Freddy Goes to the North Pole (5 page)

“A very laudable resolve, Mrs. Wiggins,” said Charles. “A very brave and noble resolution. I've been thinking myself for some time that a rescue party should be formed.”

“Then why didn't you say something about it?” Mrs. Wiggins demanded. She knew perfectly well that the idea had never occurred to the rooster.

“I thought it best to wait,” replied Charles with dignity, “until we were really sure that something hadn't gone wrong. We'd look rather foolish starting out to rescue them and then meeting them half a mile down the road, wouldn't we?”

“There are some things worse than looking foolish,” snapped Mrs. Wiggins, “though no selfish, stuck-up rooster would ever know it.”

“I take no offence at your words,” said Charles, “since I realize the anxiety that you must be feeling, and that, after all, I share with you. Certainly, though, you won't be permitted to go on this quest alone. I'm sure that every animal in the barnyard will want to take part. Personally—”

“They can do as they please,” Mrs. Wiggins interrupted. “I start tomorrow morning.” And she turned her back on Charles and went on moodily chewing her cud.

But the next morning when she came out of the cow-shed, firm in her resolve to start for the north without delay, she was surprised to find a great crowd of animals of all kinds waiting for her. The afternoon before, Charles had sent his eight daughters and his seven sons round to all the farms in the neighbourhood to call for volunteers for the rescue party, and as all the adventurers except Ferdinand were very popular, nearly every animal who could get away had agreed to go. There they were, waiting, and as Mrs. Wiggins came out they gave a cheer that brought the night-capped heads of Mr. and Mrs. Bean to the window.

“What's all this?” asked Mrs. Wiggins as the animals crowded around her.

“
What's all this?” asked Mrs. Wiggins

Charles stepped forward and explained. “Of course,” he said, “we can't all go, for there are nearly a hundred of us volunteers here, and the rescue party shouldn't consist of more than ten or fifteen. Some of us, therefore, will have to resign the privilege of engaging in this glorious venture and remain at home, disappointed, but happy in the knowledge that in volunteering we have done our manifest duty. In order to avoid the embarrassment which any of you may feel in dropping out now,” he went on, turning to the crowd of animals, “I will set the example by voluntarily withdrawing from the rescue party. Much as my heart has been set on it, eagerly as I have looked forward to this venture, I shall yet be able with dry eyes to watch the departure of the devoted band among whom I had hoped to number myself, since I shall—”

But the speech was never finished, for with an angry clucking Henrietta, his wife, pushed her way through the circle of curious animals. “What's all this I hear?” she demanded. “Not going, did you say? Well, just let me see you try to stay at home! You'll wish you'd never been hatched, that's all I've got to say! To desert your friends when they're in want and danger—I never heard such cowardly nonsense! You're going, and, what's more, I'm going with you, to see there's no shirking.”

“Tut, tut, my dear,” said Charles in a whisper. “You don't understand. Of course I'm going. But all these animals can't go, and I was merely—”

But Henrietta cuffed him aside with her wing. “You be quiet, young man, if you know what's good for you.—And now, Mrs. Wiggins,” she went on, “I take it what you want is to get started as soon as possible. If we let my husband do any more talking, we shan't get started for a week. What I suggest is that you select the animals you want to have with you on this trip yourself. Isn't that fair, animals?”

They all agreed and formed a long line, which went twice around the barnyard and out into the road, and Mrs. Wiggins walked up and down and tried to make her choice, but all the animals wanted to go so badly that she didn't have the heart to dismiss any of them, and finally she got so mixed up and confused that she just sat down in the middle of the barnyard and cried.

Mrs. Wiggins didn't have much of an education, but she had a good heart, and all the animals were very fond of her, so they all crowded round to try to cheer her up. But there were so many of them that those on the outside of the crowd who couldn't get near her began to push, and then the ones they had pushed got angry and pushed back, and pretty soon the whole barnyard was a mob of angry animals, growling and pushing and shoving, and in the middle, almost smothered, was Mrs. Wiggins.

Goodness knows what might have happened if at that moment Charles's eldest daughter, Leah, whose turn it was to sit on the fence and watch the road, hadn't come dashing into the yard with the news that she thought she had seen Ferdinand away off up the road. At once all the animals disentangled themselves and rushed out the gate, and, sure enough, a quarter of a mile up the road they saw a small black figure coming slowly towards them. It limped, and one wing hung down and trailed in the dust, but it was certainly a crow, and as it came nearer, they saw that it was indeed Ferdinand.

The animals surrounded him and nearly deafened him with questions. Since he couldn't have been heard if he had tried to answer, he simply trudged along through the gate, across the yard, and into the barn, where he took a long drink from the watering-trough, then came outside and raised his claw for silence.

“My friends,” he said when his audience had stopped whispering and shuffling and trying to edge themselves into a better position, “I have been on the road for nearly two months, walking all the time, for, as you see, my wing is broken. To tell you all that has happened is too long a story, for I have come back to get help, and we must start at once. But three months ago we had reached the Arctic Ocean. We had camped on the shore while Freddy worked out with his map the route we were to follow in our dash for the pole. Everything had gone well so far; we were very happy and comfortable in the tent we made with the blankets, and with few exceptions all the animals of the North had been very friendly and helpful. It was warmer that night than it had been in some time, and all around us we heard the ice cracking and booming as it split and melted. We thought we had camped far enough back from the shore to be safe, but in the morning when we stepped outside the tent door, there was water all around us. The piece of ice we had been camping on had split off during the night and we were on an iceberg in the middle of the Arctic Ocean.”

