VIII.
THE LAST OF THE PETERKINS.
The expedition up the Nile had taken place successfully. The Peterkinfamily had reached Cairo again,--at least, its scattered remnant wasthere, and they were now to consider what next.
Mrs. Peterkin would like to spend her life in the dahabieh,[1] thoughshe could not pronounce its name, and she still felt the strangenessof the scenes about her. However, she had only to look out upon themud villages on the bank to see that she was in the veritable "Africa"she had seen pictured in the geography of her childhood. If furthercorroboration were required, had she not, only the day before, whenaccompanied by no one but a little donkey-boy, shuddered to meet astrange Nubian, attired principally in hair that stood out from hissavage face in frizzes at least half a yard long?
[Footnote 1: A boat used for transportation on the Nile.]
But oh the comforts of no trouble in housekeeping on board the dahabieh!Never to know what they were to have for dinner, nor to be asked whatthey would like, and yet always to have a dinner you could ask chancefriends to, knowing all would be perfectly served! Some of the partywith whom they had engaged their dahabieh had even brought canned bakedbeans from New England, which seemed to make their happiness complete.
"Though we see beans here," said Mrs. Peterkin, "they are not 'Bostonbeans'!"
She had fancied she would have to live on stuffed ostrich (ostrichstuffed with iron filings, that the books tell of), or friedhippopotamus, or boiled rhinoceros. But she met with none of these, andday after day was rejoiced to find her native turkey appearing on thetable, with pigeons and chickens (though the chickens, to be sure, werescarcely larger than the pigeons), and lamb that was really not moretough than that of New Hampshire and the White Mountains.
If they dined with the Arabs, there was indeed a kind of darkmolasses-gingerbread-looking cake, with curds in it, that she found ithard to eat. "But _they_ like it," she said complacently.
The remaining little boy, too, smiled over his pile of ripe bananas, ashe thought of the quarter-of-a-dollar-a-half-dozen green ones at thatmoment waiting at the corners of the streets at home. Indeed, it was aland for boys. There were the dates, both fresh and dried,--far morejuicy than those learned at school; and there was the gingerbread-nuttree, the dom palm, that bore a nut tasting "like baker's gingerbreadthat has been kept a few days in the shop," as the remaining little boyremarked. And he wished for his brothers when the live dinner came onboard their boat, at the stopping-places, in the form of good-sizedsheep struggling on the shoulders of stout Arabs, or an armful of livehens and pigeons.
All the family (or as much of it as was present) agreed with Mrs.Peterkin's views. Amanda at home had seemed quite a blessing, but atthis distance her services, compared with the attentions of theirMaltese dragoman and the devotion of their Arab servants, seemed ofdoubtful value, and even Mrs. Peterkin dreaded returning to her tendermercies.
"Just imagine inviting the Russian Count to dinner at home--and Amanda!"exclaimed Elizabeth Eliza.
"And he came to dinner at least three times a week on board the boat,"said the remaining little boy.
"The Arabs are so convenient about carrying one's umbrellas and shawls,"said Elizabeth Eliza. "How I should miss Hassan in picking up my blueveil!"
The family recalled many anecdotes of the shortcomings of Amanda, asMrs. Peterkin leaned back upon her divan and wafted a fly-whisk. Mr.Peterkin had expended large sums in telegrams from every point where hefound the telegraph in operation; but there was no reply from SolomonJohn, and none from the two little boys.
By a succession of telegrams they had learned that no one had falleninto the crater of Vesuvius in the course of the last six months, noteven a little boy. This was consoling.
By letters from the lady from Philadelphia, they learned that she hadreceived Solomon John's telegram from Geneva at the time she heardfrom the rest of the family, and one signed "L. Boys" from Naples. Butneither of these telegrams gave an address for return answers, whichshe had, however, sent to Geneva and Naples, with the fatal omission bythe operator (as she afterward learned) of the date, as in the othertelegrams.
Mrs. Peterkin therefore disliked to be long away from the Sphinx, andtheir excursion up the Nile had been shortened on this account. Allthe Nubian guides near the pyramids had been furnished with additionalbacksheesh and elaborate explanations from Mr. Peterkin as to how theyshould send him information if Solomon John and the little boys shouldturn up at the Sphinx,--for all the family agreed they would probablyappear in Egypt together.
Mrs. Peterkin regretted not having any photographs to leave with theguides; but Elizabeth Eliza, alas! had lost at Brindisi the hand-bagthat contained the family photograph-book.
