It was Olson who engaged him, and though unused to the long German rifle and bayonet, he met the bull-rush of the Hun with the cold, cruel precision and science of English bayonet-fighting. There was no feinting, no retiring and no parrying that was not also an attack. Bayonet-fighting today is not a pretty thing to see — it is not an artistic fencing-match in which men give and take — it is slaughter inevitable and quickly over.
Dietz lunged once madly at Olson’s throat. A short point, with just a twist of the bayonet to the left sent the sharp blade over the Englishman’s left shoulder. Instantly he stepped close in, dropped his rifle through his hands and grasped it with both hands close below the muzzle and with a short, sharp jab sent his blade up beneath Dietz’s chin to the brain. So quickly was the thing done and so quick the withdrawal that Olson had wheeled to take on another adversary before the German’s corpse had toppled to the ground.
But there were no more adversaries to take on. Heinz and Klatz had thrown down their rifles and with hands above their heads were crying “Kamerad! Kamerad!” at the tops of their voices. Von Schoenvorts still lay where he had fallen. Plesser and Hindle were explaining to Bradley that they were glad of the outcome of the fight, as they could no longer endure the brutality of the U- boat commander.
The remainder of the men were looking at the girl who now advanced slowly, her bow ready, when Bradley turned toward her and held out his hand.
“Co-Tan,” he said, “unstring your bow — these are my friends, and yours.” And to the Englishmen: “This is Co-Tan. You who saw her save me from Schwartz know a part of what I owe her.”
The rough men gathered about the girl, and when she spoke to them in broken English, with a smile upon her lips enhancing the charm of her irresistible accent, each and every one of them promptly fell in love with her and constituted himself henceforth her guardian and her slave.
A moment later the attention of each was called to Plesser by a volley of invective. They turned in time to see the man running toward von Schoenvorts who was just rising from the ground. Plesser carried a rifle with bayonet fixed, that he had snatched from the side of Dietz’s corpse. Von Schoenvorts’ face was livid with fear, his jaws working as though he would call for help; but no sound came from his blue lips.
“You struck me,” shrieked Plesser. “Once, twice, three times, you struck me, pig. You murdered Schwerke — you drove him insane by your cruelty until he took his own life. You are only one of your kind — they are all like you from the Kaiser down. I wish that you were the Kaiser. Thus would I do!” And he lunged his bayonet through von Schoenvorts’ chest. Then he let his rifle fall with the dying man and wheeled toward Bradley. “Here I am,” he said. “Do with me as you like. All my life I have been kicked and cuffed by such as that, and yet always have I gone out when they commanded, singing, to give up my life if need be to keep them in power. Only lately have I come to know what a fool I have been. But now I am no longer a fool, and besides, I am avenged and Schwerke is avenged, so you can kill me if you wish. Here I am.”
“If I was after bein’ the king,” said Olson, “I’d pin the V.C. on your noble chist; but bein’ only an Irishman with a Swede name, for which God forgive me, the I can do is shake your hand.”
“You will not be punished,” said Bradley. “There are four of you left — if you four want to come along and work with us, we will take you; but you will come as prisoners.”
“It suits me,” said Plesser. “Now that the captain-lieutenant is dead you need not fear us. All our lives we have known nothing but to obey his class. If I had not killed him, I suppose I would be fool enough to obey him again; but he is dead. Now we will obey you — we must obey some one.”
“And you?” Bradley turned to the other survivors of the original crew of the U-33. Each promised obedience.
The two dead Germans were buried in a single grave, and then the party boarded the submarine and stowed away the oil.
Here Bradley told the men what had befallen him since the night of September 14th when he had disappeared so mysteriously from the camp upon the plateau. Now he learned for the first time that Bowen J. Tyler, Jr., and Miss La Rue had been missing even longer than he and that no faintest trace of them had been discovered.
