Chapter 21
The Castaways
Clayton dreamed that he was drinking his fill of water, pure,delightful drafts of fresh water. With a start he gained consciousnessto find himself wet through by torrents of rain that were falling uponhis body and his upturned face. A heavy tropical shower was beatingdown upon them. He opened his mouth and drank. Presently he was sorevived and strengthened that he was enabled to raise himself upon hishands. Across his legs lay Monsieur Thuran. A few feet aft JanePorter was huddled in a pitiful little heap in the bottom of theboat--she was quite still. Clayton knew that she was dead.
After infinite labor he released himself from Thuran's pinioning body,and with renewed strength crawled toward the girl. He raised her headfrom the rough boards of the boat's bottom. There might be life inthat poor, starved frame even yet. He could not quite abandon allhope, and so he seized a water-soaked rag and squeezed the preciousdrops between the swollen lips of the hideous thing that had but a fewshort days before glowed with the resplendent life of happy youth andglorious beauty.
For some time there was no sign of returning animation, but at last hisefforts were rewarded by a slight tremor of the half-closed lids. Hechafed the thin hands, and forced a few more drops of water into theparched throat. The girl opened her eyes, looking up at him for a longtime before she could recall her surroundings.
"Water?" she whispered. "Are we saved?"
"It is raining," he explained. "We may at least drink. Already it hasrevived us both."
"Monsieur Thuran?" she asked. "He did not kill you. Is he dead?"
"I do not know," replied Clayton. "If he lives and this rain reviveshim--" But he stopped there, remembering too late that he must not addfurther to the horrors which the girl already had endured.
But she guessed what he would have said.
"Where is he?" she asked.
Clayton nodded his head toward the prostrate form of the Russian. Fora time neither spoke.
"I will see if I can revive him," said Clayton at length.
"No," she whispered, extending a detaining hand toward him. "Do not dothat--he will kill you when the water has given him strength. If he isdying, let him die. Do not leave me alone in this boat with thatbeast."
Clayton hesitated. His honor demanded that he attempt to reviveThuran, and there was the possibility, too, that the Russian was beyondhuman aid. It was not dishonorable to hope so. As he sat fighting outhis battle he presently raised his eyes from the body of the man, andas they passed above the gunwale of the boat he staggered weakly to hisfeet with a little cry of joy.
"Land, Jane!" he almost shouted through his cracked lips. "Thank God,land!"
The girl looked, too, and there, not a hundred yards away, she saw ayellow beach, and, beyond, the luxurious foliage of a tropical jungle.
"Now you may revive him," said Jane Porter, for she, too, had beenhaunted with the pangs of conscience which had resulted from herdecision to prevent Clayton from offering succor to their companion.
It required the better part of half an hour before the Russian evincedsufficient symptoms of returning consciousness to open his eyes, and itwas some time later before they could bring him to a realization oftheir good fortune. By this time the boat was scraping gently upon thesandy bottom.
Between the refreshing water that he had drunk and the stimulus ofrenewed hope, Clayton found strength to stagger through the shallowwater to the shore with a line made fast to the boat's bow. This hefastened to a small tree which grew at the top of a low bank, for thetide was at flood, and he feared that the boat might carry them all outto sea again with the ebb, since it was quite likely that it would bebeyond his strength to get Jane Porter to the shore for several hours.Next he managed to stagger and crawl toward the near-by jungle, wherehe had seen evidences of profusion of tropical fruit. His formerexperience in the jungle of Tarzan of the Apes had taught him which ofthe many growing things were edible, and after nearly an hour ofabsence he returned to the beach with a little armful of food.
The rain had ceased, and the hot sun was beating down so mercilesslyupon her that Jane Porter insisted on making an immediate attempt togain the land. Still further invigorated by the food Clayton hadbrought, the three were able to reach the half shade of the small treeto which their boat was moored. Here, thoroughly exhausted, they threwthemselves down to rest, sleeping until dark.
For a month they lived upon the beach in comparative safety. As theirstrength returned the two men constructed a rude shelter in thebranches of a tree, high enough from the ground to insure safety fromthe larger beasts of prey. By day they gathered fruits and trappedsmall rodents; at night they lay cowering within their frail shelterwhile savage denizens of the jungle made hideous the hours of darkness.
