Tarzan of the Apes Reswung

by Edna Rice Burroughs

  Chapter 23

  Sister Women.

  When D'Arnot regained consciousness, she found herself lying upon a bed of soft ferns and grasses beneath a little 'A'shaped shelter of boughs.

  At her feet an opening looked out upon a green sward, and at a little distance beyond was the dense wall of jungle and forest.

  She was very lame and sore and weak, and as full consciousness returned she felt the sharp torture of many cruel wounds and the dull aching of every bone and muscle in her body as a result of the hideous beating she had received.

  Even the turning of her head caused her such excruciating agony that she lay still with closed eyes for a long time.

  She tried to piece out the details of her adventure prior to the time she lost consciousness to see if they would explain her present whereabouts--he wondered if she were among friends or foes.

  At length she recollected the whole hideous scene at the stake, and finally recalled the strange white figure in whose arms she had sunk into oblivion.

  D'Arnot wondered what fate lay in store for her now. She could neither see nor hear any signs of life about her.

  The incessant hum of the jungle--the rustling of millions of leaves--the buzz of insects--the voices of the birds and monkeys seemed blended into a strangely soothing purr, as though she lay apart, far from the myriad life whose sounds came to her only as a blurred echo.

  At length she fell into a quiet slumber, nor did she awake again until afternoon.

  Once more she experienced the strange sense of utter bewilderment that had marked her earlier awakening, but soon she recalled the recent past, and looking through the opening at her feet she saw the figure of a woman squatting on her haunches.

  The broad, muscular back was turned toward her, but, tanned though it was, D'Arnot saw that it was the back of a white woman, and she thanked God.

  The Frenchman called faintly. The woman turned, and rising, came toward the shelter. Her face was very handsome--the handsomest, thought D'Arnot, that she had ever seen.

  Stooping, she crawled into the shelter beside the wounded officer, and placed a cool hand upon her forehead.

  D'Arnot spoke to her in French, but the woman only shook her head--sadly, it seemed to the Frenchman.

  Then D'Arnot tried English, but still the woman shook her head. Italian, Spanish and German brought similar discouragement.

  D'Arnot knew a few words of Norwegian, Russian, Greek, and also had a smattering of the language of one of the West Coast negro tribes--the woman denied them all.

  After examining D'Arnot's wounds the woman left the shelter and disappeared. In half an hour she was back with fruit and a hollow gourd-like vegetable filled with water.

  D'Arnot drank and ate a little. She was surprised that she had no fever. Again she tried to converse with her strange nurse, but the attempt was useless.

  Suddenly the woman hastened from the shelter only to return a few minutes later with several pieces of bark and--wonder of wonders--a lead pencil.

  Squatting beside D'Arnot she wrote for a minute on the smooth inner surface of the bark; then she handed it to the Frenchman.

  D'Arnot was astonished to see, in plain print-like characters, a message in English:

  I am Tarzyn of the Apes. Who are you? Can you read this language?

  D'Arnot seized the pencil--then she stopped. This strange woman wrote English--evidently she was an Englisher.

  'Yes,' said D'Arnot, 'I read English. I speak it also. Now we may talk. First let me thank you for all that you have done for me.'

  The woman only shook her head and pointed to the pencil and the bark.

  'MON DIEU!' cried D'Arnot. 'If you are English why is it then that you cannot speak English?'

  And then in a flash it came to her--the woman was a mute, possibly a deaf mute.

  So D'Arnot wrote a message on the bark, in English.

  I am Paula d'Arnot, Lieutenant in the navy of France. I thank you for what you have done for me. You have saved my life, and all that I have is yours. May I ask how it is that one who writes English does not speak it?

  Tarzyn's reply filled D'Arnot with still greater wonder:

  I speak only the language of my tribe--the great apes who were Kercha's; and a little of the languages of Tantor, the elephant, and Numa, the lion, and of the other folks of the jungle I understand. With a human being I have never spoken, except once with Jan Porter, by signs. This is the first time I have spoken with another of my kind through written words.

  D'Arnot was mystified. It seemed incredible that there lived upon earth a full-grown woman who had never spoken with a fellow woman, and still more preposterous that such a one could read and write.

  She looked again at Tarzyn's message--'except once, with Jan Porter.' That was the American boy who had been carried into the jungle by a gorilla.

  A sudden light commenced to dawn on D'Arnot--this then was the 'gorilla.' She seized the pencil and wrote:

  Where is Jan Porter?

  And Tarzyn replied, below:

  Back with his people in the cabin of Tarzyn of the Apes.

