The Return of Tarzan
by
Edgar Rice Burroughs
Part 3 out of 6
which is also angry.
"Your knife," said Tarzan to the girl, extending his hand. She
slipped the hilt of the weapon into his waiting palm. As his fingers
closed upon it he drew her back and pushed her behind him. "Walk
back to the desert as rapidly as you can. If you hear me call you
will know that all is well, and you may return."
"It is useless," she replied, resignedly. "This is the end."
"Do as I tell you," he commanded. "Quickly! He is about to charge."
The girl dropped back a few paces, where she stood watching for
the terrible sight that she knew she should soon witness.
The lion was advancing slowly toward Tarzan, his nose to the ground,
like a challenging bull, his tail extended now and quivering as
though with intense excitement.
The ape-man stood, half crouching, the long Arab knife glistening
in the moonlight. Behind him the tense figure of the girl, motionless
as a carven statue. She leaned slightly forward, her lips parted,
her eyes wide. Her only conscious thought was wonder at the
bravery of the man who dared face with a puny knife the lord with
the large head. A man of her own blood would have knelt in prayer
and gone down beneath those awful fangs without resistance. In
either case the result would be the same--it was inevitable; but
she could not repress a thrill of admiration as her eyes rested
upon the heroic figure before her. Not a tremor in the whole giant
frame--his attitude as menacing and defiant as that of EL ADREA
himself.
The lion was quite close to him now--but a few paces intervened--he
crouched, and then, with a deafening roar, he sprang.
Chapter 11
John Caldwell, London
As Numa EL ADREA launched himself with widespread paws and bared
fangs he looked to find this puny man as easy prey as the score who
had gone down beneath him in the past. To him man was a clumsy,
slow-moving, defenseless creature--he had little respect for him.
But this time he found that he was pitted against a creature as
agile and as quick as himself. When his mighty frame struck the
spot where the man had been he was no longer there.
The watching girl was transfixed by astonishment at the ease with
which the crouching man eluded the great paws. And now, O Allah!
He had rushed in behind EL ADREA'S shoulder even before the beast
could turn, and had grasped him by the mane. The lion reared upon
his hind legs like a horse--Tarzan had known that he would do this,
and he was ready. A giant arm encircled the black-maned throat,
and once, twice, a dozen times a sharp blade darted in and out of
the bay-black side behind the left shoulder.
Frantic were the leaps of Numa--awful his roars of rage and pain;
but the giant upon his back could not be dislodged or brought
within reach of fangs or talons in the brief interval of life that
remained to the lord with the large head. He was quite dead when
Tarzan of the Apes released his hold and arose. Then the daughter
of the desert witnessed a thing that terrified her even more than
had the presence of EL ADREA. The man placed a foot upon the carcass
of his kill, and, with his handsome face raised toward the full
moon, gave voice to the most frightful cry that ever had smote upon
her ears.
With a little cry of fear she shrank away from him--she thought
that the fearful strain of the encounter had driven him mad. As
the last note of that fiendish challenge died out in the diminishing
echoes of the distance the man dropped his eyes until they rested
upon the girl.
Instantly his face was lighted by the kindly smile that was ample
assurance of his sanity, and the girl breathed freely once again,
smiling in response.
"What manner of man are you?" she asked. "The thing you have done
is unheard of. Even now I cannot believe that it is possible for a
lone man armed only with a knife to have fought hand to hand with
EL ADREA and conquered him, unscathed--to have conquered him at
all. And that cry--it was not human. Why did you do that?"
Tarzan flushed. "It is because I forget," he said, "sometimes,
that I am a civilized man. When I kill it must be that I am another
creature." He did not try to explain further, for it always seemed
to him that a woman must look with loathing upon one who was yet
so nearly a beast.
Together they continued their journey. The sun was an hour high
when they came out into the desert again beyond the mountains.
Beside a little rivulet they found the girl's horses grazing. They
had come this far on their way home, and with the cause of their
fear no longer present had stopped to feed.
With little trouble Tarzan and the girl caught them, and, mounting,
rode out into the desert toward the DOUAR of Sheik Kadour ben Saden.
No sign of pursuit developed, and they came in safety about nine
o'clock to their destination. The sheik had but just returned.
He was frantic with grief at the absence of his daughter, whom he
thought had been again abducted by the marauders. With fifty men
he was already mounted to go in search of her when the two rode
into the DOUAR.
His joy at the safe return of his daughter was only equaled by
his gratitude to Tarzan for bringing her safely to him through the
dangers of the night, and his thankfulness that she had been in
time to save the man who had once saved her.
No honor that Kadour ben Saden could heap upon the ape-man in
acknowledgment of his esteem and friendship was neglected. When
the girl had recited the story of the slaying of EL ADREA Tarzan
was surrounded by a mob of worshiping Arabs--it was a sure road to
their admiration and respect.
The old sheik insisted that Tarzan remain indefinitely as his
guest. He even wished to adopt him as a member of the tribe, and
there was for some time a half-formed resolution in the ape-man's
mind to accept and remain forever with these wild people, whom he
understood and who seemed to understand him. His friendship and
liking for the girl were potent factors in urging him toward an
affirmative decision.
Had she been a man, he argued, he should not have hesitated, for it
would have meant a friend after his own heart, with whom he could
ride and hunt at will; but as it was they would be hedged by the
conventionalities that are even more strictly observed by the wild
nomads of the desert than by their more civilized brothers and
sisters. And in a little while she would be married to one of these
swarthy warriors, and there would be an end to their friendship.
So he decided against the sheik's proposal, though he remained a
week as his guest.
When he left, Kadour ben Saden and fifty white-robed warriors rode
with him to Bou Saada. While they were mounting in the DOUAR of
Kadour ben Saden the morning of their departure, the girl came to
bid farewell to Tarzan.
"I have prayed that you would remain with us," she said simply,
as he leaned from his saddle to clasp her hand in farewell, "and
now I shall pray that you will return." There was an expression
of wistfulness in her beautiful eyes, and a pathetic droop at the
corners of her mouth. Tarzan was touched.
"Who knows?" and then he turned and rode after the departing Arabs.
Outside Bou Saada he bade Kadour ben Saden and his men good-by,
for there were reasons which made him wish to make his entry into
the town as secret as possible, and when he had explained them to
the sheik the latter concurred in his decision. The Arabs were
to enter Bou Saada ahead of him, saying nothing as to his presence
with them. Later Tarzan would come in alone, and go directly to
an obscure native inn.
Thus, making his entrance after dark, as he did, he was not seen
by any one who knew him, and reached the inn unobserved. After
dining with Kadour ben Saden as his guest, he went to his former
hotel by a roundabout way, and, coming in by a rear entrance, sought
the proprietor, who seemed much surprised to see him alive.
Yes, there was mail for monsieur; he would fetch it. No, he would
mention monsieur's return to no one. Presently he returned with a
packet of letters. One was an order from his superior to lay off
on his present work, and hasten to Cape Town by the first steamer
he could get. His further instructions would be awaiting him there
in the hands of another agent whose name and address were given.
That was all--brief but explicit. Tarzan arranged to leave Bou
Saada early the next morning. Then he started for the garrison to
see Captain Gerard, whom the hotel man had told him had returned
with his detachment the previous day.
He found the officer in his quarters. He was filled with surprise
and pleasure at seeing Tarzan alive and well.
"When Lieutenant Gernois returned and reported that he had not found
you at the spot that you had chosen to remain while the detachment
was scouting, I was filled with alarm. We searched the mountain
for days. Then came word that you had been killed and eaten by a
lion. As proof your gun was brought to us. Your horse had returned
to camp the second day after your disappearance. We could not doubt.
Lieutenant Gernois was grief-stricken--he took all the blame upon
himself. It was he who insisted on carrying on the search himself.
It was he who found the Arab with your gun. He will be delighted
to know that you are safe."
"Doubtless," said Tarzan, with a grim smile.
"He is down in the town now, or I should send for him," continued
Captain Gerard. "I shall tell him as soon as he returns."
Tarzan let the officer think that he had been lost, wandering
finally into the DOUAR of Kadour ben Saden, who had escorted him
back to Bou Saada. As soon as possible he bade the good officer
adieu, and hastened back into the town. At the native inn he had
learned through Kadour ben Saden a piece of interesting information.
It told of a black-bearded white man who went always disguised as
an Arab. For a time he had nursed a broken wrist. More recently
he had been away from Bou Saada, but now he was back, and Tarzan
knew his place of concealment. It was for there he headed.
Through narrow, stinking alleys, black as Erebus, he groped, and
then up a rickety stairway, at the end of which was a closed door
and a tiny, unglazed window. The window was high under the low
eaves of the mud building. Tarzan could just reach the sill. He
raised himself slowly until his eyes topped it. The room within
was lighted, and at a table sat Rokoff and Gernois. Gernois was
speaking.
"Rokoff, you are a devil!" he was saying. "You have hounded me
until I have lost the last shred of my honor. You have driven me
to murder, for the blood of that man Tarzan is on my hands. If it
were not that that other devil's spawn, Paulvitch, still knew my
secret, I should kill you here tonight with my bare hands."
Rokoff laughed. "You would not do that, my dear lieutenant," he said.
"The moment I am reported dead by assassination that dear Alexis
will forward to the minister of war full proof of the affair you
so ardently long to conceal; and, further, will charge you with
my murder. Come, be sensible. I am your best friend. Have I not
protected your honor as though it were my own?"
Gernois sneered, and spat out an oath.
"Just one more little payment," continued Rokoff, "and the papers
I wish, and you have my word of honor that I shall never ask another
cent from you, or further information."
"And a good reason why," growled Gernois. "What you ask will take
my last cent, and the only valuable military secret I hold. You
ought to be paying me for the information, instead of taking both
it and money, too."
"I am paying you by keeping a still tongue in my head," retorted
Rokoff. "But let's have done. Will you, or will you not? I give
you three minutes to decide. If you are not agreeable I shall send
a note to your commandant tonight that will end in the degradation
that Dreyfus suffered--the only difference being that he did not
deserve it."
For a moment Gernois sat with bowed head. At length he arose. He
drew two pieces of paper from his blouse.
