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CHAPTER VII
THE HANDS OF THE CLOCK COME TOGETHER

It was some minutes before Freddie recovered from his astonishment. Certainly this was a strange Sailorman. And he had come all the way from the China Sea at a puff of the Chinaman's tobacco! Certainly magic tobacco, that! But it was a pity that Mr. Mizzen had been called away from the China Sea, all for nothing, while he was so busy gathering boxes to box compasses with! No wonder he had felt put out about it. And it must have been a queer sort of ship, with its shutters, and all those skippers and mates – did they really like to knit and sew after they had got the ship to going? It would be a wonderful thing to sail in a ship like that; he wished he had thought to ask Mr. Mizzen more about it. He must tell Aunt Amanda at once.

He ran to the back door and burst into the back room, crying out "Aunt Amanda!"

Aunt Amanda was sound asleep in her chair, with her head back and her mouth open; the gas was burning brightly overhead, and the clock was ticking away distinctly on the mantel-piece.

"Aunt Amanda!" cried Freddie.

She awoke with a jump, blinked her eyes, and said:

"Hah! Where's the – what's the – who said – Where's Toby? What's the matter?"

"It's me, Aunt Amanda," cried Freddie, breathlessly, "and the Sailorman's just been here and gone, and I called him with the pipe, and I can call him whenever I want him, and he gave me a piece of paper, and he talks like a singing-book, and there's a parrot that stutters, and they have to bale out the water with dippers because the ship's named The Sieve, and we mustn't lose the paper because the runaway sailor wore false whiskers, and he feeds on tacks instead of pins, and we have to hold on tight to the paper, and one of the men on the ship is always late, and we mustn't lose the paper, because – "

"Stop! Stop!" said Aunt Amanda. "What on earth is the child talking about? What's all this about a Sailorman and a paper?"

"He's the one that brought the Chinaman's tobacco from China, and he gave me a piece of paper, and here it is, and we mustn't lose it, because – "

"One minute, Freddie! Now you just stand right there, perfectly still, and tell me about it slowly. Now, then; what about this Sailorman? Slow, slow."

It was a long time before Freddie made her understand exactly what had happened, but at last she did understand, from beginning to end. She was grieved and horrified that he had smoked the tobacco, but there was no help for it now, and she was too much excited by his tale to scold him very long.

"What's the paper he give you?" said she, when he had told her everything.

Freddie put the paper in her hand, and she unfolded it carefully.

"Why," said she, "it's a map!"

"What kind of a map?" said Freddie.

"It's a map of an Island," said Aunt Amanda. "Where's Toby? I wish he would come home. It looks like an Island, and there's writing here on it. Looks like some sailorman might have drawn it, maybe; it's certainly pretty old. I wish Toby would come."

"What's the writing on it, Aunt Amanda?" said Freddie.

"Well, here at the top it says, 'Correction Island,' and under that it says, 'Spanish Main.' Bless me; that's where the pirates used to – "

"Pirates?" said Freddie, his eyes sparkling.

"Yes, pirates, of course. You've heard of the Spanish Main, haven't you?"

"Yes'm. It's a long way off. You have to go there in a ship. Have you ever been there?"

"Me? Me been to the Spanish Main? Mercy sakes, no, child! What would I be doing on the Spanish Main? I ain't been outside of this town since I was born."

"Wouldn't I like to go there! Pirates!" said Freddie. "Oh jiminy!"

"You mustn't use such dreadful language," said Aunt Amanda. "I wonder where Toby is? Just look at that clock! Why, bless me, it's twenty-seven minutes to seven."

Freddie looked, and saw that the hands of the clock were together, one on top of the other. It was the hour for Mr. Punch's father to call Mr. Punch from the church-tower.

"Toby's got to talkin' with that barber again, as sure as you live; when they once begin, they never know when to leave off. I wish he'd – "

As she said this, the door opened, and in walked Mr. Toby himself.

"Sorry I'm so late," he cried, "but the barber got to talking about – What, young feller, are you still here?" He turned and called through the open door to someone behind him in the shop. "Come in! Make you acquainted with my aunt and a young chap here – Don't be bashful, come right in! Nobody's goin' to eat you!"

