What difference did it make to Piang if he was alone, if he had onlythe barest clue to Papita's whereabouts? He was going to follow upthat clue, and something seemed to tell him that he was on the righttrack. The jungle was dripping and steaming after a three days'downpour; monkeys and birds were huddled in the trees, melancholy,but patient, knowing that their friend, the burning tropic sun, wouldcome to them again, some day. Piang trudged on through the sticky,slippery jungle. An occasional fresh track or recent camping sitemade him push forward eagerly. What he should do when he did overtakethe kidnappers, he had no idea, but something always happened to helpPiang. He reverently touched his sacred charm.
The deluge through this lower jungle must have been terrific. Piang wasglad that he had been in his mountain barrio during the tempest. Strewneverywhere were branches and enormous tree-ferns; a dead hablar-birdlay in his path. Leeches, hiding on the backs of leaves and twigs,caught at Piang as he brushed by, clinging and sucking their fill,before he could discover them. He raised one foot quickly and yelled:
"_Tinick!_" ("Thorn!") While he was searching for the thorn hisother foot began to ache and pain. Piang was too wise to hesitatea moment, so he swung up to a low branch and sat there nursing hisfeet. He was puzzled; there was no thorns in them, and he could findno cuts. Gradually the soles of the feet began to swell and take on apurplish hue. Piang gave a low whistle and bent to examine the ground.
"_Badjanji!_" ("Bees!") he exclaimed. The ground was yellow withthe little bedraggled, stupified creatures. They had been beatendown by the storm and would remain there until the sun came to coaxthem into industry again. Swinging lightly from one tree to another,Piang reached one of the numberless brooks that ramble aimlesslyabout through the jungle, and, dropping to its banks, buried hisfeet in the healing clay. After a short time the pain grew better,and he continued his journey.
He was nearing Dato Ynoch's domain on the banks of LakeLiguasan. The outlaw had chosen his lair well, for it was one ofthe most inaccessible spots in Mindanao. On all sides treacherousmarsh lands reached out from the lake, and it was almost impossibleto tell when one might step from the solid jungle into a dangerousmorass. A few hidden trails led to the barrio, and by great good luckPiang discovered one. Quietly he crept along into the ever-increasingtwilight, for the trail led deep into the jungle's very heart wheredaylight and sunshine never penetrate. Sounds came faintly from thebarrio; tom-toms and many drums beat a monotonous serenade. A fiestamust be in progress. A fiesta? Piang's face grew hot, and his blackeyes flamed. Could it be that the fiesta was poor Papita's wedding? Hebroke into a run and, panting and sweating, pushed farther into thedarkening jungle; but the trail was evidently an abandoned one, forit brought up suddenly against a wall of thorns and closely wovenvines. Throwing himself on the ground, Piang wriggled through theoffensive marsh weeds, and finally found himself almost on the edgeof Lake Liguasan. From his retreat he could plainly see the villagestreets. The barrio was certainly preparing for a fiesta and noordinary one, either, for elaborate and barbaric decorations shroudedhuts and street. Raised on two posts at the entrance of the village,was a carcass of a mammoth crocodile, in its opened jaws a humanskull. Piang shuddered. He had heard that Dato Ynoch's followers weregathered from among the renegade Dyak pirate head-hunters, who fledto Mindanao from Borneo justice. The human skull confirmed the rumor,for there are no cannibal tribes among the Moros.
It was certainly a marriage feast that the women were preparing. Araised platform in the middle of the campong (common), tastefullydecorated with skulls small, skulls large, and skulls medium,formed the altar, and a large black bullock was already tied to the_sapoendoes_ (sacrifice post). Piang flushed with excitement at anunusually loud beating of tom-toms; the chief was coming. Piang hadlong wished to see this terrible Ynoch. Weird stories of his terriblepersonality, his disfigured countenance were widespread. That sopowerful a dato could have sprung up so suddenly puzzled the Moros,and Ynoch's identity still remained a mystery.
Down the center of the street advanced a gaudy procession headedby a barbaric priestess. From her head protruded massive hornsdecorated with flaming red flowers. Around her loins was strapped acrimson sarong; her body swayed and twisted to the savage rhythm ofthe tom-toms. A tall, amazingly fat man stepped to the platform. Hisback seemed oddly familiar to Piang, as well as the slinking gait, theshambling step. Straining his eyes, Piang waited. Dato Ynoch raisedhis hand for silence and turned toward the waiting populace. Piangnearly cried out as he caught sight of the face.
