Part 8

During their ship's stay in an English port, the captain entertained on board a brother officer, whose ship happened to be in at this time, and teasing the cat until he exhibited his fierce characteristics was one of their chief after-dinner diversions. The brother officer was very much entertained by the captain's hospitable amusement and took a greedy fancy to the insolence and hardy independent ways of his extraordinary pet. He liked the animal so much that he coveted the mettlesome prize as one that would make things lively in dreary hours, and begged the captain to loan him for just one voyage; but the captain was indignant at such a proposal and refused to consider it for a moment. It would be breaking a sworn and solemn covenant with his lady, and besides, the cat was the pride of the whole crew, notwithstanding their raillery, and he, and in fact all on board ship could not get along these days without this important member of their mess, who was getting more disagreeable and interesting every day. Shameful as such baseness was, the brother officer watched his chance, and as his ship was to sail first, he had the advantage. The captain was wholly unsuspicious of his friend's secret intention and the first intimation he had of his treachery was when he went on deck to wave him farewell. As the brother officer's ship sailed majestically by the captain saw him, evil and smiling, on the bridge, and as he returned the captain's salute, he lifted the stolen cat in triumph in his arms. The captain stood rigid, the dark blood creeping into his tanned cheeks and leaping to his brain, while his keen eyes narrowed and scintillated with the glitter of cold steel as he watched the ship sail slowly past.

To this masterful seafarer, there was no sense of humor in the childish joke his facetious friend had played on him. At the moment he was too angry for his whirling brain to think out any plan to avenge this malicious injury, but he had always found himself commander in every situation and his nature was not the kind to forget. He swore with clenched teeth that he would get even with this traitorous fellow officer even if it cost him his life. The man was beyond reach of his wrath and strong arm at present, as he was sailing for distant shores, and with him the unfortunate cat. But the captain would bide his time, his anger growing with each hour, and there would surely come a day of reckoning in which it would be better for the officer had he never even dreamed this "practical joke."

This strange cat, unfriendly and militant, that had never shown affection for anyone since that horrible day when he had been so cruelly deceived by the lady on whom he had lavished his whole heart, seemed despite his every effort, to make conquests where he least desired and to be bound to lead a sailor's life to the bitter end, in spite of himself. This last outrage of fate roused him to desperation and took all semblance of civilization from his manner. It was war and no quarter from henceforth, with all the world against him. Big, strong, and full of salty battle, he certainly had not been stolen for a pet, and it would have made the lady weep could she have known the fate and seen the warlike wreck of her once gentle friend, although she would never have recognized in this belligerent, savage old salt, the kitten she had cuddled and loved.

These new sailor tormentors soon discovered that one of the cat's diverting peculiarities was a strong and expressed dislike to whistling. He hated the shrill notes with a hate that made him tremble and which seemed to rouse the very devil in him. Even the lowest notes would wake him from a sound sleep, and with angry, low, throaty growls, which sounded remarkably like swearing, he would make a sudden rush at the offender with eyes that flamed green, and gleaming teeth set as if he had a tigerish desire to spring at the man's throat and settle for all past insults, then and there. Once in the desolation of his soul, he did bite fiercely at his tormentor's shoe; and it would certainly have fared ill for any of them had he dared make a determined attack.

But the sailors, finding sufficient entertainment in the impotent, savage temper they were able to rouse, bore no malice in their hearts nor any animosity toward the cat for his violent dislike of them. So when they had teased him to the limit they would make all sorts of amends in friendly overtures, which were met with snorting scorn, and then indifferently allow him to go back to hiding, in peace. It seemed nobody's special mission to prevent this cruelty and the cultivation of all that was brutal and ugly in the poor outraged animal's nature or to see whether this continual tormenting were a real agony or if his habitual, infinite wretchedness were being made greater than necessary. It was simply a thoughtless love of diversion in which the helpless pay tribute to power. So in misery the endless days dragged into weeks and it seemed to the cat, so sick of sea life and sea smells, as if the world would never end. Although he was beginning to show the wear of his long, dull, sullen revolt, neither disappointment nor ugly temper had broken his fierce sense of injury or his indomitable spirit. Helpless as his position was, he never cowered before his adversary, but ever maintained an air of cool contempt and defiance, counting always on a chance. Every day on board ship holds unknown possibilities and always there is hope for those who watch and wait, and the cat's weary rage was waiting--slowly, silently, steadily,--but just waiting.

