The Return of Tarzan

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  Chapter 18

  The Lottery of Death

  Jane Porter had been the first of those in the lifeboat to awaken themorning after the wreck of the LADY ALICE. The other members of theparty were asleep upon the thwarts or huddled in cramped positions inthe bottom of the boat.

  When the girl realized that they had become separated from the otherboats she was filled with alarm. The sense of utter loneliness andhelplessness which the vast expanse of deserted ocean aroused in herwas so depressing that, from the first, contemplation of the futureheld not the slightest ray of promise for her. She was confident thatthey were lost--lost beyond possibility of succor.

  Presently Clayton awoke. It was several minutes before he could gatherhis senses sufficiently to realize where he was, or recall the disasterof the previous night. Finally his bewildered eyes fell upon the girl.

  "Jane!" he cried. "Thank God that we are together!"

  "Look," said the girl dully, indicating the horizon with an apatheticgesture. "We are all alone."

  Clayton scanned the water in every direction.

  "Where can they be?" he cried. "They cannot have gone down, for therehas been no sea, and they were afloat after the yacht sank--I saw themall."

  He awoke the other members of the party, and explained their plight.

  "It is just as well that the boats are scattered, sir," said one of thesailors. "They are all provisioned, so that they do not need eachother on that score, and should a storm blow up they could be of noservice to one another even if they were together, but scattered aboutthe ocean there is a much better chance that one at least will bepicked up, and then a search will be at once started for the others.Were we together there would be but one chance of rescue, where nowthere may be four."

  They saw the wisdom of his philosophy, and were cheered by it, buttheir joy was short-lived, for when it was decided that they should rowsteadily toward the east and the continent, it was discovered that thesailors who had been at the only two oars with which the boat had beenprovided had fallen asleep at their work, and allowed both to slip intothe sea, nor were they in sight anywhere upon the water.

  During the angry words and recriminations which followed the sailorsnearly came to blows, but Clayton succeeded in quieting them; though amoment later Monsieur Thuran almost precipitated another row by makinga nasty remark about the stupidity of all Englishmen, and especiallyEnglish sailors.

  "Come, come, mates," spoke up one of the men, Tompkins, who had takenno part in the altercation, "shootin' off our bloomin' mugs won't getus nothin'. As Spider 'ere said afore, we'll all bloody well be pickedup, anyway, sez 'e, so wot's the use o' squabblin'? Let's eat, sez I."

  "That's not a bad idea," said Monsieur Thuran, and then, turning to thethird sailor, Wilson, he said: "Pass one of those tins aft, my goodman."

  "Fetch it yerself," retorted Wilson sullenly. "I ain't a-takin' noorders from no--furriner--you ain't captain o' this ship yet."

  The result was that Clayton himself had to get the tin, and thenanother angry altercation ensued when one of the sailors accusedClayton and Monsieur Thuran of conspiring to control the provisions sothat they could have the lion's share.

  "Some one should take command of this boat," spoke up Jane Porter,thoroughly disgusted with the disgraceful wrangling that had marked thevery opening of a forced companionship that might last for many days."It is terrible enough to be alone in a frail boat on the Atlantic,without having the added misery and danger of constant bickering andbrawling among the members of our party. You men should elect aleader, and then abide by his decisions in all matters. There isgreater need for strict discipline here than there is upon awell-ordered ship."

  She had hoped before she voiced her sentiments that it would not benecessary for her to enter into the transaction at all, for shebelieved that Clayton was amply able to cope with every emergency, butshe had to admit that so far at least he had shown no greater promiseof successfully handling the situation than any of the others, thoughhe had at least refrained from adding in any way to the unpleasantness,even going so far as to give up the tin to the sailors when theyobjected to its being opened by him.

  The girl's words temporarily quieted the men, and finally it wasdecided that the two kegs of water and the four tins of food should bedivided into two parts, one-half going forward to the three sailors todo with as they saw best, and the balance aft to the three passengers.

  Thus was the little company divided into two camps, and when theprovisions had been apportioned each immediately set to work to openand distribute food and water. The sailors were the first to get oneof the tins of "food" open, and their curses of rage and disappointmentcaused Clayton to ask what the trouble might be.

  "Trouble!" shrieked Spider. "Trouble! It's worse than trouble--it'sdeath! This---tin is full of coal oil!"

  Hastily now Clayton and Monsieur Thuran tore open one of theirs, onlyto learn the hideous truth that it also contained, not food, but coaloil. One after another the four tins on board were opened. And as thecontents of each became known howls of anger announced the grimtruth--there was not an ounce of food upon the boat.

  "Well, thank Gawd it wasn't the water," cried Thompkins. "It's easierto get along without food than it is without water. We can eat ourshoes if worse comes to worst, but we couldn't drink 'em."

