The Peculiar Exploits of Brigadier Ffellowes

by Sterling E. Lanier

  "We decided to leave one man awake to look for wind, and the rest would turn in all standing, that is, dressed, not that we wore much but shorts. We could raise sail in no time. Oswald said he was not sleepy, and so he got the job.

  "I don't know why I should have wakened at midnight. There was still no wind, and we had all been sleeping on deck. I looked at my watch, cast my eye along the deck to Maxton's and Joe's sleeping forms and then went aft to find Oswald. He wasn't there, so I looked forward again. No sign of him, and the starlight was clear enough to see from bow to stern. There was no use waking the others on a false alarm. I got up and dropped into the cabin, gave it a quick once over, and then came out of the forward hatch and went quickly aft to the stern. No Oswald.

  "I woke the others quietly, and explained the situation in a few words. From the moment I spoke, none of us had any doubt as to what had happened. Oswald had never left voluntarily. Someone, or something, with human motivation, had plucked him off the schooner as easily as you gaff a fish and even more quietly, and the purpose and the strength had come from the silent town, from Soldier Key.

  "We discovered afterwards that it had been easy for them. Several swimmers approached as silently as sharks and one of them had clipped Oswald over the head with a club as he sat with his back to the rail. Then, without a sound, he had been lowered into the bay and towed back to shore. Why they left the rest of us I shall never know, but I suspect that they simply had gotten cold feet. Or perhaps Poole thought we'd be reluctant to report our loss. By the time we got back with help, he could always plead ignorance and say that we had done the poor chap in ourselves. He of course would have his whole island to back him up. As a second purpose, I think he wanted us out of there and that this was perhaps a last warning. Well, if that were so, he had made a mistake.

  "Without anyone's having to speak, all three of us went below and began to gather weapons. I took the big Colt automatic pistol, because it was my own, Joe the .30-.30 carbine, and Maxton simply tucked his cane knife, a big machete, without which most West Indians feel undressed, in his belt. Then we collected ammunition and went aft to our dinghy. I hauled the painter in without even looking until the cut end came into my hand! I had not noticed its absence on my earlier check, but the Key men had cut it adrift.

  "However, this actually didn't put us back a bit. Still without speaking, but all three purposeful, we began to rig a float for the weapons out of small line and four life preservers. We had it done and ready to move in less than ten minutes and were about to slip over the side when Maxton suddenly caught us by the arms and put a hand to his ear.

  "As we listened in the quiet dark, a noise, almost a vibration began to come over the water. It was a sound we couldn't identify, a strange sort of muffled rustling or shuffling sound, and Joe and I looked at each other in the starlight, absolutely baffled. Maxton whispered in our ears.

  " 'Dot is feet. Dey move somewheah.'

  "Of course he was quite right. We were listening to the whole town on the move, the rustle of hundreds of feet scuffing through the coral dust of the streets. Where they were going we didn't know, but we began to drop into the water, because this silent march almost certainly meant no good to Oswald. We all three knew that, somehow. I took the lead, carrying the pistol out of the water, so that we should be armed upon landing. Behind me, Joe and Maxton swam, pushing the little raft with the rifle, the spare ammo, our shoes, and two canteens. Joe had added something else, but I didn't find that out until later.

  "I swam for the edge of town way over on the left, well away from the dock or the boats, since I had to assume that if they had posted a sentry, he would be placed at that point. It apparently was quite unnecessary, but we had to try to outguess them at every point, and we still thought these people rational. I tried not to think of sharks, which I dislike.

  "As we swam, I listened for the sound of the footsteps, but it had died away, and this lent new urgency to our efforts. In a very short time, my feet grated on the coral beach, and keeping the pistol poised, I waded ashore, the other two behind me. Joe had the rifle at ready now, and Maxton had drawn his machete.

  "There was no sign of movement. We had landed just on the outer edge of town, the last house looming about two hundred feet to our right. Not a sound broke the silence but faint insect humming and the splash of ripples breaking on the narrow beach.

  "After listening a minute, we put on our shoes, then divided the ammunition and the canteens. I saw Joe stick something else in his belt, but I was concentrating so hard on listening that it really didn't register.

  "We placed the life preservers above the high water mark under a bush and moved into the town, guns at ready. If the town were quiet by day, it was dead that night. This was a town presumably inhabited by living people, but not a murmur of life came from any of the shuttered houses. At each corner, we stopped and listened, but we could hear nothing. Nothing human, that is. Twice I almost fired at rustling shadows and faint clanking noises, only to realize that it was only the hideous crabs from which the island took its name.

  "The church was our goal, by unspoken agreement, but when we reached the square, it loomed silent and unlit in front of us. The central door was wide open, and we could hear no movement from the black interior. Wherever the people were, it was not there.

  "Moving on, we struck a broader street, one which led away from the water inland. As we paused in the shadow of a tamarind tree, Maxton suddenly held up a hand and dropped to his knees. I couldn't make out what he was doing, but he stood up in a second.

  " 'This dust has been kicked up wery recent. 1 think the people come this way, many people.'

