CHAPTER CIV.
Wherein Babbalanja Broaches A Diabolical Theory, And In His Own Person Proves It
“A truce!” cried Media, “here comes a gallant before the wind.—Look, Taji!”
Turning, we descried a sharp-prowed canoe, dashing on, under the pressure of an immense triangular sail, whose outer edges were streaming with long, crimson pennons. Flying before it, were several small craft, belonging to the poorer sort of Islanders.
“Out of his way there, ye laggards,” cried Media, “or that mad prince, Tribonnora, will ride over ye with a rush!”
“And who is Tribonnora,” said Babbalanja, “that he thus bravely diverts himself, running down innocent paddlers?”
“A harum-scarum young chief,” replied Media, “heir to three islands; he likes nothing better than the sport you now see see him at.”
“He must be possessed by a devil,” said Mohi.
Said Babbalanja, “Then he is only like all of us.” “What say you?” cried Media.
“I say, as old Bardianna in the Nine hundred and ninety ninth book of his immortal Ponderings saith, that all men—”
“As I live, my lord, he has swamped three canoes,” cried Mohi, pointing off the beam.