The Givreuse Enigma

by J. -H. Rosny aîné

  “Especially Vos,” said the tracker.

  “Are the traces extended along the bank?” the Grafina asked.

  “Not far, Mistress. Less than 100 paces.”

  “I was right in thinking that the danger was on the right bank,” said Louise. “If we hadn’t come around the islet to the left we’d doubtless have found that out.”

  “Perhaps it’s better this way,” said Karel.

  The giant remained pensive. “Were they really coming from the west?” he asked.

  “From the west, baas…at least in the latter part of their journey.”

  “It can’t have any connection with our search.”

  Silently, Rak held out a crumpled and dirty strip of paper, and the Grafina uttered a slight exclamation. “Our guests have been on this bank!” she affirmed.

  “But have they been taken westwards?” de Ridder demanded.

  “I found the paper 600 paces from the bank. No other trace. The dogs haven’t said anything. The emanations no longer exist. The people traveling toward the marshes came before nightfall.”

  “In that case, the return of the Carabao-Men cannot have any objective that concerns us,” said Louise de Gavres, “unless the captives—or one of them—has escaped.”

  “Anything is possible, Jufvrouw,” muttered the giant. “We need to bear that in mind…and also to find out what’s happening on the other bank, if anything’s happening at all. Karel, send a few Amdavas…”

  “I’ll go with them,” Karel declared.

  “With Rak…”

  Half a dozen Amdavas, with Karel, Rak and the dog Vos, embarked for the other bank. Having arrived there, they fanned out, each one taking responsibility for exploring an area. They advanced slowly, all their senses on the alert, accustomed since infancy to profit from the smallest bush, tall grass or a slight unevenness in the ground to remain invisible.

  Rak and Vos, who were closest to the bank, did not show themselves once—but, by the same token, sight would not have sufficed to reveal enemies hidden among the reeds, the lianas or the bushes. At short range, Vos’s sense of smell was worth more than the keenest eyesight. He did not take long to show signs of agitation. Rak stopped and waited. Head extended, the dog sniffed avidly. The tracker put his own head to the ground and murmured—as Louise de Gavres might have done: “Tiger?”

  The dog continued sniffing, as if he had not heard anything. Rak knew that the word was familiar to him and that he would have straightened up in response if he had perceived the presence of the big cat. There was no more to do than pronounce the other redoubtable word: “Man?”

  Vos turned his head and looked at the scout, twitching his ears. There was no doubt: men were nearby—and who could they be but Carabao-Men?

  Should he advance further, or should he wait?

  Rak waited, but not for long. Nothing abnormal revealed itself to his sight or his hearing, but, because he had been warned, he discerned—very weakly—the strange marshy and musky odor of the enemy.

  There was no doubt. They were there—and it became imprudent to linger.

  Rak retreated slowly, at first, then more rapidly. It was easy to see in Vos’s attitude that the Carabao-Men were not pursuing them—which probably implied a stratagem, for, having certainly been informed of the presence of the expedition since the flotilla had passed close to the islet, they must be following the advance of the Amdavas and Karel every step of the way, if not Rak’s.

  In any case, it became a matter of urgency to signal the enemy presence. Although it was doubtless a vain precaution, Rak imitated the croaking of a giant frog with a perfection that would have deceived the animals themselves.

  At that moment, Karel had come within a few javelin-throws of the rock “inside” which Frédéric was hiding. He stopped. His dog, although endowed with a keen nose, was nevertheless inferior to Vos; it did not sense any presence, from which the young Dutchman concluded that there was no human being within a 30 to 40 meter perimeter. He beat a retreat, however, sure that Rak and Vos were not mistaken.

  Suddenly, the enemy, although still invisible, clearly revealed their presence 300 meters from the bank. An Amdava stood up abruptly there, and started running. A slender assegai had just struck his shoulder. It was evidently barbed; Karel observed that the warrior had some difficulty removing it—but the Carabao-Men remained invisible.

