He Whirligigged And Pirouetted, Dancing And Cavorting Round
Like An Inebriated Ape.
All the sun-warmth of his ardent life
beamed in his face.
I am so happy, was the song without words he
sang.
He sang it all evening, ringing the changes on it with an endless
variety of stunts. "A fool! a fool! I met a fool in the forest!"
thought I, and a worthy fool he proved. Between handsprings and
whirligigs he delivered his message that would save the world. It
was twofold. First, let suffering humanity strip off its clothing
and run wild in the mountains and valleys; and, second, let the very
miserable world adopt phonetic spelling. I caught a glimpse of the
great social problems being settled by the city populations swarming
naked over the landscape, to the popping of shot-guns, the barking
of ranch-dogs, and countless assaults with pitchforks wielded by
irate farmers.
The years passed, and, one sunny morning, the Snark poked her nose
into a narrow opening in a reef that smoked with the crashing impact
of the trade-wind swell, and beat slowly up Papeete harbour. Coming
off to us was a boat, flying a yellow flag. We knew it contained
the port doctor. But quite a distance off, in its wake, was a tiny
out rigger canoe that puzzled us. It was flying a red flag. I
studied it through the glasses, fearing that it marked some hidden
danger to navigation, some recent wreck or some buoy or beacon that
had been swept away.
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