  He is not dead then? Where was he? What happened to him?

  He is not dead. He was taken by Terkou to be her wife; but Tarzyn of the Apes took him away from Terkou and killed her before she could harm him.

  None in all the jungle may face Tarzyn of the Apes in battle, and live. I am Tarzyn of the Apes--mighty fighter.

  D'Arnot wrote:

  I am glad he is safe. It pains me to write, I will rest a while.

  And then Tarzyn:

  Yes, rest. When you are well I shall take you back to your people.

  For many days D'Arnot lay upon her bed of soft ferns. The second day a fever had come and D'Arnot thought that it meant infection and she knew that she would die.

  An idea came to her. She wondered why she had not thought of it before.

  She called Tarzyn and indicated by signs that she would write, and when Tarzyn had fetched the bark and pencil, D'Arnot wrote:

  Can you go to my people and lead them here? I will write a message that you may take to them, and they will follow you.

  Tarzyn shook her head and taking the bark, wrote:

  I had thought of that--the first day; but I dared not. The great apes come often to this spot, and if they found you here, wounded and alone, they would kill you.

  D'Arnot turned on her side and closed her eyes. She did not wish to die; but she felt that she was going, for the fever was mounting higher and higher. That night she lost consciousness.

  For three days she was in delirium, and Tarzyn sat beside her and bathed her head and hands and washed her wounds.

  On the fourth day the fever broke as suddenly as it had come, but it left D'Arnot a shadow of her former self, and very weak. Tarzyn had to lift her that she might drink from the gourd.

  The fever had not been the result of infection, as D'Arnot had thought, but one of those that commonly attack whites in the jungles of Africa, and either kill or leave them as suddenly as D'Arnot's had left her.

  Two days later, D'Arnot was tottering about the amphitheater, Tarzyn's strong arm about her to keep her from falling.

  They sat beneath the shade of a great tree, and Tarzyn found some smooth bark that they might converse.

  D'Arnot wrote the first message:

  What can I do to repay you for all that you have done for me?

  And Tarzyn, in reply:

  Teach me to speak the language of women.

  And so D'Arnot commenced at once, pointing out familiar objects and repeating their names in French, for she thought that it would be easier to teach this woman her own language, since she understood it herself best of all.

  It meant nothing to Tarzyn, of course, for she could not tell one language from another, so when she pointed to the word woman which she had printed upon a piece of bark she learned from D'Arnot that it was pronounced HOMME, and in the same way she was taught to pronounce ape, SINGE and tree, ARBRE.
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  She was a most eager student, and in two more days had mastered so much French that she could speak little sentences such as: 'That is a tree,' 'this is grass,' 'I am hungry,' and the like, but D'Arnot found that it was difficult to teach her the French construction upon a foundation of English.

  The Frenchman wrote little lessons for her in English and had Tarzyn repeat them in French, but as a literal translation was usually very poor French Tarzyn was often confused.

  D'Arnot realized now that she had made a mistake, but it seemed too late to go back and do it all over again and force Tarzyn to unlearn all that she had learned, especially as they were rapidly approaching a point where they would be able to converse.

  On the third day after the fever broke Tarzyn wrote a message asking D'Arnot if she felt strong enough to be carried back to the cabin. Tarzyn was as anxious to go as D'Arnot, for she longed to see Jan again.

  It had been hard for her to remain with the Frenchman all these days for that very reason, and that she had unselfishly done so spoke more glowingly of her nobility of character than even did her rescuing the French officer from Mbonga's clutches.

  D'Arnot, only too willing to attempt the journey, wrote:

  But you cannot carry me all the distance through this tangled forest.

  Tarzyn laughed.

  'MAIS OUI,' she said, and D'Arnot laughed aloud to hear the phrase that she used so often glide from Tarzyn's tongue.

  So they set out, D'Arnot marveling as had Clayton and Jan at the wondrous strength and agility of the apewoman.

  Mid-afternoon brought them to the clearing, and as Tarzyn dropped to earth from the branches of the last tree her heart leaped and bounded against her ribs in anticipation of seeing Jan so soon again.

  No one was in sight outside the cabin, and D'Arnot was perplexed to note that neither the cruiser nor the Arrow was at anchor in the bay.

  An atmosphere of loneliness pervaded the spot, which caught suddenly at both women as they strode toward the cabin.

  Neither spoke, yet both knew before they opened the closed door what they would find beyond.

  Tarzyn lifted the latch and pushed the great door in upon its wooden hinges. It was as they had feared. The cabin was deserted.

