A Journey of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 9) (2 page)

”Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am. Um, Miss Plumtartt?”

“Yes, Mr. Temperance?”

“I am afraid that I have lost all track of navigational concerns, Ma’am.”

“Under the circumstances, this is understandable, Mr. Temperance.”

“Um, yeah, um, thanks Ma’am, but uh, what I meant was, I don’t know where on Earth we are liable to come out.”

“Bah, don’t be silly, boy. All that matters is that we come out, right? It doesn’t matter where.”

“Well, sir, two thirds of this planet is covered over by water. The chances are pretty high that we could come out on the bottom of an ocean. We’d be in a pickle for sure then, sir.”

“What! Do something, Temperance! I’m too rich to drown!”

“Uh oh.”

“Why, ‘uh oh’, Mr. Temperance?”

“I think we’re starting to run low, Miss Plumtartt.”

“Run low in what way, Mr. Temperance?”

“Oh, you know, automated feed coal for the furnace. Of course, after we run out of coal, we run out of steam. Then we ain’t got no motivation to generate power for the sonic hammer, nor steam pressure for the drill. But don’t worry, because it looks like we are going to have depleted our compressed air reserves before that happens.”

“I’m too rich to suffocate!”

“Well, I say, what an interesting experience to end one’s life upon, eh hem?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

whirrrrrzzzzchchch-WHIRZZZZZZZZZ!

“The propello-drill is spinning free, y’all!”

“I say, as we are not immediately flooded by sea water, I venture that we have miraculously re-emerged on the Earth’s surface on dry land! Good show, yes, jolly good show, I say!”

“Yes, Ma’am. There is a forward access hatch. I’m going to see if I can open it. Hey, there is sunshine showing! Come on up, Miss Plumtartt and Mr. Morganstern. Let’s see where we are.”

    
The Petals were cast,

              across heather and hearth,

              over desert, and mountain dell.

Sprang life wide and vast,

there was laughter and mirth,

and Goodness would weave her spell.

                                -From the Epoch of Enauck

“Golly, we must have changed time zones, Miss Plumtartt. By my pocket chronometer, it ain’t but ten-thirty, but judging by the placement of the Sun, it must be high noon.”

“A peculiar quandary, Mr. Temperance. Let us put it aside for now as we determine our ‘where’ if not our ‘when’.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“I demand to be seen to the nearest telegraph station. I can’t be gallivanting around some primitive culture. I am a man of industry and I insist on being returned to Wall Street at once.”

“Yessir, Mr. Morganstern, sir. I’m gonna gather me a bag of items in case I want to build some sort of contraption to help get us out of a fix should we wind up in unforeseen predicaments. Let’s see, my compass makes this direction as North. I see distant, high mountains in every direction. We emerged in the middle of a vast meadow. The long grass is unfamiliar to me. Let’s walk over and examine these trees. Perhaps we can figure out where in the world we are by identifying the local fauna.”

“An excellent idea, Mr. Temperance. Come along, Mr. Morganstern, perhaps this mountain oasis will produce a telegraph station for your use, eh hem?”

“Bah, very well. At least the trees will provide protection from that oppressive Sun.”

“Mr. Morganstern is correct in that observation, Mr. Temperance. Does the Sun not appear swollen to you?”

“Come to think of it, I think you’re right. I knew there was something funny, but I couldn’t lay my finger on it. That’s what it is all right; that there big ol’ Sun looks like it is low enough to reach up and touch.”

“Bah, Sunlight. Give me good, honest, artificial light, anytime!”

“If you say so, Mr. Morganstern. Golly, these Oak trees are of a variety that I don’t know, Miss Plumtartt.”

“Nor are they familiar to me, Mr. Temperance. Let us further examine this shadowy grove.”

“Burbity, these blasted trees go on forever! You better not let me get lost, Temperance. I am a very important man. I am holding you personally responsible for my safe return to civilization.”

“Yessir.”

“My word, Mr. Temperance, some of these Oaks are as large as North-Western American Redwoods! These trees must be absolutely ancient!”

“Golly, I think you’re right, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am. Look at these giant ferns. I ain’t never heard of no ferns growing this big before!”

“The trees and accompanying botanical evidencia return to normal dimensions as we exit the wood. My word, the Sun still appears to be directly overhead. Mr. Temperance, I am quite sure that several hours have passed since we emerged from the
‘Wyrmhole’
.

“You’re right about that, Miss Plumtartt. I’ll check my pocket-chronometer to check the time. Yeppers, it is now past five o’clock. Hunh, I wonder why that big ol’ Sun is stubbornly portraying a noon sort of day?”

