michael, brother of jerry-第13章

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f　ever　attack。　　But　this　thing；　itself　no　chicken；　with　the　seeming　of　a　wild　feathered　thing　of　the　jungle　that　was　fair　game　for　any　dog；　talked　to　him　with　the　voice　of　a　god。

〃Get　off　your　foot；〃　it　commanded　so　peremptorily；　so　humanly；　as　again　to　startle　Michael　and　made　him　quest　about　the　steerage　for　the　god…throat　that　had　uttered　it。

〃Get　off　your　foot；　or　I'll　throw　the　leg　of　Moses　at　you；〃　was　the　next　command　from　the　tiny　feathered　thing。

After　that　came　a　farrago　of　Chinese；　so　like　the　voice　of　Ah　Moy；　that　again；　though　for　the　last　time；　Michael　sought　about　the　steerage　for　the　utterer。

At　this　Cocky　burst　into　such　wild　and　fantastic　shrieks　of　laughter　that　Michael；　ears　pricked；　head　cocked　to　one　side；　identified　in　the　fibres　of　the　laughter　the　fibres　of　the　various　voices　he　had　just　previously　heard。

And　Cocky；　only　a　few　ounces　in　weight；　less　than　half　a　pound；　a　tiny　framework　of　fragile　bone　covered　with　a　handful　of　feathers　and　incasing　a　heart　that　was　as　big　in　pluck　as　any　heart　on　the　Mary　Turner；　became　almost　immediately　Michael's　friend　and　comrade；　as　well　as　ruler。　　Minute　morsel　of　daring　and　courage　that　Cocky　was；　he　commanded　Michael's　respect　from　the　first。　And　Michael；　who　with　a　single　careless　paw…stroke　could　have　broken　Cocky's　slender　neck　and　put　out　for　ever　the　brave　brightness　of　Cocky's　eyes；　was　careful　of　him　from　the　first。　And　he　permitted　him　a　myriad　liberties　that　he　would　never　have　permitted　Kwaque。

Ingrained　in　Michael's　heredity；　from　the　very　beginning　of　four…　legged　dogs　on　earth；　was　the　DEFENCE　OF　THE　MEAT。　　He　never　reasoned　it。　　Automatic　and　involuntary　as　his　heart…beating　and　air…breathing；　was　his　defence　of　his　meat　once　he　had　his　paw　on　it；　his　teeth　in　it。　　Only　to　Steward；　by　an　extreme　effort　of　will　and　control；　could　he　accord　the　right　to　touch　his　meat　once　he　had　himself　touched　it。　　Even　Kwaque；　who　most　usually　fed　him　under　Steward's　instructions；　knew　that　the　safety　of　fingers　and　flesh　resided　in　having　nothing　further　whatever　to　do　with　anything　of　food　once　in　Michael's　possession。　　But　Cocky；　a　bit　of　feathery　down；　a　morsel…flash　of　light　and　life　with　the　throat　of　a　god；　violated　with　sheer　impudence　and　daring　Michael's　taboo；　the　defence　of　the　meat。

Perched　on　the　rim　of　Michael's　pannikin；　this　inconsiderable　adventurer　from　out　of　the　dark　into　the　sun　of　life；　a　mere　spark　and　mote　between　the　darks；　by　a　ruffing　of　his　salmon…pink　crest；　a　swift　and　enormous　dilation　of　his　bead…black　pupils；　and　a　raucous　imperative　cry；　as　of　all　the　gods；　in　his　throat；　could　make　Michael　give　back　and　permit　the　fastidious　selection　of　the　choicest　tidbits　of　his　dish。

For　Cocky　had　a　way　with　him；　and　ways　and　ways。　　He；　who　was　sheer　bladed　steel　in　the　imperious　flashing　of　his　will；　could　swashbuckle　and　bully　like　any　over…seas　roisterer；　or　wheedle　as　wickedly　winningly　as　the　first　woman　out　of　Eden　or　the　last　woman　of　that　descent。　　When　Cocky；　balanced　on　one　leg；　the　other　leg　in　the　air　as　the　foot　of　it　held　the　scruff　of　Michael's　neck；　leaned　to　Michael's　ear　and　wheedled；　Michael　could　only　lay　down　silkily　the　bristly　hair…waves　of　his　neck；　and　with　silly　half…idiotic　eyes　of　bliss　agree　to　whatever　was　Cocky's　will　or　whimsey　so　delivered。

Cocky　became　more　intimately　Michael's　because；　very　early；　Ah　Moy　washed　his　hands　of　the　bird。　　Ah　Moy　had　bought　him　in　Sydney　from　a　sailor　for　eighteen　shillings　and　chaffered　an　hour　over　the　bargain。　　And　when　he　saw　Cocky；　one　day；　perched　and　voluble；　on　the　twisted　fingers　of　Kwaque's　left　hand；　Ah　Moy　discovered　such　instant　distaste　for　the　bird　that　not　even　eighteen　shillings；　coupled　with　possession　of　Cocky　and　possible　contact；　had　any　value　to　him。