  "I couldn't smell anything, but Joe and I knew we didn't have his perceptions, and we had no other clues anyway. Besides, we had heard the marching feet, and they had gone somewhere, and then there was the singing of the previous night, too.

  "Keeping to the edge of the road, we went inland, walking quickly, but very much on the alert. The road left the town, which wasn't too big, remember, after about two hundred yards and cut straight into the scrub, in the direction of the center of the island, as near as we could make out. At about fifteen minutes walk from the town, we learned that Maxton was right. We were deep in the shadowy scrub now, not a jungle, but the thick, low thorn bush of most West Indian islands. The road still ran straight and smooth ahead of us, a dim, white ribbon under the stars. Only insect noises broke the silence.

  "Suddenly, we all halted. Not far off, a half mile at a guess, a sound had erupted into the night. We had heard it before, not so loud, on the previous night and recognized it at once for the mass chorus of human voices in a chant. It came from ahead of us and to one side, the left.

  "Our pace quickened to a trot, and as we ran we listened, trying to pinpoint the noise. It was some sort of service, because we could hear the sound die into silence and then start again. As we drew closer to the source, we began to hear the single voice which led the chant, high and faint, and then the muffled roar that followed from the congregation.

  "It was only the voices that saved us from missing the path. The trees had increased in height, and shadowed the road a good deal, so that we should have overshot the left fork if we hadn't been watching for it. Even then, Maxton was the only one to spot it, and he suddenly signaled us to turn into what looked like a dense bush. Following him, we broke through a screen of vegetation, which gave way so easily that we realized that it must have been dragged there after cutting. And there was a road again, narrower but still plain and well-trodden. Some old habit of caution must have led them so to mask their path. We now moved at an increased speed.

  "Ahead of us, the voices swelled in another chant, but we could not as yet distinguish words. The single voice was silent. As the noise increased, so did our caution, and we slowed our pace, since we had no wish to burst unexpectedly into the middle of some gathering of goodness knows what.

  "All at once, we could see light ahead through the trees, a flic
kering, reddish glow which lit the path far better than the dim starlight. We eased down to a slow walk and advanced cautiously-

  "The light grew continually stronger as we went on, reflected back from our faces and the boles and leaves of the thorn bushes and palmettoes. The sound of voices was almost deafening now, but we were searching so hard for a sight of a guard or sentry, we paid no attention to the words, which were blurred in any case.

  "The trees suddenly thinned before us, and stooping low, the three of us crawled abreast of their edge and peered into the open, keeping well behind the screening branches, and off the road, which suddenly appeared to vanish. When we reached the last line of bushes, it was easy to see why. We were gazing down into an immense pit.

  "We were on one edge of an enormous hole in the ground, quite round and perhaps seventy feet deep. It was rimmed with greyish limestone rock, level at the edges, to which point the bushes grew, all around.

  "At our feet, the path, now very narrow, wound down a steep slope to the smooth floor of white sand below. One side of the natural amphitheatre, for such it was, was banked up into lines of crude seats, sloping to the open floor of packed sand. The width of the whole place must have been at least two hundred yards in diameter, if not more.

  "The entire population of Soldier Key, now silent, was sitting on the banked seats of this private arena, gazing at the scene before them with rapt attention. We had an excellent view of them, which made up in completeness for what we had missed earlier. Every man, woman and child, perhaps two hundred or more, was stark naked, clothed only in garlands of flowers and flower necklaces. Every single living soul on the island must have been there, and not a sound came from even the smallest baby at its mother's breast, or the oldest crone. I could see no colored people, but only whites. Apparently the creed of the New Revelation was not valid for any but Caucasians.

  "Inching forward to get a better look, we were able to see what held their attention. Two great bonfires burned on the floor of the pit, and between them Brother Poole, the Shepherd of his people, was moving about. As naked as his flock, his scrawny white body gleaming as if oiled, he was capering in a strange way around three objects on the sand, between the fires.

  "In the center, golden in the firelight, lay the immense shell we had seen earlier in the workshed in town. No holes now marred its perfection, and it lay gleaming and wonderful on one of its sides, the opening facing us as we watched.

  "On either side of the shell, dwarfed by its bulk, were two bound human bodies! One was Oswald. He was not only bound but gagged. As far away as we were, we could see his eyes roll and the muscles under his dark skin strain as he tried to break his bonds. The other figure was that of a white girl, perhaps fifteen or so from her build. She lay silent and unmoving, but I could see that her eyes were open. Around the three, the shell and the bodies, Brother Poole danced and waved his hands, as if in some maniac's parody of a benediction. Although he was otherwise quite nude, he wore a strange necklace, of some hard, purplish objects, which bounced and shook as he moved. So silent were the people that even as high as we were lying, I could hear the click and rattle of them. The sound jogged my memory, until I suddenly realized why it was familiar. He was wearing a necklace of hermit crab claws and the noise was just as if some of them were scuttling about.

