THE MAGIC ISLAND.

A Tale from a Bottle.

From "A Fashionable Fantasia", Bizarre, Vol. 7, 1952.
With illustrations by John Willie.
Story as scanned by Reverie and edited by SirJeff.

 

Letter Number 3.

We were lazing back in our armchairs when the others returned and with them a cheerful gray haired bloke who was introduced to me as Dr. Macintosh.

"So this is the invalid, is it," he said chuckling. "Come into the light, laddie, and let me see how you look."

Malua followed as we moved into the glow of the lamps, which for greater brilliance, the boys grouped together, and I found her by my side as the old doctor turned, studying my face keenly. Behind him stood the others.

Looking down, he took my wrist and felt my pulse. Then he took my temperature and so on.

He seemed quite well satisfied with what he found and finally, after a few questions about any aches, pains and so on, of which I had none, the inspection was over and we all sat down. Mr. and Mrs. Saunders at the table where Mutt and Geoff looked after their wants, and Mac, Lua and myself back where the bottles were handy.

Mac asked me unhurried questions about myself and in the conversation that followed, I discovered that he had been on the island for twenty years and that to him the war had brought one blessing - a small scow, shot to bits, half burnt out and abandoned by her crew, but still sufficiently buoyant to float into that one tiny beach - her hold undamaged and full of enough medical supplies for a complete hospital.

"And now I've got all these saws and knives to cut people up with, no one gets sick, Jimmy." He paused as Malua refined our beakers. "Why, good heavens, there's not even a bad tooth on the whole island! Young William, who died the other day at the age of 95 was typical - broke his leg as a boy but never a day's sickness. He still had every one of his tusks - all as sound as a bell right up to the end - Heuch aye! - I'm sorely out of practice as a sawbones."

Finally the others joined us and the conversation became general.

For a while, it centered around the new bridge which Pop had been inspecting. Then under the influence of Mutt and Geoff it got around to hunting and sports generally and this subject started a discussion on the forthcoming pony races.

"What's this I hear about your team bolting and breaking all records today, Lua?" said Mr. Saunders, smiling. "I hear you just about pushed Mrs. Tomitte and her load of vegetables into the ditch."

"Oh, that was Gail's fault," Malua, answered. "She was caught by a Cupid - a beauty too - and then I got caught by another - and" she suddenly blushed crimson, "Jim got caught too." At which point everyone roared with laughter and Mac and Pop winked at each other.

"And so my team is all bust up," Malua went on when the riot died down a bit. "It's too bad - they're the fastest I've ever seen."

"Not faster than the one you ran in yourself your last pony year surely?' asked Mrs. Saunders in surprise.

Maula nodded. "I'm sure of it. Ask Jimmy - he had to hang on for dear life."

"Well," I said, "I'm hardly in a position to judge because I've never really seen any teams racing. All I can say is that never in all my life have I believed it possible that human beings could travel at such a fantastic speed, and apparently with such little effort.

"As a matter of fact, the whole thing has me a bit staggered you know," I went on. "What on earth is the reason for it and how did all this pony business start anyway? I think it's a perfectly wonderful idea."

Again everyone laughed. "We all say that," Mac chuckled. "Go on, Wendy - you explain it to him."

Mrs. Saunders took a sip of her wine. "It’s really quite simple, Jimmy," she began. "You see there have never been any horses on this island, and so, years and years ago - maybe two or three hundred or so - when the older folks got tired, they liked to have the children pull them around in wheel chairs. And, as you'll find out, though we may grow old in our bodies, we still stay young and happy in our minds. So the old folk started to boast, about how fast their pullers could go, and it wasn’t long before they were racing each other in their wheel chairs and betting like mad.

"Naturally the wheel chair changed in design - so that it could be light and handy - and instead of one, two or three girls would pull so that for each the load was even lighter.

All the young boys of course were busy learning hunting and fishing and building and doing the heavy work and so the business of pulling the 'gigs,' as we call them, became the sole duty of the girls from 19 to 21.

