From the time Tarzan left the
tribe of great anthropoids in
which he had been raised, it
was torn by continual strife
and discord. Terkoz proved a
cruel and capricious king, so
that, one by one, many of the
older and weaker apes, upon whom
he was particularly prone to
vent his brutish nature, took
their families and sought the
quiet and safety of the far interior.
But at last those who remained
were driven to desperation by
the continued truculence of Terkoz,
and it so happened that one of
them recalled the parting admonition
of Tarzan:
"If you have
a chief who is cruel, do not
do as the other
apes do, and attempt, any one
of you, to pit yourself against
him alone. But, instead, let
two or three or four of you attack
him together. Then, if you will
do this, no chief will dare to
be other than he should be, for
four of you can kill any chief
who may ever be over you."
And the ape who recalled this
wise counsel repeated it to several
of his fellows, so that when
Terkoz returned to the tribe
that day he found a warm reception
awaiting him.
There were no formalities.
As Terkoz reached the group,
five huge, hairy beasts sprang
upon him.
At heart he was an arrant coward,
which is the way with bullies
among apes as well as among men;
so he did not remain to fight
and die, but tore himself away
from them as quickly as he could
and fled into the sheltering
boughs of the forest.
Two more attempts he made to
rejoin the tribe, but on each
occasion he was set upon and
driven away. At last he gave
it up, and turned, foaming with
rage and hatred, into the jungle.
For several days he wandered
aimlessly, nursing his spite
and looking for some weak thing
on which to vent his pent anger.
It was in this state of mind
that the horrible, man-like beast,
swinging from tree to tree, came
suddenly upon two women in the
jungle.
He was right above them when
he discovered them. The first
intimation Jane Porter had of
his presence was when the great
hairy body dropped to the earth
beside her, and she saw the awful
face and the snarling, hideous
mouth thrust within a foot of
her.
One piercing scream escaped
her lips as the brute hand clutched
her arm. Then she was dragged
toward those awful fangs which
yawned at her throat. But ere
they touched that fair skin another
mood claimed the anthropoid.
The tribe had kept his women.
He must find others to replace
them. This hairless white ape
would be the first of his new
household, and so he threw her
roughly across his broad, hairy
shoulders and leaped back into
the trees, bearing Jane away.
Esmeralda's scream of terror
had mingled once with that of
Jane, and then, as was Esmeralda's
manner under stress of emergency
which required presence of mind,
she swooned.
But Jane did not once lose
consciousness. It is true that
that awful face, pressing close
to hers, and the stench of the
foul breath beating upon her
nostrils, paralyzed her with
terror; but her brain was clear,
and she comprehended all that
transpired.
With what seemed to her marvelous
rapidity the brute bore her through
the forest, but still she did
not cry out or struggle. The
sudden advent of the ape had
confused her to such an extent
that she thought now that he
was bearing her toward the beach.
For this reason she conserved
her energies and her voice until
she could see that they had approached
near enough to the camp to attract
the succor she craved.
She could not have known it,
but she was being borne farther
and farther into the impenetrable
jungle.
The scream that had brought
Clayton and the two older men
stumbling through the undergrowth
had led Tarzan of the Apes straight
to where Esmeralda lay, but it
was not Esmeralda in whom his
interest centered, though pausing
over her he saw that she was
unhurt.
For a moment he scrutinized
the ground below and the trees
above, until the ape that was
in him by virtue of training
and environment, combined with
the intelligence that was his
by right of birth, told his wondrous
woodcraft the whole story as
plainly as though he had seen
the thing happen with his own
eyes.
And then he was gone again
into the swaying trees, following
the high-flung spoor which no
other human eye could have detected,
much less translated.
At boughs' ends, where the
anthropoid swings from one tree
to another, there is most to
mark the trail, but least to
point the direction of the quarry;
for there the pressure is downward
always, toward the small end
of the branch, whether the ape
be leaving or entering a tree.
Nearer the center of the tree,
where the signs of passage are
fainter, the direction is plainly
marked.
Here, on this branch, a caterpillar
has been crushed by the fugitive's
great foot, and Tarzan knows
instinctively where that same
foot would touch in the next
stride. Here he looks to find
a tiny particle of the demolished
larva, ofttimes not more than
a speck of moisture.