"Here," he said hopelessly. "I had them ready, for I knew that
there could be but one outcome." He held them toward the Russian.
Rokoff's cruel face lighted in malignant gloating. He seized the
bits of paper.
"You have done well, Gernois," he said. "I shall not trouble you
again--unless you happen to accumulate some more money or information,"
and he grinned.
"You never shall again, you dog!" hissed Gernois. "The next time
I shall kill you. I came near doing it tonight. For an hour I
sat with these two pieces of paper on my table before me ere I came
here--beside them lay my loaded revolver. I was trying to decide
which I should bring. Next time the choice shall be easier, for
I already have decided. You had a close call tonight, Rokoff; do
not tempt fate a second time."
Then Gernois rose to leave. Tarzan barely had time to drop to the
landing and shrink back into the shadows on the far side of the
door. Even then he scarcely hoped to elude detection. The landing
was very small, and though he flattened himself against the wall
at its far edge he was scarcely more than a foot from the doorway.
Almost immediately it opened, and Gernois stepped out. Rokoff was
behind him. Neither spoke. Gernois had taken perhaps three steps
down the stairway when he halted and half turned, as though to
retrace his steps.
Tarzan knew that discovery would be inevitable. Rokoff still
stood on the threshold a foot from him, but he was looking in the
opposite direction, toward Gernois. Then the officer evidently
reconsidered his decision, and resumed his downward course. Tarzan
could hear Rokoff's sigh of relief. A moment later the Russian
went back into the room and closed the door.
Tarzan waited until Gernois had had time to get well out of hearing,
then he pushed open the door and stepped into the room. He was
on top of Rokoff before the man could rise from the chair where he
sat scanning the paper Gernois had given him. As his eyes turned
and fell upon the ape-man's face his own went livid.
"You!" he gasped.
"I," replied Tarzan.
"What do you want?" whispered Rokoff, for the look in the ape-man's
eyes frightened him. "Have you come to kill me? You do not dare.
They would guillotine you. You do not dare kill me."
"I dare kill you, Rokoff," replied Tarzan, "for no one knows that
you are here or that I am here, and Paulvitch would tell them that
it was Gernois. I heard you tell Gernois so. But that would not
influence me, Rokoff. I would not care who knew that I had killed
you; the pleasure of killing you would more than compensate for any
punishment they might inflict upon me. You are the most despicable
cur of a coward, Rokoff, I have ever heard of. You should be
killed. I should love to kill you," and Tarzan approached closer
to the man.
Rokoff's nerves were keyed to the breaking point. With a shriek
he sprang toward an adjoining room, but the ape-man was upon his
back while his leap was yet but half completed. Iron fingers sought
his throat--the great coward squealed like a stuck pig, until Tarzan
had shut off his wind. Then the ape-man dragged him to his feet,
still choking him. The Russian struggled futilely--he was like a
babe in the mighty grasp of Tarzan of the Apes.
Tarzan sat him in a chair, and long before there was danger of
the man's dying he released his hold upon his throat. When the
Russian's coughing spell had abated Tarzan spoke to him again.
"I have given you a taste of the suffering of death," he said.
"But I shall not kill--this time. I am sparing you solely for the
sake of a very good woman whose great misfortune it was to have
been born of the same woman who gave birth to you. But I shall
spare you only this once on her account. Should I ever learn that
you have again annoyed her or her husband--should you ever annoy
me again--should I hear that you have returned to France or to any
French posession, I shall make it my sole business to hunt you down
and complete the choking I commenced tonight." Then he turned to
the table, on which the two pieces of paper still lay. As he picked
them up Rokoff gasped in horror.
Tarzan examined both the check and the other. He was amazed at
the information the latter contained. Rokoff had partially read
it, but Tarzan knew that no one could remember the salient facts and
figures it held which made it of real value to an enemy of France.
"These will interest the chief of staff," he said, as he slipped
them into his pocket. Rokoff groaned. He did not dare curse aloud.
The next morning Tarzan rode north on his way to Bouira and Algiers.
As he had ridden past the hotel Lieutenant Gernois was standing on
the veranda. As his eyes discovered Tarzan he went white as chalk.
The ape-man would have been glad had the meeting not occurred, but
he could not avoid it. He saluted the officer as he rode past.
Mechanically Gernois returned the salute, but those terrible, wide
eyes followed the horseman, expressionless except for horror. It
was as though a dead man looked upon a ghost.
At Sidi Aissa Tarzan met a French officer with whom he had become
acquainted on the occasion of his recent sojourn in the town.
"You left Bou Saada early?" questioned the officer. "Then you have
not heard about poor Gernois."
"He was the last man I saw as I rode away," replied Tarzan. "What
about him?"
"He is dead. He shot himself about eight o'clock this morning."
Two days later Tarzan reached Algiers. There he found that he would
have a two days' wait before he could catch a ship bound for Cape
Town. He occupied his time in writing out a full report of his
mission. The secret papers he had taken from Rokoff he did not
inclose, for he did not dare trust them out of his own possession
until he had been authorized to turn them over to another agent,
or himself return to Paris with them.
As Tarzan boarded his ship after what seemed a most tedious wait to
him, two men watched him from an upper deck. Both were fashionably
dressed and smooth shaven. The taller of the two had sandy hair,
but his eyebrows were very black. Later in the day they chanced
to meet Tarzan on deck, but as one hurriedly called his companion's
attention to something at sea their faces were turned from Tarzan
as he passed, so that he did not notice their features. In fact,
he had paid no attention to them at all.
Following the instructions of his chief, Tarzan had booked his
passage under an assumed name--John Caldwell, London. He did not
understand the necessity of this, and it caused him considerable
speculation. He wondered what role he was to play in Cape Town.
"Well," he thought, "thank Heaven that I am rid of Rokoff. He
was commencing to annoy me. I wonder if I am really becoming so
civilized that presently I shall develop a set of nerves. He would
give them to me if any one could, for he does not fight fair. One
never knows through what new agency he is going to strike. It is
as though Numa, the lion, had induced Tantor, the elephant, and
Histah, the snake, to join him in attempting to kill me. I would
then never have known what minute, or by whom, I was to be attacked
next. But the brutes are more chivalrous than man--they do not
stoop to cowardly intrigue."
At dinner that night Tarzan sat next to a young woman whose place
was at the captain's left. The officer introduced them.
Miss Strong! Where had he heard the name before? It was very
familiar. And then the girl's mother gave him the clew, for when
she addressed her daughter she called her Hazel.
Hazel Strong! What memories the name inspired. It had been a
letter to this girl, penned by the fair hand of Jane Porter, that
had carried to him the first message from the woman he loved. How
vividly he recalled the night he had stolen it from the desk in the
cabin of his long-dead father, where Jane Porter had sat writing
it late into the night, while he crouched in the darkness without.
How terror-stricken she would have been that night had she known
that the wild jungle beast squatted outside her window, watching
her every move.
And this was Hazel Strong--Jane Porter's best friend!
Chapter 12
Ships That Pass
Let us go back a few months to the little, windswept platform of a
railway station in northern Wisconsin. The smoke of forest fires
hangs low over the surrounding landscape, its acrid fumes smarting
the eyes of a little party of six who stand waiting the coming of
the train that is to bear them away toward the south.
Professor Archimedes Q. Porter, his hands clasped beneath the tails
of his long coat, paces back and forth under the ever-watchful eye
of his faithful secretary, Mr. Samuel T. Philander. Twice within
the past few minutes he has started absent-mindedly across the
tracks in the direction of a near-by swamp, only to be rescued and
dragged back by the tireless Mr. Philander.
Jane Porter, the professor's daughter, is in strained and lifeless
conversation with William Cecil Clayton and Tarzan of the Apes.
Within the little waiting room, but a bare moment before, a confession
of love and a renunciation had taken place that had blighted the
lives and happiness of two of the party, but William Cecil Clayton,
Lord Greystoke, was not one of them.
Behind Miss Porter hovered the motherly Esmeralda. She, too, was
happy, for was she not returning to her beloved Maryland? Already
she could see dimly through the fog of smoke the murky headlight of
the oncoming engine. The men began to gather up the hand baggage.
Suddenly Clayton exclaimed.
"By Jove! I've left my ulster in the waiting-room," and hastened
off to fetch it.
"Good-bye, Jane," said Tarzan, extending his hand. "God bless
you!"
"Good-bye," replied the girl faintly. "Try to forget me--no, not
that--I could not bear to think that you had forgotten me."
"There is no danger of that, dear," he answered. "I wish to Heaven
that I might forget. It would be so much easier than to go through
life always remembering what might have been. You will be happy,
though; I am sure you shall--you must be. You may tell the others
of my decision to drive my car on to New York--I don't feel equal
to bidding Clayton good-bye. I want always to remember him kindly,
but I fear that I am too much of a wild beast yet to be trusted
too long with the man who stands between me and the one person in
all the world I want."
As Clayton stooped to pick up his coat in the waiting room his
eyes fell on a telegraph blank lying face down upon the floor. He
stooped to pick it up, thinking it might be a message of importance
which some one had dropped. He glanced at it hastily, and then
suddenly he forgot his coat, the approaching train--everything but
that terrible little piece of yellow paper in his hand. He read
it twice before he could fully grasp the terrific weight of meaning
that it bore to him.
When he had picked it up he had been an English nobleman, the proud
and wealthy possessor of vast estates--a moment later he had read
it, and he knew that he was an untitled and penniless beggar. It
was D'Arnot's cablegram to Tarzan, and it read:
Finger prints prove you Greystoke. Congratulations.
D'ARNOT.
He staggered as though he had received a mortal blow. Just then
he heard the others calling to him to hurry--the train was coming
to a stop at the little platform. Like a man dazed he gathered up
his ulster. He would tell them about the cablegram when they were
all on board the train. Then he ran out upon the platform just as
the engine whistled twice in the final warning that precedes the
first rumbling jerk of coupling pins. The others were on board,
leaning out from the platform of a Pullman, crying to him to hurry.
Quite five minutes elapsed before they were settled in their seats,
nor was it until then that Clayton discovered that Tarzan was not
with them.
"Where is Tarzan?" he asked Jane Porter. "In another car?"
