"What do you want?" Melanie asked.
Luki did not reply, but advanced slowly into the hut and walked toward the taller girl.
"What is it? What do you want?" Melanie retreated toward a comer, and suddenly she held out the petticoat she had been folding. "Here. Pretty. Take this. Keep it. I don't want it."
Luki ignored the offer as she continued to advance. "Woman of Ethan bad woman," she said, her English halting and gutteral.
Panic-stricken, Melanie pressed back against the wall. "Go away!" she screamed.
"Ethan no want Luki. Ethan no have bad woman, either." From the top of her skirt Luki produced a tiny knife, its blade no more than two inches long. Lunging, she struck Melanie between the breasts.
Shrieking in terror and pain, Melanie tried to protect herself, but her efforts were futile and the native girl plunged the blade into her body several more times. She collapsed, and Luki stood over her for a moment with an expressionless face. As a crowd of villagers, attracted by Melanie's wild screams, approached the hut, Luki suddenly sprang into action. Sobbing, she hurled the knife away and dashed out. Before anyone could stop her she ran up a path and into the jungle.
Three of the older men followed her and called to her repeatedly, but she was deaf to their pleas. She was so fleet that they could not catch her. She climbed steadily to higher ground, and when the men emerged into the open they saw that she was heading straight toward the boiling lake of lava. She hesitated for no more than an instant as she approached the shore, then she disappeared into the vapor without a sound. For a crime of passion there was one penalty, and Luki accepted it willingly. Santro-kri claimed another victim. . . .
In the village, Ethan's hut was the center of confused activity as a dozen or more Caribs milled around, talking and gesticulating excitedly. In a few minutes Jed and David arrived, and Melanie, bleeding profusely from her wounds and writhing in pain, begged them to bring Prudence to her. While they hurried off to do her bidding, Dama and the community's herb doctor examined her briefly, then sent the villagers away.
The medicine they gave her eased her pain somewhat, and Melanie smiled wanly as Prudence came into the hut "I'll send for Ethan," Prudence said.
"No," Melanie replied in a voice that was barely audible. "It's too late. But I had to see you—before—I go." Prudence knelt at her side, and again Melanie smiled. "I—wanted you to know—he's always—loved you. He—never—loved me. Not even—a little."
Tears formed in Melanie's eyes and ran down her cheeks as she told the story of how Ethan had been drugged, tricked into seducing her and trapped into marrying her. Prudence, horrified as she saw the once beautiful and arrogant face turning grey, tried to silence her, but Melanie continued with dogged insistence, although every word was a costly effort. When she was through she fell back on the crude cushion, exhausted. Then she roused herself with all that remained of her ebbing strength. "Ask Ethan—to—forgive me," she whispered. "Tell him—I—loved—him."
Prudence was holding her hand as she died.
Night came on, and the air throbbed with the sound of drums. Ethan, surrounded by his Carib officers, charted the progress of Boline's army as his observers, watching the enemy's every move, reported on the line of the Emperor's march. As was to be expected, Boline was being thorough—his sappers, who led his advance, cut down as many trees and slashed away as much of the underbrush as they could to make travel easier for the infantry, who followed them, and for the big guns of the artillery that brought up the rear. The column was organized in width rather than depth, and was spread out laterally over an area of more than a mile. This tactic, of course, reduced the opportunities for the Carib to launch a surprise attack, and Ethan felt a distinct sense of professional admiration for Boline and his generals.
The warriors who were gathered in the clearing were increasingly dismayed as they listened to the messages of the drums, and whenever there was a lull they repeatedly urged Ethan to strike at once. Soon, they said, it would be too late. But he merely smiled, shook his head and continued to sit calmly in the clearing. The moon came out, and still Ethan gave no orders to move. The tension of the braves mounted, and eventually even Poda became worried.
"Soon the devil-men will devour us," he said gloomily.
Ethan rose to his feet, laughed and stretched. "The devil-men are still in the low hills, where it is not too hard for them to cut down the trees that would hide the fighting men of the Carib nation," he replied. "But soon they will start to climb the mountains. There the ground is rough, the climb is steep and it will be more difficult for them to clear the jungle."
The Indian began to understand, and his eyes brightened. "Not even devil-men can pull their big guns up the mountains of the island."
"That's right. They'll find it's too difficult, and they'll have to abandon their cannon, piece by piece. You see, Poda, if we were to attack now, they'd have us at a disadvantage. And even if Santro-kri were to give us all of his help, the best we could do would be to drive Boline back down to his forts on the beaches. What I want to do is to draw him as deep into the wilderness as I can. That way, with any luck, we can destroy him."
Poda grinned and nodded his head in agreement. The other leaders, who had been listening carefully, debated Ethan's strategy for a few minutes among themselves. Then they, too, came to the conclusion that he was right. And he, watching them, knew that his instinct had been right; had he told them his plan prematurely, they might have balked, but now they were willing to accept it without reservation.
