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Author:
みのろう (Minorou)
Translator:
Yukkuri Oniisan!
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Online Grammar Editor!
Chapter 2
The Kingdom’s Miscalculation
Part 3
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I stuffed a shirt or two into my old carpet-bag,tucked it under my arm, and started for Cape Horn and the Pacific. Quitting thegood city of old Manhatto, I duly arrived in New Bedford. It was a Sat.u.r.daynight in December. Much was I disappointed upon learning that the little packetfor Nantucket had already sailed, and that no way of reaching that place wouldoffer, till the following Monday.
As most young candidates for the pains and penaltiesof whaling stop at this same New Bedford, thence to embark on their voyage, itmay as well be related that I, for one, had no idea of so doing. For my mindwas made up to sail in no other than a Nantucket craft, because there was afine, boisterous something about everything connected with that famous oldisland, which amazingly pleased me. Besides though New Bedford has of late beengradually monopolising the business of whaling, and though in this matter poorold Nantucket is now much behind her, yet Nantucket was her great original—theTyre of this Carthage;—the place where the first dead American whale wasstranded. Where else but from Nantucket did those aboriginal whalemen, theRed-Men, first sally out in canoes to give chase to the Leviathan? And wherebut from Nantucket, too, did that first adventurous little sloop put forth,partly laden with imported cobblestones—so goes the story—to throw at thewhales, in order to discover when they were nigh enough to risk a harpoon fromthe bowsprit?
Now having a night, a day, and still another nightfollowing before me in New Bedford, ere I could embark for my destined port, itbecame a matter of concernment where I was to eat and sleep meanwhile. It was avery dubious-looking, nay, a very dark and dismal night, bitingly cold andcheerless. I knew no one in the place. With anxious grapnels I had sounded mypocket, and only brought up a few pieces of silver,—So, wherever you go,Ishmael, said I to myself, as I stood in the middle of a dreary streetshouldering my bag, and comparing the gloom towards the north with the darknesstowards the south—wherever in your wisdom you may conclude to lodge for thenight, my dear Ishmael, be sure to inquire the price, and don"t be tooparticular.
With halting steps I paced the streets, and pa.s.sed thesign of “The Crossed Harpoons”—but it looked too expensive and jolly there.Further on, from the bright red windows of the “Sword-Fish Inn,” there camesuch fervent rays, that it seemed to have melted the packed snow and ice frombefore the house, for everywhere else the congealed frost lay ten inches thickin a hard, asphaltic pavement,—rather weary for me, when I struck my footagainst the flinty projections, because from hard, remorseless service thesoles of my boots were in a most miserable plight. Too expensive and jolly,again thought I, pausing one moment to watch the broad glare in the street, andhear the sounds of the tinkling gla.s.ses within. But go on, Ishmael, said I atlast; don"t you hear? get away from before the door; your patched boots arestopping the way. So on I went. I now by instinct followed the streets thattook me waterward, for there, doubtless, were the cheapest, if not thecheeriest inns.
Such dreary streets! blocks of blackness, not houses,on either hand, and here and there a candle, like a candle moving about in atomb. At this hour of the night, of the last day of the week, that quarter ofthe town proved all but deserted. But presently I came to a smoky lightproceeding from a low, wide building, the door of which stood invitingly open.It had a careless look, as if it were meant for the uses of the public; so, entering,the first thing I did was to stumble over an ash-box in the porch. Ha! thoughtI, ha, as the flying particles almost choked me, are these ashes from thatdestroyed city, Gomorrah? But “The Crossed Harpoons,” and “TheSword-Fish?”—this, then must needs be the sign of “The Trap.” However, I pickedmyself up and hearing a loud voice within, pushed on and opened a second,interior door.
It seemed the great Black Parliament sitting inTophet. A hundred black faces turned round in their rows to peer; and beyond, ablack Angel of Doom was beating a book in a pulpit. It was a negro church; andthe preacher"s text was about the blackness of darkness, and the weeping andwailing and teeth-gnashing there. Ha, Ishmael, muttered I, backing out,Wretched entertainment at the sign of "The Trap!"
Moving on, I at last came to a dim sort of light notfar from the docks, and heard a forlorn creaking in the air; and looking up,
saw a swinging sign over the door with a white painting upon it, faintlyrepresenting a tall straight jet of misty spray, and these wordsunderneath—“The Spouter Inn:—Peter Coffin.”
