Well, tell me again,” said Ruhet. “Hanged if I know what it was. I have a short memory.”
But the first officer held a haughty silence.
Now the first flags were exchanged for others, nearly all of redder hue.
“By the currycomb of Red Joshua, I think they are poking fun at us. Regular sport! If I were sure of that—”
“Pardon me, they are not, excellency,” said Nicht Wahr.
“They are so,” cried the savage admiral. “And by the roof of my father’s mouth, no one ever poked fun at Hier Ruhet and lived to poke more!”
“Let us have mercy upon them, master,” said the hypocritical Nicht Wahr, devoutly crossing his breast. “They are but children. This is but a child’s toy, as I told you. We must not kill children.” His tenderness appealed strongly to the admiral.
“No, nor cats,” answered Ruhet, at once convinced, “for both are unlucky. Especially for the children and cats—ha, ha! And, anyhow, I am getting hungrier every minute. That water is saline, I suppose. It makes one thirst. Go ahead. Hang the toy—I’m done wanting it.”
Now the cunning Nicht Wahr noticed that the little craft had broken out several flags of extremely sanguinary red, and he knew that he would be asked what it meant.
To beguile the admiral while he thought of some explanation he said: “Master, I have heard that near this spring of water there is another from which runs soup. Beautiful—thick—soup!”
Ruhet at once turned from the little craft—forgetting all about it—and shouted, “Where?”
But meanwhile the cunning Wahr had whispered to the much less cunning Nicht, “What do you suppose all that red means?”
Now, Nicht was one of those persons who are wiser than they seem. More there be who seem wiser than they are—including the apparently learned Wahr. But not of that sort was Nicht. Nicht was simple, yet learned.
“Sir,” he said, saluting, “that is a declaration of war. All savage nations use red to declare war.”
“What is all that red?” asked Ruhet, at this very moment. At once Wahr turned to Ruhet, as if he had got it all out of himself, and said, “Sire, that means war!”
“War?” cried Ruhet. “A dare? Ho! ho! ho!”
And they fell laughing into each other’s arms.
When Ruhet could stop laughing, he went on: “Well, we’ll give ’em some war! Ho! ho! Then we’ll look for that soup-spring. Who told you about it, Wahr? Not to hurt, you know, but just to skeer ’em. I like to skeer people. We’ll soon be on ’em. We are going a great gait, anyhow. What do you suppose it is, Wahr?”
“About six knots, excellency,” said the great Wahr.
“Bah! By my mother’s wig, we must be doing at least thirty by the way we are approaching the toy!”
“Sire, six is our limit.”
Nicht Wahr looked and was puzzled nevertheless. The distance between them was certainly lessening rapidly. As he went to calculate their speed upon the slate, Weiss Nicht stepped up to the admiral and said, “She is approaching us at that rate, excellency.”
“Impossible,” stormed the admiral. “No ship with sails can go as fast as ours—let alone this little nin-comninny, with none at all. The Tonans is the limit, sir. But, all the same, I’ve changed my mind again—I want it. I will have it! Don’t go away from it. Port your helm an ell. Weiswasser [to the steersman at the wheel], I really want the thing. For, by the tail of the ship’s cat, it gets prettier and prettier as we come nearer to it.”
“And so you shall,” said the cunning Nicht Wahr, returning, as a slap at the assurance of the impotent Weiss Nicht, in his absence.
Now the craft was near enough to show a gilt name on her bow.
“Nicht Wahr,” said Ruhet, “your eyes are better than mine, and you have swallowed the dictionary; what is she?”
“Can you spell?” whispered Nicht Wahr to Weiss Nicht.
Thereupon Weiss Nicht, who was so much wiser than he seemed, spelled into the ear of Nicht Wahr, who was not, “New Amsterdam.”
“Why,” said Nicht Wahr, “it has the name of that Dutch place old Columbus discovered some time ago, New Amsterdam. It must be near here—pooh! I knew it!” He looked all about.
“And the children are adrift and are asking for succor—” cried Ruhet. “That’s it. Poor things!”