Books: The Last of the Huggermuggers
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Christopher Pierce Cranch >> The Last of the Huggermuggers
As Kobboltozo ended, his face wore an almost fiendish expression of
savage triumph, as if he had now settled the giants' fate forever.
"But," said Scrawler, "how came _you_ into possession of this
tremendous secret; and, if true, why do you wish any harm to happen to
the good Huggermuggers?"
"I hate them!" said the dwarf. "They are rich--I am poor. They are big
and well-formed--I am little and crooked. Why should not my race grow
to be as shapely and as large as they; for _my_ ancestors were as
good as theirs, and I have heard that they possessed the island before
the Huggermuggers came into it? No! I am weary of the Huggermuggers. I
have more right to the island than they. But they have grown by
enchantment, while my race only grew to a certain size, and then we
stopped and grew crooked. But the Huggermuggers, if there should be
any more of them, will grow till they are like the trees of the
forest.
"Then as to the way I discovered their mystery. I was taking home a
pair of shoes for the giantess, and was just about to knock at the
door, when I heard the giant and his wife talking. I crept softly up
and listened. They have great voices--not difficult to hear
_them_. They were talking about a secret door in the wall, and of
something precious which was locked up within a little closet. As soon
as their voices ceased, I knocked, and was let in. I assumed an
appearance as if I had heard nothing, and they did not suspect me. I
went and told Hammawhaxo, the carpenter--a friend of mine, and a dwarf
like me. I knew he didn't like Huggermugger much. Hammawhaxo was
employed at the time to repair the bottom of a door in the giant's
house, where the rats had been gnawing. So he went one morning before
the giants were up, and tapped all around the wainscoting of the walls
with his hammer, till he found a hollow place, and a sliding panel,
and inside the wall he discovered an old manuscript in the ancient
Hugger language, in which was written the secret I have told you. And
now we will see if the old fortune-teller's prophecy is to come true
or not."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
MRS. HUGGERMUGGER GROWS THIN AND FADES AWAY.
Scrawler, though delighted to get hold of such a story to put into his
book, could not help feeling a superstitious fear that the prediction
might be verified, and some misfortune before the good Huggermuggers.
It could not come from him or any of his friends, he was sure; for
Zebedee Nabbum's first idea of entrapping the giant was long since
abandoned. If he was ever to be taken away from the island, it could
only be by the force of persuasion, and he was sure that Huggermugger
would not voluntarily leave his wife.
Scrawler only hinted then to Huggermugger, that he feared Kobboltozo
was his enemy. But Huggermugger laughed, and said he knew the dwarf
was crabbed and spiteful, but that he did not fear him. Huggermugger
was not suspicious by nature, and it never came into his thoughts that
Kobboltozo, or any other dwarf could have the least idea of his great
secret.
Little Jacket came now frequently to the giant's house, where he
became a great favorite. He had observed, for some days, that Mrs.
Huggermugger's spirits were not so buoyant as usual. She seldom
laughed--she sometimes sat alone and sighed, and even wept. She ate
very little of shell-fish--even her favorite frog had lost its relish.
She was growing thin--the once large, plump woman. Her husband, who
really loved her, though his manner towards her was sometimes rough,
was much concerned. He could not enjoy his lonely supper--he scarcely
cared for his pipe. To divert his mind, he would sometimes linger on
the shore, talking to the little men, as he called them. He would
strip off this long boots and his clothes, and wade out into the sea
to get a nearer view of the ship. He could get near enough to talk to
them on board. "How should you like to go with us," said the little
men, one day, "and sail away to see new countries? We can show you a
great deal that you haven't seen. If you went to America with us, you
would be the greatest man there."
Huggermugger laughed, but not one of his hearty laughs--his mind was
ill at ease about his wife. But the idea was a new one, of going away
from giant-land to a country of pygmies. Could he ever go? Not
certainly without his wife--and she would never leave the island. Why
should he wish to go away? "To be sure." he said, "it is rather lonely
here--all our kindred dead--nobody to be seen but little ugly dwarfs.
And I really like these little sailors, and shall be sorry to part
with them. No, here I shall remain, wife and I, and here we shall end
our days. We are the last of the giants--let us not desert our native
soil."
Mrs. Huggermugger grew worse and worse. It seemed to be a rapid
consumption. No cause could be discovered for her sickness. A dwarf
doctor was called in, but he shook his head--he feared he could do
nothing. Little Jacket came with the ship's doctor, and brought some
medicines. She took them, but they had no effect. She could not now
rise from her bed. Her husband sat by her side all the time. The
good-hearted sailors did all they could for her, which was not much.