Oily of hair, oily of eye was this Dato out-law. His shifting glancewandered restlessly over the heads of the people, meeting no man'seye. Beneath the pomp of his trappings, the fat, overfed body protrudedgrotesquely, and his movements were slow and clumsy. One almond-shapedeye had been partly torn from its socket, leaving a hideous, redscar. An ear, which appeared to have slipped from the side of theoily head and lodged on a fold of the fat neck, had in reality beenneatly carved from its proper place by an enraged slave and poorlyreplaced by a crude surgeon. A bamboo tube had been inserted in theoriginal ear-drum.
"Sicto!" gasped Piang. The mysterious Dato Ynoch, was Sicto, themestizo.
That Papita had been dragged to the barrio, Piang now had no doubt,and his nimble wits began to look about for a way of escape. He wasnear the banks of a creek that led to the Cotabato River and thinkingthat the most likely escape, he wormed his way toward it. Along thebank were canoes of every description. The swift ones seemed to be allfour-oared, and he knew that he must have a fleet, light vinta to eludethe Dyaks. He spied a tiny white boat tied to a gilded post, and hisheart nearly stopped beating when he read the name "Papita" on the bow.
"Papita!" Piang scornfully whispered. "Papita, indeed!" His lip curled,and he glared through the rushes at the hideous Sicto.
"Well, it shall be Papita's after all!" Piang said and he smiled. Hecrept toward the little craft to see if there were paddles in it. Therewere two, and Piang suddenly remembered that part of the Dyak betrothalceremony takes place upon the water.
Long Piang pondered as he watched the preparations for Papita'sbetrothal. He examined the _cotta_, counted the praus, and his keeneyes followed the creek to its sharp turn. He crawled past the bendto make sure that the stream was navigable. Satisfied that he couldescape through its waters, Piang began to cut rushes, and, squattingin the protecting undergrowth, busily worked while he indignantlylistened to the loquacious Sicto telling his followers that Papitawas no slave, but a maiden of royal Bogobo birth. He and his fatherhad kept it secret because they intended her for his wife, and atlast he had captured the girl from Kali Pandapatan. Faster and fasterflew Piang's fingers, and finally a basket began to shape itself outof the rushes. Soon Piang had two perfect baskets, and he slung themover his shoulder. While Sicto and his villains were celebrating thecoming wedding, Piang quietly slipped back through the jungle, backto the brook where the medicinal clay had cured the bee stings. Whenhe returned later, he handled the baskets with great care and chuckledsoftly to himself.
A second beating of tom-toms thundered through the barrio. The bridewas coming. Down an avenue made for her by hostile looking women,crept a tiny, terrified figure. It was draped in the softest Easternstuffs; jeweled anklets and bangles tinkled merrily. A gauzy veil ofwondrous workmanship swathed the figure, but through it all Piangrecognized his beloved Papita. Slowly she approached the altar;fearfully she raised her eyes to the man who awaited her there. Herlittle feet faltered, and the priestess supported her. Papita leanedheavily against the woman. Three soft notes of a mina-bird floatedover the barrio, and Papita became suddenly alive. Again the notesstole through the jungle. The bride threw back her veil.
"The unwilling maid seems to have forgot her woe," said one scornfulwoman to another. "Now that she is about to become our chief's firstwife, she does not weep and cry to be taken home."
The priestess commenced the ceremony that was to last allnight. Chants, prayers, admonitions, all, Papita responded to withrenew
ed vigor, and her eyes furtively glanced toward a spot near thecurve of the creek where a slender reed swayed unceasingly. Aftermany hours the priestess led the way to the water and Ynoch placedPapita in her gala vinta and pushed her out into the stream. He gotinto another, and the two boats nosed each other while the crowdshowered them with oils and perfumes. When the command came to part,each boat shot off in an opposite direction. A maiden and a bridegroomare each supposed to meditate for the last time on the advisability ofthe union before the final ceremony; so reads the Dyak marriage laws.
As indifferently as a queen, Papita plied her paddle, paying no heedto the unfriendly eyes and mutterings of the Dyaks; she seemed in nohaste and managed her vinta with amazing skill for one so small. Onlyonce she seemed to lose control; her vinta cut deep into the tallrushes near the bend of the creek. Had the Dyaks been less intent onexhibiting their scorn, they might have noticed that when the boatdrew back from the rushes it rode deeper in the water, and the littlefigure labored harder at the paddle as the vinta turned the bend andpassed from sight.
"Piang! is it you?"
As Papita spoke, the form lying in the bottom of the vinta slowlyunfolded like a huge jack-knife. The merry eyes twinkled, the youthful,firm mouth curved at the corners, and Piang, the adventurer, smiledup at the astonished girl.
"But yes, Chiquita, did you think that Piang would suffer the outcastSicto to kidnap his little playmate?" Piang took up the paddle andthe vinta shot forward. Silently the two bent to the task, everymoment increasing the distance between them and their enemies.
"Will they catch us, Piang?"