In the early spring, the ship ran into a rough channel and fell on continued evil winds which at last developed into a terrible gale. Wild, stinging wisps of salty wind came roaring right out of the north, flapping and bellying the sails and lashing the ship about like a plaything in a fury of wind and water, until, with rudder gone, totally disabled and helpless, it was being sent with each pounding breaker nearer and nearer the dangerous, rocky shore. The only ones to witness the screeching horror of this black night were two helpless old lumbermen, who had been roused from their sleep by the ship's signals of distress, and had run down from their camp to the pounding beach. But they were powerless to answer the crew's beseeching cries or to help them in any way, as they were alone in these wilds and had no means at hand of rescue. Through the blackness of the storm they could only imagine the distress, as they heard the roar of the heavy black demons, fighting the stubborn craft steadily with wind and water as if it were an evil thing which they were bent on destroying. At last, with terrible strength, as if impatient of this impotent play, the water rose in a tremendous wave, booming like thunder, took the battered fighter in its arms, lifting her high from the heavy sea, and flung her pounding on a jagged rock that held and crunched her with its cruel teeth like a hungry beast, scattering the splinters far and wide. The men, fighting to the end for their lives, were jerked and flung about like chips, their screams and prayers drowned in the roar and pounding of the storm, until the greedy sea once again broke over the rock and swallowed their screams and mangled bodies in a swirl.

By daylight the storm was over and the sea as calm as if there had been no tragedy, the surf beating steadily on the rocky shore its solemn requiem for its deadly passion of the dreadful night. The angry tempest had done its very worst and now the sun, so cruel in its brightness, danced joyously over the shining water, showing in the silver gray sheen of the sea the broken hulk of the wreck still clinging to the bald rock with but one sign of life. This was the rather pathetic figure of the sailor cat, sitting with his head high in the air, on one of the highest timbers, well out of the water, sunning himself, his nostrils dilating and swelling as they filled with familiar land smells. His overwrought nerves seemed wondrously calm under the harrowing circumstances, and in fact, on close scrutiny, there seemed to be a decided air of grim triumph in his lonely figure seen silhouetted against the vast expanse of blue sky and dancing waves. He had discarded entirely his sullen manner and one could almost see the hungry gleam of joy in his wide-open, level eyes, as they looked and lingered on the welcome sight of the beautiful world of grass and green growing things so near. This sweet and subtle fragrance blowing in his nostrils, sent its solace straight to his embittered heart and gave him the comfort and confidence that he would soon be one of the little furry creatures scampering in the woodsy haven. The steady throb and creak of the horrible vessel was no more, and he had at last been left free, once more to work out his own destiny, and his heart, in spite of his unmoved exterior, was thumping in triumph, and his whole body tingled with excitement. How delightfully safe, and steady, and firm, the cool retreats of this forest world looked to his sea-sick eyes! And over all brooded an enchanting silence, with no sound of everlasting machinery, just an occasional sweetly tremulous note from the blue above, and a chirp from the depth and mystery of the pungent land fragrance below, that could be heard above the heavy beating of the surf.

His heart bounded in response to the possibilities of this Promised Land of his long desire. But there was a wide space of flashing, angry, turbulent ocean between him and this secure, friendly world of plenty and enticing sweet-smelling shrubs: a hard problem and a fearsome risk for an ordinary cat and a difficult one for even this desperate creature with his fearless nature and the proclivities of a duck. But in cringing fear of some further stroke of relentless fate, that might come along and rescue him enslaving him for another dismal voyage of excruciating experience, he determined not to be overtaken by any such horrible doom, but to make that stretch of water at any cost and to make it without delay.