Even Zebedee Nabbum's feelings were touched. He told her Yankee
stories, and tales of wild beasts--of elephants, not bigger than one
of her pigs--of lions and bears as small as lapdogs--of birds not
larger than one of their flies. All did what they could to lessen her
sufferings. "To think," said Zebedee, "aint it curious--who'd a
thought that great powerful critter could ever get sick and waste away
like this!"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
THE SORROWS OF HUGGERMUGGER.
At last, one morning while the sailors were lounging about on the
beach, they saw the great Huggermugger coming along, his head bent
low, and the great tears streaming down his face. They all ran up to
him. He sat, or rather threw himself down on the ground. "My dear
little friends," said he, "it's all over. I never shall see my poor
wife again--never again--never again--I am the last of the
Huggermuggers. She is gone. And as for me--I care not now whither I
go. I can never stay here--not here--it will be too lonely. Let me go
and bury my poor wife, and then farewell to giant-land! I will go with
you, if you will take me!"
They were all much grieved. They took Huggermugger's great hands, as
he sat there, like a great wrecked and stranded ship, swayed to and
fro by the waves and surges of his grief, and their tears mingled with
his. He took them into his arms, the great Huggermugger, and kissed
them. "You are the only friends left me now," he said, "take me with
you from this lonely place. She who was so dear to me is gone to the
great Unknown, as on a boundless ocean; and this great sea which lies
before us is to me like it. Whether I live or die, it is all one--take
me with you. I am helpless now as a child!"
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
HUGGERMUGGER LEAVES HIS ISLAND
Zebedee Nabbum could not help thinking how easily he had obtained
permission of his giant. There was nothing to do but to make room for
him in the ship, and lay in a stock of those articles of foods which
the giant was accustomed to eat, sufficient for a long voyage.
Huggermugger laid his wife in a grave by the sea-shore, and covered it
over with the beautiful large shells which she so loved. He then went
home, opened the secret door in the wall, took out the ancient
manuscript, tied a heavy stone to it, and sunk it in a deep well under
the rocks, into which he also threw the key of his house, after having
taken everything he needed for his voyage, and locked the doors.
The ship was now all ready to sail. The sailors had made a large raft,
on which the giant sat and paddled himself to the ship, and climbed on
board. The ship was large enough to allow him to stand, when the sea
was still, and even walk about a little; but Huggermugger preferred
the reclining posture, for he was weary and needed repose.
During the first week or two of the voyage, his spirits seemed to
revive. The open sea, without any horizon, the sails spreading calmly
above him, the invigorating salt breeze, the little sailors clambering
up the shrouds and on the yards, all served to divert his mind from
his great grief. The sailors came to around him and told him stories,
and described the country to which they were bound; and sometimes Mr.
Nabbum brought out his elephants, which Huggermugger patted and
fondled like dogs. But poor Huggermugger was often sea-sick, and could
not sit up. The sailors made him as comfortable as they could. By
night they covered him up and kept him warm, and by day they stretched
an awning above him to protect him from the sun. He was so accustomed
to the open air, that he was never too cold nor too warm. But poor
Huggermugger, after a few weeks more, began to show the symptoms of a
more serious illness then sea-sickness. A nameless melancholy took
possession of him. He refused to eat--he spoke little, and only lay
and gazed up at the white sails and the blue sky. By degrees, he began
to waste away, very much as his wife did. Little Jacket felt a real
sorrow and sympathy, and so did they all. Zebedee Nabbum, however, it
must be confessed "though he felt a kind o' sorry for the poor
critter," thought more of the loss it would be to him, as a money
speculation, to have him die before they reached America. "It would be
too bad," he said, "after all the trouble and expense I've had, and
when the critter was so willin', too, to come aboard, to go and have
him die. We must feed him well, and try hard to save him; for we can't
afford to lose him. Why, he'd be worth at least 50,000 dollars--yes,
100,000 dollars, in the United States." So Zebedee would bring him
dishes of his favorite clams, nicely cooked and seasoned, but the
giant only sighed and shook his head. "No," he said, "my little
friends, I feel that I shall never see your country. Your coming to my
island has been in some way fatal for me. My secret must have been
told. The prophecy, ages ago, has come true!"