"Of course not, my Papita. Piang, the charm boy comes to rescueyou." The proud head went up with arrogant superiority.
"But there are many hidden cut-offs and creeks between us and theriver, Piang; Sicto will surely trap us." The terrified expressionin the girl's soft eyes touched Piang's heart.
"Have no fear, Papita. Let Sicto overtake us and he will be sorry. Putyour ear to the baskets."
As the girl bent over the two baskets, lying in the bottom of thevinta, a frown puckered her brow. A dull hum, like a caged windprotesting in faint whispers, rose from them. Gradually a smile brokeover her face, and she laughed softly.
"Yes; Sicto will be sorry if he overtakes us," she whispered.
Through the deepening night, a roar came to the fugitives. A deep,cruel howl; tom-toms beat a ragged and violent alarm; savage war-criesrent the air, bounding back from one echo to another. Papita's handwavered at her paddle. Piang's stroke grew swifter, surer. The outragedbridegroom had returned from his meditations to find himself brideless.
"How will they come, Piang?" Papita's voice trembled.
"Some by water, some by land. Work, Papita."
And so the deadly tropic night closed about them. The littlenut-shell sped down the river, past snags, skulking crocodiles,and many unseen dangers. The jungle came far out over the water,dangling her treacherous plant-life above them, ready to drag themfrom the vinta: it crept beneath them, shooting up in massive treesthat obstructed their passage--trees loaded down with parasites,intertwined, interlaced in hopeless confusion, each trying to crushand climb over the other in the fight for supremacy.
Where the creek empties into the Cotabato River, Piang paused; therewere suspicious-looking shadows close to the bank, and he reachedfor his precious baskets.
"Work slowly, Papita," he whispered, and the trembling girl keptthe vinta just moving. From its ominous silence, the jungle crashedinto chaos.
"Le le le le iiiiiio!" shrieked the echoes.
Piang was ready.
"Le le le le iiiiiio!" he tauntingly replied.
Kneeling in the bow of the vinta, he hastily lighted a green resinoustorch and stuck it upright. It gave forth the pungent, heavy perfumeof the jungle pitch. Waiting until his enemies were almost upon him,Piang raised one basket above his head and opened the trap. A suddenbuzz and whirl filled the air; Piang reached for the second basket andheld it in the smoke of the torch, ready to open. For a few moments,nothing happened, but the enemy slackened their pace, and the warcries were silenced. Finally yells of rage and pain broke from them:
"Badjanji!" they screamed. The little insects, infuriated at thetreatment they had received, fairly pounced upon the defenselessDyaks. No jungle pest is so dreaded as the enraged honey-bee. Itsenvenomed stings are poisonous, deadly, and often cause more painfulwounds than bolos. The men fought desperately. Tauntingly Pianglaughed, swiftly he and Papita paddled, and the smoke from the torchenveloped them in its protecting waves. Coming abreast of the war-prau,Piang loosed the other basket of bees.
On sped the vinta, and ever nearer came the great estuary that gaveupon the Celebes Sea. The sounds of the sufferers grew fainter,and finally Papita and Piang were again alone in the great night.
"They will return and assemble the war fleet, Papita; they willpursue us into the ocean. If the water is rough, we cannot cross thebay to Parang-Parang in this vinta. We must hide near the coast andmake our way homeward on foot."
Morning fairly burst upon them. Twilight in the tropics is a name only,for the sun rises and disappears abruptly, and it is day or nightin a few moments. The early light showed the ocean in the distance,and at the same moment sounds behind made Piang listen anxiously.
"They are coming, Papita; we must hide."
As Piang headed for the bank, he noticed a thin stream of smoketrembling above Bongao. He paused and trained his eye on theblur. Suddenly he dug his paddle into the water.
"Papita, quick! The _Sabah_ is coming!"
Again the vinta shot forward, down through the shifting, treacherousdelta, out into the ocean. Louder grew the beating of paddles againstthe Dyak war-praus, and Piang could hear the war chant. He knew thatSicto cared little for ships; he had evaded too many of them. Onlythe _Sabah_, Sicto feared, but he would probably take a chance onthis being the Chino mail boat or a Spanish tramp. That the Dyakswould take the chance and follow, Piang was sure.
The sea was choppy and fretful. The little bride boat danced andcareened about recklessly. Between the _Sabah_ and Piang lay Bongao,and straight for Bongao he headed, skilfully keeping the vintasteady. A white mist rose, as if to hide the vinta from the pursuers,but when the fleet reached the river's mouth a yell announced thatthey had been discovered. The race was for life, for more than life,and the boy seemed possessed of a supernatural strength. Nearer camethe smoke, and finally around the point of Bongao, burst the littlegunboat. At first the Dyaks did not heed the stranger, so used werethey to hurling contempt at island visitors, but when in answer toPapita's signal, as she stood up waving her disheveled wedding veil,there came a shrill whistle, they paused in dismay.