He picked his way gingerly to where the water washed the timbers, quivering with anticipation, gathering all the strength of his big bones and tough muscles for a leap to the shore rocks, and then--hesitated! It was a deadly plunge and his heart was doing double quick in fear, but the compelling power of the near-by free range of greenness, with its sweet breath of liberty, fired him anew with the strength of despair. With a hoarse cry, that seemed to come from the bottom of his throat, and every muscle stiffened, in fierce recklessness he at last launched himself into the washing waves and all his whole-bodied, lusty youth was put into the life and death struggle. It is vouchsafed that some great mysterious power shall watch over and guard helpless animals, brave with desire, and it carried this stout heart, that would have died but for it, straight to the shore and back to the living fertile earth he loved, to live his own free life once more in the shadow of its satisfaction.

The cat had arrived in port at last and had thrown off the fetters of his tragic fate forever, going into the mystery of the wild, where no curiosity can follow.

MAIDA

It was when Maida, a rarely beautiful Maltese, was about a year old that she became the mother of a collection of variegated little mongrel babies, with spotted fur of all sorts, except one, which was pure white. Maida was all mother, and very proud of this disreputably mixed progeny, but evidently especially pleased with the white one. Her preference for the milk-white blonde was plain, for she always picked this one out for extra care and scrubbing during the short time they were allowed to snuggle together in the nursery she had selected, which was a soap box tucked away in the back corner of the stable loft. But this is a cruel world for little unwelcome kittens and so it was destined that this shameful offspring should mysteriously disappear, and the natural instincts of Maida's big mother-heart be frustrated.

On the afternoon of the babies' third birthday, after only a short absence, the devoted mother came hurrying back in anxious care to the home box, to find nothing there but the thick straw bed. There were no little bunches of soft fur to feed and cuddle not even one left to save her suffering swelling breasts. No one told her why or where; simply the cruel fact remained that she was desolate, her home empty, and her babies gone. Her grief over this heartless depredation, so inhumanly human, was painful to witness. Frantically she called in long-drawn, wailing cadence for her babies, from morning till night, in an agonized search. Up stairs and down, in and out, her mournful meows echoed, until everyone knew of her trouble, and even the most unsympathetic were indignant over the cruelty of it.

All of a sudden Maida ceased her mourning and settled down into quiet, regular habits again. Everyone drew a sigh of relief at her serenity and peace, but her mistress, more curious than the rest, determined to know the cause of her resignation and followed her to the loft. What she found there sent the cold shivers down her spine, for, snuggled to the poor mother's babyless breasts, were four small, ugly, pinky-white ratlets, with long tails and eyes like a Chinaman's. The consoled mother looked up at her mistress with beating heart and eyes straining with such pleading human anxiety that there was no mistaking that they held a challenge. But she need not have feared for no one with any kind of feeling could have the heart to let anyone interfere a second time with Maida's arrangement of a family however grotesque her ideas were in this respect. Where these shocking substitutes for her own unpopular babies came from, where they were born and what had become of the rightful parent, no one but Maida will ever know, as they were the only descendants of this rather curious breed of rodents that were ever seen in all the country round. But Maida, the kidnapper, looked proudly upon them, doubtless as her one white offspring returned fourfold, and neither excused nor explained. If their advent was dark with a cruel deed, no one knew and no one felt that they had the right this time to deprive the aching breasts and perhaps a conscience-stricken heart of this compensation.

As the numerous rodents grew and began to take notice, they became quite troublesome to the anxious foster-mother, for they were wild little things, uncommonly healthy and uncommonly restless and rather fierce as well. Time proved however that they were the very best specimens of their kind, their baby coats bright and shining, their slim wee eyes clear, and their little noses alert with the most furious inquisitiveness. It was not long before the boldest of them could climb to the edge of the box on an investigating tour into the attractions of that little surrounding world of theirs, but Maida was ever on the alert, and in a twinkling would seize him and drop him in the box with a bump. Poor little ratlet would look scared to death and rather shaky, but Maida would gently lick him with her tongue, purring in the dulcet tones of a cooing dove, until she had him soothed.

