CHAPTER 7
THE OCEAN VOYAGE
The first few days at sea, Kit could not persuade Guran to leave their cabin. The Bandar are shy little people, unused to outsiders, suspicious of strangers, and content only in their quiet shadowy jungle. It had taken a good deal of courage for Guran to leave the Deep Woods. Only his love and loyalty to Kit and his father had enabled him to do it. The curiosity of the normal-sized warriors of the Wambesi and Liongo, to whom a pygmy was a rarity, was bad enough. Stares and comments of the townspeople whom he had passed in the seaport town had been worse. But there, at least, he could keep moving. Now, he was trapped on shipboard among hundreds of strange white people. So he remained in the cabin where Kit joined him for meals and sleep.
Kit had no such inhibitions. He explored all the decks, from engine room to bridge, and chatted briefly with all who talked to him. It was natural that passengers and crew were curious about him. He had arrived at the docks with an escort of a thousand jungle warriors, and with a personal bodyguard, a muscular little man who, everyone was informed, was a genuine wild pygmy. Kit and Guran were the main conversation piece during the entire voyage. The name "Kit Walker" told little. The purser spread the news that the palatial cabin the boy traveled in had been purchased with a large diamond. After an appraisal of the gem, the ticket office had to get a bank loan to make change for the difference between the diamond's value and the ticket price. Kit was obviously the scion of some potentate or unknown millionaire. But who? Passengers on the decks plied him with questions as he strolled by.
He was polite, answered briefly, but gave no specific information about himself. His mother had warned him about talking to strangers, but he was also curious about these strangers, and had more questions than answers. Two things about the boy amazed them. First, his age. It was hard to believe he was only twelve. Not only was he far taller and heavier than was average for his age, but his manner was grave and mature beyond his years. So he appeared to them. Inside, he was bubbling with excitement about this new world. The other thing about him that amazed the passengers was his facility with languages. There were many nationalities aboard, and he seemed to speak easily with all of them, going from language to language without a second thought.
Kit reported to Guran about the ship and his various conversations as they ate together in the cabin. The little man's curiosity finally overcame his shyness. But there was the problem of dress. He'd discarded the outfit he'd been given during the hot jungle trek, and retained only his loincloth and sandals. Kit gave him a shirt to wear, which covered Guran to his knees like a nightgown. But it was comfortable and he was pleased with it.
The two hit the decks like a minor stampede. First they terrified passengers reclining in steam chairs on deck by racing along on top of the ship's railing. There was a sheer drop of sixty feet to the rolling ocean below. Passengers hurriedly called for a steward to stop this suicidal-as it seemed to them-play. Before he could reach them, they had climbed up the iron ladder on the ship's giant smokestack and hung by one hand, fifty feet above the deck, shouting and laughing.
The entire passenger list and crew were on deck staring up as the astonished captain called to them through a megaphone, ordering them down. They returned, slowly, casually, Kit moving headfirst down the iron ladder. By the time they reached the deck, the captain was red in the face, and a lady passenger needed smelling salts.
"You could have killed yourselves," the captain roared.
"How?" asked Kit, because he wanted to know.
"How?" roared the captain. "You could have fallen into the sea, or fallen to the deck, and broken your necks."
Kit translated for Guran, and they smiled at each other.
"There was no danger of that, sir," said Kit politely.
The captain calmed down. There was something about the boy's quiet voice and steady gray eyes that inspired confidence. He made them promise not to repeat those antics. Kit translated and they both nodded agreement. Kit liked the big captain. The authority in his voice and the kindness in his face reminded him of his father.
The next trial was the first time they entered the ship's dining salon. The head steward attempted to keep Guran out and send him to the servant's dining room. Kit refused this, explaining that Guran must remain with him. The head steward was firm. Rules were rules, and he knew a "native" when he saw one. Kit hesitated. His father and mother had both told him he must respect the laws and rules wherever he went. But he did not like this rule. 'Did that make it wrong?' he wondered. He saw the captain watching from a nearby table and went to him. He explained to the captain that no one else on the ship could understand Guran's language and that he must remain with Kit. Also, he was too shy to be without Kit. And also, he was not a servant. The captain consulted the passenger list. Kit's cabin had been reserved for two occupants, Kit Walker and Prince Guran. That settled it. A prince was welcome in the first-class dining salon. The passengers smiled at Guran in his knee-length shirt, and Guran smiled shyly back at them as he joined Kit at the table.
But several passengers did not smile. They didn't wish to dine in the same room with a "native" and loudly informed the captain of this. Kit sat quietly, listening to their loud voices. Guran understood none of it. But their friend the captain remained firm, and the passengers marched out vowing to report this outrage to the home offices. Kit puzzled over this incident. He knew things would be different in this new world. But his parents had failed to tell him about bigotry, possibly because they were unaware of it themselves.