Again, a minute bit of bark
has been upturned by the scraping
hand, and the direction of the
break indicates the direction
of the passage. Or some great
limb, or the stem of the tree
itself has been brushed by the
hairy body, and a tiny shred
of hair tells him by the direction
from which it is wedged beneath
the bark that he is on the right
trail.
Nor does he need to check his
speed to catch these seemingly
faint records of the fleeing
beast.
To Tarzan they stand out boldly
against all the myriad other
scars and bruises and signs upon
the leafy way. But strongest
of all is the scent, for Tarzan
is pursuing up the wind, and
his trained nostrils are as sensitive
as a hound's.
There are those who believe
that the lower orders are specially
endowed by nature with better
olfactory nerves than man, but
it is merely a matter of development.
Man's survival does not hinge
so greatly upon the perfection
of his senses. His power to reason
has relieved them of many of
their duties, and so they have,
to some extent, atrophied, as
have the muscles which move the
ears and scalp, merely from disuse.
The muscles are there, about
the ears and beneath the scalp,
and so are the nerves which transmit
sensations to the brain, but
they are under-developed because
they are not needed.
Not so with Tarzan of the Apes.
From early infancy his survival
had depended upon acuteness of
eyesight, hearing, smell, touch,
and taste far more than upon
the more slowly developed organ
of reason.
The least developed of all
in Tarzan was the sense of taste,
for he could eat luscious fruits,
or raw flesh, long buried with
almost equal appreciation; but
in that he differed but slightly
from more civilized epicures.
Almost silently the ape-man
sped on in the track of Terkoz
and his prey, but the sound of
his approach reached the ears
of the fleeing beast and spurred
it on to greater speed.
Three miles were covered before
Tarzan overtook them, and then
Terkoz, seeing that further flight
was futile, dropped to the ground
in a small open glade, that he
might turn and fight for his
prize or be free to escape unhampered
if he saw that the pursuer was
more than a match for him.
He still grasped Jane in one
great arm as Tarzan bounded like
a leopard into the arena which
nature had provided for this
primeval-like battle.
When Terkoz saw that it was
Tarzan who pursued him, he jumped
to the conclusion that this was
Tarzan's woman, since they were
of the same kind--white and hairless--and
so he rejoiced at this opportunity
for double revenge upon his hated
enemy.
To Jane the strange apparition
of this god-like man was as wine
to sick nerves.
From the description which
Clayton and her father and Mr.
Philander had given her, she
knew that it must be the same
wonderful creature who had saved
them, and she saw in him only
a protector and a friend.
But as Terkoz pushed her roughly
aside to meet Tarzan's charge,
and she saw the great proportions
of the ape and the mighty muscles
and the fierce fangs, her heart
quailed. How could any vanquish
such a mighty antagonist?
Like two charging bulls they
came together, and like two wolves
sought each other's throat. Against
the long canines of the ape was
pitted the thin blade of the
man's knife.
Jane--her lithe, young form
flattened against the trunk of
a great tree, her hands tight
pressed against her rising and
falling bosom, and her eyes wide
with mingled horror, fascination,
fear, and admiration--watched
the primordial ape battle with
the primeval man for possession
of a woman--for her.
As the great muscles of the
man's back and shoulders knotted
beneath the tension of his efforts,
and the huge biceps and forearm
held at bay those mighty tusks,
the veil of centuries of civilization
and culture was swept from the
blurred vision of the Baltimore
girl.
When the long knife drank deep
a dozen times of Terkoz' heart's
blood, and the great carcass
rolled lifeless upon the ground,
it was a primeval woman who sprang
forward with outstretched arms
toward the primeval man who had
fought for her and won her.
And Tarzan?
He did what no red-blooded
man needs lessons in doing. He
took his woman in his arms and
smothered her upturned, panting
lips with kisses.
For a moment Jane lay there
with half-closed eyes. For a
moment--the first in her young
life--she knew the meaning of
love.
But as suddenly as the veil
had been withdrawn it dropped
again, and an outraged conscience
suffused her face with its scarlet
mantle, and a mortified woman
thrust Tarzan of the Apes from
her and buried her face in her
hands.
Tarzan had been surprised when
he had found the girl he had
learned to love after a vague
and abstract manner a willing
prisoner in his arms. Now he
was surprised that she repulsed
him.
He came close to her once more
and took hold of her arm. She
turned upon him like a tigress,
striking his great breast with
her tiny hands.
