Tarzan of the Apes
“Breakfast, I hope,” he answered, smiling bravely in an attempt to
allay her fears.
“At least,” he added, “I’m going to ask them. Come with me, Alice. We
must not let them think we expect any but courteous treatment.”
The men had by this time surrounded the dead and wounded officers, and
without either partiality or compassion proceeded to throw both living
and dead over the sides of the vessel. With equal heartlessness they
disposed of their own dead and dying.
Presently one of the crew spied the approaching Claytons, and with a
cry of: “Here’s two more for the fishes,” rushed toward them with
uplifted ax.
But Black Michael was even quicker, so that the fellow went down with a
bullet in his back before he had taken a half dozen steps.
With a loud roar, Black Michael attracted the attention of the others,
and, pointing to Lord and Lady Greystoke, cried:
“These here are my friends, and they are to be left alone. D’ye
understand?
“I’m captain of this ship now, an’ what I says goes,” he added, turning
to Clayton. “Just keep to yourselves, and nobody’ll harm ye,” and he
looked threateningly on his fellows.
The Claytons heeded Black Michael’s instructions so well that they saw
but little of the crew and knew nothing of the plans the men were
making.
Occasionally they heard faint echoes of brawls and quarreling among the
mutineers, and on two occasions the vicious bark of firearms rang out
on the still air. But Black Michael was a fit leader for this band of
cutthroats, and, withal held them in fair subjection to his rule.
On the fifth day following the murder of the ship’s officers, land was
sighted by the lookout. Whether island or mainland, Black Michael did
not know, but he announced to Clayton that if investigation showed that
the place was habitable he and Lady Greystoke were to be put ashore
with their belongings.
“You’ll be all right there for a few months,” he explained, “and by
that time we’ll have been able to make an inhabited coast somewhere and
scatter a bit. Then I’ll see that yer gover’ment’s notified where you
be an’ they’ll soon send a man-o’war to fetch ye off.
“It would be a hard matter to land you in civilization without a lot o’
questions being asked, an’ none o’ us here has any very convincin’
answers up our sleeves.”
Clayton remonstrated against the inhumanity of landing them upon an
unknown shore to be left to the mercies of savage beasts, and,
possibly, still more savage men.
But his words were of no avail, and only tended to anger Black Michael,
so he was forced to desist and make the best he could of a bad
situation.
About three o’clock in the afternoon they came about off a beautiful
wooded shore opposite the mouth of what appeared to be a land-locked
harbor.
Black Michael sent a small boat filled with men to sound the entrance
in an effort to determine if the _Fuwalda_ could be safely worked
through the entrance.
In about an hour they returned and reported deep water through the
passage as well as far into the little basin.
Before dark the barkentine lay peacefully at anchor upon the bosom of
the still, mirror-like surface of the harbor.
The surrounding shores were beautiful with semitropical verdure, while
in the distance the country rose from the ocean in hill and tableland,
almost uniformly clothed by primeval forest.
No signs of habitation were visible, but that the land might easily
support human life was evidenced by the abundant bird and animal life
of which the watchers on the _Fuwalda’s_ deck caught occasional
glimpses, as well as by the shimmer of a little river which emptied
into the harbor, insuring fresh water in plenitude.
As darkness settled upon the earth, Clayton and Lady Alice still stood
by the ship’s rail in silent contemplation of their future abode. From
the dark shadows of the mighty forest came the wild calls of savage
beasts—the deep roar of the lion, and, occasionally, the shrill scream
of a panther.
The woman shrank closer to the man in terror-stricken anticipation of
the horrors lying in wait for them in the awful blackness of the nights
to come, when they should be alone upon that wild and lonely shore.
Later in the evening Black Michael joined them long enough to instruct
them to make their preparations for landing on the morrow. They tried
to persuade him to take them to some more hospitable coast near enough
to civilization so that they might hope to fall into friendly hands.
But no pleas, or threats, or promises of reward could move him.
“I am the only man aboard who would not rather see ye both safely dead,
and, while I know that’s the sensible way to make sure of our own
necks, yet Black Michael’s not the man to forget a favor. Ye saved my
life once, and in return I’m goin’ to spare yours, but that’s all I can
do.
“The men won’t stand for any more, and if we don’t get ye landed pretty
quick they may even change their minds about giving ye that much show.
I’ll put all yer stuff ashore with ye as well as cookin’ utensils an’
some old sails for tents, an’ enough grub to last ye until ye can find
fruit and game.
“With yer guns for protection, ye ought to be able to live here easy
enough until help comes. When I get safely hid away I’ll see to it that
the British gover’ment learns about where ye be; for the life of me I
couldn’t tell ’em exactly where, for I don’t know myself. But they’ll
find ye all right.”
After he had left them they went silently below, each wrapped in gloomy
forebodings.
Clayton did not believe that Black Michael had the slightest intention
of notifying the British government of their whereabouts, nor was he
any too sure but that some treachery was contemplated for the following
day when they should be on shore with the sailors who would have to
accompany them with their belongings.