  The wounded man fled, taking large strides, toward the creek, where an Amdava was guarding the canoe that had made the crossing. It was necessary to hurry. Rak, fearing an enemy advance to the river bank, where the vegetation would render them invisible, shouted an alarm-call. Karel, in his turn, urged the Amdavas to retreat rapidly.

  They were seen emerging from thickets and tall grass and running over the bare ground, where they could not be taken by surprise. When they all arrived at the canoe they found the wounded man and Rak, who was already gripping the oars. “Quickly! Quickly!” cried the scout. “They’re nearby.”

  Two assegais sailed over the reeds. One of them hurtled at Karel, who ducked with the rapidity of a leopard and caught the weapon in flight. The other javelin sank into the river. The canoe sped across the river and was not long delayed in reaching the creek.

  On the bank, the colossal figure of Dirk was standing beside the lithe silhouette of the Grafina.

  First, the planter examined the Amdava’s wound. It was quite deep, but narrow, not very dangerous in itself.

  “The assegai was poisoned, I suppose?” he murmured. “If the antidote isn’t reliable, he’s probably a dead man.”

  “It’s reliable,” affirmed the Grafina. “The man won’t die.”

  The giant studied the river meditatively. Then he said to Rak and the Amdavas: “None of you actually saw them?”

  No, no one had seen them.

  “They’re skillful hunters,” he continued. “Here, fortunately, they can’t take us by surprise. I assume that their presence is significant. It’s not impossible that they’ve been warned of our approach in advance…and yet, I have a suspicion that it’s something else.”

  “I’m almost certain that we weren’t expected. This is a chance encounter. They were camped level with the islet when we appeared—the dogs warned us!”

  “Yes, the dogs warned us and Rak understood their language. If that was the case, they weren’t there waiting for us.” Dirk studied the young woman’s face and concluded: “I see that you have an idea, Jufvrouw.”

  “Yes, but it’s only an intuition. I think they’re here for the captives.”

  “Who have escaped? That’s very improbable…especially both of them.”

  “It’s almost impossible even for one of them. However, I’m wondering whether Frédéric de Rouveyres might have taken advantage of a favorable opportunity. He knocked one of those men down with a punch in my house, and as he’s agile—much more agile than them—if he got free, he would have been able to escape their pursuit, temporarily.”

  “Yes, that’s worth checking out. There wouldn’t be any great peril in going upriver as far as the islet and going around it. The two arms of the river are wide enough for the rowers to stay out of range of assegais—and I presume that these savages aren’t prepared to attack on the water. There are risks, though…”

  “It’s necessary to run them!” Karel interjected. “We can reduce them by first passing between the island and the right bank. If they put one or two canoes in the water we’ll probably have time either to retrace our course or, if we’re too far forward, to come around the islet. You’ve seen our Amdavas at work; they’re skilled canoeists. I’d be astonished if the Carabao-Men are as skillful and as swift.”

  “Tradition shows them to us sailing on rafts or equally heavy boats.”

  “Good—let’s go!” said the young man. “We’ll take the best canoe.”

  “You’re going to risk yourself, then?” said the Grafina.

  Silently, Dirk enveloped his son with a grave and melancholy gaze. His soul was affectiona
te, but stoical. Risk was a religion to him.

  The best of the canoes, carrying six Amdavas, Karel, Rak and the dog Vos, was not long delayed in moving upriver again.

  They got within a few cables of the isle without any incident. Everything was profoundly, almost solemnly, tranquil. The orange-colored Sun was approaching the horizon, growing incessantly. Innumerable nocturnal insects were forming clouds on both banks and on the face of the waters.

  In an hour, the Sun will have set, Karel thought, as he scrutinized the banks, which revealed no presence except for an occasional furtive beast that had come to drink, and which fled into the reeds and grass. Several times, the dog Vos growled dully.

  “They must be more numerous near that rock,” said Rak, pointing at a granite mass.

  Karel nodded his head in acquiescence. He slowed the progress of the vessel, then gave the order to move a little closer to the right bank. “The Carabao-Men don’t use bows and arrows?” he said.

