"And does the Bearded One's God never fail His people?" she demanded."Do the people of my Bearded One never have wars, and are they never killed?"
I flushed and hesitated, but I was forced to confess that the Christian God apparently allowed His worshippers to meet with disaster as frequently as did the gods of the Indians. Merima, nevertheless, was quite willing to embrace Christianity, not because she believed in it or had been converted by my words, but because she felt that it was my wish and since it was my religion she should make it hers. However, while such a convert might not be all that a strict churchman might desire, my purpose would be served. She could, I knew, understand any ordinary questions that might be asked her by a priest, and she had a fairly good idea of the underlying basis of Christianity. Later on she could be properly instructed. From all this it might be assumed that I am a deeply religious man; but I am not. I do not belong to any particular sect or church, and I firmly believe that every man and woman has a right to worship any deity or deities he or she prefers. I have dwelt among many races with many beliefs, and it seems to me one religion is as good as another, provided a person has true faith and lives up to the teachings of that religion. In fact I have never had any patience whatever with those misguided individuals or sects who are forever striving to force their own personal beliefs and religions down the throats of others who do not agree with them. As far as I personally was concerned, Merima might have remained a pagan forever, or rather, I should say, she might forever have adhered to the beliefs of her tribe. But I knew in a Catholic country where the Church possesses vast power and influence, it would be both to her advantage and my own to have her a Christian—outwardly at least. I was not at all sure, as a matter of fact, that I could legally adopt her until she had been baptized.
Hard as it proved to make her understand my outline of Christianity, I found it still harder to teach her my language. She was anxious enough to learn and took a far greater interest in my efforts to teach her English than in my attempts to convert her to my faith. But her tongue, lips and vocal cords, accustomed only to producing the guttural, peculiar sounds of her native dialect, were ill adapted for pronouncing English words. Often her attempts to repeat a word after me were highly amusing, and we both laughed heartily as she pursed her lips, screwed up her face and slowly and painstakingly tried to pronounce some word, only to fail utterly. But she was a persevering little thing and enthusiastically desirous of succeeding, and gradually, as the days passed, she learned to utter the words. And to my amazement, when she did master the sounds, she spoke the words without the least accent. She was most particular in this respect, and would not speak a word which she could not pronounce perfectly. This made her progress rather slow and I foresaw that it would be a long time before she could express herself readily or even thoroughly understand English, for so highly developed was her sense of sound—the slightest varying shade of accent or pronunciation of an Indian word changes its meaning— that a word carelessly spoken or mispronounced was entirely unintelligible to her.
But if my attempts to instruct Merima accomplished little in some ways, yet they served to pass the time, and the days sped swiftly. At first, I had forgotten to keep my string calendar, but I soon rectified this, and on the third day after finding Merima I again resumed my daily knot-tying. Hence I knew it was on the eighteenth day after emerging from the tunnel that we struck the first rapids. To be sure, we had several times passed through swift, broken water, but nothing that was dangerous or difficult, and the canoe had behaved wonderfully. But now, ahead, stretched a long series of foaming, rock-filled rapids stretched ahead. Alone, I should not have hesitated to have run boldly through them, but with the added weight and the responsibility of Merima I was rather fearful of attempting it in my frail craft. Mooring the woodskin at the head of the rapids, I stepped ashore, and with Merima by my side, I walked down stream examining the rushing water, locating the rocks and speculating on my chances of running the gauntlet safely. They were not bad as rapids go in the bush, and luckily there were no true falls or cataracts. Had the stretch of broken water been shorter, however, I would have laboriously portaged the canoe around rather than take the risk. But it was an impossible task to portage the craft for over a mile through the forest, and Merima laughed at my hesitation, declaring that there was no danger and that many a time she had run far worse rapids by herself.
Moreover, she could, I knew, swim like an otter, for she regularly took her morning dip and appeared as much at home in water as on land. With some misgivings therefore, I shoved the canoe from shore and into the racing current.
Merima had grasped the extra paddle I had provided, and standing in the bow, wielded the paddle and swung the bobbing, racing craft from jagged black rocks with all the consummate skill of an Indian boatman. As she stood there, her long hair flying, swaying and undulating in perfect rhythm to the wildly gyrating motions of the frail canoe, plying her paddle first on one side and then the other, shouting back a direction or a warning to me, and with her face flushed with excitement, I gazed at her in admiration and thought what a wonderful specimen of perfect womanhood she was.
Without her aid, I doubt if I would have come through the rapids in safety. As it was, we never grazed a rock, never shipped a pint of water, and in almost no time shot from the last broken water into the tranquil river beyond.