〃You　likee　him？　　You　wanchee？〃　he　proffered。

〃Changee　for　changee！〃　Kwaque　queried　back；　taking　for　granted　that　it　was　an　offer　to　exchange　and　wondering　whether　the　little　old　cook　had　become　enamoured　of　his　precious　jews'　harp。

〃No　changee　for　changee；〃　Ah　Moy　answered。　　〃You　wanchee　him；　all　right；　can　do。〃

〃How　fashion　can　do？〃　Kwaque　demanded；　who　to　his　beche…de…mer　English　was　already　adding　pidgin　English。　　〃Suppose　'm　me　fella　no　got　'm　what　'you　fella　likee？〃

〃No　fashion　changee；〃　Ah　Moy　reiterated。　　〃You　wanchee；　you　likee　he　stop　along　you　fella　all　right；　my　word。〃

And　so　did　pass　the　brave　bit　of　feathered　life　with　the　heart　of　pluck；　called　of　men；　and　of　himself；　〃Cocky；〃　who　had　been　birthed　in　the　jungle　roof　of　the　island　of　Santo；　in　the　New　Hebrides；　who　had　been　netted　by　a　two…legged　black　man…eater　and　sold　for　six　sticks　of　tobacco　and　a　shingle　hatchet　to　a　Scotch　trader　dying　of　malaria；　and　in　turn　had　been　traded　from　hand　to　hand；　for　four　shillings　to　a　blackbirder；　for　a　turtle…shell　comb　made　by　an　English　coal…passer　after　an　old　Spanish　design；　for　the　appraised　value　of　six　shillings　and　sixpence　in　a　poker　game　in　the　firemen's　forecastle；　for　a　secondhand　accordion　worth　at　least　twenty　shillings；　and　on　for　eighteen　shillings　cash　to　a　little　old　withered　Chinamanso　did　pass　Cocky；　as　mortal　or　as　immortal　as　any　brave　sparkle　of　life　on　the　planet；　from　the　possession　of　one；　Ah　Moy；　a　sea…cock　who；　forty　years　before；　had　slain　his　young　wife　in　Macao　for　cause　and　fled　away　to　sea；　to　Kwaque；　a　leprous　Black　Papuan　who　was　slave　to　one；　Dag　Daughtry；　himself　a　servant　of　other　men　to　whom　he　humbly　admitted　〃Yes；　sir；〃　and　〃No；　sir；〃　and　〃Thank　you；　sir。〃

One　other　comrade　Michael　found；　although　Cocky　was　no　party　to　the　friendship。　　This　was　Scraps；　the　awkward　young　Newfoundland　puppy；　who　was　the　property　of　no　one；　unless　of　the　schooner　Mary　Turner　herself；　for　no　man；　fore　or　aft；　claimed　ownership；　while　every　man　disclaimed　having　brought　him　on　board。　　So　he　was　called　Scraps；　and；　since　he　was　nobody's　dog；　was　everybody's　dogso　much　so；　that　Mr。　Jackson　promised　to　knock　Ah　Moy's　block　off　if　he　did　not　feed　the　puppy　well；　while　Sigurd　Halvorsen；　in　the　forecastle；　did　his　best　to　knock　off　Henrik　Gjertsen's　block　when　the　latter　was　guilty　of　kicking　Scraps　out　of　his　way。　　Yea；　even　more。　　When　Simon　Nishikanta；　huge　and　gross　as　in　the　flesh　he　was　and　for　ever　painting　delicate；　insipid；　feministic　water…　colours；　when　he　threw　his　deck…chair　at　Scraps　for　clumsily　knocking　over　his　easel；　he　found　the　ham…like　hand　of　Grimshaw　so　instant　and　heavy　on　his　shoulder　as　to　whirl　him　half　about；　almost　fling　him　to　the　deck；　and　leave　him　lame…muscled　and　black…and…blued　for　days。

Michael；　full　grown；　mature；　was　so　merry…hearted　an　individual　that　he　found　all　delight　in　interminable　romps　with　Scraps。　　So　strong　was　the　play…instinct　in　him；　as　well　as　was　his　constitution　strong；　that　he　continually　outplayed　Scraps　to　abject　weariness；　so　that　he　could　only　lie　on　the　deck　and　pant　and　laugh　through　air…draughty　lips　and　dab　futilely　in　the　air　with　weak　forepaws　at　Michael's　continued　ferocious…acted　onslaughts。　　And　this；　despite　the　fact　that　Scraps　out…bullied　him　and　out…scaled　him　at　least　three　times；　and　was　as　careless　and　unwitting　of　the　weight　of　his　legs　or　shoulders　as　a　baby　elephant　on　a　lawn　of　daisies。　　Given　his　breath　back　again；　Scraps　was　as　ripe　as　ever　for　another　frolic；　and　Michael　was　just　as　ripe　to　meet　him。　　All　of　which　was　splendid　training　for　Michael；　keeping　him　in　the　tiptop　of　physical　condition　and　mental　wholesomeness。