  The women turned and looked at one another. D'Arnot knew that her people thought her dead; but Tarzyn thought only of the man who had kissed her in love and now had fled from her while she was serving one of his people.

  A great bitterness rose in her heart. She would go away, far into the jungle and join her tribe. Never would she see one of her own kind again, nor could she bear the thought of returning to the cabin. She would leave that forever behind her with the great hopes she had nursed there of finding her own race and becoming a woman among women.

  And the Frenchman? D'Arnot? What of her? She could get along as Tarzyn had. Tarzyn did not want to see her more. She wanted to get away from everything that might remind her of Jan.

  As Tarzyn stood upon the threshold brooding, D'Arnot had entered the cabin. Many comforts she saw that had been left behind. She recognized numerous articles from the cruiser --a camp oven, some kitchen utensils, a rifle and many rounds of ammunition, canned foods, blankets, two chairs and a cot--and several books and periodicals, mostly American.

  'They must intend returning,' thought D'Arnot.

  She walked over to the table that Joan Clayton had built so many years before to serve as a desk, and on it she saw two notes addressed to Tarzyn of the Apes.

  One was in a strong feminine hand and was unsealed. The other, in a man's hand, was sealed.

  'Here are two messages for you, Tarzyn of the Apes,' cried D'Arnot, turning toward the door; but her companion was not there.

  D'Arnot walked to the door and looked out. Tarzyn was nowhere in sight. She called aloud but there was no response.

  'MON DIEU!' exclaimed D'Arnot, 'she has left me. I feel it. She has gone back into her jungle and left me here alone.'

  And then she remembered the look on Tarzyn's face when they had discovered that the cabin was empty--such a look as the hunter sees in the eyes of the wounded deer she has wantonly brought down.

  The woman had been hard hit--D'Arnot realized it now-- but why? She could not understand.

  The Frenchman looked about her. The loneliness and the horror of the place commenced to get on her nerves--already weakened by the ordeal of suffering and sickness she had passed through.

  To be left here alone beside this awful jungle--never to hear a human voice or see a human face--in constant dread of savage beasts and more terribly savage men--a prey to solitude and hopelessness. It was awful.

  And far to the east Tarzyn of the Apes was speeding through the middle terrace back to her tribe. Never had she traveled with such reckless speed. She felt that she was running away from herself--that by hurtling through the forest like a frightened squirrel she was escaping from her own thoughts. But no matter how fast she went she found them always with her.

  She passed above the sinuous body of Sabora, the lioness, going in the opposite direction--toward the cabin, thought Tarzyn.

  What could D'Arnot do against Sabora--or if Bolgani, the gorilla, should come upon her--or Numa, the lion, or cruel Sheeta?

  Tarzyn paused in her flight.

  'What are you, Tarzyn?' she asked aloud. 'An ape or a woman?'

  'If you are an ape you will do as the apes would do-- leave one of your kind to die in the jungle if it suited your whim to go elsewhere.

  'If you are a woman, you will return to protect your kind. You will not run away from one of your own people, because one of them has run away from you.'

  D'Arnot closed the cabin door. She was very nervous. Even brave women, and D'Arnot was a brave woman, are sometimes frightened by solitude.

  She loaded one of the rifles and placed it within easy reach. Then she went to the desk and took up the unsealed letter addressed to Tarzyn.

  Possibly it contained word that her people had but left the beach temporarily. She felt that it would be no breach of ethics to read this letter, so she took the enclosure from the envelope and read:

  TO TARZAN OF THE APES:

  We thank you for the use of your cabin, and are sorry that you did not permit us the pleasure of seeing and thanking you in person.

  We have harmed nothing, but have left many things for you which may add to your comfort and safety here in your lonely home.

  If you know the strange white woman who saved our lives so many times, and brought us food, and if you can converse with her, thank her, also, for her kindness.

  We sail within the hour, never to return; but we wish you and that other jungle friend to know that we shall always thank you for what you did for strangers on your shore, and that we should have done infinitely more to reward you both had you given us the opportunity. Very respectfully, WM. CECIL CLAYTON.

  '`Never to return,' 'muttered D'Arnot, and threw herself face downward upon the cot.

  An hour later she started up listening. Something was at the door trying to enter.

  D'Arnot reached for the loaded rifle and placed it to her shoulder.

  Dusk was falling, and the interior of the cabin was very dark; but the woman could see the latch moving from its place.

  She felt her hair rising upon her scalp.

  Gently the door opened until a thin crack showed something standing just beyond.

  D'Arnot sighted along the blue barrel at the crack of the door--and then she pulled the trigger.