SARGASSO SAILS

CHAPTER 4

EMERALD ISLE




   Promontory Bay. I would never had found it without Nelligan's help. The entrance was between two great pillars of rock that blended in with the rest of the landscape. As we sailed through the pillars, I saw dozens of solemn-looking birds perched on the rocks like some Roman sentinels. It seemed eiree to me, but Nelligan seemed unfazed.
   Nelligan was bombed again and was dancing furiously on the bow as we approached Emerald Isle. Unlike Ulysses, who returned via his backdoor, Nelligan was determined to make a grand entrance after his epic quest. He bellowed:
            What do you do with a drunken Peliguin
            Fill 'im full of rum 'till his leg is well again
            Watch 'im dance a jig if his name is Nelligan
            More lies in the morning
   -Wait a minute. You said 'morning'. I thought you only had top and bottom days. I was determined to find out if he was putting me on.
   -It's just a word that rhymes, he said. It doesn't mean anything.
   -Hold on. It doesn't rhyme with anything in that song. What are you trying to tell me? I demanded.
   -It rhymes with 'porridge' he replied.
   -It doesn't rhyme with 'porridge' and 'porridge' isn't even in the song.
   -It rhymes with 'porridge' in another song, so I be allowed to use it anytime me likes. Peliguin poets have rules you know. I am Bick Pentameter when I'm poetisizing. Surely you've heard of homonymphs and auntynymphs and all that stuff?
    I wasn't getting anywhere with this so I asked him where he thought I should anchor.
   -In the sea of course, he said.
   It was really no use at this point. We had sailed into a wide bay that reminded me of the Grecian Isles. White rocky promontories rose against a stunningly blue back drop. The few puffy clouds seemed to reflect the seascape. We were approaching the face of a cliff in the center of the bay. Knowing that granite is tougher than fiberglass, I opted to drop anchor a good ways out while Nelligan blabbered:
   -Drop the hook...anchors away...I like porridge.
   Off he flew. After twenty or so, ungraceful flaps, he was on the lip of the cave. He stumbled into the entrance leaving me to wonder how I was going to land. The cave was only about twenty feet above the water and although I had apparently learned to speak 'Peliguin', I still wasn't capable of flying. I uncleated the canoe and swore under my breath at Larry:
   -Heavenly Hiawatha indeed!
   I paddled around until I found a hidden cove with a small beach suitable to land on. After dragging Scarface shore, I trudged up the blanched cliffs to the entrance of the cave. Looking in, I could not believe my eyes.
   The cave opened up and branched off into numerous caverns. All were studded with green emeralds that gave it the look of a mystical palace. Even Oz couldn't have imagined this. In the middle, Nelligan was surrounded by other Peliguins, all looking like they were sporting dishevelled tuxedos. They were dignified, yet comical at the same time. In other words, an ornithologically altered version of Dicken's 'Mr. Pickwick'.
   To their right stood a flock, or was it a gaggle, of dark blue, flamingo-like birds, but with webbed feet like the blue footed boobies in the Galapagos. Even their eyes were deep blue. They stood there posing with their flings wide open. I thought they looked slightly shorter and thinner than the Peliguins, and had bills instead of beaks.
   -These are our cousins the McCormants, Nelligan spoke, lead by Fopling Popinjay. And these are our cousins the O'Henries, he continued as he pointed to his left, and their leader be named Molly Bloomer.
   This was geting too wierd.
   The O'Henries were only about a foot tall, but came in all colours of the rainbow. Their plumage was similar to a parakeet's but their heads looked like roses with noses and they also had webbed feet.
   -And this is the Skipper who rescued me, as he pointed his fling at me.
   As if on cue, they all began to sing. Now I could not believe my ears. It was the most horrible music I had ever heard. The O'Henries were running about making clucking noises to go with their choreography, while the McCormants just stood there with their flings open, and squawked. The Peliguins commanded the bellowing section and the cacaphony was complete. It was indeed horrendous...descantation of dissonance... and it was in my honour.    -How did ya like that? We learned it from the gramaphone that washed ashore, Nelligan proudly stated.