Throughout that day and the next we traversed rapid after rapid, and thus I knew that hitherto we must have been traveling across the fairly level plateau of the far interior and that now we were descending the slope towards the lowlands and the sea. This was encouraging, but I was aware that many miles and many days of travel might still lie before us. There might be even worse rapids and falls ahead; but each hour that we sped on we drew nearer and nearer to the haunts of civilized men. Also, there might be settlements or even good-sized towns far up this river. Often, too, we had passed the mouths of other streams; some mere creeks, other good-sized rivers, which made me feel sure that the stream we were following was a main river or the tributary of some great river. So far, too, we had met no Indians, and this also convinced me that we were on a major stream, for the Indians seldom dwell upon such large rivers; they prefer the smaller streams and creeks. Still we had maintained a sharp lookout for chance canoes drawn upon the banks or for signs of savages, for we never knew, but that, when rounding some bend or turn, we might suddenly find ourselves face to face with a boat load of hostiles or a village of enemy Indiana. More than once we had found unmistakable proofs of the presence of savages in the neighborhood.
Once we had found a dead deer floating in a backwater and with the broken shaft of an arrow protruding from his neck. At another time Merima's sharp eyes had detected bits of shredded silk grass floating from the mouth of a small creek. Twice we had seen the thin blue spirals of smoke from Indian camps rising above the forest in the distance, and on another occasion, as we passed by the half-concealed opening that marked a sluggish "Itabu" or side channel, Merima had raised her hand for silence, and from afar off in the jungle we had heard the yelping barks of Indians' dogs. Despite her recent experience with the Myankos, Merima seemed less fearful of meeting Indians than was I. Partly, she had a most gratifying and supreme confidence in my ability to overcome anything or to triumph over any savages, based, of course, on my lucky and successful rout of the Myankos. But such an act could not be repeated, and I was well aware that I would stand no chance with only my bow and arrows and my machete for weapons, if we should meet hostile Indians. Of course, the Indians we might meet might not be enemies, for by far the greater number of aborigines in the country are peaceable and friendly. Had I known where we were, I would have been more at ease, for I should then have known pretty well what tribes we were likely to meet. But there was no use worrying over it. So far fate, luck or Providence had been with me, and, being something of a fatalist and a believer in luck, I felt fairly confident that we would come through in safety.
We had camped as
usual beside the river, but well hidden from any chance voyagers on the stream, and as always we had been careful to extinguish the last glowing spark of the fire which might serve to betray our presence, for I felt that the danger of savage men was far greater than the danger from the vampire bats, which are kept at a safe distance by the light from a fire.
It seemed as if I had barely closed my eyes when I found myself awake, keyed up, listening intently as if through my subconsciousness some danger signal had penetrated. From her hammock beside me, I could hear Merima's regular breathing; not an unusual sound broke the silence, and yet I was filled with a strange sensation of dread, of imminent peril, and without moving I turned my eyes towards the forest with its black shadows, blacker by contrast with the pale light of the waning moon. Instantly my heart seemed to cease beating and I felt paralyzed with gripping fear. Within twenty yards of my hammock stood a naked, painted Indian, his low blow-gun resting across a small tree and pointed directly at me. Beyond him, like shadows creeping along the forest edge, were two more savages, each armed with a blowgun and a powerful bow and arrows, silently, stealthily approaching Merima and myself. I felt absolutely sick with terror. To move a muscle or utter a sound meant certain death for myself and death or worse for the girl. At my first word, at my first whisper to Merima, the Indians would spring upon us, and even before they reached our hammocks a poisoned dart would bury itself in my flesh. I was absolutely helpless, powerless even to warn my companion of her approaching doom. The flicker of an eyelid might bring the deadly missile from the blowgun, and I marveled that my fast throbbing heart and fear-shaken limbs had not already warned the savage that I was awake. Nearer and nearer to the hammocks crept the other two Indians. The seconds seemed like hours, and the sound of my heart beats seemed to echo through the silence of the night and to shake my hammock.
Sweat poured from my skin, chills ran over me, and I had an insane desire to scream, to spring up, to at least warn Merima before the blow fell.
Then a strange, an amazing thing happened. Suddenly the Indian with the leveled blowgun turned his head and glanced downward at his feet. The next instant, with a low cry of horror, he leaped back, dropping his weapon as he did so.
At the sound, the other two halted and wheeled in time to see their companion dashing madly into the forest. Before he had covered a dozen yards, panic seized them and they, too, turned and fled. Scarcely had they started to run, when the first fellow stumbled and fell, uttering a fearful blood-curdling scream. The next moment he was up again, and in the moonlight I saw with terror that from feet to waist his yellow-brown skin was hidden by a moving, swarming, black mass. Instantly I understood the reason for the savages' mad terror, for their panic-stricken flight. The Indians were surrounded, attacked by the most terrible of jungle creatures—the irresistible swarming, millions of the all-devouring army-ants!