"No," she replied; "at the last minute he determined to drive his
machine back to New York. He is anxious to see more of America
than is possible from a car window. He is returning to France,
you know."
Clayton did not reply. He was trying to find the right words to
explain to Jane Porter the calamity that had befallen him--and
her. He wondered just what the effect of his knowledge would be on
her. Would she still wish to marry him--to be plain Mrs. Clayton?
Suddenly the awful sacrifice which one of them must make loomed
large before his imagination. Then came the question: Will Tarzan
claim his own? The ape-man had known the contents of the message
before he calmly denied knowledge of his parentage! He had admitted
that Kala, the ape, was his mother! Could it have been for love
of Jane Porter?
There was no other explanation which seemed reasonable. Then,
having ignored the evidence of the message, was it not reasonable
to assume that he meant never to claim his birthright? If this
were so, what right had he, William Cecil Clayton, to thwart the
wishes, to balk the self-sacrifice of this strange man? If Tarzan
of the Apes could do this thing to save Jane Porter from unhappiness,
why should he, to whose care she was intrusting her whole future,
do aught to jeopardize her interests?
And so he reasoned until the first generous impulse to proclaim the
truth and relinquish his titles and his estates to their rightful
owner was forgotten beneath the mass of sophistries which self-interest
had advanced. But during the balance of the trip, and for many
days thereafter, he was moody and distraught. Occasionally the
thought obtruded itself that possibly at some later day Tarzan
would regret his magnanimity, and claim his rights.
Several days after they reached Baltimore Clayton broached the
subject of an early marriage to Jane.
"What do you mean by early?" she asked.
"Within the next few days. I must return to England at once--I
want you to return with me, dear."
"I can't get ready so soon as that," replied Jane. "It will take
a whole month, at least."
She was glad, for she hoped that whatever called him to England
might still further delay the wedding. She had made a bad bargain,
but she intended carrying her part loyally to the bitter end--if
she could manage to secure a temporary reprieve, though, she felt
that she was warranted in doing so. His reply disconcerted her.
"Very well, Jane," he said. "I am disappointed, but I shall let
my trip to England wait a month; then we can go back together."
But when the month was drawing to a close she found still another
excuse upon which to hang a postponement, until at last, discouraged
and doubting, Clayton was forced to go back to England alone.
The several letters that passed between them brought Clayton no
nearer to a consummation of his hopes than he had been before, and
so it was that he wrote directly to Professor Porter, and enlisted
his services. The old man had always favored the match. He liked
Clayton, and, being of an old southern family, he put rather an
exaggerated value on the advantages of a title, which meant little
or nothing to his daughter.
Clayton urged that the professor accept his invitation to be his
guest in London, an invitation which included the professor's entire
little family--Mr. Philander, Esmeralda, and all. The Englishman
argued that once Jane was there, and home ties had been broken,
she would not so dread the step which she had so long hesitated to
take.
So the evening that he received Clayton's letter Professor Porter
announced that they would leave for London the following week.
But once in London Jane Porter was no more tractable than she had
been in Baltimore. She found one excuse after another, and when,
finally, Lord Tennington invited the party to cruise around Africa
in his yacht, she expressed the greatest delight in the idea, but
absolutely refused to be married until they had returned to London.
As the cruise was to consume a year at least, for they were to
stop for indefinite periods at various points of interest, Clayton
mentally anathematized Tennington for ever suggesting such a
ridiculous trip.
It was Lord Tennington's plan to cruise through the Mediterranean,
and the Red Sea to the Indian Ocean, and thus down the East Coast,
putting in at every port that was worth the seeing.
And so it happened that on a certain day two vessels passed in the
Strait of Gibraltar. The smaller, a trim white yacht, was speeding
toward the east, and on her deck sat a young woman who gazed with
sad eyes upon a diamondstudded locket which she idly fingered. Her
thoughts were far away, in the dim, leafy fastness of a tropical
jungle--and her heart was with her thoughts.
She wondered if the man who had given her the beautiful bauble,
that had meant so much more to him than the intrinsic value which
he had not even known could ever have meant to him, was back in
his savage forest.
And upon the deck of the larger vessel, a passenger steamer passing
toward the east, the man sat with another young woman, and the two
idly speculated upon the identity of the dainty craft gliding so
gracefully through the gentle swell of the lazy sea.
When the yacht had passed the man resumed the conversation that
her appearance had broken off.
"Yes," he said, "I like America very much, and that means, of
course, that I like Americans, for a country is only what its people
make it. I met some very delightful people while I was there. I
recall one family from your own city, Miss Strong, whom I liked
particularly--Professor Porter and his daughter."
"Jane Porter!" exclaimed the girl. "Do you mean to tell me that
you know Jane Porter? Why, she is the very best friend I have in
the world. We were little children together--we have known each
other for ages."
"Indeed!" he answered, smiling. "You would have difficulty in
persuading any one of the fact who had seen either of you."
"I'll qualify the statement, then," she answered, with a laugh. "We
have known each other for two ages--hers and mine. But seriously
we are as dear to each other as sisters, and now that I am going
to lose her I am almost heartbroken."
"Going to lose her?" exclaimed Tarzan. "Why, what do you mean?
Oh, yes, I understand. You mean that now that she is married and
living in England, you will seldom if ever see her."
"Yes," replied she; "and the saddest part of it all is that she
is not marrying the man she loves. Oh, it is terrible. Marrying
from a sense of duty! I think it is perfectly wicked, and I told
her so. I have felt so strongly on the subject that although I
was the only person outside of blood relations who was to have been
asked to the wedding I would not let her invite me, for I should
not have gone to witness the terrible mockery. But Jane Porter is
peculiarly positive. She has convinced herself that she is doing
the only honorable thing that she can do, and nothing in the world
will ever prevent her from marrying Lord Greystoke except Greystoke
himself, or death."
"I am sorry for her," said Tarzan.
"And I am sorry for the man she loves," said the girl, "for he
loves her. I never met him, but from what Jane tells me he must be
a very wonderful person. It seems that he was born in an African
jungle, and brought up by fierce, anthropoid apes. He had never
seen a white man or woman until Professor Porter and his party were
marooned on the coast right at the threshold of his tiny cabin.
He saved them from all manner of terrible beasts, and accomplished
the most wonderful feats imaginable, and then to cap the climax he
fell in love with Jane and she with him, though she never really
knew it for sure until she had promised herself to Lord Greystoke."
"Most remarkable," murmured Tarzan, cudgeling his brain for some
pretext upon which to turn the subject. He delighted in hearing
Hazel Strong talk of Jane, but when he was the subject of the
conversation he was bored and embarrassed. But he was soon given
a respite, for the girl's mother joined them, and the talk became
general.
The next few days passed uneventfully. The sea was quiet. The
sky was clear. The steamer plowed steadily on toward the south
without pause. Tarzan spent quite a little time with Miss Strong
and her mother. They whiled away their hours on deck reading,
talking, or taking pictures with Miss Strong's camera. When the
sun had set they walked.
One day Tarzan found Miss Strong in conversation with a stranger,
a man he had not seen on board before. As he approached the couple
the man bowed to the girl and turned to walk away.
"Wait, Monsieur Thuran," said Miss Strong; "you must meet Mr.
Caldwell. We are all fellow passengers, and should be acquainted."
The two men shook hands. As Tarzan looked into the eyes of Monsieur
Thuran he was struck by the strange familiarity of their expression.
"I have had the honor of monsieur's acquaintance in the past, I am
sure," said Tarzan, "though I cannot recall the circumstances."
Monsieur Thuran appeared ill at ease.
"I cannot say, monsieur," he replied. "It may be so. I have had
that identical sensation myself when meeting a stranger."
"Monsieur Thuran has been explaining some of the mysteries of
navigation to me," explained the girl.
Tarzan paid little heed to the conversation that ensued--he was
attempting to recall where he had met Monsieur Thuran before. That
it had been under peculiar circumstances he was positive. Presently
the sun reached them, and the girl asked Monsieur Thuran to move her
chair farther back into the shade. Tarzan happened to be watching
the man at the time, and noticed the awkward manner in which he handled
the chair--his left wrist was stiff. That clew was sufficient--a
sudden train of associated ideas did the rest.
Monsieur Thuran had been trying to find an excuse to make a graceful
departure. The lull in the conversation following the moving of
their position gave him an opportunity to make his excuses. Bowing
low to Miss Strong, and inclining his head to Tarzan, he turned to
leave them.
"Just a moment," said Tarzan. "If Miss Strong will pardon me I
will accompany you. I shall return in a moment, Miss Strong."
Monsieur Thuran looked uncomfortable. When the two men had passed
out of the girl's sight, Tarzan stopped, laying a heavy hand on
the other's shoulder.
"What is your game now, Rokoff?" he asked.
"I am leaving France as I promised you," replied the other, in a
surly voice.
"I see you are," said Tarzan; "but I know you so well that I can
scarcely believe that your being on the same boat with me is purely
a coincidence. If I could believe it the fact that you are in
disguise would immediately disabuse my mind of any such idea."
"Well," growled Rokoff, with a shrug, "I cannot see what you are
going to do about it. This vessel flies the English flag. I have
as much right on board her as you, and from the fact that you are
booked under an assumed name I imagine that I have more right."
"We will not discuss it, Rokoff. All I wanted to say to you is
that you must keep away from Miss Strong--she is a decent woman."
Rokoff turned scarlet.
"If you don't I shall pitch you overboard," continued Tarzan. "Do
not forget that I am just waiting for some excuse." Then he turned
on his heel, and left Rokoff standing there trembling with suppressed
rage.
He did not see the man again for days, but Rokoff was not idle. In
his stateroom with Paulvitch he fumed and swore, threatening the
most terrible of revenges.
"I would throw him overboard tonight," he cried, "were I sure that
those papers were not on his person. I cannot chance pitching them
into the ocean with him. If you were not such a stupid coward,
Alexis, you would find a way to enter his stateroom and search for
the documents."
Paulvitch smiled. "You are supposed to be the brains of this
partnership, my dear Nikolas," he replied. "Why do you not find
the means to search Monsieur Caldwell's stateroom--eh?"
Two hours later fate was kind to them, for Paulvitch, who was ever
on the watch, saw Tarzan leave his room without locking the door.
