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Page 39
"I make it a point never to be surprised," observed Holmes, as he peered
through the glass, "but this beats me. I didn't know there was an island
of this nature in these latitudes. Blackstone, go below and pipe Captain
Cook on deck. Perhaps he knows what island that is."
"You'll have to excuse me, Captain Holmes," replied the Judge. "I didn't
ship on this voyage as a cabin-boy or a messenger-boy. Therefore I--"
"Bonaparte, put the Judge in irons," interrupted Holmes, sternly. "I
expect to be obeyed, Judge Blackstone, whether you shipped as a Lord
Chief-Justice or a state-room steward. When I issue an order it must be
obeyed. Step lively there, Bonaparte. Get his honor ironed and summon your
marines. We may have work to do before night. Hamlet, pipe Captain Cook on
deck."
"Aye, aye, sir," replied Hamlet, with alacrity, as he made off.
"That's the way to obey orders," said Holmes, with a scornful glance at
Blackstone.
"I was only jesting, Captain," said the latter, paling somewhat.
"That's all right," said Holmes, taking up his glass again. "So was I when
I ordered you in irons, and in order that you may appreciate the full
force of the joke I repeat it. Bonaparte, do your duty."
In an instant the order was obeyed, and the unhappy Judge shortly found
himself manacled and alone in the forecastle. Meanwhile Captain Cook, in
response to the commander's order, repaired to the deck and scanned the
distant coast.
"I can't place it," he said. "It can't be Monte Cristo, can it?"
"No, it can't," said the Count, who stood hard by. "My island was in the
Mediterranean, and even if it dragged anchor it couldn't have got out
through the Strait of Gibraltar."
"Perhaps it's Robinson Crusoe's island," suggested Doctor Johnson.
"Not it," observed De Foe. "If it is, the rest of you will please keep
off. It's mine, and I may want to use it again. I've been having a number
of interviews with Crusoe latterly, and he's given me a lot of new points,
which I intend incorporating in a sequel for the _Cimmerian Magazine_."
"Well, in the name of Atlas, what island is it, then?" roared Holmes,
angrily. "What is the matter with all you learned lubbers that I have
brought along on this trip? Do you suppose I've brought you to whistle up
favorable winds? Not by the beard of the Prophet! I brought you to give me
information, and now when I ask for the name of a simple little island
like that in plain sight there's not one of you able so much as to guess
at it reasonably. The next man I ask for information goes into irons with
Judge Blackstone if he doesn't answer me instantly with the information I
want. Munchausen, what island is that?"
"Ahem! that?" replied Munchausen, trembling, as he reflected upon the
Captain's threat. "What? Nobody knows what island that is? Why, you
surprise me--"
"See here, Baron," retorted Holmes, menacingly, "I ask you a plain
question, and I want a plain answer, with no evasions to gain time. Now
it's irons or an answer. What island is that?"
"It's an island that doesn't appear on any chart, Captain," Munchausen
responded instantly, pulling himself together for a mighty effort, "and it
has never been given a name; but as you insist upon having one, we'll call
it Holmes Island, in your honor. It is not stationary. It is a floating
island of lava formation, and is a menace to every craft that goes to sea.
I spent a year of my life upon it once, and it is more barren than the
desert of Sahara, because you cannot raise even sand upon it, and it is
devoid of water of any sort, salt or fresh."
"What did you live on during that year?" asked Holmes, eying him narrowly.
"Canned food from wrecks," replied the Baron, feeling much easier now that
he had got a fair start--"canned food from wrecks, commander. There is a
magnetic property in the upper stratum of this piece of derelict real
estate, sir, which attracts to it every bit of canned substance that is
lost overboard in all parts of the world. A ship is wrecked, say, in the
Pacific Ocean, and ultimately all the loose metal upon her will succumb to
the irresistible attraction of this magnetic upper stratum, and will find
its way to its shores. So in any other part of the earth. Everything
metallic turns up here sooner or later; and when you consider that
thousands of vessels go down every year, vessels which are provisioned
with tinned foods only, you will begin to comprehend how many millions of
pounds of preserved salmon, sardines, _p�t� de foie gras_, peaches, and so
on, can be found strewn along its coast."
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