"I'm sure the devil-men are growing careless, too. So far they've met no opposition at all, and they probably believe that we're so afraid of them that we've run away. We'll soon teach them that they're wrong." Ethan listened again as drums far down the mountains sounded again, then his attitude became brisk. "The devil-men march fast, and the time has come for the battle to begin. Send a message to the warriors of the village of Luha, and tell them that as soon as the soldiers cross the River-of-the-Striped-Fish, they are to attack from the left. Tell them to be as silent as the night, and to use no weapons but their blowguns. I don't want the army to see them."
"It will be done." Poda was about to hurry to the drummers who awaited instructions at the far side of the clearing, but Ethan halted him.
"Wait. Send the same word to the warriors of the village of Piwa. They are to attack from the right. Let all the warriors understand that our most powerful weapon is terror. The enemy must not see us or hear us. The mountains rise sharply on this side of the River-of-the-Striped-Fish. The devil-men will have to work hard to climb there. They won't be able to cut down so many trees. Send the messages, and then we'll go into action ourselves."
The orders were relayed by the drums. Then Ethan gathered the warriors of Dama's village around him to hear his commands.
"The warriors of the villages of Luha and Piwa are striking at the enemy only from the flanks—the sides," he told them. "That will drive the devil-men together. When they are spread out, as they are at this moment, they are stronger than they will be when we force them to huddle closer to each other. Then, as they climb higher and higher into our mountains, with our arrows silently killing many of them, I will send word to the warriors of the village of Gesa to strike at them from the rear. Poda," he asked suddenly, hoping to drive home his scheme of battle to all of his auditors, "what will be the situation of the enemy then?"
"Then men of the Carib will be on three sides of the devil-men," his lieutenant responded promptly. "Luha's warriors will be on their left, Piwa's will be on their right and Gesa's will be behind them."
"Correct. So there will be only one direction in which they can still move. Forward. They must move forward. They'll be driven higher and higher into our mountains. They will be tired, they will be afraid and they will lose the wish to fight. Then the men of the village of Dama will attack them from the front. Our arrows will destroy them in the same way that our machetes cut off the heads of weeds."
&nbs
p; The braves cheered, and would have staged an impromptu dance had Ethan not restrained them. Watching them, Ethan hoped they would not lose their fervor when they faced the muskets of the Boline's army.
The battle was joined shortly after the army crossed the River-of-the-Striped-Fish, and it developed along the lines that Ethan had laid out. When pressure was applied to Boline's flanks, he suffered such heavy casualties that he was forced to draw his units together. The front narrowed, and his effectiveness was sharply curtailed. Then he was attacked from the rear, and although his infantry came to the aid of the artillerymen and fought vigorously against their unseen, silent enemies, all of the cannon except a few howitzers had to be abandoned. Retreat was now cut off," and the Emperor no longer had a choice; he was forced to push farther and farther into unknown, hostile territory.
At the Carib command post Ethan kept a careful check on the progress of the fighting through the reports sent to him on the drums; then, when the battle drew nearer and the sounds of musket fire began to echo through the mountains, runners brought him more detailed accounts of the action. He questioned them closely, and after three or four brought him similar stories, his estimates became more optimistic. He had privately hoped to be able to inflict sufficient losses on the army to send Boline back to his beaches in disorganized confusion, which would have hampered the Emperor's grandiose plans. But now, piecing together the reports of the messengers, he enlarged the scope of his thinking. It was just possible that he might be able to achieve a complete victory, thanks in part to several factors beyond his control.
Boline, he thought, actually knew better than to engage a foe at night in the jungles, and he was grateful for the Emperor's conceit. A more cautious general would have attacked the Indians in daylight, but Boline, contemptuous of the savages, had been impatient and careless. Now it was too late for him to withdraw, and although his men were fighting with disciplined fury, they had not been trained for this kind of warfare and were unprepared for it. When they fired a volley, they had no idea whether they were driving the Carib off or whether their shots were being wasted. They were fighting against phantoms, and Ethan knew from the accounts of how they huddled closer and closer together that they were terror-stricken. No soldier could maintain an appetite for battle when he saw his comrades being killed by poisoned arrows that came out of nowhere. The steady beat of the drums added to the nervousness of the troops, too. The messengers informed Ethan that whenever a drum began to pound, Boline's men cursed loudly.
It was conceivable that the army might begin to crumble before the night was ended. Ethan realized that it would be a mistake to change his own tactics in any way, and his greatest problem was to curb the optimism of the warriors who were already engaged with the enemy. They, seeing the supposedly invincible devil-men fall, wanted to throw themselves at the enemy and destroy the soldiers with their knives, and Ethan had to send word to them again and again that under no circumstances must they allow the troops to see them.
As the night wore on Boline and his generals were forced to face the prospect of annihilation unless they could maneuver into the open. Retreat was out of the question, and they decided to push forward with all possible speed in the hope of reaching the beaches on the opposite side of the island. They therefore increased their rate of march, closing their ranks in a futile attempt to avoid still further casualties until they could emerge from the jungles. This suited Ethan, and he knew that the climactic phase of the battle was at hand.
He gave the signal to the restless warriors of the village of Dama, then he led them into the wilderness toward the enemy. The rattle of musket fire became increasingly loud, so he sent two scouts forward. They brought back word that the army was no more than half a mile away, and he ordered his men to halt. They hid themselves in the branches of trees and behind tangled masses of thorny bushes, and there they awaited the coming of the enemy. Marinus Boline did not yet know it, but he was now completely surrounded by Caribs.