Mr. Toby held the door wide open, and made way for a little gentleman who now advanced into the room. He was a hunchbacked man, of the same height as Toby, and he was holding out in one hand a bunch of black cigars; he was bareheaded and bald-headed; he had high cheek-bones and a big chin and a hooked nose; he wore blue knee breeches and black stockings and buckled shoes, and his coat was cut away in front over his stomach and had two tails behind, down to his knees. His joints creaked a little as he walked. He made a stiff bow to Aunt Amanda, and another one to Freddie.

"Come in, Mr. Punch," said Toby, "you don't need to hold them cigars any longer. Give 'em to me." And he took them from Mr. Punch and laid them on the table. He then went to Mr. Punch and linked his arm in his, and the two hunchbacks stepped forward together and stood before Aunt Amanda.

"Allow me to present my friend Mr. Punch," said Toby. "Just as I was coming in, I heard a voice sing out 'Punch!' from the church-tower, and Mr. Punch stepped down from his perch, and I invited him to come in, and here we are."

"Good hevening, marm," said Mr. Punch. His voice sounded harsh, as if his throat were rusty. "Good hevening, young sir. Hit's wery pleasant within-doors, wery pleasant indeed; Hi carn't s'y it's so blooming agreeable hout there on my box, hall d'y and hall night; the gaslight is wery welcome to me poor heyes, I assure you, marm. Hi trust I see you well, marm."

"Mercy on us!" said Aunt Amanda, who had been speechless with astonishment. "Freddie, it's Mr. Punch himself, bless me if it ain't!"

Freddie edged a little closer to Aunt Amanda, for he was afraid Mr. Punch might snatch him up and carry him off to his father in the tower. Mr. Punch noticed this.

"'Ave no fear, me good sir," said Mr. Punch, his wide mouth expanding in a smile, almost to his ears. "Hi sharn't see me father this night, hif me kind friends will permit me to enjoy their society for a brief period, together with their charmin' gaslight, which it is wery dim hall night in the street and quite hunsatisfactory, accordingly most pleased to haccept me friend Toby's kind 'ospitality, Hi assure you. One grows quite cramped in one's legs and one's harms when one 'as to remain in one position on one's box hall night, unless one's father should tyke hit into 'is 'ead to call one hup for a bit of a lark, and one can never be sure of one's father's 'aving it in 'is 'ead to call one hup, to s'y nothing of one's fingers coming stiffer and stiffer with one's parcel of cigars 'eld out in one's 'and, and no 'at on one's 'ead, and no 'air on one's 'ead to defend one against the hevening hair, with one's nose dropping hicicles in winter, so that one never knows when one will lose one's nose off of one's fyce – "

"Excuse me," said Aunt Amanda. It was evident that Mr. Punch was a talkative person. "Are you an Englishman?"

"Ho lor' miss, indeed!" said Mr. Punch. "A Henglishman as ever was, Hi assure you. But I 'opes I give myself no hairs."

Freddie gave up trying to understand the difference between air and hair; it was plain enough that the bald-headed man had never given himself any hair, so it couldn't be that. Anyway, this was an Englishman, and Freddie was glad that he would now probably have a chance to hear English spoken, which he had never heard before.

"Toby," said Aunt Amanda, "Freddie has seen the Sailorman from China, and he has a map. I'll tell you about it."

Thereupon she related the story of Mr. Lemuel Mizzen, as she had got it from Freddie. Mr. Toby and Mr. Punch were both tremendously impressed.

"It's too bad," said Mr. Toby, "this young feller here had to go and smoke the Chinaman's tobacco after I told him not to; it's too bad, that's what it is. What did you mean by it, sir?"