Tarzan could not understand
it.
A moment ago and it had been
his intention to hasten Jane
back to her people, but that
little moment was lost now in
the dim and distant past of things
which were but can never be again,
and with it the good intentions
had gone to join the impossible.
Since then Tarzan of the Apes
had felt a warm, lithe form close
pressed to his. Hot, sweet breath
against his cheek and mouth had
fanned a new flame to life within
his breast, and perfect lips
had clung to his in burning kisses
that had seared a deep brand
into his soul--a brand which
marked a new Tarzan.
Again he laid his hand upon
her arm. Again she repulsed him.
And then Tarzan of the Apes did
just what his first ancestor
would have done.
He took his woman in his arms
and carried her into the jungle.
Early the following morning
the four within the little cabin
by the beach were awakened by
the booming of a cannon. Clayton
was the first to rush out, and
there, beyond the harbor's mouth,
he saw two vessels lying at anchor.
One was the Arrow and the other
a small French cruiser. The sides
of the latter were crowded with
men gazing shoreward, and it
was evident to Clayton, as to
the others who had now joined
him, that the gun which they
had heard had been fired to attract
their attention if they still
remained at the cabin.
Both vessels lay at a considerable
distance from shore, and it was
doubtful if their glasses would
locate the waving hats of the
little party far in between the
harbor's points.
Esmeralda had removed her red
apron and was waving it frantically
above her head; but Clayton,
still fearing that even this
might not be seen, hurried off
toward the northern point where
lay his signal pyre ready for
the match.
It seemed an age to him, as
to those who waited breathlessly
behind, ere he reached the great
pile of dry branches and underbrush.
As he broke from the dense
wood and came in sight of the
vessels again, he was filled
with consternation to see that
the Arrow was making sail and
that the cruiser was already
under way.
Quickly lighting the pyre in
a dozen places, he hurried to
the extreme point of the promontory,
where he stripped off his shirt,
and, tying it to a fallen branch,
stood waving it back and forth
above him.
But still the vessels continued
to stand out; and he had given
up all hope, when the great column
of smoke, rising above the forest
in one dense vertical shaft,
attracted the attention of a
lookout aboard the cruiser, and
instantly a dozen glasses were
leveled on the beach.
Presently Clayton saw the two
ships come about again; and while
the Arrow lay drifting quietly
on the ocean, the cruiser steamed
slowly back toward shore.
At some distance away she stopped,
and a boat was lowered and dispatched
toward the beach.
As it was drawn up a young
officer stepped out.
"Monsieur Clayton, I presume?" he
asked.
"Thank God, you have come!" was
Clayton's reply. "And it may
be that it is not too late even
now."
"What do you mean, Monsieur?" asked
the officer.
Clayton told of the abduction
of Jane Porter and the need of
armed men to aid in the search
for her.
"MON DIEU!" exclaimed the officer,
sadly. "Yesterday and it would
not have been too late. Today
and it may be better that the
poor lady were never found. It
is horrible, Monsieur. It is
too horrible."
Other boats had now put off
from the cruiser, and Clayton,
having pointed out the harbor's
entrance to the officer, entered
the boat with him and its nose
was turned toward the little
landlocked bay, into which the
other craft followed.
Soon the entire party had landed
where stood Professor Porter,
Mr. Philander and the weeping
Esmeralda.
Among the officers in the last
boats to put off from the cruiser
was the commander of the vessel;
and when he had heard the story
of Jane's abduction, he generously
called for volunteers to accompany
Professor Porter and Clayton
in their search.
Not an officer or a man was
there of those brave and sympathetic
Frenchmen who did not quickly
beg leave to be one of the expedition.
The commander selected twenty
men and two officers, Lieutenant
D'Arnot and Lieutenant Charpentier.
A boat was dispatched to the
cruiser for provisions, ammunition,
and carbines; the men were already
armed with revolvers.
Then, to Clayton's inquiries
as to how they had happened to
anchor off shore and fire a signal
gun, the commander, Captain Dufranne,
explained that a month before
they had sighted the Arrow bearing
southwest under considerable
canvas, and that when they had
signaled her to come about she
had but crowded on more sail.
They had kept her hull-up until
sunset, firing several shots
after her, but the next morning
she was nowhere to be seen. They
had then continued to cruise
up and down the coast for several
weeks, and had about forgotten
the incident of the recent chase,
when, early one morning a few
days before the lookout had described
a vessel laboring in the trough
of a heavy sea and evidently
entirely out of control.