“Bah, I’m tired of walking. I don’t care what your watch or your Sun says, my feet say it is time to take a break.”

“Yessir.”

“Temperance, prepare a nice place that I may rest.”

“Yessir.”

“Temperance, I’m cool in the shade. Build me a fire.”

“Yessir.”

“Temperance, I’m thirsty. Find me some water.”

“Yessir.”

“Temperance, I’m hungry. Go fetch me something to eat.”

“Yessir.”

“I am not a rabbit. Find me something more substantial than these berries.”

“Yessir.”

“More filling than these nuts.”

“Yessir.”

“Ah, yes, very good. A whale blubber sandwich. I might not fire you after all.”

“Mr. Temperance, where did you find the material for that over-sized sandwich?”

“I found me a field of giant mushrooms, Ma’am! You ain’t never seen no ‘shrooms like these before. I tell you what, there is a humongous fungus among us and that’s a fact.”

“Giant mushrooms? Surely you jest.”

“No Ma’am. Why don’t you come meet them. They are some real fun guys!”

~sigh~
”Very well, let me see what you have found. Great  stems and stalks, you are right, Mr. Temperance. You have found a forest of towering toadstools.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“How did you know they were not poisonous?”

“Well, I figured I’d feed one to Mr. Morganstern. Since he ain’t croaked yet, I reckon they’re okay to consume.”

“Well done, Mr. Temperance. I approve of your methods.”

“I would have tested them myself, but I had already filled up on all the nuts and berries Mr. Morganstern had turned his nose up at.”

“Eek!”

“That was Mr. Morganstern, Miss Plumtartt! We better go see what the trouble is!”

“We find our fearful financier fitfully flitting from foot to foot. What has startled you so, my cowardly accountant?”

“I saw something! It must have been a wild animal! I could have been mauled, or eaten alive!”

“Gosh, I didn’t bring no weapons along on this trip as I didn’t want to pop out of the ground brandishing a pistol. It might not be thought polite. I wasn’t planning on camping out, neither. I thought we’d be staying in a fancy Havaner hotel tonight.”

“What sort of beast do you think lurks in this underbrush, Mr. Morganstern, eh hem? Judging by the colossal tree growth, do you think we are in danger from the North American Grizzly bear? Perhaps we have emerged in South America and now face the unpredictable pounce of a pee-owed Puma? Could this be the steppes of Koalawakkastan, and we encounter attack by tiger, eh hem?”

“How should I know? My business is Business, not bioanimalology.”

“Just hold still, everybody. I think that whatever it is, it’s going to step out where we can see it.”

“Hey-low.”

“My word, hello to you, good sir. My, what an unusual little person you are. Your pointy red hat, long beard and diminutive stature are characteristics of the legendary Garden Gnomey.”

“You are the correct, tall, skinny gel. I no have seen the likes of your kind.”

“A Garden Gnomey? Bah, if I had known it was harmless I’d have killed it myself.”

“You hush up that ugly talk, Mr. Morganstern. Howdy mister, gee, this is a real thrill for us to meet a real Garden Gnomey. We just thought that you existed in myth.”

“Hodily ho, ho, as I thought the same of you, for if I am not mistaken, you are humans, are you not?”

“Yessir, are we is. Do you mean to say that you don’t ever see no humans?”

“Ho, ho, humans are a thing of myth, young fellow. One can travel anywhere in Middle o’ Earthhe, and the locals will have sketchy details in their ancient legends of another world populated by the drab little beings.”

“Yeah, um, we kind of thought that you all Garden Gnomeys were a bit smaller than what you turned out to be. Where we thought y’all weren’t but a foot or so tall, you stand almost four foot tall.”

“Aye, I’m of average Gnomey height. Would ye’ like to come visit me village? I wish you would. This is a celebratory time! This is the time of Tribute! It is a grand affair! Besides, if I don’t bring you along to show off, all will no believe me.”

“My name’s Ichabod. This here is Miss Persephone Plumtartt and Mr. J.P. Morganstern.”

“T’is a great pleasure to meet ye. My name is Barnabus Bottomfeeder. Follow me to the loveliest village on the high plains, the wee little town o’ Sagging Bough.”

“I say, Barnabus, my dear, we are so thrilled to be able to arrive on a day of celebration.”

“‘Day’ m’lady?”

“You say that today is a time of celebration. Pray, what makes this day special?”

“I still nae ken what ye say. What is this ‘day’ of which you speak?”

“Why, I refer to this time in which we spend in the sun, as opposed to nightfall. Further, we name our seven days of the week, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, etcetera..”