Olson told him of how the Germans had returned and waited in ambush for them outside the fort, capturing them that they might be used to assist in the work of refining the oil and later in manning the U-33, and Plesser told briefly of the experiences of the German crew under von Schoenvorts since they had escaped from Caspak months before — of how they lost their bearings after having been shelled by ships they had attempted to sneak farther north and how at last with provisions gone and fuel almost exhausted they had sought and at last found, more by accident than design, the mysterious island they had once been so glad to leave behind.
“Now,” announced Bradley, “we’ll plan for the future. The boat has fuel, provisions and water for a month, I believe you said, Plesser; there are ten of us to man it. We have a last sad duty here — we must search for Miss La Rue and Mr. Tyler. I say a sad duty because we know that we shall not find them; but it is none the less our duty to comb the shoreline, firing signal shells at intervals, that we at least may leave at last with full knowledge that we have done all that men might do to locate them.”
None dissented from this conviction, nor was there a voice raised in protest against the plan to at least make assurance doubly sure before quitting Caspak forever.
And so they started, cruising slowly up the coast and firing an occasional shot from the gun. Often the vessel was brought to a stop, and always there were anxious eyes scanning the shore for an answering signal. Late in the afternoon they caught sight of a number of Band-lu warriors; but when the vessel approached the shore and the natives realized that human beings stood upon the back of the strange monster of the sea, they fled in terror before Bradley could come within hailing distance.
That night they dropped anchor at the mouth of a sluggish stream whose warm waters swarmed with millions of tiny tadpolelike organisms — minute human spawn starting on their precarious journey from some inland pool toward “the beginning” — a journey which one in millions, perhaps, might survive to complete. Already almost at the inception of life they were being greeted by thousands of voracious mouths as fish and reptiles of many kinds fought to devour them, the while other and larger creatures pursued the devourers, to be, in turn, preyed upon by some other of the countless forms that inhabit the deeps of Caprona’s frightful sea.
The second day was practically a repetition of the first. They moved very slowly with frequent stops and once they landed in the Kro-lu country to hunt. Here they were attacked by the bow-and-arrow men, whom they could not persuade to palaver with them. So belligerent were the natives that it became necessary to fire into them in order to escape their persistent and ferocious attentions.
“What chance,” asked Bradley, as they were returning to the boat with their game, “could Tyler and Miss La Rue have had among such as these?”
But they continued on their fruitless quest, and the third day, after cruising along the shore of a deep inlet, they passed a line of lofty cliffs that formed the southern shore of the inlet and rounded a sharp promontory about noon. Co-Tan and Bradley were on deck alone, and as the new shoreline appeared beyond the point, the girl gave an exclamation of joy and seized the man’s hand in hers.
“Oh, look!” she cried. “The Galu country! The Galu country! It is my country that I never thought to see again.”
“You are glad to come again, Co-Tan?” asked Bradley.
“Oh, so glad!” she cried. “And you will come with me to my people? We may live here among them, and you will be a great warrior — oh, when Jor dies you may even be chief, for there is none so mighty as my warrior. You will come?”
Bradley shook his head. “I cannot, little Co-Tan,” he answered. “My country needs me, and I must go back. Maybe someday I shall return. You will n
ot forget me, Co-Tan?”
She looked at him in wide-eyed wonder. “You are going away from me?” she asked in a very small voice. “You are going away from Co-Tan?”
Bradley looked down upon the little bowed head. He felt the soft cheek against his bare arm; and he felt something else there too — hot drops of moisture that ran down to his very finger-tips and splashed, but each one wrung from a woman’s heart.
He bent low and raised the tear-stained face to his own. “No, Co-Tan,” he said, “I am not going away from you — for you are going with me. You are going back to my own country to be my wife. Tell me that you will, Co-Tan.” And he bent still lower yet from his height and kissed her lips. Nor did he need more than the wonderful new light in her eyes to tell him that she would go to the end of the world with him if he would but take her. And then the gun-crew came up from below again to fire a signal shot, and the two were brought down from the high heaven of their new happiness to the scarred and weather-beaten deck of the U-33.
