The next man I ask for information goes into irons with
Judge Blackstone if he doesn't answer me instantly with the information I
want. Munchausen, what island is that?"
"Ahem! that?" replied Munchausen, trembling, as he reflected upon the
Captain's threat. "What? Nobody knows what island that is? Why, you
surprise me--"
"See here, Baron," retorted Holmes, menacingly, "I ask you a plain
question, and I want a plain answer, with no evasions to gain time. Now
it's irons or an answer. What island is that?"
"It's an island that doesn't appear on any chart, Captain," Munchausen
responded instantly, pulling himself together for a mighty effort, "and it
has never been given a name; but as you insist upon having one, we'll call
it Holmes Island, in your honor. It is not stationary. It is a floating
island of lava formation, and is a menace to every craft that goes to sea.
I spent a year of my life upon it once, and it is more barren than the
desert of Sahara, because you cannot raise even sand upon it, and it is
devoid of water of any sort, salt or fresh."
"What did you live on during that year?" asked Holmes, eying him narrowly.
"Canned food from wrecks," replied the Baron, feeling much easier now that
he had got a fair start--"canned food from wrecks, commander. There is a
magnetic property in the upper stratum of this piece of derelict real
estate, sir, which attracts to it every bit of canned substance that is
lost overboard in all parts of the world.
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