  As he spoke Wilson had been boring a hole in one of the water kegs, andas Spider held a tin cup he tilted the keg to pour a draft of theprecious fluid. A thin stream of blackish, dry particles filteredslowly through the tiny aperture into the bottom of the cup. With agroan Wilson dropped the keg, and sat staring at the dry stuff in thecup, speechless with horror.

  "The kegs are filled with gunpowder," said Spider, in a low tone,turning to those aft. And so it proved when the last had been opened.

  "Coal oil and gunpowder!" cried Monsieur Thuran. "SAPRISTI! What adiet for shipwrecked mariners!"

  With the full knowledge that there was neither food nor water on board,the pangs of hunger and thirst became immediately aggravated, and so onthe first day of their tragic adventure real suffering commenced ingrim earnest, and the full horrors of shipwreck were upon them.

  As the days passed conditions became horrible. Aching eyes scanned thehorizon day and night until the weak and weary watchers would sinkexhausted to the bottom of the boat, and there wrest in dream-disturbedslumber a moment's respite from the horrors of the waking reality.

  The sailors, goaded by the remorseless pangs of hunger, had eaten theirleather belts, their shoes, the sweatbands from their caps, althoughboth Clayton and Monsieur Thuran had done their best to convince themthat these would only add to the suffering they were enduring.

  Weak and hopeless, the entire party lay beneath the pitiless tropicsun, with parched lips and swollen tongues, waiting for the death theywere beginning to crave. The intense suffering of the first few dayshad become deadened for the three passengers who had eaten nothing, butthe agony of the sailors was pitiful, as their weak and impoverishedstomachs attempted to cope with the bits of leather with which they hadfilled them. Tompkins was the first to succumb. Just a week from theday the LADY ALICE went down the sailor died horribly in frightfulconvulsions.

  For hours his contorted and hideous features lay grinning back at thosein the stern of the little boat, until Jane Porter could endure thesight no longer. "Can you not drop his body overboard, William?" sheasked.

  Clayton rose and staggered toward the corpse. The two remainingsailors eyed him with a strange, baleful light in their sunken orbs.Futilely the Englishman tried to lift the corpse over the side of theboat, but his strength was not equal to the task.

  "Lend me a hand here, please," he said to Wilson, who lay nearest him.

  "Wot do you want to throw 'im over for?" questioned the sailor, in aquerulous voice.

  "We've got to before we're too weak to do it," replied Clayton. "He'dbe awful by tomorrow, after a day under that broiling sun."

  "Bett
er leave well enough alone," grumbled Wilson. "We may need himbefore tomorrow."

  Slowly the meaning of the man's words percolated into Clayton'sunderstanding. At last he realized the fellow's reason for objectingto the disposal of the dead man.

  "God!" whispered Clayton, in a horrified tone. "You don't mean--"

  "W'y not?" growled Wilson. "Ain't we gotta live? He's dead," headded, jerking his thumb in the direction of the corpse. "He won'tcare."

  "Come here, Thuran," said Clayton, turning toward the Russian. "We'llhave something worse than death aboard us if we don't get rid of thisbody before dark."

  Wilson staggered up menacingly to prevent the contemplated act, butwhen his comrade, Spider, took sides with Clayton and Monsieur Thuranhe gave up, and sat eying the corpse hungrily as the three men, bycombining their efforts, succeeded in rolling it overboard.

  All the balance of the day Wilson sat glaring at Clayton, in his eyesthe gleam of insanity. Toward evening, as the sun was sinking into thesea, he commenced to chuckle and mumble to himself, but his eyes neverleft Clayton.

  After it became quite dark Clayton could still feel those terrible eyesupon him. He dared not sleep, and yet so exhausted was he that it wasa constant fight to retain consciousness. After what seemed aneternity of suffering his head dropped upon a thwart, and he slept.How long he was unconscious he did not know--he was awakened by ashuffling noise quite close to him. The moon had risen, and as heopened his startled eyes he saw Wilson creeping stealthily toward him,his mouth open and his swollen tongue hanging out.

  The slight noise had awakened Jane Porter at the same time, and as shesaw the hideous tableau she gave a shrill cry of alarm, and at the sameinstant the sailor lurched forward and fell upon Clayton. Like a wildbeast his teeth sought the throat of his intended prey, but Clayton,weak though he was, still found sufficient strength to hold themaniac's mouth from him.

  At Jane Porter's scream Monsieur Thuran and Spider awoke. On seeingthe cause of her alarm, both men crawled to Clayton's rescue, andbetween the three of them were able to subdue Wilson and hurl him tothe bottom of the boat. For a few minutes he lay there chattering andlaughing, and then, with an awful scream, and before any of hiscompanions could prevent, he staggered to his feet and leaped overboard.