The warriors settled themselves in their hiding places, and the tension grew until it became almost unbearable. After a quarter of an hour the crashing of heavy boots heralded the approach of the enemy, and in another few minutes a line of soldiers, moving twenty abreast, made their appearance. Their faces looked haggard in the semi-light of the moon that filtered through the trees, but only the men at either end of the row showed appreciable signs of nervousness. These unfortunates, having seen so many of their brothers-in-arms die while trying to guard the flanks, were well aware of their exposed positions and peered intently into the wilderness. Their more protected comrades showed greater confidence, and walked with firm, sure steps; directly behind the first file was a second row of twenty men, and in the center of this line was an officer who brandished a sword as he exhorted his men.
Ethan had instructed his warriors to remain inactive until he himself opened the attack, and he waited now until the soldiers were no more than ten feet distant. Then, taking careful aim with his blowgun, he fired an arrow at the officer, who screamed and crumpled to the ground. The Carib needed no further encouragement, and a rain of arrows descended on the soldiers. Only two of the first unit survived the Indians' opening salvo, and they, too, were struck down before they had a chance to fire.
Another wave of troops appeared and were subjected to the same treatment. By this time word had been passed to the rear that opposition had been encountered directly ahead, and the army cut loose with a withering fire. A full company of infantrymen moved into the lead, and Ethan could tell at once that these aggressive, tough soldiers were veterans of other wars. They fired their muskets, reloaded and crept forward a few paces before firing again; when an arrow struck down one of their number, another appeared from behind and took his place, so the ranks were always filled.
The Imperial troops could neither see nor hear their enemy, but they scattered their fire effectively, and sprayed the whole area of the jungle in front of them. Three Caribs tumbled from their tree perches, and Poda, at Ethan's command, emitted the shrill cry of the pacal bird. The Indians began to retreat slowly, pausing every twenty or thirty feet to take up new positions, from which they sent a fresh hail of arrows at the soldiers before again moving to higher ground. There was a bustle in the ranks of the army, and the drive forward was pressed with renewed vigor. The mere fact that contact had at last been established with the Caribs seemed to inspire the troops, and they wasted their ammunition recklessly. They knew now that they were fighting against men, not bloodless ghosts, and whenever they killed or wounded a brave they seemed to feel encouraged.
Ethan, ignoring the bullets that whined through the air on either side of him, was pleased to let the Imperial army set the pace, and he noted that for each of his warriors who was killed, at least four or five soldiers were casualties. His retreat was steady, and he told himself repeatedly that his natives were behaving magnificently. In spite of their superstitious fear of the devil-men, they neither became panicky nor lost their heads, and they took a frightful toll as they climbed higher into their mountains.
During the next hour the Indians gave ground freely, but they forced the army to pay a stiff price for every inch of soil, and at last the break came. A battalion of infantry, located somewhere in the middle of the column, lost its will to fight. In spite of the exhortations of the officers, the ranks split wide open and the men ran blindly into the jungles. There they found no refuge, however, and the blowguns of the warriors became increasingly active. The artillerymen, who felt lost without their cannon, witnessed the carnage and fled to the rear, where more warriors were waiting for them. Then the panic spread quickly, and what had been an organized military machine became no more than a hysterical mob, with each soldier interested solely in his own safety.
The drums spoke out more loudly now, and Ethan, temporarily leaving the task of fighting the still-disciplined advance units to Poda and the men of the village of Dama, hurried to his command post. He ordered the warriors of Luha and Piwa to sl
ice back and forth across the enemy column. As the army fell apart into smaller and smaller groups, the remaining soldiers were less able to concentrate their fire power, and the Carib enjoyed a terrible vengeance. The troops tried to make their way back down to the beaches they had left so many hours earlier, but at least one out of every four was killed, and many others lost their way in the jungles, only to be slain later.
Poda and Ethan remained in contact through their drummers, and they knew each other so well that they had to send only a minimum number of messages. As reports poured in to him indicating beyond all doubt that the bulk of the Imperial army had disintigrated, his cautious optimism grew, and he gradually became convinced that victory was assured. All-that remained of the army now was a battalion of infantrymen and the regiment of Imperial guards, fanatic followers of Boline who would fight to the last man. The Emperor, his staff and his generals were marching with the regiment, and when the infantry battalion took to its heels, Ethan decided that the time was ripe for the final and conclusive phase of the battle. He sent a message to Poda, ordering the warriors of Dama's village to leave a path open to the boiling lake for the guardsmen, then he hurried to join his lieutenant.
They met in the deep fastness of the jungle, and not fifty feet from them the troops of the regiment, together with Boline and his high command, were racing forward again. The Indians having disappeared, the Emperor was pushing forward rapidly once more, apparently believing that he had defeated the savages and that he would soon start down the mountains to the beaches on the opposite side of the island. As his shrunken column advanced, Ethan and Poda silently formed the warriors into a double line behind the troops, and followed the soldiers quietly.
Devil's Prize Page 18