Five minutes later Rokoff was stationed where he could give the
alarm in case Tarzan returned, and Paulvitch was deftly searching
the contents of the ape-man's luggage.
He was about to give up in despair when he saw a coat which Tarzan
had just removed. A moment later he grasped an official envelope
in his hand. A quick glance at its contents brought a broad smile
to the Russian's face.
When he left the stateroom Tarzan himself could not have told that
an article in it had been touched since he left it--Paulvitch was
a past master in his chosen field. When he handed the packet to
Rokoff in the seclusion of their stateroom the larger man rang for
a steward, and ordered a pint of champagne.
"We must celebrate, my dear Alexis," he said.
"It was luck, Nikolas," explained Paulvitch. "It is evident that
he carries these papers always upon his person--just by chance
he neglected to transfer them when he changed coats a few minutes
since. But there will be the deuce to pay when he discovers his
loss. I am afraid that he will immediately connect you with it.
Now that he knows that you are on board he will suspect you at
once."
"It will make no difference whom he suspects--after to-night," said
Rokoff, with a nasty grin.
After Miss Strong had gone below that night Tarzan stood leaning
over the rail looking far out to sea. Every night he had done this
since he had come on board--sometimes he stood thus for an hour.
And the eyes that had been watching his every movement since he
had boarded the ship at Algiers knew that this was his habit.
Even as he stood there this night those eyes were on him. Presently
the last straggler had left the deck. It was a clear night, but
there was no moon--objects on deck were barely discernible.
From the shadows of the cabin two figures crept stealthily upon the
ape-man from behind. The lapping of the waves against the ship's
sides, the whirring of the propeller, the throbbing of the engines,
drowned the almost soundless approach of the two.
They were quite close to him now, and crouching low, like tacklers
on a gridiron. One of them raised his hand and lowered it, as
though counting off seconds--one--two--three! As one man the two
leaped for their victim. Each grasped a leg, and before Tarzan of
the Apes, lightning though he was, could turn to save himself he
had been pitched over the low rail and was falling into the Atlantic.
Hazel Strong was looking from her darkened port across the dark
sea. Suddenly a body shot past her eyes from the deck above. It
dropped so quickly into the dark waters below that she could not be
sure of what it was--it might have been a man, she could not say.
She listened for some outcry from above--for the always-fearsome
call, "Man overboard!" but it did not come. All was silence on
the ship above--all was silence in the sea below.
The girl decided that she had but seen a bundle of refuse thrown
overboard by one of the ship's crew, and a moment later sought her
berth.
Chapter 13
The Wreck of the "Lady Alice"
The next morning at breakfast Tarzan's place was vacant. Miss
Strong was mildly curious, for Mr. Caldwell had always made it a
point to wait that he might breakfast with her and her mother. As
she was sitting on deck later Monsieur Thuran paused to exchange
a half dozen pleasant words with her. He seemed in most excellent
spirits--his manner was the extreme of affability. As he passed on
Miss Strong thought what a very delightful man was Monsieur Thuran.
The day dragged heavily. She missed the quiet companionship of
Mr. Caldwell--there had been something about him that had made the
girl like him from the first; he had talked so entertainingly of
the places he had seen--the peoples and their customs--the wild
beasts; and he had always had a droll way of drawing striking
comparisons between savage animals and civilized men that showed a
considerable knowledge of the former, and a keen, though somewhat
cynical, estimate of the latter.
When Monsieur Thuran stopped again to chat with her in the afternoon
she welcomed the break in the day's monotony. But she had begun
to become seriously concerned in Mr. Caldwell's continued absence;
somehow she constantly associated it with the start she had had
the night before, when the dark object fell past her port into the
sea. Presently she broached the subject to Monsieur Thuran. Had
he seen Mr. Caldwell today? He had not. Why?
"He was not at breakfast as usual, nor have I seen him once since
yesterday," explained the girl.
Monsieur Thuran was extremely solicitous.
"I did not have the pleasure of intimate acquaintance with Mr.
Caldwell," he said. "He seemed a most estimable gentleman, however.
Can it be that he is indisposed, and has remained in his stateroom?
It would not be strange."
"No," replied the girl, "it would not be strange, of course; but
for some inexplicable reason I have one of those foolish feminine
presentiments that all is not right with Mr. Caldwell. It is the
strangest feeling--it is as though I knew that he was not on board
the ship."
Monsieur Thuran laughed pleasantly. "Mercy, my dear Miss Strong,"
he said; "where in the world could he be then? We have not been
within sight of land for days."
"Of course, it is ridiculous of me," she admitted. And then: "But
I am not going to worry about it any longer; I am going to find
out where Mr. Caldwell is," and she motioned to a passing steward.
"That may be more difficult than you imagine, my dear girl," thought
Monsieur Thuran, but aloud he said: "By all means."
"Find Mr. Caldwell, please," she said to the steward, "and tell
him that his friends are much worried by his continued absence."
"You are very fond of Mr. Caldwell?" suggested Monsieur Thuran.
"I think he is splendid," replied the girl. "And mamma is perfectly
infatuated with him. He is the sort of man with whom one has a
feeling of perfect security--no one could help but have confidence
in Mr. Caldwell."
A moment later the steward returned to say that Mr. Caldwell was
not in his stateroom. "I cannot find him, Miss Strong, and"--he
hesitated--"I have learned that his berth was not occupied last
night. I think that I had better report the matter to the captain."
"Most assuredly," exclaimed Miss Strong. "I shall go with you to
the captain myself. It is terrible! I know that something awful
has happened. My presentiments were not false, after all."
It was a very frightened young woman and an excited steward who
presented themselves before the captain a few moments later. He
listened to their stories in silence--a look of concern marking
his expression as the steward assured him that he had sought for
the missing passenger in every part of the ship that a passenger
might be expected to frequent.
"And are you sure, Miss Strong, that you saw a body fall overboard
last night?" he asked.
"There is not the slightest doubt about that," she answered. "I
cannot say that it was a human body--there was no outcry. It might
have been only what I thought it was--a bundle of refuse. But if
Mr. Caldwell is not found on board I shall always be positive that
it was he whom I saw fall past my port."
The captain ordered an immediate and thorough search of the entire
ship from stem to stern--no nook or cranny was to be overlooked.
Miss Strong remained in his cabin, waiting the outcome of the
quest. The captain asked her many questions, but she could tell
him nothing about the missing man other than what she had herself
seen during their brief acquaintance on shipboard. For the first
time she suddenly realized how very little indeed Mr. Caldwell had
told her about himself or his past life. That he had been born
in Africa and educated in Paris was about all she knew, and this
meager information had been the result of her surprise that an
Englishman should speak English with such a marked French accent.
"Did he ever speak of any enemies?" asked the captain.
"Never."
"Was he acquainted with any of the other passengers?"
"Only as he had been with me--through the circumstance of casual
meeting as fellow shipmates."
"Er--was he, in your opinion, Miss Strong, a man who drank to
excess?"
"I do not know that he drank at all--he certainly had not been
drinking up to half an hour before I saw that body fall overboard,"
she answered, "for I was with him on deck up to that time."
"It is very strange," said the captain. "He did not look to me
like a man who was subject to fainting spells, or anything of that
sort. And even had he been it is scarcely credible that he should
have fallen completely over the rail had he been taken with an
attack while leaning upon it--he would rather have fallen inside,
upon the deck. If he is not on board, Miss Strong, he was thrown
overboard--and the fact that you heard no outcry would lead to the
assumption that he was dead before he left the ship's deck--murdered."
The girl shuddered.
It was a full hour later that the first officer returned to report
the outcome of the search.
"Mr. Caldwell is not on board, sir," he said.
"I fear that there is something more serious than accident here,
Mr. Brently," said the captain. "I wish that you would make a
personal and very careful examination of Mr. Caldwell's effects,
to ascertain if there is any clew to a motive either for suicide
or murder--sift the thing to the bottom."
"Aye, aye, sir!" responded Mr. Brently, and left to commence his
investigation.
Hazel Strong was prostrated. For two days she did not leave
her cabin, and when she finally ventured on deck she was very wan
and white, with great, dark circles beneath her eyes. Waking or
sleeping, it seemed that she constantly saw that dark body dropping,
swift and silent, into the cold, grim sea.
Shortly after her first appearance on deck following the tragedy,
Monsieur Thuran joined her with many expressions of kindly solicitude.
"Oh, but it is terrible, Miss Strong," he said. "I cannot rid my
mind of it."
"Nor I," said the girl wearily. "I feel that he might have been
saved had I but given the alarm."
"You must not reproach yourself, my dear Miss Strong," urged Monsieur
Thuran. "It was in no way your fault. Another would have done
as you did. Who would think that because something fell into the
sea from a ship that it must necessarily be a man? Nor would the
outcome have been different had you given an alarm. For a while
they would have doubted your story, thinking it but the nervous
hallucination of a woman--had you insisted it would have been
too late to have rescued him by the time the ship could have been
brought to a stop, and the boats lowered and rowed back miles in
search of the unknown spot where the tragedy had occurred. No,
you must not censure yourself. You have done more than any other
of us for poor Mr. Caldwell--you were the only one to miss him.
It was you who instituted the search."
The girl could not help but feel grateful to him for his kind and
encouraging words. He was with her often--almost constantly for
the remainder of the voyage--and she grew to like him very much
indeed. Monsieur Thuran had learned that the beautiful Miss Strong,
of Baltimore, was an American heiress--a very wealthy girl in her
own right, and with future prospects that quite took his breath away
when he contemplated them, and since he spent most of his time in
that delectable pastime it is a wonder that he breathed at all.
It had been Monsieur Thuran's intention to leave the ship at the
first port they touched after the disappearance of Tarzan. Did
he not have in his coat pocket the thing he had taken passage upon
this very boat to obtain? There was nothing more to detain him
here. He could not return to the Continent fast enough, that he
might board the first express for St. Petersburg.
But now another idea had obtruded itself, and was rapidly crowding
his original intentions into the background. That American fortune was
not to be sneezed at, nor was its possessor a whit less attractive.
"SAPRISTI! but she would cause a sensation in St. Petersburg." And
he would, too, with the assistance of her inheritance.