They slept upon litters of jungle grasses, and for covering at nightJane Porter had only an old ulster that belonged to Clayton, the samegarment that he had worn upon that memorable trip to the Wisconsinwoods. Clayton had erected a frail partition of boughs to divide theirarboreal shelter into two rooms--one for the girl and the other forMonsieur Thuran and himself.
From the first the Russian had exhibited every trait of his truecharacter--selfishness, boorishness, arrogance, cowardice, and lust.Twice had he and Clayton come to blows because of Thuran's attitudetoward the girl. Clayton dared not leave her alone with him for aninstant. The existence of the Englishman and his fiancee was onecontinual nightmare of horror, and yet they lived on in hope ofultimate rescue.
Jane Porter's thoughts often reverted to her other experience on thissavage shore. Ah, if the invincible forest god of that dead past werebut with them now. No longer would there be aught to fear fromprowling beasts, or from the bestial Russian. She could not wellrefrain from comparing the scant protection afforded her by Claytonwith what she might have expected had Tarzan of the Apes been for asingle instant confronted by the sinister and menacing attitude ofMonsieur Thuran. Once, when Clayton had gone to the little stream forwater, and Thuran had spoken coarsely to her, she voiced her thoughts.
"It is well for you, Monsieur Thuran," she said, "that the poorMonsieur Tarzan who was lost from the ship that brought you and MissStrong to Cape Town is not here now."
"You knew the pig?" asked Thuran, with a sneer.
"I knew the man," she replied. "The only real man, I think, that Ihave ever known."
There was something in her tone of voice that led the Russian toattribute to her a deeper feeling for his enemy than friendship, and hegrasped at the suggestion to be further revenged upon the man whom hesupposed dead by besmirching his memory to the girl.
"He was worse than a pig," he cried. "He was a poltroon and a coward.To save himself from the righteous wrath of the husband of a woman hehad wronged, he perjured his soul in an attempt to place the blameentirely upon her. Not succeeding in this, he ran away from France toescape meeting the husband upon the field of honor. That is why he wason board the ship that bore Miss Strong and myself to Cape Town. Iknow whereof I speak, for the woman in the case is my sister.Something more I know that I have never told another--your braveMonsieur Tarzan leaped overboard in an agony of fear because Irecognized him, and insisted that he make reparation to me thefollowing morning--we could have fought with knives in my stateroom."
Jane Porter laughed. "You do not for a moment imagine that one who hasknown both Monsieur Tarzan and you could ever believe such animpossible tale?"
"Then why did he travel under an assumed name?" asked Monsieur Thuran.
"I do not believe you," she cried, but nevertheless the seed ofsuspicion was sown, for she knew that Hazel Strong had known her forestgod only as John Caldwell, of London.
A scant five miles north of their rude shelter, all unknown to them,and practically as remote as though separated by thousands of miles ofimpenetrable jungle, lay the snug little cabin of Tarzan of the Apes.While farther up the coast, a few miles beyond the cabin, in crude butwell-built shelters, lived a little pa
rty of eighteen souls--theoccupants of the three boats from the LADY ALICE from which Clayton'sboat had become separated.
Over a smooth sea they had rowed to the mainland in less than threedays. None of the horrors of shipwreck had been theirs, and thoughdepressed by sorrow, and suffering from the shock of the catastropheand the unaccustomed hardships of their new existence there was nonemuch the worse for the experience.
All were buoyed by the hope that the fourth boat had been picked up,and that a thorough search of the coast would be quickly made. As allthe firearms and ammunition on the yacht had been placed in LordTennington's boat, the party was well equipped for defense, and forhunting the larger game for food.
Professor Archimedes Q. Porter was their only immediate anxiety. Fullyassured in his own mind that his daughter had been picked up by apassing steamer, he gave over the last vestige of apprehensionconcerning her welfare, and devoted his giant intellect solely to theconsideration of those momentous and abstruse scientific problems whichhe considered the only proper food for thought in one of his erudition.His mind appeared blank to the influence of all extraneous matters.