Mrs. Peterkin would have liked to take up her residence near the Sphinxfor the rest of the year. But every one warned her that the heat of anEgyptian summer would not allow her to stay at Cairo,--scarcely even onthe sea-shore, at Alexandria.
How thankful was Mrs. Peterkin, a few months after, when the war inEgypt broke out, that her wishes had not been yielded to! For manynights she could not sleep, picturing how they all might have beenmassacred by the terrible mob in Alexandria.
Intelligence of Solomon John led them to take their departure.
One day, they were discussing at the _table d'hote_ their lettersfrom the lady from Philadelphia, and how they showed that Solomon Johnhad been at Geneva.
"Ah, there was his mistake!" said Elizabeth Eliza. "The Doolittles leftMarseilles with us, and were to branch off for Geneva, and we kept on toGenoa, and Solomon John was always mistaking Genoa for Geneva, as weplanned our route. I remember there was a great confusion when they gotoff."
"I always mix up Geneva and Genoa," said Mrs. Peterkin. "I feel as ifthey were the same."
"They are quite different," said Elizabeth Eliza; "and Genoa lay in ourroute, while Geneva took him into Switzerland."
An English gentleman, on the opposite side of the table, then spoke toMr. Peterkin.
"I beg pardon," he said. "I think I met one of your name in Athens.He attracted our attention because he went every day to the same spot,and he told us he expected to meet his family there,--that he had anappointment by telegraph--"
"In Athens!" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin.
"Was his name Solomon John?" asked Elizabeth Eliza.
"Were there two little boys?" inquired Mrs. Peterkin.
"His initials were the same as mine," replied theEnglishman,--"S.J.P.,--for some of his luggage came by mistake into myroom, and that is why I spoke of it."
"Is there a Sphinx in Athens?" Mrs. Peterkin inquired.
"There used to be one there," said Agamemnon.
"I beg your pardon," said the Englishman, "but that Sphinx never was inAthens."
"But Solomon John may have made the mistake,--we all make our mistakes,"said Mrs. Peterkin, tying her bonnet-strings, as if ready to go to meetSolomon John at that moment.
"The Sphinx was at Thebes in the days of OEdipus," said the Englishman."No one would expect to find it anywhere in Greece at the present day."
"But was Solomon John inquiring for it?" asked Mr. Peterkin.
"Indeed, no!" answered the Englishman; "he went every day to the Pnyx, afamous hill in Athens, where his telegram had warned him he should meethis friends."
"The Pnyx!" exclaimed Mr. Peterkin; "and how do you spell it?"
"P-n-y-x!" cried Agamemnon,--"the same letters as in Sphinx!"
"All but the _s_ and the _h_ and the _y_" said Elizabeth Eliza.
"I often spell Sphinx with a _y_ myself," said Mr. Peterkin.
"And a telegraph-operator makes such mistakes!" said Agamemnon.
"His telegram had been forwarded to him from Switzerland," said theEnglishman; "it had followed him into the dolomite region, and must havebeen translated many timed."
"And of course they could not all have been expected to keep the lettersin the right order," said Elizabeth Eliza.
"And were there two
little boys with him?" repeated Mrs. Peterkin.
No; there were no little boys. But further inquiries satisfied thefamily that Solomon John must be awaiting them in Athens. And hownatural the mistake! Mrs. Peterkin said that if she had known of a Pnyx,she should surely have looked for the family there.
Should they then meet Solomon John at the Pnyx, or summon him to Egypt?It seemed safer to go directly to Athens, especially as Mr. Peterkin andAgamemnon were anxious to visit that city.
It was found that a steamer would leave Alexandria next day for Athens,by way of Smyrna and Constantinople. This was a roundabout course;but Mr. Peterkin was impatient to leave, and was glad to gain moreacquaintance with the world. Meanwhile they could telegraph their plansto Solomon John, as the English gentleman could give them the address ofhis hotel.
And Mrs. Peterkin did not now shrink from another voyage. Her experienceon the Nile had made her forget her sufferings in crossing the Atlantic,and she no longer dreaded entering another steamboat. Their delight inriver navigation, indeed, had been so great that the whole family hadlistened with interest to the descriptions given by their Russianfellow-traveller of steamboat navigation on the Volga--"the mostbeautiful river in the world," as he declared. Elizabeth Eliza and Mr.Peterkin were eager to try it, and Agamemnon remarked that such a tripwould give them an opportunity to visit the renowned fair atNijninovgorod. Even Mrs. Peterkin had consented to this expedition,provided they should meet Solomon John and the other little boys.