Coffin?—Spouter?—Rather ominous in that particularconnexion, thought I. But it is a common name in Nantucket, they say, and Isuppose this Peter here is an emigrant from there. As the light looked so dim,and the place, for the time, looked quiet enough, and the dilapidated littlewooden house itself looked as if it might have been carted here from the ruinsof some burnt district, and as the swinging sign had a poverty-stricken sort ofcreak to it, I thought that here was the very spot for cheap lodgings, and thebest of pea coffee.
It was a queer sort of place—a gable-ended old house,one side palsied as it were, and leaning over sadly. It stood on a sharp bleakcorner, where that tempestuous wind Euroclydon kept up a worse howling thanever it did about poor Paul"s tossed craft. Euroclydon, nevertheless, is amighty pleasant zephyr to any one in-doors, with his feet on the hob quietlytoasting for bed. “In judging of that tempestuous wind called Euroclydon,” saysan old writer—of whose works I possess the only copy extant—“it maketh amarvellous difference, whether thou lookest out at it from a gla.s.s window wherethe frost is all on the outside, or whether thou observest it from thatsashless window, where the frost is on both sides, and of which the wight Deathis the only glazier.” True enough, thought I, as this pa.s.sage occurred to mymind—old black-letter, thou reasonest well. Yes, these eyes are windows, andthis body of mine is the house. What a pity they didn"t stop up the c.h.i.n.ks andthe crannies though, and thrust in a little lint here and there. But it"s toolate to make any improvements now. The universe is finished; the copestone ison, and the chips were carted off a million years ago. Poor Lazarus there,chattering his teeth against the curbstone for his pillow, and shaking off histatters with his shiverings, he might plug up both ears with rags, and put acorn-cob into his mouth, and yet that would not keep out the tempestuousEuroclydon. Euroclydon! says old Dives, in his red silken wrapper—(he had aredder one afterwards) pooh, pooh! What a fine frosty night; how Orionglitters; what northern lights! Let them talk of their oriental summer climesof everlasting conservatories; give me the privilege of making my own summerwith my own coals.
But what thinks Lazarus? Can he warm his blue hands byholding them up to the grand northern lights? Would not Lazarus rather be inSumatra than here? Would he not far rather lay him down lengthwise along theline of the equator; yea, ye G.o.ds! go down to the fiery pit itself, in order tokeep out this frost?
Now, that Lazarus should lie stranded there on thecurbstone before the door of Dives, this is more wonderful than that an icebergshould be moored to one of the Moluccas. Yet Dives himself, he too lives like aCzar in an ice palace made of frozen sighs, and being a president of atemperance society, he only drinks the tepid tears of orphans.
But no more of this blubbering now, we are goingwhaling, and there is plenty of that yet to come. Let us sc.r.a.pe the ice fromour frosted feet, and see what sort of a place this “Spouter” may be.
The Knights’ distance with the villagers was justbelow 500 meters.
The villagers faces were paralyzed with fear as theydesperately flee.
The drawn swords are the sign of the incoming slaughterfest.There were also fine women mixed amongst the fleeing ma.s.s. Soon, it will be anotherGim…… Imagining the tragic future that will befall his preys, a smile broke onJove’s face.
「Chargeeeeee──────‼!」
「「「UOOOooooooo‼!」
The cavalry squadron increased their horse’s speed evenmore and scattered a large amount of dust as they dashed forward.
「── Captain! There’s something glowing in the sky!」
Suddenly, a subordinate with the best eyesight in thesquadron yelled and pointed at the sky.
「Hah?…… What is it !?」
When Jove looked up at the sky, a spear of light flewstraight towards them.
── So fast!
Instinctively sensing a danger, he pulled the reinsand cried out while taking an evasive action.
「Avoid it!!!」
The light spear pierced through the Hawk KnightsOrder’s 15th Cavalry Squadron without they able to avoid it.
✦✧✦✧✦
Parun was like seeing a dream.
Just after he shouted towards the Heaven, a spear oflight flew over him.
The ‘Light’ burst open near the Lourian soldiers, andimmediately after that, an ear-splitting thunderous roar and shock wave moweddown the surroundings.
「Wuuaaaa‼」
Soil was flying around as if the earth itself had erupted,even the Lourian soldiers outside the blast radius fell down together withtheir horse.
It was as if the Wrath of G.o.d hadn’t been satisfiedyet, Light Spears continued to rain down one after another.
Streak of flashes, roar of thunders.
With a tremendous exploding flame, the earth was charreddown.
In the "Three Coins," Charmides asks thesharper"s name.
Sh. You demand an arduous task.
Charmides. How so?
Sh. Because if you were to begin before daylight atthe first part of my name "twould be dead of night before you could reach theend of it. I have another somewhat less, about the size of a wine cask.