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
THE LAST OF HUGGERMUGGER.
Mr. Scrawler now thought it was time for him to speak. He had only
refrained from communicating to Huggermugger what the dwarf had told
him, from the fear of making the poor giant more unhappy and ill than
ever. But he saw that he could be silent no longer, for there seemed
to be a suspicion in Huggermugger's mind, that it might be these very
people, in whose ship he had consented to go, who had found out and
revealed his secret.
Mr. Scrawler then related to the giant what the dwarf had told him in
the garden, and about the concealed MS., and the prophecy it
contained.
Huggermugger sunk his head in his hands, and said: "Ah, the dwarf--the
dwarf! Fool that I was; I might have known it. His race always hated
mine. Ah, wretch! that I had punished thee as thou deservest!
"But, after all, what matters it?" he added, "I am the last of my
race. What matters it, if I die a little sooner than I thought? I have
little wish to live, for I should have been very lonely in my island.
Better it is it that I go to other lands--better, perhaps, that I die
here ere reaching land.
"Friends, I feel that I shall never see your country--and why should I
wish it? How could such a huge being as I live among you? For a little
while I should be amused with you, and you astonished at me. I might
find friends here and there, like you; but your people could never
understand my nature, nor I theirs. I should be carried about as a
spectacle; I should not belong to myself, but to those who exhibited
me. There could be little sympathy between your people and mine. I
might, too, be feared, be hated. Your climate, your food, your houses,
your laws, your customs--every thing would be unlike what mine has
been. I am too old, to weary of life, to begin it again in a new
world."
So, my young readers, not to weary you with any more accounts of
Huggermugger's sickness, I must end the matter, and tell you plainly
that he died long before they reached America, much to Mr. Nabbum's
vexation. Little Jacket and his friends grieved very much, but they
could not help it, and thought that, on the whole, it was best it
should be so. Zebedee Nabbum wished they could, at least, preserve the
giant's body, and exhibit it in New York. But it was impossible. All
they could take home with them was his huge skeleton; and even this,
by some mischance, was said to be incomplete.
Some time after the giant's death, Mr. Scrawler, one day when the ship
was becalmed, and the sailors wished to be amused, fell into a poetic
frenzy, and produced the following song, which all hands sung, (rather
slowly) when Mr. Nabbum was not present, to the tune of Yankee
Doodle:--
Yankee Nabbum went to sea
A huntin' after lions;
He came upon an island where
There was a pair of giants.
He brought his nets and big harpoon,
And thought he'd try to catch 'em;
But Nabbum found out very soon
There was no need to fetch 'em.
Yankee Nabbum went ashore,
With Jacky and some others;
But Huggermugger treated them
Just like his little brothers.
He took 'em up and put 'em in
His thunderin' big fish basket;--
He took 'em home and gave them all
they wanted, ere they asked it.
The giants were as sweet to them
As two great lumps of sugar,--
A very Queen of Candy was
Good Mrs. Huggermugger.
But, Ah! The good fat woman died,
The giant too departed,
And came himself on Nabbum's ship,
Quite sad and broken hearted.
He came aboard and sailed with us,
A sadder man and wiser--
But pretty soon, just like his wife,
He sickened and did die, Sir.
But Nabbum kept his mighty bones--
How they will stare to see 'em,
When Nabbum has them all set up
in Barnum's great Museum!
Nothing is dearly known, strange to say, as to what became of this
skeleton. In the Museum, at Philadelphia, there are some great bones,
which are usually supposed to be those of the Great Mastodon. It is
the opinion, however, of others, that they are none other than those
of the great Huggermugger--all that remains of the last of the giants.
NOTE:--I was told, several years hence, that Mr. Scrawler's narrative
of his adventures in Huggermugger's Island, was nearly completed, and
that he was only waiting for a publisher. As, however, nothing has as
yet been heard of his long expected book, I have taken the liberty to
print what I have written, from the story, as I heard it from Little
Jacket himself, who is now grown to be a man. I have been told that
Little Jacket, who is now called Mr. John Cable, has left the sea, and
is now somewhere out in the Western States, settled down as a farmer,
and has grown so large and fat, that he fears he must have eaten some
of those strange shell-fish, by which the Huggermugger race grew to be
so great. Other accounts, however, say that he is as fond of the sea
as ever, and has got to be the captain of a great ship; and that he
and Mr. Nabbum are still voyaging round the world, in hopes of finding
other Huggermuggers.