Kit ordered their dinner. He didn't realize one chose between the main courses such as roast beef, chicken, and duck, and to the waiter's amazement, he ordered them all. All eyes in the salon were on them as they began to eat from their loaded table, this unusual boy and his strange companion. But eyes soon turned away in disgust. Though Kit had had some elementary training in the use of knife and fork in the Deep Woods, it was not the customary way to eat. "Fingers were invented before knives and forks," his father used to say, and though beautiful mother was dainty about her table manners, Kit naturally took after his father. And Guran had never seen a fork before. The sight of them drinking soup from a bowl held to their lips, with their bare hands, was more than their closest table neighbors could stand. These-two thin old ladies-paused to complain to the captain and then rushed out. The captain studied the situation and then invited Kit and Guran to join him at his table. Slowly and patiently he suggested the use of knives and forks. Flushing, Kit recalled his mother's lessons, and hurriedly translated for Guran. Guran was delighted with the utensils, holding them in his fists like hunting knives. The captain, who was an amiable man, found this amusing, and refused to correct Guran.
Not everyone found it amusing. The chief steward for one. He was outraged that the "native" had been allowed in his dining room, irritated by the animal feeding habits of the two, and furious that they had the captain's favor. For many reasons-probably dating back to faulty toilet training-the chief steward was a mean man. Others of the crew had learned to fear his quick temper and his hard fists. He liked to fight. The more he thought about this arrogant boy who had come to the wharf with a thousand "natives" and pranced about as though he were a prince who owned the ship, the angrier he got. The captain had countermanded his own rules, and humiliated him in front of all the stewards and passengers. So he brooded over a bottle of brandy in his own cabin. He came out, eyes bloodshot, looking for the boy. He found him with Guran at the stern of the ship on the second deck, watching the ship's wake. They turned as he approached. Jungle trained, they both recognized menace in his manner, and watched him carefully. He glared at Kit, and swore at him, a string of nasty, violent swearwords. Kit knew none of the words, so they meant nothing to him. He stood quietly, which enraged the chief steward even more. "Is that your brother? Got to eat with your brother?" he said to Kit. Kit was surprised. It was obvious to anyone that Guran was not his brother. He smiled, puzzled, and shook his head. The chief steward was getting no normal response here. He lashed out with his open hand, hitting Kit hard on the cheek.
"Little punk, you afraid to fight?" he shouted. Two crewmen, at the railing in the background, heard this, and started toward them. Guran also moved toward the chief steward but Kit held his arm.
"I do not wish to fight you," said Kit quietly. "But I am not afraid." The steward had worked himself into a rage. The top of Guran's head barely reached the steward's chest. But the angry man lashed at him with his big fist, knocking him against the railing. Kit's reaction was almost instantaneous, "like a jungle cat" one of the crew reported later. He leaped at the steward. A quick karate chop dropped the big man to the deck, and Kit was upon him, his strong hands at the steward's throat. The steward's anger suddenly drained, replaced by fear. For the face above him was deadly and grim, and the hands were choking the life out of him. He struggled and tried to roll over, but he was helpless. The two crewmen reached them, and tried to pull Kit off the man. They couldn't move him. The steward's eyes were popping, his face was red as Kit pounded his head against the deck. The cries of the crewmen brought others, and it took a half dozen of them to drag the boy from the steward. "Like holding a wild cat," they said. They fell to their knees and swayed with the struggling boy. Guran darted among them and whispered to Kit. He relaxed. The steward lay curled on the deck, whimpering, blood on his face. "Another minute and the kid woulda killed him," they reported later on.
Kit stood relaxed, calm now.
"I am sorry," he said. "He hit Guran. He had no right. I lost my temper. That is bad."
"You might have killed him," said a crewman, kneeling by the whimpering steward.
"Of course," said Kit quietly.
They all stared at him.
"You wanted to kill him?"
"No," said Kit. "But when one fights, one fights to kill. Or one does not fight."
Examination revealed that the steward had no bones broken. The captain received the full story from the crewmen who saw it all, and he placed the steward in the brig. Then he brooded about his strange passenger, Kit Walker. Word of the battle spread rapidly among the passengers and the crew. A few of the men tried to congratulate him, but they were worried and a little fearful of this pleasant young boy. He had beaten a grown man and, it was said, almost killed him. Would have if half the crew hadn't dragged him off. When -he and Guran walked on the deck, or entered the dining salon, they were watched in silence. The captain brought Kit and Guran to his cabin.
"I know the man started the fight and got what he deserved, but I'm told you tried to kill him. Could you, with your bare hands?" asked the captain.
"Perhaps," said Kit.
"Would you?"
"Not now. It is over," said Kit. -
"Would you then, if they hadn't stopped you?" persisted the captain.
"Yes," said Kit. "When a man fights with you, he tries to kill you. You must kill him to save your life."
The captain considered the serious boy and the grave face of Guran who listened without understanding a word.
He realized, without exactly knowing why or where, that these two were from another world, the jungle.
"In our world, Kit," he said, "men sometimes fight in anger to settle an argument or a grudge. It is a stupid way to settle anything, but they sometimes do. And usually it is enough to beat the other man, to win, to settle the argument. But not to kill. Do you understand?"
"I hear you," said Kit. It would take time for him to understand.
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