  The reaction from the terrific strain of excitement left the weaksurvivors trembling and prostrated. Spider broke down and wept; JanePorter prayed; Clayton swore softly to himself; Monsieur Thuran satwith his head in his hands, thinking. The result of his cogitationdeveloped the following morning in a proposition he made to Spider andClayton.

  "Gentlemen," said Monsieur Thuran, "you see the fate that awaits us allunless we are picked up within a day or two. That there is little hopeof that is evidenced by the fact that during all the days we havedrifted we have seen no sail, nor the faintest smudge of smoke upon thehorizon.

  "There might be a chance if we had food, but without food there isnone. There remains for us, then, but one of two alternatives, and wemust choose at once. Either we must all die together within a fewdays, or one must be sacrificed that the others may live. Do you quiteclearly grasp my meaning?"

  Jane Porter, who had overheard, was horrified. If the proposition hadcome from the poor, ignorant sailor, she might possibly have not beenso surprised; but that it should come from one who posed as a man ofculture and refinement, from a gentleman, she could scarcely credit.

  "It is better that we die together, then," said Clayton.

  "That is for the majority to decide," replied Monsieur Thuran. "Asonly one of us three will be the object of sacrifice, we shall decide.Miss Porter is not interested, since she will be in no danger."

  "How shall we know who is to be first?" asked Spider.

  "It may be fairly fixed by lot," replied Monsieur Thuran. "I have anumber of franc pieces in my pocket. We can choose a certain date fromamong them--the one to draw this date first from beneath a piece ofcloth will be the first."

  "I shall have nothing to do with any such diabolical plan," mutteredClayton; "even yet land may be sighted or a ship appear--in time."

  "You will do as the majority decide, or you will be 'the first' withoutthe formality of drawing lots," said Monsieur Thuran threateningly."Come, let us vote on the plan; I for one am in favor of it. How aboutyou, Spider?" "And I," replied the sailor.

  "It is the will of the majority," announced Monsieur Thuran, "and nowlet us lose no time in drawing lots. It is as fair for one as foranother. That three may live, one of us must die perhaps a few hourssooner than otherwise."

  Then he began his preparation for the lottery of death, while JanePorter sat wide-eyed and horrified at thought of the thing that she wasabout to witness. Monsieur Thuran spread his coat upon the bottom ofthe boat, and then from a handful of money he selected six francpieces. The other two men bent close above him as he inspected them.Finally he handed them all to Clayton.

  "Look at them carefully," he said. "The oldest date iseighteen-seventy-five, and there is only one of that year."

  Clayton and the sailor inspected each coin. To them there seemed notthe slightest difference that could be detected other than the dates.They were quite satisfied. Had they known that Monsieur Thuran's pastexperience as a card sharp had trained his sense of touch to so fine apoint that he could almost differentiate between cards by the mere feelof them, they would scarcely have felt that the plan was so entirelyfair. The 1875 piece was a hair thinner than the other coins, butneither Clayton nor Spider could have detected it without the aid of amicrometer.

  "In what order shall we draw?" asked Monsieur Thuran, knowing from pastexperience that the majority of men always prefer last chance in alottery where the single prize is some distasteful thing--there isalways the chance and the hope that another will draw it first.Monsieur Thuran, for reasons of his own, preferred to draw first if thedrawing should happen to require a second adventure beneath the coat.

  And so when Spider elected to draw last he graciously offered to takethe first chance himself. His hand was under the coat for but amoment, yet those quick, deft fingers had felt of each coin, and foundand discarded the fatal piece. When he brought forth his hand itcontained an 1888 franc piece. Then Clayton drew. Jane Porter leanedforward with a tense and horrified expression on her face as the handof the man she was to marry groped about beneath the coat. Presently hewithdrew it, a franc piece lying in the palm. For an instant he darednot look, but Monsieur Thuran, who had leaned nearer to see the date,exclaimed that he was safe.

  Jane Porter sank weak and trembling against the side of the boat. Shefelt sick and dizzy. And now, if Spider should not draw the 1875 pieceshe must endure the whole horrid thing again.

  The sailor already had his hand beneath the coat. Great beads of sweatwere standing upon his brow. He trembled as though with a fit of ague.Aloud he cursed himself for having taken the last draw, for now hischances for escape were but three to one, whereas Monsieur Thuran's hadbeen five to one, and Clayton's four to one.