  "I stated that the pit was circular. The floor was level, sloping up on one side to the packed earth seats of the people, and on the other side to the limestone walls. Nothing grew on these smooth walls, excepting only in one place, directly opposite the seats, where dense canopies of some creeper hung down, half obscuring a great triangular opening or cleft in the rock, about twenty feet in height and at least that wide near the base. Pressed against the cliff to one side of this hole was a massive, now open door or gate, made of bulky timers in a heavy frame. It was hung on great iron hinges driven into the rock. Could this be the Gate of which Poole claimed to be the Opener, I wondered? In front of the hole, and a little to one side, there was a still pool of water, probably a spring. Directly across from us, a path similar to that below us wound up the cliff face and vanished into the dark fringe of foliage at the top.

  "Brother Poole suddenly ceased his capering and raised both hands. He was now facing the dark opening across the arena, and to this he addressed his invocation. I cannot at this date give it word for word, but roughly it went rather like this:

  -

  'Oh, Lord of Majesty, Incarnation of Survival, Manifestation of Nature and its struggle, Devourer of Sin and the Flesh, have mercy upon us.'

  -

  "Behind him a roar arose as the crowd repeated the last line, 'have mercy upon us.' He continued:

  -

  'Have mercy, Oh Thou, Shelled in Adamant. Of Thy mercy, accept our offerings, a new home for Thy greatness, new life for Thy limbs, new viands for Thy table. Enter now upon Thy new home and partake of Thine offerings.'

  -

  "This rather unpleasant parody of a communion service seemed extraordinarily unreal, it was so fantastic.

  "In the red light, Poole's gaunt face, now drooling slightly, assumed an air of repellent majesty. Much as he disgusted me, the creature did have a certain hypnotic power at that moment. He believed in what he was doing. Behind his back, his audience sat rapt and expectant, all of them, old and young, leaning forward in the same tense pause of anticipation. As he ceased to speak, time almost seemed to stop, and he held his hands out, facing the opening in the rock wall.

  "Joe broke the spell, pushing the rifle at me and snatching the Colt from my limp hand.

  " 'Stay here and cover us,' he hissed. 'Maxton and I are going down.'

  "The two of them moved like cats, breaking from the scrub and racing down the path below me with driving steps. My brain cleared and I aimed the loaded rifle at Poole. If anybody went, he certainly would be the first.

  "Maxton and Joe were on the sandy floor of the pit before anyone even noticed them. Joe had a clasp knife in one hand and the pistol in the other, and he flashed behind Poole's back and stopped to cut the girl's bonds. Behind him, Maxton was doing the same for Oswald with the edge of his machete.

  "A chorus of screams from the crowd announced that not all of them were in a trance, but none of them moved. I refocussed on Poole, but he still faced the cave, apparently lost to the actual world, entranced in an ecstasy of religion.

  "Then, I caught a flicker of movement from the corner of my right eye and risked a glance in that direction. What I saw made my rifle fall with a thud to the earth.

  "Framed in the entrance to the cleft was Horror incarnate. Poised on giant, stalked legs, monstrous, incredible gleaming in the firelight, stood the Soldier of Soldier Key, the Living God of Brother Poole and his awful church.

  "The giant purple and orange claws, the larger of the two at least six feet long, were held in front of the mass of clicking, grinding mouth parts. From the stalked eyes held out ten feet above the ground, to the great, red-pointed legs, jointed and barbed with three-inch spines, there stood complete and perfect a hermit crab that must have weighed not less than a thousand pounds.

  "As it moved slowly forward from the mouth of its private cave, the dragging shell which covered its soft body and rear end became visible, and I saw the true reason for the labor of the whole island. It, the shell, was made of tortoise shell, still recognizable though dirty and scarred, and although enormous, it was obviously too small. The soft body bulging from the opening must have desperately needed more room. The purpose of the new and larger shell, which still lay sparkling on the sand, was now clear. The god was to have a new house.

  "As all this flashed through my mind, I recovered my wits and snatched up the rifle again. It was as well I did, because now things were starting to break down on the pit floor.

  "Emerging from his trance, Poole had turned around and had seen before his dumbfounded eyes his sacrifices no longer neatly tied up but actually escaping. Joe had the limp body of the girl over one shoulder, and Maxton w
as aiding Oswald to follow in the direction of the foot of the nearer path, just beneath my own position.

  "With a shriek, Poole summoned his nude worshippers to the assault. 'Blasphemy! Slay the desecrators of the shrine! Kill them, in the sight of the Living God!'

  "With a roar, the whole mob poured off its earth benches and rushed for the three figures which ran slowly across the sand. Poole stood where he was, his hand raised in a curse, his face now wholly evil, working with madness in the firelight. Behind him some few yards, that unbelievable crustacean had paused, immobile, like a bizarre statue, motionless save for the moving, twitching mouth parts.

  "I think to this day we would have been dead men, but for two factors. Joe, heavily burdened, Maxton and Oswald were still thirty feet from the path's entrance. Behind them, the horde of frantic, raving islanders were no more than a hundred paces. I had begun to shoot, forgetting Poole, firing at the foremost men instead, and hitting at once, but it did no real good. Those behind simply leapt the prostrate bodies and came on. One rifle simply could not stop this gibbering, animal horde. But something else could.

  "Above the howling of the pack and the bark of my rifle rang out a scream so awful and agonized that I can still hear it in my sleep. No one could have ignored that dreadful cry. With three exceptions, everyone halted to see the cause.