IX
DECORATION DAY IN THE CANNIBAL ISLANDS
"Uncle Munch," said Diavolo as he clambered up into the old warrior'slap, "I don't suppose you could tell us a story about Decoration Daycould you?"
"I think I might try," said Mr. Munchausen, puffing thoughtfully uponhis cigar and making a ring with the smoke for Angelica to catch uponher little thumb. "I might try--but it will all depend upon whetheryou want me to tell you about Decoration Day as it is celebrated inthe United States, or the way a band of missionaries I once knew inthe Cannibal Islands observed it for twenty years or more."
"Why can't we have both stories?" said Angelica. "I think that wouldbe the nicest way. Two stories is twice as good as one."
"Well, I don't know," returned Mr. Munchausen. "You see the trouble isthat in the first instance I could tell you only what a beautifulthing it is that every year the people have a day set apart upon whichthey especially honour the memory of the noble fellows who lost theirlives in defence of their country. I'm not much of a poet and it takesa poet to be able to express how beautiful and grand it all is, and soI should be afraid to try it. Besides it might sadden your littlehearts to have me dwell upon the almost countless number of heroes wholet themselves be killed so that their fellow-citizens might live inpeace and happiness. I'd have to tell you about hundreds and hundredsof graves scattered over the battle fields that no one knows about,and which, because no one knows of them, are not decorated at all,unless Nature herself is kind enough to let a little dandelion or adaisy patch into the secret, so that they may grow on the green grassabove these forgotten, unknown heroes who left their homes, were shotdown and never heard of afterwards."
"Does all heroes get killed?" asked Angelica.
"No," said Mr. Munchausen. "I and a great many others lived throughthe wars and are living yet."
"Well, how about the missionaries?" said Diavolo. "I didn't know theyhad Decoration Day in the Cannibal Islands."
"I didn't either until I got there," returned the Baron. "But theyhave and they have it in July instead of May. It was one of the mostcurious things I ever saw and the natives, the men who used to becannibals, like it so much that if the missionaries were to forget itthey'd either remind them of it or have a celebration of their own. Idon't know whether I ever told you about my first experience with thecannibals--did I?"
"I don't remember it, but if you had I would have," said Diavolo.
"So would I," said Angelica. "I remember most everything you say,except when I want you to say it over again, and even then I haven'tforgotten it."
"Well, it happened this way," said the Baron. "It was when I wasnineteen years old. I sort of thought at that time I'd like to be asailor, and as my father believed in letting me try whatever I wantedto do I took a position as first mate of a steam brig that pliedbetween San Francisco and Nepaul, taking San Francisco canned tomatoesto Nepaul and bringing Nepaul pepper back to San Francisco, makingseveral dollars both ways. Perhaps I ought to explain to you thatNepaul pepper is red, and hot; not as hot as a furnace fire, but hotenough for your papa and myself when we order oysters at a club andhave them served so cold that we think they need a little more warmthto make them palatable and digestible. You are not yet old enough toknow the meaning of such words as palatable and digestible, but someday you will be and then you'll know what your Uncle means. At anyrate it was on the return voyage from Nepaul that the water tank onthe _Betsy S._ went stale and we had to stop at the first place wecould to fill it up with fresh water. So we sailed along until we camein sight of an Island and the Captain appointed me and two sailors acommittee of three to go ashore and see if there was a spring anywhereabout. We went, and the first thing we knew we were in the midst of alot of howling, hungry savages, who were crazy to eat us. Mycompanions were eaten, but when it came to my turn I tried to reasonwith the chief. 'Now see here, my friend,' said I, 'I'm perfectlywilling to be served up at your breakfast, if I can only be convincedthat you will enjoy eating me. What I don't want is to have my lifewasted!' 'That's reasonable enough,' said he. 'Have you got a sampleof yourself along for me to taste?' 'I have,' I replied, taking out abottle of Nepaul pepper, that by rare good luck I happened to have inmy pocket. 'That is a portion of my left foot powdered. It will giveyou some idea of what I taste like,' I added. 'If you like that,you'll like me. If you don't, you won't.'"
"That was fine," said Diavolo. "You told pretty near the truth, too,Uncle Munch, because you are hot stuff yourself, ain't you?"