"Hit's a wery naughty haction indeed," said Mr. Punch. "Wery reprehensible. Wery. Hi carn't s'y as I ever 'eard of a thing so hextremely reprehensible. Now when Hi was a lad – "

"You don't say so!" said Mr. Toby. "Well, I don't see anything so very bad about it. I'd a' done it myself if I'd been in his place. What do you mean by saying that my Freddie's reprehensible? I won't have nobody callin' him names, I won't, and what's more – "

"No offense, Toby! No offense!" cried Mr. Punch. "Sorry, Hi assure you. Wery reprehensible of me to s'y such a thing. Wery. Pray be calm; be calm."

"Well, then," grumbled Toby, "don't you go and say nothing about Freddie, because – Anyway, let's have a look at the map."

At that moment there came a timid knock upon the door.

"Who next?" said Toby. "Come in!"

CHAPTER VIII
CELLULOID CUFFS AND A SILK HAT

The door opened, and there entered a poor-looking elderly man, bowing and scraping as he came, and saluting the company with an old rusty dented tall hat which he carried in his hand. The most striking thing about him was that he had a wooden leg. His hair was grey and thin, and his face was not very clean; there were signs of tobacco at the corners of his mouth. His clothes were frayed and patched, and there was a good deal of grease on his vest; he wore a celluloid collar without any necktie, and round celluloid cuffs; his coat-sleeves were much too short, and his cuffs hung out certainly three inches. Strange to say, his collar and cuffs were spotlessly clean, and presented quite a contrast to his very untidy face and clothes; but then, celluloid is easy to clean; much less trouble than washing the face. As he stumped into the room, he kept bowing humbly from one to another, and bobbing his old hat up and down in his hand.

"Ahem!" he said, making another bow. "I was just going by, and I thought I would drop in to – er – ahem! – I hope I am not in the way?"

"Oh, come in," said Toby, not very graciously. "As long as you are here, you might as well stay. This is Mr. Punch, and this is Freddie."

The elderly man bowed to Freddie, and went up to Mr. Punch and shook him cordially by the hand. He put his mouth quite close to Mr. Punch's ear, and lowered his voice, and said:

"Ahem! I'm delighted to know you, sir. I trust you are well. I have seen you often, but not to speak to. Ahem!" He lowered his voice again, and spoke very confidentially into Mr. Punch's ear. "The fact is, sir, that as I was going by, I suddenly found that I had left my tobacco pouch at home; most unfortunate; and I came in with the hope that perhaps – er – ahem! Very seldom forget my tobacco; very seldom indeed; perfectly lost without it; do you – er, ahem! – do you happen to have such a thing about you as a – er – ahem! – a small portion of – er – smoking tobacco? I should be very much obliged!"

"Sorry," said Mr. Punch, stiffly, backing away. "Hi never use tobacco in any way, shape or form."

The elderly man looked much disappointed, and sighed. He turned to Toby, and bowed and smiled hopefully.

"Perhaps Mr. Littleback – " he began.

"Not on your life," said Toby. "You don't get no tobacco out of me, and that's flat."

The elderly man sighed again, and looked steadily at Freddie; but he evidently thought there was no hope in that quarter, and he said nothing.

Freddie now realized who the elderly gentleman was. He had a wooden leg, and he never bought tobacco when tobacco he could beg – It was the Old Codger whom Mr. Toby had now and then sung a song about; one of his two friends, the one who was always begging tobacco, and never had any of his own. Freddie looked at him, and felt rather sorry for him.

"Ahem!" said the Old Codger with the Wooden Leg. "Very sorry to intrude, Miss Amanda. I hope I'm not in the way. It's very mild weather we're having."

"Now, then," said Toby, briskly, "let's look at this map."

As he said this, another knock was heard at the door; a firm and confident knock this time.

"Confound it!" said Toby. "Who next? Come in!"

The door opened, and another elderly man stepped in; a tall slim man, with very white hair and a long narrow face; he carried a tall shiny black silk hat in his hand; he wore a black suit, all of broadcloth, and his coat hung to his knees and was buttoned to the top; his cuffs and collar and shirt were of beautiful white linen with a gloss, and his tie was a little white linen bow. He came forward with an air of warm benevolence.