An hour later the vessel was running close in by a shore of wondrous beauty beside a parklike meadow that stretched back a mile inland to the foot of a plateau when Whitely called attention to a score of figures clambering downward from the elevation to the lowland below. The engines were reversed and the boat brought to a stop while all hands gathered on deck to watch the little party coming toward them across the meadow.
“They are Galus,” cried Co-Tan; “they are my own people. Let me speak to them lest they think we come to fight them. Put me ashore, my man, and I will go meet them.”
The nose of the U-boat was run close in to the steep bank; but when Co- Tan would have run forward alone, Bradley seized her hand and held her back. “I will go with you, Co-Tan,” he said; and together they advanced to meet the oncoming party.
There were about twenty warriors moving forward in a thin line, as our infantry advance as skirmishers. Bradley could not but notice the marked difference between this formation and the moblike methods of the lower tribes he had come in contact with, and he commented upon it to Co-Tan.
“Galu warriors always advance into battle thus,” she said. “The lesser people remain in a huddled group where they can scarce use their weapons the while they present so big a mark to us that our spears and arrows cannot miss them; but when they hurl theirs at our warriors, if they miss the first man, there is no chance that they will kill some one behind him.
“Stand still now,” she cautioned, “and fold your arms. They will not harm us then.”
Bradley did as he was bid, and the two stood with arms folded as the line of warriors approached. When they had come within some fifty yards, they halted and one spoke. “Who are you and from whence do you come?” he asked; and then Co- Tan gave a little, glad cry and sprang forward with out-stretched arms.
“Oh, Tan!” she exclaimed. “Do you not know your little Co-Tan?”
The warrior stared, incredulous, for a moment, and then he, too, ran forward and when they met, took the girl in his arms. It was then that Bradley experienced to the full a sensation that was new to him — a sudden hatred for the strange warrior before him and a desire to kill without knowing why he would kill. He moved quickly to the girl’s side and grasped her wrist.
“Who is this man?” he demanded in cold tones.
Co-Tan turned a surprised face toward the Englishman and then of a sudden broke forth into a merry peal of laughter. “This is my father, Brad-lee,” she cried.
“And who is Brad-lee?” demanded the warrior.
“He is my man,” replied Co-Tan simply.
“By what right?” insisted Tan.
And then she told him briefly of all that she had passed through since the Wieroos had stolen her and of how Bradley had rescued her and sought to rescue An-Tak, her brother.
“You are satisfied with him?” asked Tan.
“Yes,” replied the girl proudly.
It was then that Bradley’s attention was attracted to the edge of the plateau by a movement there, and looking closely he saw a horse bearing two figures sliding down the steep declivity. Once at the bottom, the animal came charging across the meadowland at a rapid run. It was a magnificent animal - a great bay stallion with a white-blazed face and white forelegs to the knees, its barrel encircled by a broad surcingle of white; and as it came to a sudden stop beside Tan, the Englishman saw that it bore a man and a girl - a tall man and a girl as beautiful as Co-Tan. When the girl espied the latter, she slid from the horse and ran toward her, fairly screaming for joy.
The man dismounted and stood beside Tan. Like Bradley he was garbed after the fashion of the surrounding warriors; but there was a subtle difference between him and his companion. Possibly he detected a similar difference in Bradley, for his first question was, “From what country?” and though he spoke in Galu Bradley thought he detected an accent.
“England,” replied Bradley.
A broad smile lighted the newcomer’s face as he held out his hand. “I am Tom Billings of Santa Monica, California,” he said. “I know all about you, and I’m mighty glad to find you alive.”
“How did you get here?” asked Bradley. “I thought ours was the only party of men from the outer world ever to enter Caprona.”
“It was, until we came in search of Bowen J. Tyler, Jr.,” replied Billings. “We found him and sent him home with his bride; but I was kept a prisoner here.”