She started, therefore, on a fresh voyage without any dread, forgettingthat the Mediterranean, if not so wide as the Atlantic, is still a sea,and often as tempestuous and uncomfortably "choppy." Alas! she was soonto be awakened from her forgetfulness: the sea was the same old enemy.
As they passed up among the Ionian Isles, and she heard Agamemnon andElizabeth Eliza and their Russian friend (who was accompanying them toConstantinople) talking of the old gods of Greece, she fancied that theywere living still, and that Neptune and the classic waves were wreakingtheir vengeance on them, and pounding and punishing them for venturingto rule them with steam. She was fairly terrified. As they enteredSmyrna she declared she would never enter any kind of a boat again, andthat Mr. Peterkin must find some way by which they could reach home byland.
How delightful it was to draw near the shore, on a calm afternoon,--evento trust herself to the charge of the boatmen in leaving the ship, andto reach land once more and meet the tumult of voices and people! Herewere the screaming and shouting usual in the East, and the same brightarray of turbans and costumes in the crowd awaiting them. But awell-known voice reached them, and from the crowd rose a well-knownface. Even before they reached the land they had recognized its owner.With his American dress, he looked almost foreign in contrast to theotherwise universal Eastern color. A tall figure on either side seemed,also, each to have a familiar air.
Were there three Solomon Johns?
No; it was Solomon John and the two other little boys--but grown so thatthey were no longer little boys. Even Mrs. Peterkin was unable torecognize them at first. But the tones of their voices, their ways, wereas natural as ever. Each had a banana in his hand, and pockets stuffedwith oranges.
Questions and answers interrupted each other in a most confusingmanner:--
"Are you the little boys?"
"Where have you been?"
"Did you go to Vesuvius?"
"How did you get away?"
"Why didn't you come sooner?"
"Our India-rubber boots stuck in the hot lava."
"Have you been there all this time?"
"No; we left them there."
"Have you had fresh dates?"
"They are all gone now, but the dried ones are better than thosesqueezed ones we have at home."
"How you have grown!"
"Why didn't you telegraph?"
"Why did you go to Vesuvius, when Papa said he couldn't?"
"Did you, too, think it was Pnyx?"
"Where have you been all winter?"
"Did you roast eggs in the crater?"
"When did you begin to grow?"
The little boys could not yet thoroughly explain themselves; they alwaystalked together and in foreign languages, interrupting each other, andnever agreeing as to dates.
Solomon John accounted for his appearance in Smyrna by explaining thatwhen he received his father's telegram in Athens, he decided to meetthem at Smyrna. He was tired of waiting at the Pnyx. He had but justlanded, and came near missing his family, and the little boys too, whohad reached Athens just as he was leaving it. None of the family wishednow to continue their journey to Athens, but they had the advice andassistance of their Russian friend in planning to leave the steamer atConstantinople; they would, by adopting this plan, be _en route_for the proposed excursion to the Volga.
Mrs. Peterkin was overwhelmed with joy at having all her family togetheronce more; but with it a wave of homesickness surged over her. They wereall together; why not go home?
It was found that there was a sailing-vessel bound absolutely for Maine,in which they might take passage. No more separation; no more mistakes;no more tedious study of guide-books; no more weighing of baggage. Everytrunk and bag, every Peterkin, could be placed in the boat, and safelylanded on the shores of home. It was a temptation, and at one time Mrs.Peterkin actually pleaded for it.
But there came a throbbing in her head, a swimming in her eyes, aswaying of the very floor of the hotel. Could she bear it, day afterday, week after week? Would any of them be alive? And Constantinople notseen, nor steam-navigation on the Volga!
And so new plans arose, and wonderful discoveries were made, and thefuture of the Peterkin family was changed forever.
In the first place a strange stout gentleman in spectacles had followedthe Peterkin family to the hotel, had joined in the family councils, andhad rendered valuable service in negotiating with the officers of thesteamer for the cancellation of their through tickets to Athens. Hedined at the same table, and was consulted by the (formerly) littleboys.
Who was he?
They explained that he was their "preceptor." It appeared that afterthey parted from their father, the little boys had become mixed up withsome pupils who were being taken by their preceptor to Vesuvius. Forsome time he had not noticed that his party (consisting of boys of theirown age) had been enlarged; and after finding this out, he had concludedthey were the sons of an English family with whom he had beencorresponding. He was surprised that no further intelligence came withthem, and no extra baggage. They had, however, their hand-bags; andafter sending their telegram to the lady from Philadelphia, they assuredhim that all would be right. But they were obliged to leave Naples thevery day of despatching the telegram, and left no address to which ananswer could be sent. The preceptor took them, with his pupils, directlyback to his institution in Gratz, Austria, from which he had taken themon this little excursion.