Once out of Black Michael’s sight any of the men might strike them
down, and still leave Black Michael’s conscience clear.
And even should they escape that fate was it not but to be faced with
far graver dangers? Alone, he might hope to survive for years; for he
was a strong, athletic man.
But what of Alice, and that other little life so soon to be launched
amidst the hardships and grave dangers of a primeval world?
The man shuddered as he meditated upon the awful gravity, the fearful
helplessness, of their situation. But it was a merciful Providence
which prevented him from foreseeing the hideous reality which awaited
them in the grim depths of that gloomy wood.
Early next morning their numerous chests and boxes were hoisted on deck
and lowered to waiting small boats for transportation to shore.
There was a great quantity and variety of stuff, as the Claytons had
expected a possible five to eight years’ residence in their new home.
Thus, in addition to the many necessities they had brought, there were
also many luxuries.
Black Michael was determined that nothing belonging to the Claytons
should be left on board. Whether out of compassion for them, or in
furtherance of his own self-interests, it would be difficult to say.
There was no question but that the presence of property of a missing
British official upon a suspicious vessel would have been a difficult
thing to explain in any civilized port in the world.
So zealous was he in his efforts to carry out his intentions that he
insisted upon the return of Clayton’s revolvers to him by the sailors
in whose possession they were.
Into the small boats were also loaded salt meats and biscuit, with a
small supply of potatoes and beans, matches, and cooking vessels, a
chest of tools, and the old sails which Black Michael had promised
them.
As though himself fearing the very thing which Clayton had suspected,
Black Michael accompanied them to shore, and was the last to leave them
when the small boats, having filled the ship’s casks with fresh water,
were pushed out toward the waiting _Fuwalda_.
As the boats moved slowly over the smooth waters of the bay, Clayton
and his wife stood silently watching their departure—in the breasts of
both a feeling of impending disaster and utter hopelessness.
And behind them, over the edge of a low ridge, other eyes watched—close
set, wicked eyes, gleaming beneath shaggy brows.
As the _Fuwalda_ passed through the narrow entrance to the harbor and
out of sight behind a projecting point, Lady Alice threw her arms about
Clayton’s neck and burst into uncontrolled sobs.
Bravely had she faced the dangers of the mutiny; with heroic fortitude
she had looked into the terrible future; but now that the horror of
absolute solitude was upon them, her overwrought nerves gave way, and
the reaction came.
He did not attempt to check her tears. It were better that nature have
her way in relieving these long-pent emotions, and it was many minutes
before the girl—little more than a child she was—could again gain
mastery of herself.
“Oh, John,” she cried at last, “the horror of it. What are we to do?
What are we to do?”
“There is but one thing to do, Alice,” and he spoke as quietly as
though they were sitting in their snug living room at home, “and that
is work. Work must be our salvation. We must not give ourselves time to
think, for in that direction lies madness.
“We must work and wait. I am sure that relief will come, and come
quickly, when once it is apparent that the _Fuwalda_ has been lost,
even though Black Michael does not keep his word to us.”
“But John, if it were only you and I,” she sobbed, “we could endure it
I know; but—”
“Yes, dear,” he answered, gently, “I have been thinking of that, also;
but we must face it, as we must face whatever comes, bravely and with
the utmost confidence in our ability to cope with circumstances
whatever they may be.
“Hundreds of thousands of years ago our ancestors of the dim and
distant past faced the same problems which we must face, possibly in
these same primeval forests. That we are here today evidences their
victory.
“What they did may we not do? And even better, for are we not armed
with ages of superior knowledge, and have we not the means of
protection, defense, and sustenance which science has given us, but of
which they were totally ignorant? What they accomplished, Alice, with
instruments and weapons of stone and bone, surely that may we
accomplish also.”
“Ah, John, I wish that I might be a man with a man’s philosophy, but I
am but a woman, seeing with my heart rather than my head, and all that
I can see is too horrible, too unthinkable to put into words.
“I only hope you are right, John. I will do my best to be a brave
primeval woman, a fit mate for the primeval man.”
Clayton’s first thought was to arrange a sleeping shelter for the
night; something which might serve to protect them from prowling beasts
of prey.
He opened the box containing his rifles and ammunition, that they might
both be armed against possible attack while at work, and then together
they sought a location for their first night’s sleeping place.
A hundred yards from the beach was a little level spot, fairly free of
trees; here they decided eventually to build a permanent house, but for
the time being they both thought it best to construct a little platform
in the trees out of reach of the larger of the savage beasts in whose
realm they were.
To this end Clayton selected four trees which formed a rectangle about
eight feet square, and cutting long branches from other trees he
constructed a framework around them, about ten feet from the ground,
fastening the ends of the branches securely to the trees by means of
rope, a quantity of which Black Michael had furnished him from the hold
of the _Fuwalda_.
Across this framework Clayton placed other smaller branches quite close