"Everything went on happily until one day there was a tragedy. One old lady had had a bad day. She'd come in last in every race and she blamed it on her team of two girls, although they'd done their best - and on the way home, she kept prodding them and smacking them with a stick until the girls lost their tempers. They turned around and pushed the gig backwards into the bushes at the side of the track, tipping the old lady out - a favorite trick at that time. There was a wild shriek and she disappeared completely.

"Realizing that something unforeseen had happened, the girls went back to investigate and discovered to their horror that the bushes concealed a deep crevice in the towering cliff - and that the old lady had fallen to her death on the rocks far below.

"Of course, there was a considerable to-do about it and, though it was a pure accident and the girls were not really to blame, the Chieftain decreed that from that day on all the ponies must be harnessed with their hands tied or secured in some way so that they were completely helpless and could not play tricks and that, to control them, they must have a bridle and bit.

"For the other side it was decreed that no driver should carry anything other than a very light whip. And," with a shrug of her lovely shoulders, "there you have the whole story, Jimmy."

"How did the girls of those days take to the new ruling?" I asked. "I mean the one about being strapped up in harness."

"They didn't mind in the least," Mrs. Saunders replied. "They were having as much fun with the racing as their aged drivers. And when the younger people, seeing no reason why only the old folks should have all this fun, began racing too, with all sorts of fancy and pretty strappings, it became so universally popular that finally all the carrying was done by the pony teams, as you could see this morning."

"That makes sense," I said. "And apart from this 'work' you have races? You were talking about them just now. Do you only have one meeting a year?"

"Oh, no!" Malua cut in. "There are always races going on, one team against another as a private wager, and also there are regular monthly meetings. But the one that is coming up, the one we were talking about, is THE show of the year.

"There are lovely competitions for the best turned out team, the best looking, the best in the parade at walking, running and prancing and so on. Oh, dear!" and she suddenly gasped. "You, of course, will have your team and you've almost no time to train them."

"Oh, so I get a team, too, do I?" said I, sitting up and taking notice.

"Of course you do," said Mac, chuckling away as merrily as ever. "How else would you get around?"

"Hm" I grunted. "Walking would be a bit slow wouldn't it?"

"But where do I keep my ponies when I'm not charging about the countryside, in a stable?"

"But, of course," said Mrs. Saunders. "At least a sort of stable. The groom, a younger girl, not old enough to be a pony, brings your team around at 6 in the morning, feeds the ponies and grooms them. And then, when you have decided on what harness you need, puts it on them. They are then at your disposal all day until 6 in the evening, when the groom takes them back home again. Sometimes, like tonight with us for example, you may want to keep them later than 6, but it's only done when there is some special reason."

It looked to me as if I was going to have a lot of fun, and without any unnecessary delay either. Pop and Mrs. Saunders agreed that I had better start looking around the next day - if Mac said I was fit enough - a matter on which I had no doubts myself.

"I still don't quite understand how you people have achieved this terrific speed," I remarked, still inquisitive. "And without the use of the arms for balance."

"Oh, not using the arms makes no difference." Malua said. "We always run that way. As soon as a baby is old enough to walk she asks to have her hands tied behind her back to practice running; that's all we think of, to be in the fastest team and to win the right to wear the jewelled hee's. Not being able to use your hands for anything is of course a bit of a nuisance at times, but that's all. The harness isn't the least uncomfortable, the ordinary one isn't anyway."

"Have you some extraordinary harness?" I queried, and again everyone found my simple question extremely amusing.

"Little girls are not always as good as they should be," said Mrs. Saunders. "And sometimes they have tantrums which, of course, cannot be allowed. So we have a punishment harness, which is very uncomfortable, and a training harness, which is almost as bad if your carriage is not up to the requirements of your driver." Then turning to Pop. "D'you remember that time before we were married and our evening was spoilt because Mrs. Ahuee kept me out late, and so I made a fuss, and nearly ran the gig into the ditch?"

"Do I not?" said Pop. "And she kept you strapped up in harness for a week and a punishment rig every other day. But it cured you Wendy, my dear - or did it?" and both he and Mac grinned.