"My dear, dear friends!" he said, and stretched out both hands towards the company, as if to clasp them all to his heart. "What a beautiful, beautiful scene! So homelike, so cosy, so sociable, so – so – What can be so beautiful as the gathering together of friends about the family hearth! So beautiful!" There was a Latrobe stove in the room, but no hearth; however, that made no difference; he went, with his hands outstretched, to Aunt Amanda, and pressed one of hers in both of his.

The Old Codger with the Wooden Leg immediately sidled up to him, and while he was still pressing Aunt Amanda's hand, said, in a confidential tone:

"Ahem! I'm delighted to see you again. I trust you are well. The fact is, I find that I have – er – left my tobacco pouch at home, – most unfortunate; very seldom forget it; completely lost without it; I was wondering – er – ahem! – if you happened to have such a thing about you as a – "

"No!" said the other old man, changing at once from beaming benevolence to stern severity. "I'll be hanged if I do!" And he released Aunt Amanda's hand, and turned his back on the Old Codger with the Wooden Leg.

"Now," said Toby, "let's look at the map. This here is Mr. Punch, and this is Freddie."

The newcomer took Mr. Punch's hand in both of his and squeezed it softly; he then took Freddie's hand in both of his and pressed it tenderly. Freddie knew him. He was the "other Old Codger, as sly as a fox, who always had tobacco in his old tobacco-box." Freddie could hardly believe that that white-haired old gentleman could be as sly as a fox.

"My dear, dear friends!" said the Sly Old Fox. "What is so beautiful as the love of friends?" He stopped to glare at the Old Codger with the Wooden Leg, who looked away nervously. "The love of friends! Gathered together around the family hearth! How beautiful! It touches me, my friends, it touches me – "

"That's all right about that," said Toby. "For heaven's sake, let's look at the map!"

Aunt Amanda spread out the map on the table beside her, and the others gathered round.

"It's an island!" cried Toby.

"On the Spanish Main," said Aunt Amanda.

"The Spanish Main!" said the Sly Old Fox. "A beautiful country! Full of palms, – and grape-nuts, – What you might call a real work of nature! Full of parrots, and monkeys, and lagoons, and other wild creatures; a work of nature, my dear friends, a real work of nature."

"And pirates," said Freddie, earnestly.

"I said parrots," said the Sly Old Fox.

"I said pirates," said Freddie.

"Just what I said," said the Sly Old Fox. "That live in trees, my little friend, in trees; and have red and blue feathers, and – "

"Pirates don't have feathers," said Freddie.

"Dear, dear!" said the Sly Old Fox. "How can you say such a thing? How can you – ?"

"Did you ever see a pirate in a tree?"

"In cages, my dear little friend! Hundreds of them!"

"That's enough!" said Mr. Toby. "Quit wrangling for a minute, will you? What about this here map? I tell you what, though. I'd like the Churchwarden to see this map. Freddie, will you run down the street and get the Churchwarden?"

"Yes, sir," said Freddie, moving towards the door.

"And tell him to bring along his Odour of Sanctity with him. He always carries a bottle of it in his pocket, and we may need it. Don't forget it."

"No, sir," said Freddie.

"Hold on a minute," said Mr. Toby, snatching up his hat. "I'll go for him myself. I can do it quicker." And in a moment he was out of the door.

CHAPTER IX
THE ODOUR OF SANCTITY

While Toby was gone, Aunt Amanda explained to the two old men about the Sailorman from China, and about his gift of the map which was lying on the table. They were just at the end of their discussion when Toby returned, bringing with him the Churchwarden, puffing and blowing with the unusual exertion of walking, and without his pipe. Toby introduced him to Mr. Punch and the two old Codgers, and drew him up to the table and showed him the map, explaining at the same time how it came there.

The Churchwarden examined the map carefully, while the others all looked at him. He finally put down the map, settled himself in a chair, folded his hands across his fat stomach, blew out his cheeks, and said:

"My opinion is, that what we ought to do is to – I've considered the matter carefully, from all sides, and I think we ought to – Of course you may not agree with me, but I think the best thing to do would be to – Unless, of course, some of you may think of something better, but if you don't, then I can't say as there's anything better to do than to – "

At this moment there came a sound from the street outside which made everyone but Aunt Amanda jump to his feet. It was the sound of running feet, mixed with strange cries, not very loud, but somehow blood-curdling. It was evident that someone was in trouble. Freddie and the five men rushed from the room and through the shop and into the street.