Bradley’s face darkened — then they were not among friends after all. “There are ten of us down there on a German sub with small-arms and a gun,” he said quickly in English. “It will be no trick to get away from these people.”
“You don’t know my jailer,” replied Billings, “or you’d not be so sure. Wait, I’ll introduce you.” And then turning to the girl who had accompanied him he called her by name. “Ajor,” he said, “permit me to introduce Lieutenant Bradley; Lieutenant, Mrs. Billings — my jailer!”
The Englishman laughed as he shook hands with the girl. “You are not as good a soldier as I,” he said to Billings. “Instead of being taken prisoner myself I have taken one — Mrs. Bradley, this is Mr. Billings.”
Ajor, quick to understand, turned toward Co-Tan. “You are going back with him to his country?” she asked. Co-Tan admitted it.
“You dare?” asked Ajor. “But your father will not permit it — Jor, my father, High Chief of the Galus, will not permit it, for like me you are cos- ata-lo. Oh, Co-Tan, if we but could! How I would love to see all the strange and wonderful things of which my Tom tells me!”
Bradley bent and whispered in her ear. “Say the word and you may both go with us.”
Billings heard and speaking in English, asked Ajor if she would go.
“Yes,” she answered, “If you wish it; but you know, my Tom, that if Jor captures us, both you and Co-Tan’s man will pay the penalty with your lives - not even his love for me nor his admiration for you can save you.”
Bradley noticed that she spoke in English — broken English like Co- Tan’s but equally appealing. “We can easily get you aboard the ship,” he said, “on some pretext or other, and then we can steam away. They can neither harm nor detain us, nor will we have to fire a shot at them.”
And so it was done, Bradley and Co-Tan taking Ajor and Billings aboard to “show” them the vessel, which almost immediately raised anchor and moved slowly out into the sea.
“I hate to do it,” said Billings. “They have been fine to me. Jor and Tan are splendid men and they will think me an ingrate; but I can’t waste my life here when there is so much to be done in the outer world.”
As they steamed down the inland sea past the island of Oo-oh, the stories of their adventures were retold, and Bradley learned that Bowen Tyler and his bride had left the Galu country but a fortnight before and that there was every reason to believe that the Toreador might still be lying in the Pacific not far off the subterranean mouth of the river which emitted Caprona’s heated waters into the ocean.
Late in the second day, af
ter running through swarms of hideous reptiles, they submerged at the point where the river entered beneath the cliffs and shortly after rose to the sunlit surface of the Pacific; but nowhere as far as they could see was sign of another craft. Down the coast they steamed toward the beach where Billings had made his crossing in the hydro-aeroplane and just at dusk the lookout announced a light dead ahead. It proved to be aboard the Toreador, and a half-hour later there was such a reunion on the deck of the trig little yacht as no one there had ever dreamed might be possible. Of the Allies there were only Tippet and James to be mourned, and no one mourned any of the Germans dead nor Benson, the traitor, whose ugly story was first told in Bowen Tyler’s manuscript.
Tyler and the rescue party had but just reached the yacht that afternoon. They had heard, faintly, the signal shots fired by the U-33 but had been unable to locate their direction and so had assumed that they had come from the guns of the Toreador.
It was a happy party that sailed north toward sunny, southern California, the old U-33 trailing in the wake of the Toreador and flying with the latter the glorious Stars and Stripes beneath which she had been born in the shipyard at Santa Monica. Three newly married couples, their bonds now duly solemnized by the master of the ship, joyed in the peace and security of the untracked waters of the south Pacific and the unique honeymoon which, had it not been for stern duty ahead, they could have wished protracted till the end of time.
And so they came one day to dock at the shipyard which Bowen Tyler now controlled, and here the U-33 still lies while those who passed so many eventful days within and because of her have gone their various ways.
THE END
Delphi Collected Works of Edgar Rice Burroughs (Illustrated) (Series Four Book 26) Page 530
