Chapter 9
Chivalry or Villainy
From her cabin port upon the Kincaid, Jane Clayton had seen her husbandrowed to the verdure-clad shore of Jungle Island, and then the shiponce more proceeded upon its way.
For several days she saw no one other than Sven Anderssen, theKincaid's taciturn and repellent cook. She asked him the name of theshore upon which her husband had been set.
"Ay tank it blow purty soon purty hard," replied the Swede, and thatwas all that she could get out of him.
She had come to the conclusion that he spoke no other English, and soshe ceased to importune him for information; but never did she forgetto greet him pleasantly or to thank him for the hideous, nauseatingmeals he brought her.
Three days from the spot where Tarzan had been marooned the Kincaidcame to anchor in the mouth of a great river, and presently Rokoff cameto Jane Clayton's cabin.
"We have arrived, my dear," he said, with a sickening leer. "I havecome to offer you safety, liberty, and ease. My heart has beensoftened toward you in your suffering, and I would make amends as bestI may.
"Your husband was a brute--you know that best who found him naked inhis native jungle, roaming wild with the savage beasts that were hisfellows. Now I am a gentleman, not only born of noble blood, butraised gently as befits a man of quality.
"To you, dear Jane, I offer the love of a cultured man and associationwith one of culture and refinement, which you must have sorely missedin your relations with the poor ape that through your girlishinfatuation you married so thoughtlessly. I love you, Jane. You havebut to say the word and no further sorrows shall afflict you--even yourbaby shall be returned to you unharmed."
Outside the door Sven Anderssen paused with the noonday meal he hadbeen carrying to Lady Greystoke. Upon the end of his long, stringyneck his little head was cocked to one side, his close-set eyes werehalf closed, his ears, so expressive was his whole attitude of stealthyeavesdropping, seemed truly to be cocked forward--even his long,yellow, straggly moustache appeared to assume a sly droop.
As Rokoff closed his appeal, awaiting the reply he invited, the look ofsurprise upon Jane Clayton's face turned to one of disgust. She fairlyshuddered in the fellow's face.
"I would not have been surprised, M. Rokoff," she said, "had youattempted to force me to submit to your evil desires, but that youshould be so fatuous as to believe that I, wife of John Clayton, wouldcome to you willingly, even to save my life, I should never haveimagined. I have known you for a scoundrel, M. Rokoff; but until nowI had not taken you for a fool."
Rokoff's eyes narrowed, and the red of mortification flushed out thepallor of his face. He took a step toward the girl, threateningly.
"We shall see who is the fool at last," he hissed, "when I have brokenyou to my will and your plebeian Yankee stubbornness has cost you allthat you hold dear--even the life of your baby--for, by the bones ofSt. Peter, I'll forego all that I had planned for the brat and cut itsheart out before your very eyes. You'll learn what it means to insultNikolas Rokoff."
Jane Clayton turned wearily away.
"What is the use," she said, "of expatiating upon the depths to whichyour vengeful nature can sink? You cannot move me either by threats ordeeds. My baby cannot judge yet for himself, but I, his mother, canforesee that should it have been given him to survive to man's estatehe would willingly sacrifice his life for the honour of his mother.Love him as I do, I would not purchase his life at such a price. DidI, he would execrate my memory to the day of his death."
Rokoff was now thoroughly angered because of his failure to reduce thegirl to terror. He felt only hate for her, but it had come to hisdiseased mind that if he could force her to accede to his demands asthe price of her life and her child's, the cup of his revenge would befilled to brimming when he could flaunt the wife of Lord Greystoke inthe capitals of Europe as his mistress.
Again he stepped closer to her. His evil face was convulsed with rageand desire. Like a wild beast he sprang upon her, and with his strongfingers at her throat forced her backward upon the berth.
At the same instant the door of the cabin opened noisily. Rokoffleaped to his feet, and, turning, faced the Swede cook.
Into the fellow's usually foxy eyes had come an expression of utterstupidity. His lower jaw drooped in vacuous harmony. He busiedhimself in arranging Lady Greystoke's meal upon the tiny table at oneside of her cabin.
The Russian glared at him.
"What do you mean," he cried, "by entering here without permission?Get out!"
The cook turned his watery blue eyes upon Rokoff and smiled vacuously.
"Ay tank it blow purty soon purty hard," he said, and then he beganrearranging the few dishes upon the little table.
"Get out of here, or I'll throw you out, you miserable blockhead!"roared Rokoff, taking a threatening step toward the Swede.
Anderssen continued to smile foolishly in his direction, but oneham-like paw slid stealthily to the handle of the long, slim knife thatprotruded from the greasy cord supporting his soiled apron.