  “No,” said Rak. “The ancestors have always said so…and we haven’t seen any en route.”

  The granite mass revealed a fissure to their piercing gaze, in a region that neither the reeds nor the grass reached. A minuscule promontory extended in front of the fissure, only covered by a few lichens.

  “If we fire into those reeds, perhaps we’ll flush out one or two men lying in ambush?” Karel suggested.

  “I don’t think so, Master. Even when wounded, they observe their rules. I think they know how to die without uttering a cry, as our Amdavas do.”

  Suddenly, a voice was heard, which seemed to spring from the very rock. Karel straightened up in surprise; Rak and the Amdavas displayed no emotion.

  “Are you Mademoiselle de Gavres’ men?” asked the voice.

  Rak did not understand these words, spoken in a language unknown to him, but Karel knew a few words of French. “Yes,” he shouted. “Jufvrouw de Gavres. Where you?”

  “Inside the rock.” A face appeared in the fissure.

  “You alone? No other men?” He did not know how to translate the word “Carabao.”

  “No—the Carabao-Men are hiding.”

  Karel guessed rather than understood the meaning of this statement, astonished that Frédéric had not been followed into his refuge.

  “The chests of the Carabao-Men are too broad, Master,” Rak explained. “Only their children could get through that fissure.”

  “You’re right. And yet…well, the Grafina or Hendrik will get an explanation from him.” He raised his voice. “Me Karel de Ridder, friend. You Frédéric? Jufvrouw or Hendrik coming. Zuster Corisande…not?”

  “No,” Frédéric replied, dejectedly. “She’s a prisoner…out there.” He looked at the long canoe, which the Amdavas rowers had immobilized 100 meters from the cavern, with a mixture of anguish and hope. He evoked the image of the Grafina with a profound gratitude and an affection that seemed suddenly-born, like those flowers of India that flower in a moment. Scarcely had he questioned himself confusedly when his entire being was inclined to action, to a violent determination to escape. “Thank you!” he shouted. “Thank you, with all my heart.” His emotion increased visibly at the sight of this tall Dutchman, who had come to a distant land to rescue someone he did not know. “Is it possible that that man is risking his life for me?” he murmured.

  Meanwhile, Karel replied: “No, no thanks…adieu… Jufvrouw, Hendrik…”

  Already, the Amdavas were ceasing to combat the current. At first, the canoe went with the flow, then they sent it forward more rapidly, under the impulse of swift oars.

  It became invisible, and Frédéric sighed. All the threats of men and nature were surrounding him. The image of Corisande rose up unbidden, so precise that the young man instinctively put out his arms to take hold of her.

  The canoe quickly reached the haven where the flotilla was sheltered. While still some distance away, Karel shouted: “The Frenchman’s over there!”

  On the bank, Dirk and the Grafina hurried toward him. When he had briefly reported what he had seen and heard, Louise asked: “He was alone?”

  “Yes, alone. I think the young Jufvrouw is a prisoner.”

  Dirk and the Grafina looked at one another. “I’ll go see!” she said.

  “Not alone,” the planter retorted. “If I understand correctly, two good marksmen won’t be too many.”

  “Nor a second canoe,” added Karel. He was too well used to running risks to envisage anything other than a means to succeed as fully and as quickly as possible. A second canoe was added to the first. The Grafina and the planter got into it, in order to coordinate their actions better.

  While going back upstream, Dirk and Louise discussed the rescue plan, but before making a firm decision they waited until they were level with the rock. Having arrived there, they began to call out to Frédéric, while examining the location.

  The young man’s head appeared in the fissure. Having recognized the Grafina he was gripped by an emotion that rendered him momentarily incapable of saying a word.

  “We know that you’re alone,” said the Grafina, “unless Karel misunderstood.”

  “I’m alone,” replied a voice that grew firmer as it spoke. “Corisande’s a prisoner. I was able to get away, taking them by surprise.” Rapidly but precisely, he told the story of his escape.

  The Grafina translated as he went, and Dirk said: “He’s a man! We shall save him.”