   -You have a gramaphone? I was incredulous.
   The Peliguins parted so that Nelligan could display their prize from the outside world. It was indeed a gramaphone. What a strange piece of flotsam. It must have been eighty years old with its crank handle. I wondered if they knew how to operate it. I watched in amazement as his fling cranked the mechanism and sure enough the disc began to rotate. He put the needle near the center of the disc and it began playing. It sounded just like their performance. He was playing it backwards!
   Now I had to show them how to correctly operate the machine so I put the needle at the edge of the disc and began to crank in the opposite direction. Out came Haydn's 'Emporor's Hymn', an early recording by the Berlin Philharmonic.
   -Sounds awful that way, said Nelligan as the gathered assembly fluttered their flings and cackled, squawked and bellowed in agreement.Very strange. I guess beauty is indeed in the ear of the beholder. Now it was party time on emerald Isle. Whiskteas and teaquilas were passed around in banana leaf flasks. Baskets of kelp and sea veggies appeared soaked in mango and pepper sauces while they cackled and squawked and bellowed, 'porridge' and some things that I couldn't make out.
   -We be dipsydoodlin now, which meant that Nelligan offered to give me a tour of his island. I gratefully accepted, and left the others to their feasting and musical massacres.
   Emerald Isle turned out to be an enchanting place. There were numerous little coves that reminded me of the south shore of Bermuda. There were tiny trails that connected the beaches along which grew cacti and agave. I at least understood where the teaquila came from. Most of the cacti garden were in bloom with red and purple flowers sprouting from their prickly stems. There were also many shades of Prickly Pear, which I recognized as edible species, as well as some majestic Saguaros that must have been fifty feet high. The beaches were fringed with sea oats. Nelligan told me that they made their whiskteas from them. Ingenious, really.
   Nelligan portrayed a comic figure as a tour guide. He was forever waddling into cacti that he cursed in an unintelligeble tongue...something about lepercons. He kept telling me not to dillydally, but for the most part, I was ahead of him. At one point he staggered into a little garden that had a gigantic statue of a pelican adorned with red bows and antlers.
   -What on earth? I inquired.
   -See the resemblance? Nelligan asked. It scares the bejeezes out of the Coners. They don't dare to wander around on Emerald Isle.
   I simply nodded, not sure if he was joking or not. As a scarecrow, the pelican looked so humourous that I couldn't see it frightening anything. This place was beyond bizarre.
   Next we continued our hike over the guano fields that didn't smell too nice. They traded guano with the Bamboozlers and Irogators in exchange for their libational specialties. For Nelligan, the guano fields were the smell of prosperity.He told me that they also harvested jazzleberries in Mangroville.
         -Jazzleberry pie in the morning
         -'Tis the favourite of I in my porridge.
   Nelligan filled me in on a lot of things, but I was especially curious about the gramaphone. Evidently it simply floated ashore earlier, but there was no use in trying to discern when. He did add that the Bamboozlers had some pictures float ashore that had a lot of stuff on them that they had never seen before. Also, the Konkers found some sort of web insignia that Oopslop had draped over his throne. I would have to see these for myself. On that thought, Nelligan said that he would send some O'Henries to the other islands to act as messengers of my impending arrival.
   -No use in scarin' the bejeezes out of 'em. Ye likely won't get to stop at Konkerland. It's not a pretty sight anyhow.
   Left with this forboding thought, I was about to bid him goodbye, but Nelligan had passed out again. As I paddled back to Sargasso, I noticed that there were heaps of Peliguins and McCormants sleeping everywhere. Coco Key and the Bamboozlers were next.


ON TO CHAPTER 5 "BAMBOOZLERS"
GET ME OUTTA HERE...I NEED A WHISKTEA