The ratlets grew day by day into more independent and astonishing ways, and Maida's mistress decided that this rather frisky family had better be transferred to more commodious quarters. So the rather unique nursery and household was removed to a large empty room over the stable, where they could have plenty of room and still be confined. Mother-Maida, doubtless feeling that she had troubles enough before, did not appreciate this freedom of a wider range for her lively children, and would have been glad had her mistress been less generous. Now it required double the effort to keep her strange brood from the tempting space about, and her strenuous struggles to restrain them within the prescribed limits of the box were sometimes painful, but always very funny. At times, in a very frenzy at their confinement the small rodents would bound, all in a white streak, one after the other, over the edge of the box and all over the room. Then poor Maida's maternal excitement and her efforts to drive, carry or frighten them back to their home, made pandemonium, the ratlets running helter and skelter in all directions and Maida after them. Catching one, she would jump back into the box with it, leave it there and go for another, but before she could make a capture, the one she had left in the box would be scampering in gay frolic with the others.

In Long-Suffering Patience Maida Would Stretch Herself in a Streak of Sunshine and Survey the Riotously Incorrigible Mites, Indulging in Their Favorite Pastime of Playing Tag All Over Her Body]

This rather serious game for Maida of "in and out" would go on until her nervous system was a wreck and she was utterly exhausted. Finally realizing that her efforts to subdue her riotously indecent family were useless, she would drop breathless to the floor, stretch herself in a streak of sunshine near the box, and survey the incorrigible mites with disgust. No longer pursued, the fun ceased for the youngsters, and they would come to where she was having a little interval of peace, and nip and maul, challenging her into another contest, playing tag up and down her tail, and indulging in other tantalizing pastimes, until even her self-sacrificing, long-suffering patience could no longer endure, and she would indignantly shake every one of them off, spring to her feet with a contemptuous meow of impatience, and seek another place for relief. Then the apparently conscience-stricken little rascals would meekly come, one by one, anxious and conciliatory, humbly begging her notice, scrambling solicitously over her, and by and by the four tired-out white beggars would be sleeping quietly with their sharp little noses snuggled in the soft fur of her body, all love and forgiveness.

Although animal children are generally supposed to be much better behaved and to cause their mothers less anxiety than human children, this poor foster-mother was kept very busy disciplining and training her strangely troublesome family. She truly mothered them, not as adopted aliens, but as the real thing, and taught them the proper things kittens ought to do and ought not to do, with much vigor and many a box on the ear; for generally what the rodents wanted to do, seemed to be just the thing they should not do in the progress of their strange education.

One day the closet door having been left ajar, baby ratlets in their search for mischief, climbed way up to the ceiling and perched on the topmost strip that held the hanging hooks. Maida, on finding them so far above her reach, was painfully distressed, meowing and making the greatest kind of a commotion in trying to scramble up the smooth wall to their rescue, as she thought. The ratlets seemed to be heartlessly indifferent to her anxiety and had to be driven from their lofty roost by the mistress. The first one to land on the floor was grabbed by the enraged cat and given such a shaking that he wobbled about in dizzy unconsciousness for several minutes. The next one she caught with a firm paw, as he was scurrying back to the box, hoping to escape his punishment, and held him tight to the floor, in spite of his whimpering protest, till he was quite still. This one lay for a long time as if dead, but after a while he slowly lifted his giddy, swimming head and crawled patiently and sorrowfully back to his bed, and never again did any of these naughty babies attempt to break this strange law of a strange mother, by climbing in the closet.

Once a window of this room was lowered from the top, just a tiny way for air. Maida's mistress, happening to be in the barn, heard a great meowing and disturbance going on in their room overhead and rushed up to find her beloved cat racing about like mad, apparently frantic with grief and not a ratlet in sight. The lady was very much puzzled over this total disappearance of all four of the ratlets and imagined all sorts of things, even the worst, and started in to investigate. In her search, she happened to glance out of the window and there on the roof were the whole bunch, plainly going mad in their unusual freedom. The weather was splendid and they were all out enjoying it, jumping and running on the separating wall in mad frolic, apparently just for the sake of falling back in somersaults on the roof, scuffling and doing all sorts of nimble acrobatics in reckless stunts, and surely making the most of their glorious holiday in the sunshine. The window was no sooner raised from the bottom, giving Maida a chance, than she dashed out like a flash, plainly determined on revenge. The instant the naughty runaways caught sight of her, they could not get back into the room and their box quickly enough; they raced for their very lives, stumbling and knocking each other over in their eagerness to get there, fairly shivering in their fright. Maida selected one poor pink-eyed, trembling sprinter for a thorough shaking and let the others profit by his sorrowful example, saving herself further exercise.