As they steamed nearer to the
derelict they were surprised
to note that it was the same
vessel that had run from them
a few weeks earlier. Her forestaysail
and mizzen spanker were set as
though an effort had been made
to hold her head up into the
wind, but the sheets had parted,
and the sails were tearing to
ribbons in the half gale of wind.
In the high sea that was running
it was a difficult and dangerous
task to attempt to put a prize
crew aboard her; and as no signs
of life had been seen above deck,
it was decided to stand by until
the wind and sea abated; but
just then a figure was seen clinging
to the rail and feebly waving
a mute signal of despair toward
them.
Immediately a boat's crew was
ordered out and an attempt was
successfully made to board the
Arrow.
The sight that met the Frenchmen's
eyes as they clambered over the
ship's side was appalling.
A dozen dead and dying men
rolled hither and thither upon
the pitching deck, the living
intermingled with the dead. Two
of the corpses appeared to have
been partially devoured as though
by wolves.
The prize crew soon had the
vessel under proper sail once
more and the living members of
the ill-starred company carried
below to their hammocks.
The dead were wrapped in tarpaulins
and lashed on deck to be identified
by their comrades before being
consigned to the deep.
None of the living was conscious
when the Frenchmen reached the
Arrow's deck. Even the poor devil
who had waved the single despairing
signal of distress had lapsed
into unconsciousness before he
had learned whether it had availed
or not.
It did not take the French
officer long to learn what had
caused the terrible condition
aboard; for when water and brandy
were sought to restore the men,
it was found that there was none,
nor even food of any description.
He immediately signalled to
the cruiser to send water, medicine,
and provisions, and another boat
made the perilous trip to the
Arrow.
When restoratives had been
applied several of the men regained
consciousness, and then the whole
story was told. That part of
it we know up to the sailing
of the Arrow after the murder
of Snipes, and the burial of
his body above the treasure chest.
It seems that the pursuit by
the cruiser had so terrorized
the mutineers that they had continued
out across the Atlantic for several
days after losing her; but on
discovering the meager supply
of water and provisions aboard,
they had turned back toward the
east.
With no one on board who understood
navigation, discussions soon
arose as to their whereabouts;
and as three days' sailing to
the east did not raise land,
they bore off to the north, fearing
that the high north winds that
had prevailed had driven them
south of the southern extremity
of Africa.
They kept on a north-northeasterly
course for two days, when they
were overtaken by a calm which
lasted for nearly a week. Their
water was gone, and in another
day they would be without food.
Conditions changed rapidly
from bad to worse. One man went
mad and leaped overboard. Soon
another opened his veins and
drank his own blood.
When he died they threw him
overboard also, though there
were those among them who wanted
to keep the corpse on board.
Hunger was changing them from
human beasts to wild beasts.
Two days before they had been
picked up by the cruiser they
had become too weak to handle
the vessel, and that same day
three men died. On the following
morning it was seen that one
of the corpses had been partially
devoured.
All that day the men lay glaring
at each other like beasts of
prey, and the following morning
two of the corpses lay almost
entirely stripped of flesh.
The men were but little stronger
for their ghoulish repast, for
the want of water was by far
the greatest agony with which
they had to contend. And then
the cruiser had come.
When those who could had recovered,
the entire story had been told
to the French commander; but
the men were too ignorant to
be able to tell him at just what
point on the coast the professor
and his party had been marooned,
so the cruiser had steamed slowly
along within sight of land, firing
occasional signal guns and scanning
every inch of the beach with
glasses.
They had anchored by night
so as not to neglect a particle
of the shore line, and it had
happened that the preceding night
had brought them off the very
beach where lay the little camp
they sought.
The signal guns of the afternoon
before had not been heard by
those on shore, it was presumed,
because they had doubtless been
in the thick of the jungle searching
for Jane Porter, where the noise
of their own crashing through
the underbrush would have drowned
the report of a far distant gun.
By the time the two parties
had narrated their several adventures,
the cruiser's boat had returned
with supplies and arms for the
expedition.
Within a few minutes the little
body of sailors and the two French
officers, together with Professor
Porter and Clayton, set off upon
their hopeless and ill-fated
quest into the untracked jungle.
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