Rokoff saw the move and stopped short in his advance. Then he turnedtoward Jane Clayton.
"I will give you until tomorrow," he said, "to reconsider your answerto my offer. All will be sent ashore upon one pretext or anotherexcept you and the child, Paulvitch and myself. Then withoutinterruption you will be able to witness the death of the baby."
He spoke in French that the cook might not understand the sinisterportent of his words. When he had done he banged out of the cabinwithout another look at the man who had interrupted him in his sorrywork.
When he had gone, Sven Anderssen turned toward Lady Greystoke--theidiotic expression that had masked his thoughts had fallen away, and inits place was one of craft and cunning.
"Hay tank Ay ban a fool," he said. "Hay ben the fool. Ay savvyFranch."
Jane Clayton looked at him in surprise.
"You understood all that he said, then?"
Anderssen grinned.
"You bat," he said.
"And you heard what was going on in here and came to protect me?"
"You bane good to me," explained the Swede. "Hay treat me like dartydog. Ay help you, lady. You yust vait--Ay help you. Ay ban VastCoast lots times."
"But how can you help me, Sven," she asked, "when all these men will beagainst us?"
"Ay tank," said Sven Anderssen, "it blow purty soon purty hard," andthen he turned and left the cabin.
Though Jane Clayton doubted the cook's ability to be of any materialservice to her, she was nevertheless deeply grateful to him for what healready had done. The feeling that among these enemies she had onefriend brought the first ray of comfort that had come to lighten theburden of her miserable apprehensions throughout the long voyage of theKincaid.
She saw no more of Rokoff that day, nor of any other until Sven camewith her evening meal. She tried to draw him into conversationrelative to his plans to aid her, but all that she could get from himwas his stereotyped prophecy as to the future state of the wind. Heseemed suddenly to have relapsed into his wonted state of densestupidity.
However, when he was leaving her cabin a little later with the emptydishes he whispered very low, "Leave on your clothes an' roll up yourblankets. Ay come back after you purty soon."
He would have slipped from the room at once, but Jane laid her handupon his sleeve.
"My baby?" she asked. "I cannot go without him."
"You do wot Ay tal you," said Anderssen, scowling. "Ay ban halpin'you, so don't you gat too fonny."
When he had gone Jane Clayton sank down upon her berth in utterbewilderment. What was she to do? Suspicions as to the intentions ofthe Swede swarmed her brain. Might she not be infinitely worse off ifshe gave herself into his power than she already was?
No, she could be no worse off in company with the devil himself thanwith Nikolas Rokoff, for the devil at least bore the reputation ofbeing a gentleman.
She swore a dozen t
imes that she would not leave the Kincaid withouther baby, and yet she remained clothed long past her usual hour forretiring, and her blankets were neatly rolled and bound with stoutcord, when about midnight there came a stealthy scratching upon thepanels of her door.
Swiftly she crossed the room and drew the bolt. Softly the door swungopen to admit the muffled figure of the Swede. On one arm he carrieda bundle, evidently his blankets. His other hand was raised in agesture commanding silence, a grimy forefinger upon his lips.
He came quite close to her.
"Carry this," he said. "Do not make some noise when you see it. Itban your kid."
Quick hands snatched the bundle from the cook, and hungry mother armsfolded the sleeping infant to her breast, while hot tears of joy randown her cheeks and her whole frame shook with the emotion of themoment.
"Come!" said Anderssen. "We got no time to vaste."
He snatched up her bundle of blankets, and outside the cabin door hisown as well. Then he led her to the ship's side, steadied her descentof the monkey-ladder, holding the child for her as she climbed to thewaiting boat below. A moment later he had cut the rope that held thesmall boat to the steamer's side, and, bending silently to the muffledoars, was pulling toward the black shadows up the Ugambi River.
Anderssen rowed on as though quite sure of his ground, and when afterhalf an hour the moon broke through the clouds there was revealed upontheir left the mouth of a tributary running into the Ugambi. Up thisnarrow channel the Swede turned the prow of the small boat.
Jane Clayton wondered if the man knew where he was bound. She did notknow that in his capacity as cook he had that day been rowed up thisvery stream to a little village where he had bartered with the nativesfor such provisions as they had for sale, and that he had therearranged the details of his plan for the adventure upon which they werenow setting forth.
Even though the moon was full, the surface of the small river was quitedark. The giant trees overhung its narrow banks, meeting in a greatarch above the centre of the river. Spanish moss dropped from thegracefully bending limbs, and enormous creepers clambered in riotousprofusion from the ground to the loftiest branch, falling in curvingloops almost to the water's placid breast.