It was not till the end of the winter that he discovered that hisyouthful charges--whom he had been faithfully instructing, and who hadfound the gymnasium and invigorating atmosphere so favorable togrowth--were not the sons of his English correspondent, whom he hadsupposed, from their explanations, to be travelling in America.
He was, however, intending to take his pupils to Athens in the spring,and by this time the little boys were able to explain themselves betterin his native language. They assured him they should meet their familyin the East, and the preceptor felt it safe to take them upon the trackproposed.
It was now that Mr. Peterkin prided himself upon the plan he hadinsisted upon before leaving home. "Was it not well," he exclaimed,"that I provided each of you with a bag of gold, for use in case ofemergency, hidden in the lining of your hand-bags?"
This had worked badly for Elizabeth Eliza, to be sure, who had left hersat Brindisi; but the little boys had been able to pay some of theirexpenses, which encouraged the preceptor to believe he might trust themfor the rest. So much pleased were all the family with the preceptorthat t
hey decided that all three of the little boys should continueunder his instructions, and return with him to Gratz. This decision mademore easy the other plans of the family.
Both Agamemnon and Solomon John had decided they would like to beforeign consuls. They did not much care where, and they would accept anyappointment; and both, it appeared, had written on the subject to theDepartment at Washington. Agamemnon had put in a plea for a vacancy atMadagascar, and Solomon John hoped for an opening at Rustchuk, Turkey;if not there, at Aintab, Syria. Answers were expected, which were nowtelegraphed for, to meet them in Constantinople.
Meanwhile Mr. Peterkin had been consulting the preceptor and the RussianCount about a land-journey home. More and more Mrs. Peterkin determinedshe could not and would not trust herself to another voyage, though sheconsented to travel by steamer to Constantinople. If they went as far asNijninovgorod, which was now decided upon, why could they not perseverethrough "Russia in Asia"?
Their Russian friend at first shook his head at this, but at last agreedthat it might be possible to go on from Novgorod comfortably to Tobolsk,perhaps even from there to Yakoutsk, and then to Kamtschatka.
"And cross at Behring's Strait!" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin. "It looks sonarrow on the map."
"And then we are in Alaska," said Mr. Peterkin.
"And at home," exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, "and no more voyages."
But Elizabeth Eliza doubted about Kamtschatka and Behring's Strait, andthought it would be very cold.
"But we can buy furs on our way," insisted Mrs. Peterkin.
"And if you do not find the journey agreeable," said their Russianfriend, "you can turn back from Yakoutsk, even from Tobolsk, and come tovisit us."
Yes--_us_! For Elizabeth Eliza was to marry the Russian Count!
He had been in a boat that was behind them on the Nile, had met themoften, had climbed the ruins with them, joined their excursions, and hadfinally proposed at Edfu.
Elizabeth Eliza had then just written to consult the lady fromPhiladelphia with regard to the offer of a German professor they hadmet, and she could give no reply to the Count.
Now, however, it was necessary to make a decision. She had meanwhilelearned a few words of Russian. The Count spoke English moderately well,made himself understood better than the Professor, and could understandElizabeth Eliza's French. Also the Count knew how to decide questionsreadily, while the Professor had to consider both sides before he couldmake up his mind.
Mrs. Peterkin objected strongly at first. She could not even pronouncethe Russian's name. "How should she be able to speak to him, or tellanybody whom Elizabeth Eliza had married?" But finally the family allgave their consent, won by the attention and devotion of ElizabethEliza's last admirer.
The marriage took place in Constantinople, not at Santa Sophia, asElizabeth Eliza would have wished, as that was under a Mohammedandispensation. A number of American residents were present, and thepreceptor sent for his other pupils in Athens. Elizabeth Eliza wishedthere was time to invite the lady from Philadelphia to be present, andAnn Maria Bromwick. Would the name be spelled right in the newspapers?All that could be done was to spell it by telegraph as accurately aspossible, as far as they themselves knew how, and then leave the papersto do their best (or their worst) in their announcements of the wedding"at the American Consulate, Constantinople, Turkey. No cards."
The last that was ever heard of the Peterkins, Agamemnon was on his wayto Madagascar, Solomon John was at Rustchuk, and the little boys atGratz; Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin, in a comfortable sledge, were on their wayfrom Tobolsk to Yakoutsk; and Elizabeth Eliza was passing her honeymoonin the neighborhood of Moscow.
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OTHERS OF THEIR KIN.
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