"Never," said the exhausted Mr. Samuel T. Philander, to LordTennington, "never has Professor Porter been more difficult--er--Imight say, impossible. Why, only this morning, after I had been forcedto relinquish my surveillance for a brief half hour he was entirelymissing upon my return. And, bless me, sir, where do you imagine Idiscovered him? A half mile out in the ocean, sir, in one of thelifeboats, rowing away for dear life. I do not know how he attainedeven that magnificent distance from shore, for he had but a single oar,with which he was blissfully rowing about in circles.
"When one of the sailors had taken me out to him in another boat theprofessor became quite indignant at my suggestion that we return atonce to land. 'Why, Mr. Philander,' he said, 'I am surprised that you,sir, a man of letters yourself, should have the temerity so tointerrupt the progress of science. I had about deduced from certainastronomic phenomena I have had under minute observation during thepast several tropic nights an entirely new nebular hypothesis whichwill unquestionably startle the scientific world. I wish to consult avery excellent monograph on Laplace's hypothesis, which I understand isin a certain private collection in New York City. Your interference,Mr. Philander, will result in an irreparable delay, for I was justrowing over to obtain this pamphlet.' And it was with the greatestdifficulty that I persuaded him to return to shore, without resortingto force," concluded Mr. Philander.
Miss Strong and her mother were very brave under the strain of almostconstant apprehension of the attacks of savage beasts. Nor were theyquite able to accept so readily as the others the theory that Jane,Clayton, and Monsieur Thuran had been picked up safely.
Jane Porter's Esmeralda was in a constant state of tears at the cruelfate which had separated her from her "po, li'le honey."
Lord Tennington's great-hearted good nature never deserted him for amoment. He was still the jovial host, seeking always for the comfortand pleasure of his guests. With the men of his yacht he remained thejust but firm commander--there was never any more question in thejungle than there had been on board the LADY ALICE as to who was thefinal authority in all questions of importance, and in all emergenciesrequiring cool and intelligent leadership.
Could this well-organized and comparatively secure party of castawayshave seen the ragged, fear-haunted trio a few miles south of them theywould scarcely have recognized in them the formerly immaculate membersof the little company that had laughed and played upon the LADY ALICE.Clayton and Monsieur Thuran were almost naked, so torn had theirclothes been by the thorn bushes and tangled vegetation of the mattedjungle through which they had been compelled to force their way insearch of their ever more difficult food supply.
Jane Porter had of course not been subjected to these strenuousexpeditions, but her apparel was, nevertheless, in a sad state ofdisrepair.
Clayton, for lack of any better occupation, had carefully saved theskin of every animal they had killed. By stretching them upon thestems of trees, and diligently scraping them, he had managed to savethem in a fair condition, and now that his clothes were threatening tocover his nakedness no longer, he commenced to fashion a rude garmentof them, using a sharp thorn for a needle, and bits of tough grass andanimal tendons in lieu of thread.
The result when completed was a sleeveless garment which fell nearly tohis knees. As it was made up of numerous small pelts of differentspecies of rodents, it presented a rather strange and wonderfulappearance, which, together with the vile stench which permeated it,rendered it anything other than a desirable addition to a wardrobe.But the time came when for the sake of decency he was compelled to donit, and even the misery of their condition could not prevent JanePorter from laughing heartily at sight of him.
Later, Thuran also found it necessary to construct a similar primitivegarment, so that, with their bare legs and heavily bearded faces, theylooked not unlike reincarnations of two prehistoric progenitors of thehuman race. Thuran acted like one.
Nearly two months of this existence had passed when the first greatcalamity befell them. It was prefaced by an adventure which came nearterminating abruptly the sufferings of two of them--terminating them inthe grim and horrible manner of the jungle, forever.
Thuran, down with an attack of jungle fever, lay in the shelter amongthe branches of their tree of refuge. Clayton had been into the junglea few hundred yards in search of food. As he returned Jane Porterwalked to meet him. Behind the man, cunning and crafty, crept an oldand mangy lion. For three days his ancient thews and sinews had provedinsufficient for the task of providing his cavernous belly with meat.For months he had eaten less and less frequently, and farther andfarther had he roamed from his accustomed haunts in search of easierprey. At last he had found nature's weakest and most defenselesscreature--in a moment more Numa would dine.