In the "Persian," Toxilus gives his name asfollows,
"Vaniloquidorus Virginisvendonides
Nugipolyloquides Argentiexterebronides
Tedigniloquides Nummorumexpalponides
Quodsemelarripides
Nunquamposteareddides."
There are a few other cases in which there is aplaying upon sound, as where Demipho remarks that if he had such a good-lookinggirl as Pasicompsa for a servant, all the people would be "staring,gazing, nodding, winking, hissing, twitching, crying, annoying, andserenading."
The failings of the fair seems always to have been afavourite subject for men"s attack, but reflections of this kind have decreasedin number and acerbity since the days of Aristophanes. We find, however, somein Plautus, such as the following:—
"Love is a fawning flatterer. For he that is inlove, soon as ever he has been smitten with the kisses of the object he loves,forthwith his substance vanishes out of doors, and melts away. "Give me this,my honey, if you love me." And then Gudgeon says, "Oh apple of my eye, boththat and still more, if you wish." He who plunges into love perishes moredreadfully than if he leapt from a rock. Away with you, Love, if youplease."
He is fully alive to the power of this destructivepa.s.sion. In one place Philolaches half mad with love and jealousy sees hismistress looking into a mirror. "Ah, wretched me," he exclaimspa.s.sionately, "she gave the mirror a kiss. I wish I had a stone to breakthe head of that mirror."[20]
The love of money has always been a stock subject withhumorists. This common weakness of human nature can be played upon even bythose who can produce no other wit, and many worse jokes have been made on itthan the following,—
Calidorus asks his servant, Pseudolus, to lend him adrachma.
P. What for?
C. To buy a rope to hang myself.
P. Who then will pay me back? Do you wish to hangyourself to cheat me out of my drachma?
The "Concealed Treasure" turns on an old manhaving found a pot of gold. He conceals it, and his nervousness lest some oneshould discover it is brought out with excellent humour. He drives the cooksout of the place with his stick. He has a battle-royal with a dunghill c.o.c.k,who, he imagines is trying to scratch for it, then thinks Strobilus has stolenit, and calls on him to show one hand, and the other, and then the third.
We are the more inclined to lament the utterdestruction of ancient African literature on finding that the most refinedRoman dramas were placed upon the stage by a Carthaginian, when Plautus, whoseenterprize and perseverance had given the great impetus to Latin comedy, wasapproaching the end of his long life. Terence was born the last, and as somethink the greatest master in this branch of Art. He was at one time a slave,but his literary talent was so remarkable that his master set him free, and hebecame the friend of distinguished men, especially of Scipio the younger. Itmust seem strange that this brilliancy should have flashed up for a moment, andthen been for ever quenched, but it was derived from Greece and not in itsnature enduring. The genius of Menander fed the flame of Terence, as that ofDiphilus and others gave power to Plautus, and it may well be supposed that menof their talent appropriated all that was most excellent, and left theirsuccessors to draw from inferior sources. It may, moreover, be doubted, whetherthe regular drama was ever popular among the lower cla.s.ses in Rome, whopreferred the more exciting scenes of the circus. Such plays as were intendedfor them were coa.r.s.er and more sensational.
Terence has not the rough power and drollery ofPlautus; his whole attraction lies in the subtlety of his amorous intrigues.Steele, speaking of one of the plays, "The Self-Tormentor," observes,"It is from the beginning to the end a perfect picture of human life, butI did not observe in the whole one pa.s.sage that could possibly raise alaugh." It was for this reason, no doubt, that Cæsar spoke of him as only"half a Menander," and as deficient in comic force. Ingeniouscomplexity is so exclusively his aim, that we have neither the coa.r.s.eness northe sparkle of earlier writers. He was the first to introduce Comedies, whichwere not comic, and whatever humour he introduces is that of situation.
「T-…… the Louria soldiers scattered!!」
「W-what is happening!?」
Someone shouted.
The scarred and frightened Louria soldiers scatteredto all directions, their file and rank completely fell into chaos.
The scattered cavalry on the front was struck by yetanother Light Spear.
With a power enough to turn the earth inside out, thecavalry engulfed by that shock blown away into pieces together with theirhorse.
✦✧✦✧✦
「d.a.m.n it !! What the h.e.l.l is that !!」
Red Eyed Jove looked up at the sky.
A phenomenon that they couldn’t understand washappening before their eyes. Black and slender inorganic objects were hovering inthe sky while giving off whirling loud roars. Every time it emitted a light, theircomrade blown apart by a violent explosion.
The enemy was in the sky, they had no means to attack themfrom ground.