  The Russian was very patient, and did not hurry the man, for he knewthat he himself was quite safe whether the 1875 piece came out thistime or not. When the sailor withdrew his hand and looked at the pieceof money within, he dropped fainting to the bottom of the boat. BothClayton and Monsieur Thuran hastened weakly to examine the coin, whichhad rolled from the man's hand and lay beside him. It was not dated1875. The reaction from the state of fear he had been in had overcomeSpider quite as effectually as though he had drawn the fated piece.

  But now the whole proceeding must be gone through again. Once more theRussian drew forth a harmless coin. Jane Porter closed her eyes asClayton reached beneath the coat. Spider bent, wide-eyed, toward thehand that was to decide his fate, for whatever luck was Clayton's onthis last draw, the opposite would be Spider's. Then William CecilClayton, Lord Greystoke, removed his hand from beneath the coat, andwith a coin tight pressed within his palm where none might see it, helooked at Jane Porter. He did not d
are open his hand.

  "Quick!" hissed Spider. "My Gawd, let's see it."

  Clayton opened his fingers. Spider was the first to see the date, andere any knew what his intention was he raised himself to his feet, andlunged over the side of the boat, to disappear forever into the greendepths beneath--the coin had not been the 1875 piece.

  The strain had exhausted those who remained to such an extent that theylay half unconscious for the balance of the day, nor was the subjectreferred to again for several days. Horrible days of increasingweakness and hopelessness. At length Monsieur Thuran crawled to whereClayton lay.

  "We must draw once more before we are too weak even to eat," hewhispered.

  Clayton was in such a state that he was scarcely master of his ownwill. Jane Porter had not spoken for three days. He knew that she wasdying. Horrible as the thought was, he hoped that the sacrifice ofeither Thuran or himself might be the means of giving her renewedstrength, and so he immediately agreed to the Russian's proposal.

  They drew under the same plan as before, but there could be but oneresult--Clayton drew the 1875 piece.

  "When shall it be?" he asked Thuran.

  The Russian had already drawn a pocketknife from his trousers, and wasweakly attempting to open it.

  "Now," he muttered, and his greedy eyes gloated upon the Englishman.

  "Can't you wait until dark?" asked Clayton. "Miss Porter must not seethis thing done. We were to have been married, you know."

  A look of disappointment came over Monsieur Thuran's face.

  "Very well," he replied hesitatingly. "It will not be long untilnight. I have waited for many days--I can wait a few hours longer."

  "Thank you, my friend," murmured Clayton. "Now I shall go to her sideand remain with her until it is time. I would like to have an hour ortwo with her before I die."

  When Clayton reached the girl's side she was unconscious--he knew thatshe was dying, and he was glad that she should not have to see or knowthe awful tragedy that was shortly to be enacted. He took her hand andraised it to his cracked and swollen lips. For a long time he laycaressing the emaciated, clawlike thing that had once been thebeautiful, shapely white hand of the young Baltimore belle.

  It was quite dark before he knew it, but he was recalled to himself bya voice out of the night. It was the Russian calling him to his doom.

  "I am coming, Monsieur Thuran," he hastened to reply.

  Thrice he attempted to turn himself upon his hands and knees, that hemight crawl back to his death, but in the few hours that he had lainthere he had become too weak to return to Thuran's side.

  "You will have to come to me, monsieur," he called weakly. "I have notsufficient strength to gain my hands and knees."

  "SAPRISTI!" muttered Monsieur Thuran. "You are attempting to cheat meout of my winnings."

  Clayton heard the man shuffling about in the bottom of the boat.Finally there was a despairing groan. "I cannot crawl," he heard theRussian wail. "It is too late. You have tricked me, you dirty Englishdog."

  "I have not tricked you, monsieur," replied Clayton. "I have done mybest to rise, but I shall try again, and if you will try possibly eachof us can crawl halfway, and then you shall have your 'winnings.'"

  Again Clayton exerted his remaining strength to the utmost, and heheard Thuran apparently doing the same. Nearly an hour later theEnglishman succeeded in raising himself to his hands and knees, but atthe first forward movement he pitched upon his face.

  A moment later he heard an exclamation of relief from Monsieur Thuran.

  "I am coming," whispered the Russian.

  Again Clayton essayed to stagger on to meet his fate, but once more hepitched headlong to the boat's bottom, nor, try as he would, could heagain rise. His last effort caused him to roll over on his back, andthere he lay looking up at the stars, while behind him, coming evernearer and nearer, he could hear the laborious shuffling, and thestertorous breathing of the Russian.

  It seemed that he must have lain thus an hour waiting for the thing tocrawl out of the dark and end his misery. It was quite close now, butthere were longer and longer pauses between its efforts to advance, andeach forward movement seemed to the waiting Englishman to be almostimperceptible.

  Finally he knew that Thuran was quite close beside him. He heard acackling laugh, something touched his face, and he lost consciousness.