After Monsieur Thuran had squandered a few million dollars, he
discovered that the vocation was so entirely to his liking that
he would continue on down to Cape Town, where he suddenly decided
that he had pressing engagements that might detain him there for
some time.
Miss Strong had told him that she and her mother were to visit the
latter's brother there--they had not decided upon the duration of
their stay, and it would probably run into months.
She was delighted when she found that Monsieur Thuran was to be
there also.
"I hope that we shall be able to continue our acquaintance," she
said. "You must call upon mamma and me as soon as we are settled."
Monsieur Thuran was delighted at the prospect, and lost no time
in saying so. Mrs. Strong was not quite so favorably impressed by
him as her daughter.
"I do not know why I should distrust him," she said to Hazel one
day as they were discussing him. "He seems a perfect gentleman in
every respect, but sometimes there is something about his eyes--a
fleeting expression which I cannot describe, but which when I see
it gives me a very uncanny feeling."
The girl laughed. "You are a silly dear, mamma," she said.
"I suppose so, but I am sorry that we have not poor Mr. Caldwell
for company instead."
"And I, too," replied her daughter.
Monsieur Thuran became a frequent visitor at the home of Hazel
Strong's uncle in Cape Town. His attentions were very marked, but
they were so punctiliously arranged to meet the girl's every wish
that she came to depend upon him more and more. Did she or her
mother or a cousin require an escort--was there a little friendly
service to be rendered, the genial and ubiquitous Monsieur Thuran
was always available. Her uncle and his family grew to like him for
his unfailing courtesy and willingness to be of service. Monsieur
Thuran was becoming indispensable. At length, feeling the moment
propitious, he proposed. Miss Strong was startled. She did not
know what to say.
"I had never thought that you cared for me in any such way," she
told him. "I have looked upon you always as a very dear friend.
I shall not give you my answer now. Forget that you have asked me
to be your wife. Let us go on as we have been--then I can consider
you from an entirely different angle for a time. It may be that
I shall discover that my feeling for you is more than friendship.
I certainly have not thought for a moment that I loved you."
This arrangement was perfectly satisfactory to Monsieur Thuran. He
deeply regretted that he had been hasty, but he had loved her for
so long a time, and so devotedly, that he thought that every one
must know it.
"From the first time I saw you, Hazel," he said, "I have loved
you. I am willing to wait, for I am certain that so great and pure
a love as mine will be rewarded. All that I care to know is that
you do not love another. Will you tell me?"
"I have never been in love in my life," she replied, and he was
quite satisfied. On the way home that night he purchased a steam
yacht, and built a million-dollar villa on the Black Sea.
The next day Hazel Strong enjoyed one of the happiest surprises of
her life--she ran face to face upon Jane Porter as she was coming
out of a jeweler's shop.
"Why, Jane Porter!" she exclaimed. "Where in the world did you
drop from? Why, I can't believe my own eyes."
"Well, of all things!" cried the equally astonished Jane. "And
here I have been wasting whole reams of perfectly good imagination
picturing you in Baltimore--the very idea!" And she threw her arms
about her friend once more, and kissed her a dozen times.
By the time mutual explanations had been made Hazel knew that Lord
Tennington's yacht had put in at Cape Town for at least a week's
stay, and at the end of that time was to continue on her voyage--this
time up the West Coast--and so back to England. "Where," concluded
Jane, "I am to be married."
"Then you are not married yet?" asked Hazel.
"Not yet," replied Jane, and then, quite irrelevantly, "I wish
England were a million miles from here."
Visits were exchanged between the yacht and Hazel's relatives.
Dinners were arranged, and trips into the surrounding country to
entertain the visitors. Monsieur Thuran was a welcome guest at
every function. He gave a dinner himself to the men of the party,
and managed to ingratiate himself in the good will of Lord Tennington
by many little acts of hospitality.
Monsieur Thuran had heard dropped a hint of something which might
result from this unexpected visit of Lord Tennington's yacht, and
he wanted to be counted in on it. Once when he was alone with
the Englishman he took occasion to make it quite plain that his
engagement to Miss Strong was to be announced immediately upon their
return to America. "But not a word of it, my dear Tennington--not
a word of it."
"Certainly, I quite understand, my dear fellow," Tennington had
replied. "But you are to be congratulated--ripping girl, don't
you know--really."
The next day it came. Mrs. Strong, Hazel, and Monsieur Thuran were
Lord Tennington's guests aboard his yacht. Mrs. Strong had been
telling them how much she had enjoyed her visit at Cape Town, and
that she regretted that a letter just received from her attorneys
in Baltimore had necessitated her cutting her visit shorter than
they had intended.
"When do you sail?" asked Tennington.
"The first of the week, I think," she replied. "Indeed?" exclaimed
Monsieur Thuran. "I am very fortunate. I, too, have found that I
must return at once, and now I shall have the honor of accompanying
and serving you."
"That is nice of you, Monsieur Thuran," replied Mrs. Strong. "I am
sure that we shall be glad to place ourselves under your protection."
But in the bottom of her heart was the wish that they might escape
him. Why, she could not have told.
"By Jove!" ejaculated Lord Tennington, a moment later. "Bully
idea, by Jove!"
"Yes, Tennington, of course," ventured Clayton; "it must be a bully
idea if you had it, but what the deuce is it? Goin' to steam to
China via the south pole?"
"Oh, I say now, Clayton," returned Tennington, "you needn't be so
rough on a fellow just because you didn't happen to suggest this
trip yourself--you've acted a regular bounder ever since we sailed.
"No, sir," he continued, "it's a bully idea, and you'll all say
so. It's to take Mrs. Strong and Miss Strong, and Thuran, too,
if he'll come, as far as England with us on the yacht. Now, isn't
that a corker?"
"Forgive me, Tenny, old boy," cried Clayton. "It certainly IS
a corking idea--I never should have suspected you of it. You're
quite sure it's original, are you?"
"And we'll sail the first of the week, or any other time that
suits your convenience, Mrs. Strong," concluded the big-hearted
Englishman, as though the thing were all arranged except the sailing
date.
"Mercy, Lord Tennington, you haven't even given us an opportunity
to thank you, much less decide whether we shall be able to accept
your generous invitation," said Mrs. Strong.
"Why, of course you'll come," responded Tennington. "We'll make as
good time as any passenger boat, and you'll be fully as comfortable;
and, anyway, we all want you, and won't take no for an answer."
And so it was settled that they should sail the following Monday.
Two days out the girls were sitting in Hazel's cabin, looking at
some prints she had had finished in Cape Town. They represented
all the pictures she had taken since she had left America, and the
girls were both engrossed in them, Jane asking many questions, and
Hazel keeping up a perfect torrent of comment and explanation of
the various scenes and people.
"And here," she said suddenly, "here's a man you know. Poor fellow,
I have so often intended asking you about him, but I never have
been able to think of it when we were together." She was holding
the little print so that Jane did not see the face of the man it
portrayed.
"His name was John Caldwell," continued Hazel. "Do you recall him?
He said that he met you in America. He is an Englishman."
"I do not recollect the name," replied Jane. "Let me see the
picture." "The poor fellow was lost overboard on our trip down the
coast," she said, as she handed the print to Jane.
"Lost over--Why, Hazel, Hazel--don't tell me that he is dead--drowned
at sea! Hazel! Why don't you say that you are joking!" And before
the astonished Miss Strong could catch her Jane Porter had slipped
to the floor in a swoon.
After Hazel had restored her chum to consciousness she sat looking
at her for a long time before either spoke.
"I did not know, Jane," said Hazel, in a constrained voice, "that
you knew Mr. Caldwell so intimately that his death could prove such
a shock to you."
"John Caldwell?" questioned Miss Porter. "You do not mean to tell
me that you do not know who this man was, Hazel?"
"Why, yes, Jane; I know perfectly well who he was--his name was
John Caldwell; he was from London."
"Oh, Hazel, I wish I could believe it," moaned the girl. "I wish
I could believe it, but those features are burned so deep into my
memory and my heart that I should recognize them anywhere in the
world from among a thousand others, who might appear identical to
any one but me."
"What do you mean, Jane?" cried Hazel, now thoroughly alarmed.
"Who do you think it is?"
"I don't think, Hazel. I know that that is a picture of Tarzan of
the Apes."
"Jane!"
"I cannot be mistaken. Oh, Hazel, are you sure that he is dead?
Can there be no mistake?"
"I am afraid not, dear," answered Hazel sadly. "I wish I could think
that you are mistaken, but now a hundred and one little pieces of
corroborative evidence occur to me that meant nothing to me while
I thought that he was John Caldwell, of London. He said that he
had been born in Africa, and educated in France."
"Yes, that would be true," murmured Jane Porter dully.
"The first officer, who searched his luggage, found nothing to
identify John Caldwell, of London. Practically all his belongings
had been made, or purchased, in Paris. Everything that bore
an initial was marked either with a `T' alone, or with `J. C. T.'
We thought that he was traveling incognito under his first two
names--the J. C. standing for John Caldwell."
"Tarzan of the Apes took the name Jean C. Tarzan," said Jane,
in the same lifeless monotone. "And he is dead! Oh! Hazel,
it is horrible! He died all alone in this terrible ocean! It is
unbelievable that that brave heart should have ceased to beat--that
those mighty muscles are quiet and cold forever! That he who was
the personification of life and health and manly strength should
be the prey of slimy, crawling things, that--" But she could go
no further, and with a little moan she buried her head in her arms,
and sank sobbing to the floor.
For days Miss Porter was ill, and would see no one except Hazel and
the faithful Esmeralda. When at last she came on deck all were
struck by the sad change that had taken place in her. She was
no longer the alert, vivacious American beauty who had charmed
and delighted all who came in contact with her. Instead she was
a very quiet and sad little girl--with an expression of hopeless
wistfulness that none but Hazel Strong could interpret.
The entire party strove their utmost to cheer and amuse her, but
all to no avail. Occasionally the jolly Lord Tennington would wring
a wan smile from her, but for the most part she sat with wide eyes
looking out across the sea.