The street was very dark, except for a gas-lamp at the opposite corner. A white figure was running down the pavement towards the shop-door, with frantic speed; and behind him, evidently chasing him, came a crowd of little dark creatures, hard to make out in the dim light. It was these creatures who were making the little blood-curdling cries. In a moment they had come so near that the party about the shop-door could see what they were. In front, running desperately with leaps and bounds, and panting for breath, came a tall slim man all in tight-fitting white clothes, with a dead white face and a white hairless head; and after him, tumbling on pell-mell, was a perfect riot of little red imps, with little horns on their foreheads, and little tails behind them, all trying to spear the white man with the wicked little pitchforks which they carried, and to seize him with their claws. Freddie thought they were precisely like the imps he had seen at Hanlon's Superba. When the white man reached the shop-door they had nearly caught him. He paused at that moment, looked wildly about him, saw the open door of the shop, and dashed in and banged the door to behind him. The imps came tumbling up and hesitated an instant before the men at the door; and in that instant the Churchwarden showed the most unexpected presence of mind. He quickly reached behind him and drew a small bottle out of his pocket and pulled out the cork and sprinkled a few drops of its contents on the ground before him. A sharp penetrating odour immediately filled the air; it was so intense that it made the tears come into Freddie's eyes; but what it did to the wild mob of imps was almost beyond belief. As they got their first whiff of it, they tumbled back over one another in a mad effort to get away; but they could not get away from the odour quick enough; it caught them and held them, so that in a moment they could not move; they stood fixed and fast and silent; in another moment they began to melt away, and in two minutes they had vanished; actually vanished where they stood, each and every one, before the very eyes of the astonished party before the door.

"Blimy hif I ever see the like!" said Mr. Punch.

"Never knew my Odour of Sanctity to fail once," said the Churchwarden, coolly. "Hardly ever go out without it. There ain't a witch or an imp or a bad spirit of any kind whatever can stand up against my Odour of Sanctity, if he once gets a couple of good whiffs of it out of this little bottle. Just a few drops from the bottle, and a few sniffs, and whoof! they're done for! No, sir! there ain't no perfumery in the world like Odour of Sanctity!"

On the floor of the shop they found the poor white man lying completely exhausted. They asked him to explain, but he could not speak. Mr. Toby and Mr. Punch, one on each side, supported him into the back room, and sat him down in a chair before Aunt Amanda. She held up her hands in astonishment. The man was certainly a strange-looking man. They plied him with questions, but he touched his tongue with his finger and shook his head. He could not speak; he was dumb. Freddie, after one long look at him under the gaslight, knew who he was.

"It's Mr. Hanlon!" he cried, in great excitement. "It's Mr. Hanlon!"

The dumb man looked at Freddie and smiled, and nodded his head. He rose to his feet, shook Freddie's hand, and made a graceful bow to the whole company.

"It's Mr. Hanlon sure enough," said Toby, "still being chased by the imps. Pretty near got him that time, too! But he got away safe and sound after all, didn't he, eh?" And all the party, including Mr. Hanlon himself, laughed with delight. And when the Churchwarden pulled out his little perfume bottle and showed it around, and explained to Mr. Hanlon what it had done, the poor man was so overcome that he put his head down on the Churchwarden's shoulder and wept.

"This'll never do!" cried Toby. "Ain't we never, never, going to get down to this here map? I never see such a time as I've had, trying to examine this here map! One thing right after another! Mr. Hanlon, I'll tell you what it's about, and then you can see it for yourself. Would you like to stay here with our little party? It's a good deal safer than out-of-doors."

Mr. Hanlon nodded eagerly and smiled, and Toby explained everything to him and showed him the map.

"Now," said Toby, when that was done, "speak up, Warden, and finish what you was a-saying!"