Merima, aroused by the first yells of the savages, had started up and had cried out in alarm. At sound of her voice my senses had returned to me, and in a hoarse, terrified voice, I warned her not to stir from her hammock, and in rapid, terse words explained what had threatened and what was taking place.
Brave, jungle-trained, obedient girl that she was, she remained motionless, half-sitting up in her hammock, her eyes like my own, staring, fascinated, at the tragedy taking place before us. Frantically but vainly the Indians were struggling against the hordes of biting, ravenous, hunger-mad ants which on every side, surrounded and overwhelmed them, covering the ground with a living, undulating carpet that pushed steadily onward like a living torrent, and relentlessly devouring every living thing in its path. Over the shrieking Indians the creatures swarmed, and from under our hammocks, from all about, from the trees near, came the sound of their moving bodies and hungry jaws, like the rustle of a wind among dry leaves. I shuddered and I saw Merima's eyes widen and her face blanch, as glancing about, we saw the black millions covering the earth, swarming up the trees, covering everything except our hammocks within which we were safe from attack, for the army-ants will not cross a rough rope. Meanwhile the Indians' yells were growing fainter. One of the three with blood pouring from thousands of bites, had broken through the ant-army, and shrieking like a maniac, had vanished in the jungle. Another was still fighting madly, brushing the swarming creatures from his eyes, uttering heart-rending cries of agony, blinded, beset on every side, and already doomed. The third, the last to take alarm, had been silenced; he had been overwhelmed and was now hidden under the swarming ants. In a moment more the other savage's cries turned to groans, he sank to the earth, and soon all that marked the presence of the two were formless, motionless mounds of ants. Trembling and nauseated, I watched the seemingly endless army of insects pass on its devastating way, apparently never stopping even to devour their human victims.
For hour after hour we lay there with staring eyes, not daring to stir from our hammocks, until at last day dawned and by the welcome light we saw the last few stragglers of the ant-army scurrying over the ground and vanishing in the forest. A short distance away two piles of clean-picked white bones and two grinning skulls were all that remained of the fierce savages, from whom we had been so miraculously saved.
Staggering from my hammock, I fell upon my knees and thanked God fervently for our deliverance. For a moment Merima watched me curiously, and then, dropping to her knees beside me, she, too, in her own way gave thanks to him who had guarded us through that terrible night.
As I rose, Merima gazed at me fixedly for a moment, a peculiar expression in her eyes.
"Yesterday, Bearded One, I had no faith in that God of yours," she announced. "I believed only in your magic and the gods of the Patoradis. But neither your magic nor the Patoradi gods could have sent the ants to kill our enemies, so it must have been your God, and henceforth shall I, too, worship Him."
Chapter VIII
It was four days after our miraculous deliverance from the Indians, that we came to a fork in the river. Directly in its centre it was split by a wooded point, and I had no possible way of determining which branch to follow. However, it made little difference, for eventually both streams must lead to the coast. I longed to reach the settlements by the shortest route and was therefore fearful of taking the longest. Deciding to trust to the Indians' instinct, and to woman's intuition, I left the choice to Merima, and without hesitation she took the left hand stream.
Very soon, I knew, we must be approaching the lowlands, we had left all the ranges and cataracts astern. Yellow and blue macaws appeared in place of the red and green species of the interior. Water fowl and herons increased in numbers. Fan-palms and ivory-nut-palms appeared among the trees. The river flowed sluggishly, and along the banks were growths of broad-leaved water plants, rushes and giant lilies. All great danger of hostile Indians, I felt was over, there were no more rapids to run, and feeling more joyous and elated than I had felt for months, I paddled on with Merima helping, and now looking quite civilized in her loose single garment that fell from her shoulders to her ankles, and with her hair neatly braided and coiled. Each day the river widened and more and more indications of the low lands were apparent, until the current completely ceased and we found ourselves floating on the placid surface of a large lake. Everywhere were jungle-covered islands, and on every hand stretched the jungle-covered shores with no visible outlet. I was bitterly disappointed and could see nothing to do but paddle back up miles of river and descend the other branch. But before abandoning all hope, I decided to paddle around the shores in search of some stream that flowed from the lake. I found not one but a score. All were small, however, and one seemed as promising, or rather as little promising as another. But it was worth trying, and, if after a reasonable time, the stream I selected did not increase in size, or if I found it was not flowing in a general northerly direction, I could still retrace my way. So, pushing through the plants and low-hanging vines that almost concealed the entrance to one of the outlets, I followed the stream into the jungle. Very quickly the s
tream broadened, the current increased, and by nightfall we were again on a large river.
The King of the Monkey Men Page 9