CHAPTER　XII



So　sailed　the　Ship　of　FoolsMichael　playing　with　Scraps；　respecting　Cocky　and　by　Cocky　being　bullied　and　wheedled；　singing　with　Steward　and　worshipping　him；　Daughtry　drinking　his　six　quarts　of　beer　each　day；　collecting　his　wages　the　first　of　each　month；　and　admiring　Charles　Stough　Greenleaf　as　the　finest　man　on　board；　Kwaque　serving　and　loving　his　master　and　thickening　and　darkening　and　creasing　his　brow　with　the　growing　leprous　infiltration；　Ah　Moy　avoiding　the　Black　Papuan　as　the　very　plague；　washing　himself　continuously　and　boiling　his　blankets　once　a　week；　Captain　Doane　doing　the　navigating　and　worrying　about　his　flat…building　in　San　Francisco；　Grimshaw　resting　his　ham…hands　on　his　colossal　knees　and　girding　at　the　pawnbroker　to　contribute　as　much　to　the　adventure　as　he　was　contributing　from　his　wheat…ranches；　Simon　Nishikanta　wiping　his　sweaty　neck　with　the　greasy　silk　handkerchief　and　painting　endless　water…colours；　the　mate　patiently　stealing　the　ship's　latitude　and　longitude　with　his　duplicate　key；　and　the　Ancient　Mariner；　solacing　himself　with　Scotch　highballs；　smoking　fragrant　three…for…a…dollar　Havanas　that　were　charged　to　the　adventure；　and　for　ever　maundering　about　the　hell　of　the　longboat；　the　cross…bearings　unnamable；　and　the　treasure　a　fathom　under　the　sand。

Came　a　stretch　of　ocean　that　to　Daughtry　was　like　all　other　stretches　of　ocean　and　unidentifiable　from　them。　　No　land　broke　the　sea…rim。　　The　ship　the　centre；　the　horizon　was　the　invariable　and　eternal　circle　of　the　world。　　The　magnetic　needle　in　the　binnacle　was　the　point　on　which　the　Mary　Turner　ever　pivoted。　　The　sun　rose　in　the　undoubted　east　and　set　in　the　undoubted　west；　corrected　and　proved；　of　course；　by　declination；　deviation；　and　variation；　and　the　nightly　march　of　the　stars　and　constellations　proceeded　across　the　sky。

And　in　this　stretch　of　ocean；　lookouts　were　mastheaded　at　day…dawn　and　kept　mastheaded　until　twilight　of　evening；　when　the　Mary　Turner　was　hove…to；　to　hold　her　position　through　the　night。　　As　time　went　by；　and　the　scent；　according　to　the　Ancient　Mariner；　grow　hotter；　all　three　of　the　investors　in　the　adventure　came　to　going　aloft。　　Grimshaw　contented　himself　with　standing　on　the　main　cross…trees。　　Captain　Doane　climbed　even　higher；　seating　himself　on　the　stump　of　the　foremast　with　legs　a…straddle　of　the　butt　of　the　foretopmast。　　And　Simon　Nishikanta　tore　himself　away　from　his　everlasting　painting　of　all　colour…delicacies　of　sea　and　sky　such　as　are　painted　by　seminary　maidens；　to　be　helped　and　hoisted　up　the　ratlines　of　the　mizzen　rigging；　the　huge　bulk　of　him；　by　two　grinning；　slim…waisted　sailors；　until　they　lashed　him　squarely　on　the　crosstrees　and　left　him　to　stare　with　eyes　of　golden　desire；　across　the　sun…washed　sea　through　the　finest　pair　of　unredeemed　binoculars　that　had　ever　been　pledged　in　his　pawnshops。

〃Strange；〃　the　Ancient　Mariner　would　mutter；　〃strange；　and　most　strange。　　This　is　the　very　place。　　There　can　be　no　mistake。　　I'd　have　trusted　that　youngster　of　a　third　officer　anywhere。　　He　was　only　eighteen；　but　he　could　navigate　better　than　the　captain。　Didn't　he　fetch　the　atoll　after　eighteen　days　in　the　longboat？　　No　standard　compasses；　and　you　know　what　a　small…boat　horizon　is；　with　a　big　sea；　for　a　sextant。　　He　died；　but　the　dying　course　he　gave　me　held　good；　so　that　I　fetched　the　atoll　the　very　next　day　after　I　hove　his　body　overboard。〃

Captain　Doane　would　shrug　his　shoulders　and　defiantly　meet　the　mistrustful　eyes　of　the　Armenian　Jew。

〃It　cannot　have　sunk；　surely；〃　the　Ancient　Mariner　would　tactfully　carry　across　the　forbidding　pause。　　〃The　island　was　no　mere　shoal　or　reef。　　The　Lion's　Head　was　thirty…eight　hundred　and　thirty…five　feet。　　I　saw　the　captain　and　the　third　officer　triangulate　it。〃

〃I've　raked　and　comb