「b.a.s.t.a.r.ds! This is a foul play!」
Jove and his surviving subordinates were trying to turnaround towards their encampments―――
「Eh……?」
On the next moment, his eyes saw a sight of himselfand his horse shattered. Red Eyed Jove was smashed to smithereens by a rocketfrom the JGSDF’s attack helicopter, 『AH-1S Cobra』.
The Hawk Knights Order 15th Cavalry Squadron wasannihilated in just mere seconds.
✦✧✦✧✦
Before long, numerous flying ships appeared from theeastern sky.
While giving off fear-inducing whirling sounds, theobjects, that had cast huge magic capable to roast the earth, pa.s.sed throughthe over the villagers with great speed. Fierce winds flew underneath the bigobjects, the raging strong wind increased the villagers’ fear.
Parun looked up at the objects.
He was captivated by the mysterious arks with variousshape, but he noticed that on each hull there was a red circle like a sun drawnon it.
(―――! Sun? There is a drawing of the sun’s symbol‼ So the Sun G.o.d’s Messengerreally comes‼)
The flying ships with long plate turning around on itsfront and back descended to the ground, and the door on its side hull opened, wherepeople wearing green clothing alighted from inside.
「Who are them? Those people with dirty looking green clothes?」
「They don’t look like soldiers, but…… What their ident.i.ty is?」
The villagers who, was saved from Louria Kingdom’sSoldiers and relieved that they still held their lives for the moment, became wary of the people that appeared beforethem. They were not a member of Louria Kingdom Army, but they also were notQuToyne Princ.i.p.ality Army either. Although they looked like belong to the humanrace, they didn’t appear like soldier at all, their whole body was smeared withmud or sand, and they wore clothing with a disordered pattern like ruffians.They were carrying something like a black tube with handle in their hand.
One of them, a person who didn’t carry the black thing,put a strange thing near his mouth and let out a loud voice.
『Is there anyone injured?』
To that loud voice that couldn’t be thought of comingout from a human, the villagers were surprised and frozen in silence.
In the first place, those people hold overwhelmingpower enough to annihilate the cavalry in mere seconds. If the villagers madethem angry, they might lose their own lives. Perhaps if they report the injuredpeople, would they be killed since they wouldn’t be useful for the labor force?Or will they be sacrificed to the monster that cast those powerful magic?
Parun who believes that they are the Sun G.o.d’sMessengers moved forward without fear.
「Thank you for helping us. Are ojii-chan(uncles)s the Sun G.o.d’s Messenger-sama?」
At the boy’s question, the SDF personnel was confused fora few moments and tilted his head.
(Sun’s Messenger? ―――Oh, perhaps because the j.a.panese flag is the sun, so he misunderstands? It’ssimple to correct him…… but this is just a child’s word. It will be lesstroublesome if I just agree with him.)
During this military operation, they must guide civiliansand evacuate them as soon as possible. He thought that a white lie will bealright, so he nodded and answered.
「Yes, that"s right. We came to save you, so you don’t need to worry anymore.」
The villagers looked at each other and began acommotion.
Seeing this situation, the SDF personal slightly regretted,(Ah! I’ve done it).
「Th-…… The Sun G.o.d’s Messenger he says!?」
「Now that he mentioned, there is a picture of the sun on the hull!!」
「You’re right!! The sun is also on their clothes’ shoulder!」
「A Divine Ship that flies in the sky…… a powerful magic that burns theearth…… and a mark that symbolizes the sun G.o.d! There is no mistake!! The G.o.dof the Elves once again prayed for the Sun G.o.d to sent His Messengers.」
「Oh…… Sun G.o.d! We offer our grat.i.tude for sending Your Mighty Messenger torescue us.」
The village chief, as the representative of thevillage, moved forward and stood beside Parun before offering his grat.i.tude.
「Sun G.o.d’s Messenger-sama, we offer our utmost grat.i.tude for saving our lifeon this occasion.」
「We-…… We are just doing the right thing. I’m really glad that we make it ontime. Now, this way ―――」
While having a cramp on his face, the SDF personnelattempted to guide the villagers into the transport helicopter 『CH-47 Chinook』, when the villagers suddenly bowed down to the ground.
「We are truly…… truly thankful!!」
「Ah, please raise your head! Come now, quick enter. We will transport you toa safer place……」
「It will be disrespectful for us to not supplicate ourselves in front of theSun G.o.d’s Messenger-sama……」
「Umm, it will be alright…… So, please could you quickly get on here?」
「We can’t possibly do that! To ride on the Divine Ship, we are not worthy……」
The SDF personnel who came to the rescue would need aconsiderable amount of time to solve this misunderstanding.