Now and then the river's surface would be suddenly broken ahead of themby a huge crocodile, startled by the splashing of the oars, or,snorting and blowing, a family of hippos would dive from a sandy bar tothe cool, safe depths of the bottom.
From the dense jungles upon either side came the weird night cries ofthe carnivora--the maniacal voice of the hyena, the coughing grunt ofthe panther, the deep and awful roar of the lion. And with themstrange, uncanny notes that the girl could not ascribe to anyparticular night prowler--more terrible because of their mystery.
Huddled in the stern of the boat she sat with her baby strained closeto her bosom, and because of that little tender, helpless thing she washappier tonight than she had been for many a sorrow-ridden day.
Even though she knew not to what fate she was going, or how soon thatfate might overtake her, still was she happy and thankful for themoment, however brief, that she might press her baby tightly in herarms. She could scarce wait for the coming of the day that she mightlook again upon the bright face of her little, black-eyed Jack.
Again and again she tried to strain her eyes through the blackness ofthe jungle night to have but a tiny peep at those beloved features, butonly the dim outline of the baby face rewarded her efforts. Then oncemore she would cuddle the warm, little bundle close to her throbbingheart.
It must have been close to three o'clock in the morning that Anderssenbrought the boat's nose to the shore before a clearing where could bedimly seen in the waning moonlight a cluster of native huts encircledby a thorn boma.
At the village gate they were admitted by a native woman, the wife ofthe chief whom Anderssen had paid to assist him. She took them to thechief's hut, but Anderssen said that they would sleep without upon theground, and so, her duty having been completed, she left them to theirown devices.
The Swede, after explaining in his gruff way that the huts weredoubtless filthy and vermin-ridden, spread Jane's blankets on theground for her, and at a little distance unrolled his own and lay downto sleep.
It was some time before the girl could find a comfortable position uponthe hard ground, but at last, the baby in the hollow of her arm, shedropped asleep from utter exhaustion. When she awoke it was broaddaylight.
About her were clustered a score of curious natives--mostly men, foramong the aborigines it is the male who owns this characteristic in itsmost exaggerated form. Instinctively Jane Clayton drew the baby moreclosely to her, though she soon saw that the blacks were far fromintending her or the child any harm.
In fact, one of them offered her a gourd of milk--a filthy,smoke-begrimed gourd, with the ancient rind of long-curdled milk cakedin layers within its neck; but the spirit of the giver touched herdeeply, and her face lightened for a moment with one of those almostforgotten smiles of radiance that had helped to make her beauty famousboth in Baltimore and London.
She took the gourd in one hand, and rather than cause the giver painraised it to her lips, though for the life of her she could scarcerestrain the qualm of nausea that surged through her as the malodorousthing approached her nostrils.
It was Anderssen who came to her rescue, and taking the gourd from her,drank a portion himself, and then returned it to the native with a giftof blue beads.
The sun was shining brightly now, and though the baby still slept, Janecould scarce restrain her impatient desire to have at least a briefglance at the beloved face. The natives had withdrawn at a commandfrom their chief, who now stood talking with Anderssen, a little apartfrom her.
As she debated the wisdom of risking disturbing the child's slumber bylifting the blanket that now protected its face from the sun, she notedthat the cook conversed with the chief in the language of the Negro.
What a remarkable man the fellow was, indeed! She had thought himignorant and stupid but a short day before, and now, within the pasttwenty-four hours, she had learned that he spoke not only English butFrench as well, and the primitive dialect of the West Coast.
She had thought him shifty, cruel, and untrustworthy, yet in so far asshe had reason to believe he had proved himself in every way thecontrary since the day before. It scarce seemed credible that he couldbe serving her from motives purely chivalrous. There must be somethingdeeper in his intentions and plans than he had yet disclosed.
She wondered, and when she looked at him--at his close-set, shifty eyesand repulsive features, she shuddered, for she was convinced that nolofty characteristics could be hid behind so foul an exterior.
As she was thinking of these things the while she debated the wisdom ofuncovering the baby's face, there came a little grunt from the weebundle in her lap, and then a gurgling coo that set her heart inraptures.
The baby was awake! Now she might feast her eyes upon him.
Quickly she snatched the blanket from before the infant's face;Anderssen was looking at her as she did so.
He saw her stagger to her feet, holding the baby at arm's length fromher, her eyes glued in horror upon the little chubby face and twinklingeyes.
Then he heard her piteous cry as her knees gave beneath her, and shesank to the ground in a swoon.
The Beasts of Tarzan Page 9