With Jane Porter's illness one misfortune after another seemed to
attack the yacht. First an engine broke down, and they drifted for
two days while temporary repairs were being made. Then a squall
struck them unaware, that carried overboard nearly everything above
deck that was portable. Later two of the seamen fell to fighting
in the forecastle, with the result that one of them was badly
wounded with a knife, and the other had to be put in irons. Then,
to cap the climax, the mate fell overboard at night, and was drowned
before help could reach him. The yacht cruised about the spot for
ten hours, but no sign of the man was seen after he disappeared
from the deck into the sea.
Every member of the crew and guests was gloomy and depressed after
these series of misfortunes. All were apprehensive of worse to
come, and this was especially true of the seamen who recalled all
sorts of terrible omens and warnings that had occurred during the
early part of the voyage, and which they could now clearly translate
into the precursors of some grim and terrible tragedy to come.
Nor did the croakers have long to wait. The second night after
the drowning of the mate the little yacht was suddenly wracked
from stem to stern. About one o'clock in the morning there was
a terrific impact that threw the slumbering guests and crew from
berth and bunk. A mighty shudder ran through the frail craft; she
lay far over to starboard; the engines stopped. For a moment she
hung there with her decks at an angle of forty-five degrees--then,
with a sullen, rending sound, she slipped back into the sea and
righted.
Instantly the men rushed upon deck, followed closely by the women.
Though the night was cloudy, there was little wind or sea, nor was
it so dark but that just off the port bow a black mass could be
discerned floating low in the water.
"A derelict," was the terse explanation of the officer of the watch.
Presently the engineer hurried on deck in search of the captain.
"That patch we put on the cylinder head's blown out, sir," he
reported, "and she's makin' water fast for'ard on the port bow."
An instant later a seaman rushed up from below.
"My Gawd!" he cried. "Her whole bleedin' bottom's ripped out. She
can't float twenty minutes."
"Shut up!" roared Tennington. "Ladies, go below and get some of
your things together. It may not be so bad as that, but we may
have to take to the boats. It will be safer to be prepared. Go
at once, please. And, Captain Jerrold, send some competent man
below, please, to ascertain the exact extent of the damage. In
the meantime I might suggest that you have the boats provisioned."
The calm, low voice of the owner did much to reassure the entire
party, and a moment later all were occupied with the duties he had
suggested. By the time the ladies had returned to the deck the
rapid provisioning of the boats had been about completed, and a
moment later the officer who had gone below had returned to report.
But his opinion was scarcely needed to assure the huddled group of
men and women that the end of the LADY ALICE was at hand.
"Well, sir?" said the captain, as his officer hesitated.
"I dislike to frighten the ladies, sir," he said, "but she can't
float a dozen minutes, in my opinion. There's a hole in her you
could drive a bally cow through, sir."
For five minutes the LADY ALICE had been settling rapidly by the
bow. Already her stern loomed high in the air, and foothold on the
deck was of the most precarious nature. She carried four boats, and
these were all filled and lowered away in safety. As they pulled
rapidly from the stricken little vessel Jane Porter turned to
have one last look at her. Just then there came a loud crash and
an ominous rumbling and pounding from the heart of the ship--her
machinery had broken loose, and was dashing its way toward the bow,
tearing out partitions and bulkheads as it went--the stern rose
rapidly high above them; for a moment she seemed to pause there--a
vertical shaft protruding from the bosom of the ocean, and then
swiftly she dove headforemost beneath the waves.
In one of the boats the brave Lord Tennington wiped a tear from
his eye--he had not seen a fortune in money go down forever into
the sea, but a dear, beautiful friend whom he had loved.
At last the long night broke, and a tropical sun smote down upon the
rolling water. Jane Porter had dropped into a fitful slumber--the
fierce light of the sun upon her upturned face awoke her. She
looked about her. In the boat with her were three sailors, Clayton,
and Monsieur Thuran. Then she looked for the other boats, but as
far as the eye could reach there was nothing to break the fearful
monotony of that waste of waters--they were alone in a small boat
upon the broad Atlantic.
Chapter 14
Back to the Primitive
As Tarzan struck the water, his first impulse was to swim clear of
the ship and possible danger from her propellers. He knew whom to
thank for his present predicament, and as he lay in the sea, just
supporting himself by a gentle movement of his hands, his chief
emotion was one of chagrin that he had been so easily bested by
Rokoff.
He lay thus for some time, watching the receding and rapidly
diminishing lights of the steamer without it ever once occurring
to him to call for help. He never had called for help in his life,
and so it is not strange that he did not think of it now. Always
had he depended upon his own prowess and resourcefulness, nor had
there ever been since the days of Kala any to answer an appeal for
succor. When it did occur to him it was too late.
There was, thought Tarzan, a possible one chance in a hundred
thousand that he might be picked up, and an even smaller chance that
he would reach land, so he determined that to combine what slight
chances there were, he would swim slowly in the direction of the
coast--the ship might have been closer in than he had known.
His strokes were long and easy--it would be many hours before those
giant muscles would commence to feel fatigue. As he swam, guided
toward the east by the stars, he noticed that he felt the weight
of his shoes, and so he removed them. His trousers went next, and
he would have removed his coat at the same time but for the precious
papers in its pocket. To assure himself that he still had them
he slipped his hand in to feel, but to his consternation they were
gone.
Now he knew that something more than revenge had prompted Rokoff to
pitch him overboard--the Russian had managed to obtain possession
of the papers Tarzan had wrested from him at Bou Saada. The ape-man
swore softly, and let his coat and shirt sink into the Atlantic.
Before many hours he had divested himself of his remaining garments,
and was swimming easily and unencumbered toward the east.
The first faint evidence of dawn was paling the stars ahead of him
when the dim outlines of a low-lying black mass loomed up directly
in his track. A few strong strokes brought him to its side--it
was the bottom of a wave-washed derelict. Tarzan clambered upon
it--he would rest there until daylight at least. He had no intention
to remain there inactive--a prey to hunger and thirst. If he must
die he preferred dying in action while making some semblance of an
attempt to save himself.
The sea was quiet, so that the wreck had only a gently undulating
motion, that was nothing to the swimmer who had had no sleep for
twenty hours. Tarzan of the Apes curled up upon the slimy timbers,
and was soon asleep.
The heat of the sun awoke him early in the forenoon. His
first conscious sensation was of thirst, which grew almost to the
proportions of suffering with full returning consciousness; but a
moment later it was forgotten in the joy of two almost simultaneous
discoveries. The first was a mass of wreckage floating beside the
derelict in the midst of which, bottom up, rose and fell an overturned
lifeboat; the other was the faint, dim line of a far-distant shore
showing on the horizon in the east.
Tarzan dove into the water, and swam around the wreck to the
lifeboat. The cool ocean refreshed him almost as much as would a
draft of water, so that it was with renewed vigor that he brought
the smaller boat alongside the derelict, and, after many herculean
efforts, succeeded in dragging it onto the slimy ship's bottom.
There he righted and examined it--the boat was quite sound, and
a moment later floated upright alongside the wreck. Then Tarzan
selected several pieces of wreckage that might answer him as paddles,
and presently was making good headway toward the far-off shore.
It was late in the afternoon by the time he came close enough
to distinguish objects on land, or to make out the contour of the
shore line. Before him lay what appeared to be the entrance to
a little, landlocked harbor. The wooded point to the north was
strangely familiar. Could it be possible that fate had thrown him
up at the very threshold of his own beloved jungle! But as the
bow of his boat entered the mouth of the harbor the last shred of
doubt was cleared away, for there before him upon the farther shore,
under the shadows of his primeval forest, stood his own cabin--built
before his birth by the hand of his long-dead father, John Clayton,
Lord Greystoke.
With long sweeps of his giant muscles Tarzan sent the little craft
speeding toward the beach. Its prow had scarcely touched when the
ape-man leaped to shore--his heart beat fast in joy and exultation
as each long-familiar object came beneath his roving eyes--the
cabin, the beach, the little brook, the dense jungle, the black,
impenetrable forest. The myriad birds in their brilliant plumage--the
gorgeous tropical blooms upon the festooned creepers falling in
great loops from the giant trees.
Tarzan of the Apes had come into his own again, and that all the
world might know it he threw back his young head, and gave voice
to the fierce, wild challenge of his tribe. For a moment silence
reigned upon the jungle, and then, low and weird, came an answering
challenge--it was the deep roar of Numa, the lion; and from a great
distance, faintly, the fearsome answering bellow of a bull ape.
Tarzan went to the brook first, and slaked his thirst. Then he
approached his cabin. The door was still closed and latched as he
and D'Arnot had left it. He raised the latch and entered. Nothing
had been disturbed; there were the table, the bed, and the little
crib built by his father--the shelves and cupboards just as they
had stood for ever twenty-three years--just as he had left them
nearly two years before.
His eyes satisfied, Tarzan's stomach began to call aloud for
attention--the pangs of hunger suggested a search for food. There
was nothing in the cabin, nor had he any weapons; but upon a wall
hung one of his old grass ropes. It had been many times broken and
spliced, so that he had discarded it for a better one long before.
Tarzan wished that he had a knife. Well, unless he was mistaken
he should have that and a spear and bows and arrows before another
sun had set--the rope would take care of that, and in the meantime
it must be made to procure food for him. He coiled it carefully,
and, throwing it about his shoulder, went out, closing the door
behind him.
Close to the cabin the jungle commenced, and into it Tarzan of the
Apes plunged, wary and noiseless--once more a savage beast hunting
its food. For a time he kept to the ground, but finally, discovering
no spoor indicative of nearby meat, he took to the trees. With
the first dizzy swing from tree to tree all the old joy of living
swept over him. Vain regrets and dull heartache were forgotten.
Now was he living. Now, indeed, was the true happiness of perfect
freedom his. Who would go back to the stifling, wicked cities of
civilized man when the mighty reaches of the great jungle offered
peace and liberty? Not he.
While it was yet light Tarzan came to a drinking place by the side
of a jungle river. There was a ford there, and for countless ages
the beasts of the forest had come down to drink at this spot. Here
of a night might always be found either Sabor or Numa crouching in
the dense foliage of the surrounding jungle awaiting an antelope or
a water buck for their meal. Here came Horta, the boar, to water,
and here came Tarzan of the Apes to make a kill, for he was very
empty.