The ratlets lived to be independent, well-behaved grown-ups, with wonderfully polished and silky coats, owing to their frequent and thorough grooming by their faithful foster-mother, who seemingly never grew weary of her maternal duties or their companionship. They were great successes as rats, though doubtless Maida had her own interior disappointment and cat wonder as to why, with such faithful bringing up, they were not animals of a more comforting nature. Now she has real babies of her own, and this time there is no mistake, for their fur is pure Maltese, so her mother instincts have been allowed legitimate vent. Her alien foster-children have the freedom of the whole country and, owing to their strange adoption and the zeal with which they were brought up in the way good kittens ought to go, they seem irreproachable in behavior.

A MEMORY

One frosty morning, by arguing, reproaching and beguiling in turn, we coaxed from under cover of a heap of rubbish in the alley, one of the dirtiest yellow and white gutter kittens ever seen; one that had been eyeing us timidly and insolently from the safe protection of his smelly hiding place for several days. Gaunt, miserably hungry and shivering with the cold, he did not respond to our overtures of trying to make him a mite happy on Christmas day, with the eagerness one would naturally expect. When he did condescend to come, his steps were very deliberate and he carried himself with a certain sad dignity as if he had found the cold world hopeless, and had shut his young heart against all trust. From his manner it was more to politely oblige us that he came at all, than because he wished a merry Christmas or even our acquaintance.

By dropping our air of patronage and assuming a respectful one, we were finally able to cajole him to the doorstep and at last to the warmth of the kitchen and a saucer of food. Although he was not a bit shy, it was plainly his first introduction into the interior of any house. He was a typical alley kitten, and probably a graceless one, born in the gutter with no pretensions to breeding or even good looks. But with all this, a lover of cats could plainly see that he was not a common "yeller cat" but had a superior strain of blood in his veins from somewhere. Young as he was, it gave him a distinct individuality which impressed us from the very first. His short life had in all likelihood been a hard one; probably he had been abandoned in infancy and obliged to make his own living by depredation, and knew only the cruelty and insult of a homeless alley existence.

There may still be people in the world--civilized people--who do not care for cats, but we, liking all cats and fancying the calm dignity of this one in particular, were at once in hopes he would forsake his back-door haunts and come and live with us as our very own. As he looked wise enough to solve life's problem on almost any lines, we tried to tempt him to think seriously on all the comforts our home afforded and the life of ease and luxury it would bestow. We gave him feasts and promised him all sorts of other good things, if he would only abandon his former dissipated ways and stay with us.

He was always such a very serious cat, never seeming to have a kitten's natural playfulness, not enough to even chase his own tail once in a while as most kittens do. We never could coax him even under the most alluring temptation to be otherwise than grave and tolerant of our levity and as we had our little romps with him we called him in laughing sarcasm, "Jiminy Christmas." We had no idea of giving one so dignified this trifling name permanently, but he so quickly learned to respond to it, and as no other was suggested more appropriate in its place, it was gradually established as the regular name by which he was known.

He surely was a most welcome addition to our household and we tried to make him feel this and to know that we were honored by his stay. Although he was growing fat and beautifully sleek and was most friendly, graciously accepting all that we gave, but giving very little in return, we noticed that he did not seem quite content and at ease, but was restless, as if some previous and neglected affair were on his mind and calling him elsewhere. There was nothing that we could actually complain of, still there was something comforting and permanent that was lacking in his presence. He was good--at least, part of him was good; but we had no idea, as we came to know later, of that other part that was, well--not so good. At the time all we could see was that something was plainly fretting him, something chafing him almost beyond endurance. After we were better acquainted we found that close beneath his gentlemanly exterior lay a veritable wild and vagabond nature, a vagrant ancestral strain that nothing could tame. His queer combination of inheritances was the cause of constant strife in his nature, and the vagrant germ was likely to break out at almost any time into attacks of "spring fever," which would force all ties of the gentlemanly part to the wall and inevitably he would fare forth.