  The lie of the land dictated the maneuver. In front of the rock was the little rocky point—the minuscule promontory observed by Karel. On either side of the promontory there were reeds and tall grass, in which men were surely hiding.

  “Can you swim and dive?” the Grafina asked the prisoner.

  “I’ve been diving since childhood.”

  “Can you dive long enough to get close to one of the canoes?”

  Frédéric measured the distances with his eye and replied: “Yes, I can go between 120 and 150 meters underwater, without too much difficulty.

  “The two canoes will take up the most favorable position. Then we’ll keep the enemies under fire on both sides of the rocky point. It will be difficult for them, in those thickets, to throw assegais without revealing themselves; if they dare to do that, we can each shoot several of them down in a matter of seconds. Get ready. When I give the signal, jump into the river.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “When I say go!”

  As she went along, the Grafina translated her own words for Dirk’s benefit. The two canoes moved closer to the bank, always staying out of range of jet weapons.

  Louise de Gavres gave the signal: “Go!”

  Frédéric sprang forth from the rock, almost naked, and reached the river in two bounds.

  Three men stood up in the reeds, only allowing a glimpse of fragmentary silhouettes. Their arms had no time to act; three shots rang out; the three men went down with muffled exclamations. A frantic clamor went up, but the lesson had struck home. The Carabao-Men, recognizing the redoubtable power of their adversaries, remained invisible. The few darts that emerged from the curtain of vegetation could do nothing to hurt the fugitive.

  Frédéric had become invisible.

  Some 15 meters upriver, two men completely hidden by a projection of the river-bank had dived in. They were swimming like seals and, aided by the current, were not long delayed in getting close enough to Frédéric to perceive a pale form. Frédéric was unconscious of this pursuit and was making rapid progress toward the canoes, with a sufficient start to reach his goal before being caught, when a new enemy appeared.

  A descendant of great prehistoric reptiles, although reduced in size, it was a formidable combatant, with its giant maw armed with countless teeth, its eight-meter-long body, enveloped by scaly armor, and its muscular tail. Slow and awkward on shore, it was moving in its element now, not only swimming much more rapidly than a human but any terrestrial animal.

  Within a few seconds, it would be within range of the fugitive, ready to close i
ts jaws and saw through the naked body. Direct combat was impossible; it would inevitably end in the victory of the beast. Furthermore, the Carabao-Men had stopped.

  Louise de Gavres, Dirk, Karel and the Amdavas could see Frédéric and the reptile quite clearly, and the two Carabao-Men more vaguely.

  The canoes were already on the move.

  Four shots rang out, and a rain of javelins fell upon the reptile’s mouth.

  Because of the refraction, neither the rifle-shots nor the javelin-thrusts had the precision that they would have had in the open air. Nevertheless, the formidable beast, stunned by several wounds, went astray. It zigzagged and turned instead of following a straight line toward its prey.

  Frédéric was able to take advantage of that in order to reach the nearer canoe, and as the fusillade continued, further javelins and arrows bombarded the crocodile. Its instinct became confused; it no longer sought to do anything but escape these inconceivable things that were pricking its body in every part, and which it probably took for a swarm of hostile creatures.

  An athletic hand had grabbed the half-asphyxiated Frédéric, and deposited him next to Louise. While he was recovering his equilibrium, he experienced a moment of ecstasy in seeing the beautiful face with eyes of black fire leaning over him; it was quickly dissipated by implacable memories.

  When the canoes had reached the haven again, the Sun was setting behind the forest, the fugitive dusk was lighting its forges, the Southern Cross was palpitating in the depths of the sky and the camp-fires were being lit.

  Reanimated, Frédéric recounted his adventure. As he went along, the Grafina translated the story for Dirk and Karel.

  It was almost a scene from prehistoric times. The three fires, lit on the river-bank, displayed the savage heads of Amdavas, the attentive giant, and the beautiful adventuress…

  “We shall do everything that human strength permits to save the woman that our friend Rouveyres sent to us,” said Dirk, inflating his giant torso.