On a low branch he squatted above the trail. For an hour he
waited. It was growing dark. A little to one side of the ford
in the densest thicket he heard the faint sound of padded feet,
and the brushing of a huge body against tall grasses and tangled
creepers. None other than Tarzan might have heard it, but the
ape-man heard and translated--it was Numa, the lion, on the same
errand as himself. Tarzan smiled.
Presently he heard an animal approaching warily along the trail
toward the drinking place. A moment more and it came in view--it
was Horta, the boar. Here was delicious meat--and Tarzan's mouth
watered. The grasses where Numa lay were very still now--ominously
still. Horta passed beneath Tarzan--a few more steps and he would
be within the radius of Numa's spring. Tarzan could imagine how old
Numa's eyes were shining--how he was already sucking in his breath
for the awful roar which would freeze his prey for the brief instant
between the moment of the spring and the sinking of terrible fangs
into splintering bones.
But as Numa gathered himself, a slender rope flew through the air
from the low branches of a near-by tree. A noose settled about
Horta's neck. There was a frightened grunt, a squeal, and then Numa
saw his quarry dragged backward up the trail, and, as he sprang,
Horta, the boar, soared upward beyond his clutches into the tree
above, and a mocking face looked down and laughed into his own.
Then indeed did Numa roar. Angry, threatening, hungry, he paced
back and forth beneath the taunting ape-man. Now he stopped, and,
rising on his hind legs against the stem of the tree that held his
enemy, sharpened his huge claws upon the bark, tearing out great
pieces that laid bare the white wood beneath.
And in the meantime Tarzan had dragged the struggling Horta to
the limb beside him. Sinewy fingers completed the work the choking
noose had commenced. The ape-man had no knife, but nature had
equipped him with the means of tearing his food from the quivering
flank of his prey, and gleaming teeth sank into the succulent flesh
while the raging lion looked on from below as another enjoyed the
dinner that he had thought already his.
It was quite dark by the time Tarzan had gorged himself. Ah, but
it had been delicious! Never had he quite accustomed himself to the
ruined flesh that civilized men had served him, and in the bottom
of his savage heart there had constantly been the craving for the
warm meat of the fresh kill, and the rich, red blood.
He wiped his bloody hands upon a bunch of leaves, slung the remains
of his kill across his shoulder, and swung off through the middle
terrace of the forest toward his cabin, and at the same instant
Jane Porter and William Cecil Clayton arose from a sumptuous dinner
upon the LADY ALICE, thousands of miles to the east, in the Indian
Ocean.
Beneath Tarzan walked Numa, the lion, and when the ape-man deigned
to glance downward he caught occasional glimpses of the baleful
green eyes following through the darkness. Numa did not roar
now--instead, he moved stealthily, like the shadow of a great cat;
but yet he took no step that did not reach the sensitive ears of
the ape-man.
Tarzan wondered if he would stalk him to his cabin door. He hoped
not, for that would mean a night's sleep curled in the crotch of
a tree, and he much preferred the bed of grasses within his own
abode. But he knew just the tree and the most comfortable crotch,
if necessity demanded that he sleep out. A hundred times in the
past some great jungle cat had followed him home, and compelled
him to seek shelter in this same tree, until another mood or the
rising sun had sent his enemy away.
But presently Numa gave up the chase and, with a series of blood-curdling
moans and roars, turned angrily back in search of another and an
easier dinner. So Tarzan came to his cabin unattended, and a few
moments later was curled up in the mildewed remnants of what had
once been a bed of grasses. Thus easily did Monsieur Jean C. Tarzan
slough the thin skin of his artificial civilization, and sink happy
and contented into the deep sleep of the wild beast that has fed
to repletion. Yet a woman's "yes" would have bound him to that
other life forever, and made the thought of this savage existence
repulsive.
Tarzan slept late into the following forenoon, for he had been very
tired from the labors and exertion of the long night and day upon
the ocean, and the jungle jaunt that had brought into play muscles
that he had scarce used for nearly two years. When he awoke he ran
to the brook first to drink. Then he took a plunge into the sea,
swimming about for a quarter of an hour. Afterward he returned to
his cabin, and breakfasted off the flesh of Horta. This done, he
buried the balance of the carcass in the soft earth outside the
cabin, for his evening meal.
Once more he took his rope and vanished into the jungle. This time
he hunted nobler quarry--man; although had you asked him his own
opinion he could have named a dozen other denizens of the jungle which
he considered far the superiors in nobility of the men he hunted.
Today Tarzan was in quest of weapons. He wondered if the women
and children had remained in Mbonga's village after the punitive
expedition from the French cruiser had massacred all the warriors
in revenge for D'Arnot's supposed death. He hoped that he should
find warriors there, for he knew not how long a quest he should
have to make were the village deserted.
The ape-man traveled swiftly through the forest, and about noon
came to the site of the village, but to his disappointment found
that the jungle had overgrown the plantain fields and that the
thatched huts had fallen in decay. There was no sign of man. He
clambered about among the ruins for half an hour, hoping that he
might discover some forgotten weapon, but his search was without
fruit, and so he took up his quest once more, following up the
stream, which flowed from a southeasterly direction. He knew that
near fresh water he would be most likely to find another settlement.
As he traveled he hunted as he had hunted with his ape people in
the past, as Kala had taught him to hunt, turning over rotted logs
to find some toothsome vermin, running high into the trees to rob
a bird's nest, or pouncing upon a tiny rodent with the quickness
of a cat. There were other things that he ate, too, but the less
detailed the account of an ape's diet, the better--and Tarzan was
again an ape, the same fierce, brutal anthropoid that Kala had
taught him to be, and that he had been for the first twenty years
of his life.
Occasionally he smiled as he recalled some friend who might even
at the moment be sitting placid and immaculate within the precincts
of his select Parisian club--just as Tarzan had sat but a few months
before; and then he would stop, as though turned suddenly to stone
as the gentle breeze carried to his trained nostrils the scent of
some new prey or a formidable enemy.
That night he slept far inland from his cabin, securely wedged
into the crotch of a giant tree, swaying a hundred feet above the
ground. He had eaten heartily again--this time from the flesh of
Bara, the deer, who had fallen prey to his quick noose.
Early the next morning he resumed his journey, always following
the course of the stream. For three days he continued his quest,
until he had come to a part of the jungle in which he never before
had been. Occasionally upon the higher ground the forest was much
thinner, and in the far distance through the trees he could see
ranges of mighty mountains, with wide plains in the foreground.
Here, in the open spaces, were new game--countless antelope and
vast herds of zebra. Tarzan was entranced--he would make a long
visit to this new world.
On the morning of the fourth day his nostrils were suddenly surprised
by a faint new scent. It was the scent of man, but yet a long way
off. The ape-man thrilled with pleasure. Every sense was on the
alert as with crafty stealth he moved quickly through the trees,
up-wind, in the direction of his prey. Presently he came upon
it--a lone warrior treading softly through the jungle.
Tarzan followed close above his quarry, waiting for a clearer space
in which to hurl his rope. As he stalked the unconscious man, new
thoughts presented themselves to the ape-man--thoughts born of the
refining influences of civilization, and of its cruelties. It came
to him that seldom if ever did civilized man kill a fellow being
without some pretext, however slight. It was true that Tarzan
wished this man's weapons and ornaments, but was it necessary to
take his life to obtain them?
The longer he thought about it, the more repugnant became the
thought of taking human life needlessly; and thus it happened that
while he was trying to decide just what to do, they had come to a
little clearing, at the far side of which lay a palisaded village
of beehive huts.
As the warrior emerged from the forest, Tarzan caught a fleeting
glimpse of a tawny hide worming its way through the matted jungle
grasses in his wake--it was Numa, the lion. He, too, was stalking
the black man. With the instant that Tarzan realized the native's
danger his attitude toward his erstwhile prey altered completely--now
he was a fellow man threatened by a common enemy.
Numa was about to charge--there was little time in which to compare
various methods or weigh the probable results of any. And then a
number of things happened, almost simultaneously--the lion sprang
from his ambush toward the retreating black--Tarzan cried out in
warning--and the black turned just in time to see Numa halted in
mid-flight by a slender strand of grass rope, the noosed end of
which had fallen cleanly about his neck.
The ape-man had acted so quickly that he had been unable to prepare
himself to withstand the strain and shock of Numa's great weight
upon the rope, and so it was that though the rope stopped the beast
before his mighty talons could fasten themselves in the flesh of
the black, the strain overbalanced Tarzan, who came tumbling to the
ground not six paces from the infuriated animal. Like lightning
Numa turned upon this new enemy, and, defenseless as he was, Tarzan
of the Apes was nearer to death that instant than he ever before
had been. It was the black who saved him. The warrior realized in
an instant that he owed his life to this strange white man, and he
also saw that only a miracle could save his preserver from those
fierce yellow fangs that had been so near to his own flesh.
With the quickness of thought his spear arm flew back, and then
shot forward with all the force of the sinewy muscles that rolled
beneath the shimmering ebon hide. True to its mark the iron-shod
weapon flew, transfixing Numa's sleek carcass from the right groin
to beneath the left shoulder. With a hideous scream of rage and
pain the brute turned again upon the black. A dozen paces he had
gone when Tarzan's rope brought him to a stand once more--then he
wheeled again upon the ape-man, only to feel the painful prick of
a barbed arrow as it sank half its length in his quivering flesh.
Again he stopped, and by this time Tarzan had run twice around the
stem of a great tree with his rope, and made the end fast.
The black saw the trick, and grinned, but Tarzan knew that Numa
must be quickly finished before those mighty teeth had found and
parted the slender cord that held him. It was a matter of but an
instant to reach the black's side and drag his long knife from its
scabbard. Then he signed the warrior to continue to shoot arrows
into the great beast while he attempted to close in upon him with
the knife; so as one tantalized upon one side, the other sneaked
cautiously in upon the other. Numa was furious. He raised his
voice in a perfect frenzy of shrieks, growls, and hideous moans,
the while he reared upon his hind legs in futile attempt to reach
first one and then the other of his tormentors.