“You lost me at ‘Nightfall,’ m’lady.”

“Howdy there, Mr. Bottomfeeder, sir. This time in the sun is the longest that I can ever remember. It seems like this day has been going on way too long. Do you have any explanation?”

“What do you mean, way too long? There is no time without the unblinking sun above. What is this daft talk of which you speak?”

“Bah, this horrid little creature is obviously delusional. Hardly surprising, I should think. Harumph.”

“Nossir, I don’t think so. Didn’t you make a reference to this place being called ‘Middle o’ Earthhe’?”

“Aye, this is how we know our lovely world, Ickity- whickety.”

“Holy wholly hollow double hemispheres, y’all, I think we are in the center of the Earth!”

“Bah, preposterous, you half-baked hayseed. What a ridiculous concept.”

“”No, Mr. Morganstern, I believe Mr. Temperance may be on to something. A hollow sphere, rotating about an inner Sun. Fantastic!”

“
Tee, hee,
what whimsy!”

“Gee, Mr. Bottonfeeder, sir, we live on the outside of the world.”

“The ‘outside’ of the world? This is folly, Icky, for everyone knows that the Earthhe is infinite in its expansion below, and equally infinite in expansion above. Nothing moves.”

“Oh, nossir, we live on a spherical planet. It is bathed in an ocean of air and spins through the aether of space.”

“Hodily, hodily, hodily ho! These are grand fairy tales ye’ tell, Icky! Tee, hee! Middle o’ Earthhe is flat, o’ course.”

“Well, sir, as we know our planet, it turns on an axis, and is alternately exposed to the heat and light of the sun, and the cold darkness of night. We choose the night time to take a rest. That reminds me, we are overdue for some shuteye. Can we camp down for a short time?”

~sigh~
”If we must. I suppose it is too much to expect you pale, frail little humans to have the uncanny stamina of a Garden Gnomey.”

~~~

“Wake up, you lazy humans! How much rest do ye’ require?”

“Yessir, Mr. Bottomfeeder, with the sun so high and bright, it don’t engender sleepiness much, does it? I reckon we’re all wakeful and ready to proceed.”

“My word, but our nimble gnomey does maintain a brisk pace upon his tiny feet, does he not?”

“Yes Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am. I don’t reckon Mr. Morganstern is used to this outdoorsy life. That tycoon tenderfoot is as timid as a hole-in-the-ice skinny dipper.”

“Yes, quite so, our stocky stock broker trundles with trepidation, eh hem? Oh, look, Mr. Temperance, I see what appears to be a small cottage. How delightful! Surrounded by colourful flowers, the house conveys a storybook ambiance.”

“Yes, Ma’am, I think it’s the curly eaves, rounded off peak of the roof, and the bulgy, curved, and rounded doors, windows and walls that give it that fairy tale forest hut appearance.”

“Look here, Mr. Temperance, there are more such homes scattered about built in the same manner. Each cottage is more delightful than the last, wouldn’t you say, eh hem?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I like everybody’s flower gardens. Say, look there, I see a little statue of a human holding a bouquet of flowers.”

“Aye, Ickity, t’is what’s called a ‘yard jockey’. Some people go for them, but I finds them tacky.”

“And here is y’all’s little town of Saggy Bough. Golly, look at all the Gnomeys, Miss Plumtartt.”

“Why, there are hundreds of pointy-hatted peoples of gnomish descent in the midst of great celebration, sir.”

“Hey-low, hey-low, my Gnomey Homeys! Look, look, look! I have found me a trio of mythic humans! They are fabled myth in the flesh!”

“Howdy, y’all, we are humans and we come in peace. How are you all doing today?”

“Tee, hee! He speaks of days, as if there is more than one! Tee, hee!”

“Hoddily, hoddily oh, how we all gasp in awe and wonder! T’is a marvelous thing to see a real human. Where did ye’ find them, Barnabus?”

“Wandering the high meadows, Jebidebidibbidus.”

“And what then do we do with our guests as are these?”

“We introduce them to Burgermeister McCheese!”

“Welcome to Sagging Bough, my human friends. It is an honour to have you visit our humble village. What are your names, please?”

“Harumph, I am J.P Morganstern.
The
J.P. Morganstern. I demand to be escorted to your telegraph station that I can see to my immediate removal from this awful place.”

“My word, please pay no attention to my rude companion. My name is Plumtartt, Persephone Plumtartt. I am thrilled to meet you all and to be an envoy of the people of Earth. I present you my less obnoxious companion, Mr. Ichabod Temperance.”