Chapter 3.
The Chant of the Drums
Across the dusky waters the whisper came: boom, boom, boom!--a sullen reiteration. Far away and more faintly sounded a whisper of different timbre: thrum, throom, thrum! Back and forth went the vibrations as the throbbing drums spoke to each other. What tales did they carry? What monstrous secrets whispered across the sullen, shadowy reaches of the unmapped jungle?
'This, you are sure, is the bay where the Spanish ship put in?'
'Yes, Senhor; the Negro swears this is the bay where the white woman left the ship alone and went into the jungle.'
Kane nodded grimly.
'Then put me ashore here, alone. Wait seven days; then if I have not returned and if you have no word of me, set sail wherever you will.'
'Yes, Senhor.'
The waves slapped lazily against the sides of the boat that carried Kane ashore. The village that she sought was on the river bank but set back from the bay shore, the jungle hiding it from sight of the ship.
Kane had adopted what seemed the most hazardous course, that of going ashore by night, for the reason that she knew, if the woman she sought were in the village, she would never reach it by day. As it was, she was taking a most desperate chance in daring the nighttime jungle, but all her life she had been used to taking desperate chances. Now she gambled her life upon the slim chance of gaining the Negro village under cover of darkness and unknown to the villagers.
At the beach she left the boat with a few muttered commands, and as the rowers put back to the ship which lay anchored some distance out in the bay, she turned and engulfed herself in the blackness of the jungle. Sword in one hand, dagger in the other, she stole forward, seeking to keep pointed in the direction from which the drums still muttered and grumbled.
She went with the stealth and easy movement of a leopard, feeling her way cautiously, every nerve alert and straining, but the way was not easy. Vines tripped her and slapped her in the face, impeding her progress; she was forced to grope her way between the huge boles of towering trees, and all through the underbrush about her sounded vague and menacing rustlings and shadows of movement. Thrice her foot touched something that moved beneath it and writhed away, and once she glimpsed the baleful glimmer of feline eyes among the trees. They vanished, however, as she advanced.
Thrum, thrum, thrum, came the ceaseless monotone of the drums: war and death (they said); blood and lust; human sacrifice and human feast! The soul of Africa (said the drums); the spirit of the jungle; the chant of the gods of outer darkness, the gods that roar and gibber, the gods women knew when dawns were young, beast-eyed, gaping- mouthed, huge-bellied, bloody-handed, the Black Gods (sang the drums).
All this and more the drums roared and bellowed to Kane as she worked her way through the forest. Somewhere in her soul a responsive chord was smitten and answered. You too are of the night (sang the drums); there is the strength of darkness, the strength of the primitive in you; come back down the ages; let us teach you, let us teach you (chanted the drums).
Kane stepped out of the thick jungle and came upon a plainly defined trail. Beyond through the trees came the gleam of the village fires, flames glowing through the palisades. Kane walked down the trail swiftly.
She went silently and warily, sword extended in front of her, eyes straining to catch any hint of movement in the darkness ahead, for the trees loomed like sullen giants on each hand; sometimes their great branches intertwined above the trail and she could see only a slight way ahead of her.
Like a dark ghost she moved along the shadowed trail; alertly she stared and harkened; yet no warning came first to her, as a great, vague bulk rose up out of the shadows and struck her down, silently.
Solomyn Kane Relentless Page 2