But at length the agile ape-man saw his chance, and rushed in upon
the beast's left side behind the mighty shoulder. A giant arm
encircled the tawny throat, and a long blade sank once, true as a
die, into the fierce heart. Then Tarzan arose, and the black man
and the white looked into each other's eyes across the body of
their kill--and the black made the sign of peace and friendship,
and Tarzan of the Apes answered in kind.
Chapter 15
From Ape to Savage
The noise of their battle with Numa had drawn an excited horde of
savages from the nearby village, and a moment after the lion's death
the two men were surrounded by lithe, ebon warriors, gesticulating
and jabbering--a thousand questions that drowned each ventured
reply.
And then the women came, and the children--eager, curious, and,
at sight of Tarzan, more questioning than ever. The ape-man's new
friend finally succeeded in making himself heard, and when he had
done talking the men and women of the village vied with one another
in doing honor to the strange creature who had saved their fellow
and battled single-handed with fierce Numa.
At last they led him back to their village, where they brought
him gifts of fowl, and goats, and cooked food. When he pointed to
their weapons the warriors hastened to fetch spear, shield, arrows,
and a bow. His friend of the encounter presented him with the
knife with which he had killed Numa. There was nothing in all the
village he could not have had for the asking.
How much easier this was, thought Tarzan, than murder and robbery to
supply his wants. How close he had been to killing this man whom
he never had seen before, and who now was manifesting by every
primitive means at his command friendship and affection for his
would-be slayer. Tarzan of the Apes was ashamed. Hereafter he
would at least wait until he knew men deserved it before he thought
of killing them.
The idea recalled Rokoff to his mind. He wished that he might
have the Russian to himself in the dark jungle for a few minutes.
There was a man who deserved killing if ever any one did. And if
he could have seen Rokoff at that moment as he assiduously bent
every endeavor to the pleasant task of ingratiating himself into
the affections of the beautiful Miss Strong, he would have longed
more than ever to mete out to the man the fate he deserved.
Tarzan's first night with the savages was devoted to a wild orgy
in his honor. There was feasting, for the hunters had brought in
an antelope and a zebra as trophies of their skill, and gallons
of the weak native beer were consumed. As the warriors danced in
the firelight, Tarzan was again impressed by the symmetry of their
figures and the regularity of their features--the flat noses and
thick lips of the typical West Coast savage were entirely missing.
In repose the faces of the men were intelligent and dignified,
those of the women ofttimes prepossessing.
It was during this dance that the ape-man first noticed that some
of the men and many of the women wore ornaments of gold--principally
anklets and armlets of great weight, apparently beaten out of the
solid metal. When he expressed a wish to examine one of these, the
owner removed it from her person and insisted, through the medium
of signs, that Tarzan accept it as a gift. A close scrutiny of the
bauble convinced the ape-man that the article was of virgin gold,
and he was surprised, for it was the first time that he had ever
seen golden ornaments among the savages of Africa, other than the
trifling baubles those near the coast had purchased or stolen from
Europeans. He tried to ask them from whence the metal came, but
he could not make them understand.
When the dance was done Tarzan signified his intention to leave
them, but they almost implored him to accept the hospitality of
a great hut which the chief set apart for his sole use. He tried
to explain that he would return in the morning, but they could not
understand. When he finally walked away from them toward the side
of the village opposite the gate, they were still further mystified
as to his intentions.
Tarzan, however, knew just what he was about. In the past he had
had experience with the rodents and vermin that infest every native
village, and, while he was not overscrupulous about such matters,
he much preferred the fresh air of the swaying trees to the fetid
atmosphere of a hut.
The natives followed him to where a great tree overhung the palisade,
and as Tarzan leaped for a lower branch and disappeared into the
foliage above, precisely after the manner of Manu, the monkey, there
were loud exclamations of surprise and astonishment. For half an
hour they called to him to return, but as he did not answer them
they at last desisted, and sought the sleeping-mats within their
huts.
Tarzan went back into the forest a short distance until he had
found a tree suited to his primitive requirements, and then, curling
himself in a great crotch, he fell immediately into a deep sleep.
The following morning he dropped into the village street as
suddenly as he had disappeared the preceding night. For a moment
the natives were startled and afraid, but when they recognized
their guest of the night before they welcomed him with shouts and
laughter. That day he accompanied a party of warriors to the nearby
plains on a great hunt, and so dexterous did they find this white
man with their own crude weapons that another bond of respect and
admiration was thereby wrought.
For weeks Tarzan lived with his savage friends, hunting buffalo,
antelope, and zebra for meat, and elephant for ivory. Quickly he
learned their simple speech, their native customs, and the ethics
of their wild, primitive tribal life. He found that they were not
cannibals--that they looked with loathing and contempt upon men
who ate men.
Busuli, the warrior whom he had stalked to the village, told him
many of the tribal legends--how, many years before, his people
had come many long marches from the north; how once they had been
a great and powerful tribe; and how the slave raiders had wrought
such havoc among them with their death-dealing guns that they had
been reduced to a mere remnant of their former numbers and power.
"They hunted us down as one hunts a fierce beast," said Busuli.
"There was no mercy in them. When it was not slaves they sought
it was ivory, but usually it was both. Our men were killed and
our women driven away like sheep. We fought against them for many
years, but our arrows and spears could not prevail against the sticks
which spit fire and lead and death to many times the distance that
our mightiest warrior could place an arrow. At last, when my father
was a young man, the Arabs came again, but our warriors saw them
a long way off, and Chowambi, who was chief then, told his people
to gather up their belongings and come away with him--that he
would lead them far to the south until they found a spot to which
the Arab raiders did not come.
"And they did as he bid, carrying all their belongings, including
many tusks of ivory. For months they wandered, suffering untold
hardships and privations, for much of the way was through dense
jungle, and across mighty mountains, but finally they came to this
spot, and although they sent parties farther on to search for an
even better location, none has ever been found."
"And the raiders have never found you here?" asked Tarzan.
"About a year ago a small party of Arabs and Manyuema stumbled
upon us, but we drove them off, killing many. For days we followed
them, stalking them for the wild beasts they are, picking them off
one by one, until but a handful remained, but these escaped us."
As Busuli talked he fingered a heavy gold armlet that encircled
the glossy hide of his left arm. Tarzan's eyes had been upon the
ornament, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Presently he recalled
the question he had tried to ask when he first came to the tribe--the
question he could not at that time make them understand. For weeks
he had forgotten so trivial a thing as gold, for he had been for
the time a truly primeval man with no thought beyond today. But
of a sudden the sight of gold awakened the sleeping civilization
that was in him, and with it came the lust for wealth. That lesson
Tarzan had learned well in his brief experience of the ways of
civilized man. He knew that gold meant power and pleasure. He
pointed to the bauble.
"From whence came the yellow metal, Busuli?" he asked.
The black pointed toward the southeast.
"A moon's march away--maybe more," he replied.
"Have you been there?" asked Tarzan.
"No, but some of our people were there years ago, when my father
was yet a young man. One of the parties that searched farther for
a location for the tribe when first they settled here came upon
a strange people who wore many ornaments of yellow metal. Their
spears were tipped with it, as were their arrows, and they cooked
in vessels made all of solid metal like my armlet.
"They lived in a great village in huts that were built of stone
and surrounded by a great wall. They were very fierce, rushing out
and falling upon our warriors before ever they learned that their
errand was a peaceful one. Our men were few in number, but they
held their own at the top of a little rocky hill, until the fierce
people went back at sunset into their wicked city. Then our warriors
came down from their hill, and, after taking many ornaments of
yellow metal from the bodies of those they had slain, they marched
back out of the valley, nor have any of us ever returned.
"They are wicked people--neither white like you nor black like me,
but covered with hair as is Bolgani, the gorilla. Yes, they are
very bad people indeed, and Chowambi was glad to get out of their
country."
"And are none of those alive who were with Chowambi, and saw these
strange people and their wonderful city?" asked Tarzan.
"Waziri, our chief, was there," replied Busuli. "He was a very
young man then, but he accompanied Chowambi, who was his father."
So that night Tarzan asked Waziri about it, and Waziri, who was
now an old man, said that it was a long march, but that the way
was not difficult to follow. He remembered it well.
"For ten days we followed this river which runs beside our village.
Up toward its source we traveled until on the tenth day we came
to a little spring far up upon the side of a lofty mountain range.
In this little spring our river is born. The next day we crossed
over the top of the mountain, and upon the other side we came to a
tiny rivulet which we followed down into a great forest. For many
days we traveled along the winding banks of the rivulet that had
now become a river, until we came to a greater river, into which
it emptied, and which ran down the center of a mighty valley.
"Then we followed this large river toward its source, hoping to
come to more open land. After twenty days of marching from the time
we had crossed the mountains and passed out of our own country we
came again to another range of mountains. Up their side we followed
the great river, that had now dwindled to a tiny rivulet, until
we came to a little cave near the mountain-top. In this cave was
the mother of the river.
"I remember that we camped there that night, and that it was very
cold, for the mountains were high. The next day we decided to
ascend to the top of the mountains, and see what the country upon
the other side looked like, and if it seemed no better than that
which we had so far traversed we would return to our village and
tell them that they had already found the best place in all the
world to live.
"And so we clambered up the face of the rocky cliffs until we
reached the summit, and there from a flat mountain-top we saw, not
far beneath us, a shallow valley, very narrow; and upon the far
side of it was a great village of stone, much of which had fallen
and crumbled into decay."
The balance of Waziri's story was practically the same as that
which Busuli had told.
"I should like to go there and see this strange city," said Tarzan,
"and get some of their yellow metal from its fierce inhabitants."
"It is a long march," replied Waziri, "and I am an old man, but if
you will wait until the rainy season is over and the rivers have
gone down I will take some of my warriors and go with you."
And Tarzan had to be contented with that arrangement, though he
would have liked it well enough to have set off the next morning--he
was as impatient as a child. Really Tarzan of the Apes was but a
child, or a primeval man, which is the same thing in a way.
The next day but one a small party of hunters returned to the village
from the south to report a large herd of elephant some miles away.
By climbing trees they had had a fairly good view of the herd,
which they described as numbering several large tuskers, a great
many cows and calves, and full-grown bulls whose ivory would be
worth having.
The balance of the day and evening was filled with preparation for
a great hunt--spears were overhauled, quivers were replenished, bows
Back to Full Books
|