"It was nothing to laugh about, Jimmy, I can assure you." she said turning to me. "It was beastly uncomfortable. And Pop there trying to sneak ice cream into my stable at night didn't make it any better, because kind Mrs. Ahuee had put a gag bit on me which only she could take off because - oh, my goodness! Talking of ice cream, and I've suddenly remembered that I've got a bucket freezing its head off in the larder! Now who wants some?"

There was a general chorus of "me" and as she stood up and turned, I noticed for the first time that she was standing and walking with perfect ease and grace on towering heels, like Maula’s.

I must have gaped like a fish, because old Mac chuckled. "Go on, Jimmy, you'd better ask another question. Those heels, tell him, Wendy."

"No, I'll leave that to Malua," she answered. "I've important ice cream business to attend to."

"I’ll help," said Mutt.

"Me, too," echoed Geoff and they scampered off together. I looked at Malua and then down at her feet, which she obligingly proceeded to turn this way and that so that I could fully appraise their beauty, and the exquisite lines of those heels.

"Again it's an awfully simple explanation, Jimmy," she began. "As little children, we not only run on our toes, but to strengthen our arches for speed we walk and stand on tip-toe all the time.

When we are finished as ponies, there is no need to continue the exercise and so we simply add a heel to our sandals which fits the height as we stand - we don't fit the heel - the heel fits us."

"As a matter of fact," said Mac, refilling our beakers, "this custom of standing and walking on tip-toe is quite in keeping with nature, and as you've no doubt observed" - his eyes twinkled - "the feet of the girls here are exceptionally beautiful, not particularly tiny, which is considered such an attraction in the outside world, but very slender and, as I've said, maybe more beautiful. Their arms and bodies are just normally healthy and strong, but the strength of their legs is something quite astonishing."

He paused and took a long swig of wine and then went on. "It's been one of the pleasantest professional studies I have ever undertaken - hrumph! I've been making a most intensive and close study of this subject for the past 20 years and I'll stake my reputation - which was once and still is considerable – that there is not one single girl here who would not be acclaimed without dispute as having the most beautiful legs in the outside world - if she was ever fool enough to go there - and a figure to match for that matter."

Further discussion on this very interesting topic was cut short by the entrance of the ice cream, which Mrs. Saunders began dolloping out in huge heaps for Mutt and Geoff to pass around.

"Is Cinders coming round for you later?" she said, turning to Mac. "Anyway I've plenty of ice cream for her."

"No," said Mac, his mouth full of the wonderful stuff. "I told her I'd be back soon. Jimmy, in spite of being to all outward appearance a husky young devil, has had a pretty tough time. You can't be blown up without any adverse effect on the system, and I want to get him to bed in reasonable time" - gulp - "got some pills I want you to take before you turn in, Jimmy" - gulp - "just to make sure you do get a good night's rest."

As a matter of fact, I was beginning to feel a bit ragged. I finished my ice cream and lit another cigarette, letting the others do the talking.

Finally Mac announced that he must go and that he wanted to see me off to bed before he did so. Malua rose, too, and said she must check that my room was O.K.

I said good night and Mac and I walked slowly to the door, then Mac found he had no cigarettes so he turned back and I went on alone. I met Malua in the doorway of my room, silhouetted in the light of the single lantern by my bed. "Pleasant dreams, Jimmy," she said, and we began to say goodnight in the logical manner. Unfortunately, we were disturbed by a heavy stumping, and old Mac yelling that his leg had gone to sleep again. Malua broke away with one last quick kiss and nearly collided with Mac as she turned the corner. Mac's eyes twinkled as he handed me the two pills. "You've got a far away look in your eye, high blood pressure probably - hrumph - now get into bed and swallow these, and take it easy tomorrow. I'll be around sometime to see how you are. You'll need to be in good form to pick your pony team. 'Good night, Jimmy, I'm glad I've met you" and with a fatherly pat on my cheek, he was gone.

So I got into bed, took the pills, blew out the light, and was soon on the surfboard again; but the mermaid now looked exactly like Malua - which I didn't mind in the least.

To be continued...