The Lone Islands
“Land in sight,” shouted the man in the bows. Lucy, who had been talking to Rhince on the poop, came pattering down the ladder and raced forward. As she went she was joined by Edmund, and they found Caspian, Drinian and Reepicheep already on the forecastle. It was a coldish morning, the sky very pale and the sea very dark blue with little white caps of foam, and there, a little way off on the starboard bow, was the nearest of the Lone Islands, Felimath, like a low green hill in the sea, and behind it, further off, the grey slopes of its sister Doorn.
“Same old Felimath! Same old Doorn,” said Lucy, clapping her hands. “Oh – Edmund, how long it is since you and I saw them last!”
“I’ve never understood why they belong to Narnia,” said Caspian. “Did Peter the High King conquer them?”
“Oh, no,” said Edmund. “They were Narnian before our time – in the days of the White Witch.”
(By the way, I have never yet heard how these remote islands became attached to the crown of Narnia; if I ever do, and if the story is at all interesting, I may put it in some other book.)
“Are we to put in here, Sire?” asked Drinian.
“I shouldn’t think it would be much good landing on Felimath,” said Edmund. “It was almost uninhabited in our days and it looks as if it is the same still. The people lived mostly on Doorn and a little on Avra – that’s the third one; you can’t see it yet. They only kept sheep on Felimath.”
“Then we’ll have to double that cape, I suppose,” said Drinian, “and land on Doorn. That’ll mean rowing.”
“I’m sorry we’re not landing on Felimath,” said Lucy. “I’d like to walk there again. It was so lonely – a nice kind of loneliness, and all grass and clover and soft sea air.”
“I’d love to stretch my legs now too,” said Caspian. “I tell you what. Why shouldn’t we go ashore in the boat and send it back, and then we could walk across Felimath and let the Dawn Treader pick us up on the other side?”
If Caspian had been as experienced then as he became later on in this voyage he would not have made this suggestion; but at the moment it seemed an excellent one. “Oh, do let’s,” said Lucy.
“You’ll come, will you?” said Caspian to Eustace, who had come on deck with his hand bandaged.
“Anything to get off this blasted boat,” said Eustace.
“Blasted?” said Drinian. “How do you mean?”
“In a civilized country like where I come from,” said Eustace, “the ships are so big that when you’re inside you wouldn’t know you were at sea at all.”
“In that case you might just as well stay ashore,” said Caspian. “Will you tell them to lower the boat, Drinian?”
The King, the Mouse, the two Pevensies, and Eustace all got into the boat and were pulled to the beach of Felimath. When the boat had left them and was being rowed back they all turned and looked round. They were surprised at how small the Dawn Treader looked.
Lucy was of course barefoot, having kicked off her shoes while swimming, but that is no hardship if one is going to walk on downy turf. It was delightful to be ashore again and to smell the earth and grass, even if at first the ground seemed to be pitching up and down like a ship, as it usually does for a while if one has been at sea. It was much warmer here than it had been on board and Lucy found the sand pleasant to her feet as they crossed it. There was a lark singing.
They struck inland and up a fairly steep, though low, hill. At the top of course they looked back, and there was the Dawn Treader shining like a great bright insect and crawling slowly northwestward with her oars. Then they went over the ridge and could see her no longer.
Doorn now lay before them, divided from Felimath by a channel about a mile wide; behind it and to the left lay Avra. The little white town of Narrowhaven on Doorn was easily seen.
“Hullo! What’s this?” said Edmund suddenly.
In the green valley to which they were descending, six or seven rough-looking men, all armed, were sitting by a tree.
“Don’t tell them who we are,” said Caspian.
“And pray, your Majesty, why not?” said Reepicheep, who had consented to ride on Lucy’s shoulder.
“It just occurred to me,” replied Caspian, “that no one here can have heard from Narnia for a long time. It’s just possible they may not still acknowledge our over-lordship. In which case it might not be quite safe to be known as the King.”
“We have our swords, Sire,” said Reepicheep.
“Yes, Reep, I know we have,” said Caspian. “But if it is a question of re-conquering the three islands, I’d prefer to come back with a rather larger army.”
By this time they were quite close to the strangers, one of whom – a big black-haired fellow – shouted out, “A good morning to you.”
“And a good morning to you,” said Caspian. “Is there still a Governor of the Lone Islands?”
“To be sure there is,” said the man, “Governor Gumpas. His Sufficiency is at Narrowhaven. But you’ll stay and drink with us.”
Caspian thanked him, though neither he nor the others much liked the look of their new acquaintance, and all of them sat down. But hardly had they raised their cups to their lips when the black-haired man nodded to his companions and, as quick as lightning, all the five visitors found themselves wrapped in strong arms. There was a moment’s struggle but all the advantages were on one side, and soon everyone was disarmed and had their hands tied behind their backs – except Reepicheep, writhing in his captor’s grip and biting furiously.
“Careful with that beast, Tacks,” said the Leader. “Don’t damage him. He’ll fetch the best price of the lot, I shouldn’t wonder.”
“Coward! Poltroon!” squeaked Reepicheep. “Give me my sword and free my paws if you dare.”
“Whew!” whistled the slave merchant (for that is what he was). “It can talk! Well, I never did. Blowed if I take less than two hundred crescents for him.” The Calormen crescent, which is the chief coin in those parts, is worth about a third of a pound.
“So that’s what you are,” said Caspian. “A kidnapper and slaver. I hope you’re proud of it.”
“Now, now, now, now,” said the slaver. “Don’t you start any jaw. The easier you take it, the pleasanter all round, see? I don’t do this for fun. I’ve got my living to make same as anyone else.”
“Where will you take us?” asked Lucy, getting the words out with some difficulty.
“Over to Narrowhaven,” said the slaver. “For market day tomorrow.”
“Is there a British Consul there?” asked Eustace.
“Is there a which?” said the man.
But long before Eustace was tired of trying to explain, the slaver simply said, “Well, I’ve had enough of this jabber. The Mouse is a fair treat but this one would talk the hind leg off a donkey. Off we go, mates.”
Then the four human prisoners were roped together, not cruelly but securely, and made to march down to the shore. Reepicheep was carried. He had stopped biting on a threat