"I am so considered, my boy," said Mr. Munchausen. "The chief took ateaspoonful of the pepper down at a gulp, and let me go when herecovered. He said he guessed I wasn't quite his style, and he thoughtI'd better depart before I set fire to the town. So I filled up thewater bag, got into the row-boat, and started back to the ship, butthe _Betsy S._ had gone and I was forced to row all the way to SanFrancisco, one thousand, five hundred and sixty-two miles distant. Thecaptain and crew had given us all up for lost. I covered the distancein six weeks, living on water and Nepaul pepper, and when I finallyreached home, I told my father that, after all, I was not so sure thatI liked a sailor's life. But I never forgot those cannibals or theirisland, as you may well imagine. They and their home always interestedme hugely and I resolved if the fates ever drove me that way again, Iwould go ashore and see how the people were getting on. The fates,however, were a long time in drawing me that way again, for it was notuntil July, ten years ago that I reached there the second time. I wasoff on a yachting trip, with an English friend, when one afternoon wedropped anchor off that Cannibal Island.
"'Let's go ashore,' said I. 'What for?' said my host; and then I toldhim the story and we went, and it was well we did so, for it was thenand there that I discovered the new way the missionaries had ofcelebrating Decoration Day.
"No sooner had we landed than we noticed that the Island had becomecivilised. There were churches, and instead of tents and mud-hovels,beautiful residences appeared here and there, through the trees. 'Ifancy this isn't the island,' said my host. 'There aren't anycannibals about here.' I was about to reply indignantly, for I wasafraid he was doubting the truth of my story, when from the top of ahill, not far distant, we heard strains of music. We went to seewhence it came, and what do you suppose we saw? Five hundredvillainous looking cannibals marching ten abreast along a fine street,and, cheering them from the balconies of the houses that fronted onthe highway, were the missionaries and their friends and theirchildren and their wives.
"'This can't be the place, after all,' said my host again.
"'Yes it is,' said I, 'only it has been converted. They must becelebrating some native festival.' Then as I spoke the processionstopped and the head missionary followed by a band of beautiful girls,came down from a platform and placed garlands of flowers and beautifulwreaths on the shoulders and heads of those reformed cannibals. Inless than an hour every one of the huge black fellows was covered withroses and pinks and fragrant flowers of all kinds, and then theystarted on parade again. It was a fine sight, but I couldn'tunderstand what it was all done for until that night, when I dinedwith the head missionary--and what do you suppose it was?"
"I give it up," said Diavolo, "maybe the missionaries thought thecannibals didn't have enough clothes on."
"I guess I can't guess," said Angelica.
"They were celebrating Decoration Day," said Mr. Munchausen. "Theywere strewing flowers on the graves of departed missionaries."
"You didn't tell us about any graves," said Diavolo.
"They were celebrating Decoration Day ... strewingflowers on the graves of departed missionaries." _Chapter IX._]
"Why certainly I did," said the Baron. "The cannibals themselves werethe only graves those poor departed missionaries ever had. Every oneof those five hundred savages was the grave of a missionary, my dears,and having been converted, and taught that it was not good to eattheir fellow-men, they did all in their power afterwards to show theirrepentance, keeping alive the memory of the men they had tre
ated sobadly by decorating themselves on memorial day--and one old fellow,the savagest looking, but now the kindest-hearted being in the world,used always to wear about his neck a huge sign, upon which he hadpainted in great black letters:
HERE LIES JOHN THOMAS WILKINS, SAILOR. DEPARTED THIS LIFE, MAY 24TH, 1861. HE WAS A MAN OF SPLENDID TASTE.
"The old cannibal had eaten Wilkins and later when he had beenconverted and realised that he himself was the grave of a worthy man,as an expiation he devoted his life to the memory of John ThomasWilkins, and as a matter of fact, on the Cannibal Island DecorationDay he would lie flat on the floor all the day, groaning under theweight of a hundred potted plants, which he placed upon himself inmemory of Wilkins."
Here Mr. Munchausen paused for breath, and the twins went out into thegarden to try to imagine with the aid of a few practical experimentshow a cannibal would look with a hundred potted plants adorning hisperson.