A buzz of excitement went up from the animals and they crowded closer to listen. Mrs. Wiggins was sobbing softly. “My poor sister,” she gulped.

“You needn't be alarmed, madam,” said Ferdinand impatiently. “Your sister is quite safe. Whether you will ever see her again, however, is another matter. To continue: we had plenty to eat, and our fur coats and the tent kept us warm. But as we drifted, day after day, the iceberg slowly melted and large chunks split off and fell into the water. It was only a matter of time when there would no longer be room for us all to stand on it. As the only member of the party who could fly, I had gone on a number of scouting expeditions to see if we could get help. But although a number of animals were willing to do anything they could, there was really nothing they could do. A school of whales came by one day, and they all put their heads against the berg and tried to push it towards land, but it was so slippery that they kept slipping off and bumping into one another, and finally they gave up.

“On one of my flights I had seen that we were approaching land, and I figured that we should pass within half a mile of it in about two days. We had decided that our only chance of escape was for the animals to try to swim that half-mile to shore. There was little hope of their reaching it, for even Freddy, who, as you know, is a champion swimmer and has won several prizes, could not hope to stay long afloat in that icy water. But there was no other way, and we had made up our minds to it, when on the very morning we had fixed for the attempt, on coming out of the ice cave in which we had been camping, we saw that a ship had come alongside the berg, and the sailors were climbing up its steep sides. They had seen the phaeton, which stood outside the cave on a ledge, and had come to find out how it got there.

“The sailors were greatly surprised to find a cow and a cat and a dog and a pig and a horse and a crow on an iceberg in the open sea, and they took us all on board and made quite a fuss over us. They were particularly delighted with Mrs. Wogus, for the only milk they had had for the past six months had been condensed milk out of a can. Just before we all went aboard, Freddy took me aside. ‘Don't let them catch you, Ferdinand,' he said. ‘These sailors won't let us go if they can help it, but there's still hope while you're free.' So I flew up on top of the berg where they couldn't reach me. I stayed round for two days, and I must say those sailors treated the animals like kings and queens. They took turns riding Hank round the deck, and they made leather collars for Jinx and Robert, and they were so pleased with Mrs. Wogus that they gave her a cabin all to herself with lace curtains at the windows, and the captain took off his hat to her whenever she came on deck. They treated Freddy well, too, but I didn't just like the greedy way some of them looked at him, and once when Freddy went by, I saw the mate nudge the captain in the ribs, and heard him say: ‘A nice dish of pig's knuckles and sauerkraut now, eh, Mr. Hooker?' And the captain said: ‘Chops, Mr. Pomeroy; chops is my choice—with a bit of apple.' And they both licked their lips and grinned.

“Well, that can't be helped, and what's happened now, nobody knows. For my part, I think they were just fooling and said those things because they wanted to see Freddy get pale. Pigs look so funny when they are scared. But, to make a long story short, on the third day Freddy said to me: ‘You'd better go now. I've found out that this ship is a whaling ship, but they've had a bad year and haven't caught a single whale, so they've decided to take a vacation from whaling and see if they can't find Santa Claus's house. You know he lives up round the north pole somewhere. They're going to sail north as far as they can, and then when they get stuck in the ice, they'll go on foot. You'd better fly home as fast as you can and bring help for us.' Then he said good-bye to me. ‘You may never see me again, Ferdinand,' he said mournfully. ‘These sailors are nice and friendly to me, but they're big fat men, all pork-eaters—I can tell a pork-eater just by the way he looks at me, so greedy it makes me fairly blush sometimes—and what's friendship to a hungry man?' ‘Oh, cheer up,' I said. ‘A little pig like you wouldn't make more'n a breakfast for the cabin boy. They'll try to fatten you up first, and if you're careful of your diet and watch the calories and keep off starchy foods, you'll stay thin, and I'll round up some of your friends and have them back here to rescue you before anything serious happens.' Well, that didn't seem to comfort him much, for Freddy likes to eat almost better than he likes to make up poetry, but we said good-bye and I started flying home. I'd have been here long before this, for I was flying day and night, if I hadn't run into a telegraph wire on the fourth night and broken my wing. It's mending all right and I'll be able to fly in another week, but meanwhile I've had to walk.

“And now I've talked enough. I call for volunteers to rescue our friends and neighbours from captivity in the Far North. Who'll go?”

CHAPTER V

THE RESCUE PARTY

Of course all the animals wanted to go, but Ferdinand wouldn't stand for any nonsense, and he lined them up and very soon had picked five and dismissed the others. Those he had chosen grouped themselves round him, looking very important. There were Mrs. Wiggins, and Jack, the big black dog, and a wise old grey horse who lived over near Centerboro and had once been in a circus. He was Hank's uncle, and everybody called him Uncle William. And there was a porcupine named Cecil, who lived back in the woods and was very slow and lazy and rather stupid, but Ferdinand thought he would be a good one to have along, since a porcupine can go anywhere and no other animal will molest him. And lastly there was a close friend of Ferdinand's, a wicked-looking billy-goat (his name really was Bill), whom none of the animals liked because he was so malicious and bad-tempered. The only nice thing about him was that he was so fond of Ferdinand. They used to spend hours together down in the far pasture, their heads together, and the other animals, hearing the crow's harsh laughter and the goat's wicked giggle, used to wonder what mischief they were hatching. But, whatever it was, none of them ever found out.