In a very short time Papita and Piang were raised over the side of the_Sabah_, and General Beech and Governor Findy were questioning them.
"You say that Dato Ynoch is pursuing you?"
"Yes, yes, that is him in the first prau," excitedly replied Piang.
"Well, Piang, it is Ynoch that brings the _Sabah_ here to-day. Wethank you, my boy, for tempting him into the open."
When the Moro boy disclosed Ynoch's identity, a grim smile settledover Governor Findy's face.
"Man the guns, Captain!" commanded General Beech in his dignified,quiet way.
The Dyaks were scattering in the wildest confusion, making theirway back to the river with all speed, but the _Sabah_ relentlesslypursued. A sudden darkening shadow startled the captain of the _Sabah_,and he pointed toward the mountains.
"Something queer hatchin' over there, General."
A dense mist hid the hills; only old Ganassi Peak stood out, dignifiedand stern. Like a dirty piece of canvas, one cloud balanced itself onGanassi's shoulder and rapidly spread itself around the peak. It seemedto sap the very life from Ganassi, as it enveloped it in a chillingembrace. Slowly the cloud loosed its hold and bounced along on thelower hills. In its center it seemed to bear a restless, strugglingmass, and the passengers on the _Sabah_ watched it nervously
. Strangethings happen very suddenly in the sunny Celebes. Fascinated, theywatched the odd cloud lumbering toward them, dipping and lifting itsburden. It sailed over the mountains, flitted past the jungle andreached the ocean, where it hovered and waved as if undecided whichway to go. At times, like canvas, it would belly down in the middle,almost burst, right itself, and come sailing on. Again and again theheavy contents pulled the cloud to earth, but valiantly strugglingwith its burden, it resisted. The cloud brought with it a death-likemist, damp and choking, and the sunshine was abruptly put out. Thething hesitated over the _Sabah_, dipping and sucking itself back,as if made of elastic; it wandered about aimlessly and paused overthe fleeing Dyaks. Finally as if discouraged and strained beyond itsendurance, it gave up.
With shrieks and cries the Dyaks watched it. Tons and tons of waterburst from the cloud, striking the sea with a hiss that sent thespray high in the air.
"Waterspout!" yelled the captain and ordered the _Sabah's_ enginesstopped. In horror they beheld the crazy column careen about, obeyingits master, the capricious wind, and following any stray current;around and around the spiral, grinding mass of water veered and circledaimlessly. It danced and capered about the ocean like some malignantmonster loosed from torment, and finally, as if by direct intent,started for the river's mouth. The Dyaks saw it coming, and in theirpuny efforts to escape, looked like ants before an elephant. The fivestreams, flowing through the delta of the Cotabato River, seemed todraw the vicious waterspout toward them, and on it went, directlyin the wake of the doomed Dyaks. Tensely the _Sabah's_ passengersfollowed the course of the spout. The whirling Nemesis descended uponthe pirates; their cries of anguish came faintly through the roar andhiss of water; crude Dyak prayers, shrieked by terrified worshipers,smote upon their ears, and finally, like a whirlwind, the waterspoutpounced upon its victims. It caught at them with a thousand arms;it tossed them up, bore them down, tore them from the light eggshellpraus, crushing them to bits.
Through the entire fleet stalked the monster, dealing out death anddestruction to all, and, when there remained naught to vent its wrathupon, like an insatiate giant, it turned toward the jungle. Straightup the river it marched, rooting up trees, tearing down banks, andgradually vanished in the distance, leaving wreckage and disaster inits path.
Silenced by the terrible spectacle, the Americans seemed to huddlecloser together for protection, or comfort. But two figures stoodout alone on the _Sabah's_ deck.
Papita's eyes were fastened on Piang, on the charm that dangled fromhis necklace of crocodile teeth; Piang was lost in Ganassi Peak. Hiseyes were filled with a divine awe as he silently faced his belovedpeak, where dwelt his wonder man, the Hermit Ganassi. Every elementof his being, his very attitude, proclaimed that his spirit waspouring out a thanksgiving to his patron, whose prayers to Allah,the Merciful, had sent the waterspout to destroy his enemies. TheChristians, boasting a greater God, were put to shame by this artlessexhibition of a faith that they could never feel, and their eyes werefilled with admiration as they looked upon this Moro boy, transfiguredin his faith, as he muttered softly:
"There is no God but Allah!"
THE END
NOTES
[1] _Bichara_ means meeting and corresponds to the East Indian word,_durbar_.
Adventures of Piang the Moro Jungle Boy Page 31