Clayton, all unconscious of the lurking death behind him, strode outinto the open toward Jane. He had reached her side, a hundred feetfrom the tangled edge of jungle when past his shoulder the girl saw thetawny head and the wicked yellow eyes as the grasses parted, and thehuge beast, nose to ground, stepped softly into view.
So frozen with horror was she that she could utter no sound, but thefixed and terrified gaze of her fear-widened eyes spoke as plainly toClayton as words. A quick glance behind him revealed the hopelessnessof their situation. The lion was scarce thirty paces from them, andthey were equally as far from the shelter. The man was armed with astout stick--as efficacious against a hungry lion, he realized, as atoy pop-gun charged with a tethered cork.
Numa, ravenous with hunger, had long since learned the futility ofroaring and moaning as he searched for prey, but now that it was assurely his as though already he had felt the soft flesh beneath hisstill mighty paw, he opened his huge jaws, and gave vent to hislong-pent rage in a series of deafening roars that made the air tremble.
"Run, Jane!" cried Clayton. "Quick! Run for the shelter!" But herparalyzed muscles refused to respond, and she stood mute and rigid,staring with ghastly countenance at the living death creeping towardthem.
Thuran, at the sound of that awful roar, had come to the opening of theshelter, and as he saw the tableau below him he hopped up and down,shrieking to them in Russian.
"Run! Run!" he cried. "Run, or I shall be left all alone in thishorrible place," and then he broke down and commenced to weep. For amoment this new voice distracted the attention of the lion, who haltedto cast an inquiring glance in the direction of the tree. Claytoncould endure the strain no longer. Turning his back upon the beast, heburied his head in his arms and waited.
The girl looked at him in horror. Why did he not do something? If hemust die, why not die like a man--bravely; beating at that terribleface with his puny stick, no matter how futile it might be. WouldTarzan of the Apes have done thus? Would he not at least have gonedown to his death fighting heroically to the last?
Now the lion was crouc
hing for the spring that would end their younglives beneath cruel, rending, yellow fangs. Jane Porter sank to herknees in prayer, closing her eyes to shut out the last hideous instant.Thuran, weak from fever, fainted.
Seconds dragged into minutes, long minutes into an eternity, and yetthe beast did not spring. Clayton was almost unconscious from theprolonged agony of fright--his knees trembled--a moment more and hewould collapse.
Jane Porter could endure it no longer. She opened her eyes. Could shebe dreaming?
"William," she whispered; "look!"
Clayton mastered himself sufficiently to raise his head and turn towardthe lion. An ejaculation of surprise burst from his lips. At theirvery feet the beast lay crumpled in death. A heavy war spear protrudedfrom the tawny hide. It had entered the great back above the rightshoulder, and, passing entirely through the body, had pierced thesavage heart.
Jane Porter had risen to her feet; as Clayton turned back to her shestaggered in weakness. He put out his arms to save her from falling,and then drew her close to him--pressing her head against his shoulder,he stooped to kiss her in thanksgiving.
Gently the girl pushed him away.
"Please do not do that, William," she said. "I have lived a thousandyears in the past brief moments. I have learned in the face of deathhow to live. I do not wish to hurt you more than is necessary; but Ican no longer bear to live out the impossible position I have attemptedbecause of a false sense of loyalty to an impulsive promise I made you.
"The last few seconds of my life have taught me that it would behideous to attempt further to deceive myself and you, or to entertainfor an instant longer the possibility of ever becoming your wife,should we regain civilization."
"Why, Jane," he cried, "what do you mean? What has our providentialrescue to do with altering your feelings toward me? You are butunstrung--tomorrow you will be yourself again."
"I am more nearly myself this minute than I have been for over a year,"she replied. "The thing that has just happened has again forced to mymemory the fact that the bravest man that ever lived honored me withhis love. Until it was too late I did not realize that I returned it,and so I sent him away. He is dead now, and I shall never marry. Icertainly could not wed another less brave than he without harboringconstantly a feeling of contempt for the relative cowardice of myhusband. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," he answered, with bowed head, his face mantling with the flushof shame.
And it was the next day that the great calamity befell.
The Return of Tarzan Page 21