Following this view we find him often sarcastic, butnot personal, the names being fict.i.tious, or if not, those of well known publicmen. In a few instances he is a little ill-natured, and writes, "Laugh, ifthou art wise, girl, laugh, said Ovid, but he did not say this to all girls,not, for instance, to Maximina, who has only three teeth, and those the colourof pitch and boxwood. Avoid the pantomimes of Philistion and gay feasts. Itbefits you to sit beside an afflicted mother, and a wife lamenting her husband.Weep, if thou art wise, girl, weep."
Martial often uses the figure called by the Greekgrammarians "contrary to expectation." The point of the whole epigramlies in the last word or line, which changes the drift of the whole.
"His funeral pile was strewn with reed,
His tearful wife brought fragrant myrrh,
The bier, the grave, the ointment were prepared,
He named me as his heir, and he—got well."
"Sorry is Athenagoras not to send the gifts,
Which in mid-winter he is wont to send;
Whether he be sorry I shall shortly see,
But sorry he has certainly made me."
"You feast so often without me, Lupercus,
I"ve found a way by which to pay you out,
I am incensed, and if you should invite me,
What would I do, you ask me? Why—I"d come."
The growing appreciation of this kind of writing hadalready led Meleager, a cynic philosopher of Gadara, to form the firstcollection of Greek epigrams, which he prettily termed the anthology orbouquet. Martial has been commended at the expense of the Greeks, but heborrowed considerably from them in form and matter. His epigrams were moreuniformly suggestive and concentrated than those of any previous writer, and helargely contributed to raise such compositions from being merely inscriptiveinto a branch of literature. He opened a new field, and the larger portion ofthese productions in Greek were written about this time. They are not generallyhumorous, with the exception of a few from Philo and Leonidas of Alexandria wholived about 60 B.C., from Ammia.n.u.s in 120 B.C., and from Lucilius, a greatcomposer of this kind, of whose history nothing is known but that he lived inthe reign of Nero. The following are from the last-mentioned.
"Some say, Nicylla, that thou dyest thy hair,which thou boughtest most black at the market."
"All the astrologers prophesied that my unclewould be long-lived except Hermocleides, who said he would not be so. This,however, was not until we were lamenting his death."
The following are free translations from the samewriter.
"Poor Cleon out of envy died,
His brother thief to see
Nailed near him to be crucified
Upon a higher tree."
On a bad painter.
"You paint Deucalion and Phaeton,
And ask what price for each you should require;
I"ll tell you what they"re worth before you"ve done,
One deserves water, and the other fire."
The works of Lucian are generally regarded as forminga part of Roman literature, although they were written in Greek by a native ofSamosata in Syria. In them we have an intermingling of the warm imagination ofthe East with the cold sceptical philosophy of the West. Lucian was originallybrought up to be a stone-cutter, but he had an insatiable desire for learning,and in his "Dream" he tells us how he seemed to be carried aloft onthe wings of Pegasus. He became a pleader at the bar, but soon found that"deceit, lies, impudence, and chicanery" were inseparable from thatprofession. In disgust he betook himself to philosophy, but could not restrainhis indignation when he found so many base men throwing the blame of theirconduct on Plato, Chrysippus, Pythagoras, and other great men. "A fellowwho tells you that the wise man alone is rich, comes the next moment and asksyou for money—just as if a person in regal array should go about begging."He says they pay no more attention to the doctrines they teach than if theirwords were tennis b.a.l.l.s to play with in schools. "There is," hecontinues, "a story told of a certain king of Egypt, who took a fancy tohave apes taught to dance. The apes, as they are apt to mimic human actions,came on in their lessons and improved very fast, and were soon fit to appear onthe public stage, and display their skill, dressed in purple robes, with maskson their faces. The spectators were much pleased with them for a considerabletime, when a wag who was present, having brought with him a quant.i.ty of nuts,threw a handful amongst them. The dance was immediately forgotten, and theperformers from pyrrhic dancers, relapsed into apes, who went chattering andsnapping at one another, and fighting for nuts; so that in a few moments themasks were crumpled, the clothes torn to rags, and the ape dance, which hadbeen so much extolled, terminated amidst peals of laughter. Such is the historyof mock philosophers."
The above story may serve to exhibit Lucian"s views,and his love of humorous ill.u.s.tration. He indulges in many fancies, such as thecomplaint of the letter S against T, which had in Attic been subst.i.tuted forit.
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What the Louria Kingdom reaction at their mysteriously annihilated CavalrySquadron?