Chapter Twenty Seven.A Spectacle rarely seen.When the huge reptile first unfolded itself to their view, it was already close to the spot where the ourang-outang, knee-deep in the water, stood awaiting it. They naturally expected to see the land animal effect a retreat from an antagonist even more formidable-looking than itself.And in reality it did give ground at first; but only for a few long scrambling strides, made as much on its arms as legs—just far enough to place itself high and dry upon the bank. There it came to a stop, and stood firmly facing the foe.They now perceived the truth of what Saloo had been telling them: that there is no animal in all Borneo, either in its forests or its rivers, of which the mias feels fear. Certainly there is none more to be dreaded than the gavial crocodile; yet the great ape, judging by its present attitude, was in no sense afraid of it. Had it been so, it would have retreated into the woods, where, by climbing a tree, it might easily have shunned the encounter. Even if it had retired a little uponterra firma, the amphibious animal would not have thought of following it, and it could at once have avoided the conflict, if desirous of doing so. On the contrary, it seemed rather to court it; for not only did it take a firm stand on the approach of the saurian, but continued to emit its hoarse cough and bark, which, as we have said before, closely resembled the growlings of an angry mastiff with his jaws held half-shut by the straps of a muzzle. At the same time it struck the ground repeatedly with its fore-paws, tearing up grass and weeds, and flinging them spitefully toward the crocodile, and into its very teeth, as if provoking the latter to the attack.Undismayed, the scaly reptile continued to advance. Neither the strange noises nor the violent gesticulations of its four-handed enemy seemed to have any effect upon it. To all appearance, nothing could terrify the gigantic saurian. Confident in its great size and strength—above all, in the thick impenetrable skin that covered its body like a coat of shale armour—conscious of being so defended, the crocodile also believed that there was no living thing in all the land of Borneo, or in its waters either, that could withstand its terrible onslaught. It therefore advanced to the attack with no idea of danger to itself, but only the thought of seizing upon the half-crouching, half-upright form that had intruded upon its domain, and which possibly appeared to it only a weak human being—a poor Dyak, like some of its former victims.In this respect it was woefully deceiving itself; and the slight retreat made by the mias toward the dry land no doubt further misled its assailant. The reptile paused for a moment, lest the retreat should be continued, at the same time sinking its body beneath the water as low as the depth would allow.Remaining motionless for a few seconds, and seeing that its victim was not only not going any further, but maintained its defiant attitude, the gavial crawled silently and cautiously on till the reeds no longer concealed it. Then suddenly rising on its strong fore-arms, it bounded forward—aiding the movement by a stroke of its immense tail—and launched the whole length of its body on the bank, its huge jaws flying agape as they came in contact with the shaggy skin of its intended prey. For an instant of time its snout was actually buried in the long red hair of the gorilla, and the spectators expected to see the latter grasped between its jaws and dragged into the lake.They were even congratulating themselves on the chance of thus getting rid of it, when a movement on the part of the mias warned them they were not to be so conveniently disembarrassed of its dangerous proximity. That movement was a leap partly to one side, and partly upward into the air. It sprang so high as completely to clear the head of its assailant, and so far horizontally, that when it came to the ground again, it was along the extended body of the crocodile, midway between its head and its tail. Before the unwieldy reptile could turn to confront it, the ape made a second spring, this time alighting upon the gavial’s back, just behind his shoulders. There straddling, and taking a firm hold with its thick short legs, it threw its long arms forward over the crocodile’s shoulder-blades, as with the intent to throttle it. And now commenced a struggle between the two monstrous creatures—a conflict strange and terrible—such as could only be seen in the depths of a Bornean or Sumatran forest, in the midst of those wild solitudes where man rarely makes his way. And even in such scenes but rarely witnessed; and only by the lone Dyak hunter straying along the banks of some solitary stream, or threading the mazes of the jungle-grown swamp or lagoon.On the part of the crocodile the strife consisted simply in a series of endeavours to dismount the hairy rider who clung like a saddle to its back. To effect this purpose, it made every effort in its power; turning about upon its belly as upon a pivot; snapping its jaws till they cracked like pistol shots; lashing the ground with its long vertebrated tail, till the grass and weeds were swept off as if cut with the blade of a scythe; twisting and wriggling in every possible direction.All to no purpose. The ape held on as firmly as a Mexican to a restive mule, one of its fore-arms clutching the shoulder-blade of the reptile, while the other was constantly oscillating in the air, as if searching for something to seize upon.For what purpose it did this, the spectators could not at first tell, it was not long, however, before they discovered its intention. All at once the disengaged arm made a long clutch forward and grasped the upper jaw of the gavial. During the struggle this had been frequently wide agape, almost pointing vertically upward, as is customary with reptiles of the lizard kind, the singular conformation of the cervical vertebrae enabling them to open their jaws thus widely. One might have supposed that, in thus taking hold, the gorilla had got its hand into a terrible trap, and that in another instant its fingers would be caught between the quickly-closing teeth of the saurian, and snapped off like pipe-stems, or the tender shoots of a head of celery. The inexperienced and youthful spectators expected some such result; but not so the cunning old man-monkey, who knew what he was about; for, once he had gained a good hold upon the upper jaw, at itsA terrible conflictnarrowest part, near the snout, he made up his mind that those bony counterparts, now asunder, should never come together again. To make quite sure of this, he bent himself to the last supreme effort. Supporting his knees firmly against the shoulders of the saurian, and bending his thick muscular arms to the extent of their great strength, he was seen to give one grand wrench. There was a crashing sound, as of a tree torn from its roots, followed by a spasmodic struggle; then the hideous reptile lay extended along the earth, still writhing its body and flirting its tail.The red gorilla saw that it had accomplished its task; victory was achieved, the danger over, and the hated enemy lay helpless, almost nerveless, in its hairy embrace.At length, detaching itself from the scaly creature, whose struggles each moment grew feebler and feebler, it sprang to one side, squatted itself on its haunches, and with a hoarse laughter, that resembled the horrid yell of a maniac, triumphantly contemplated the ruin of its prostrate foe!
When the huge reptile first unfolded itself to their view, it was already close to the spot where the ourang-outang, knee-deep in the water, stood awaiting it. They naturally expected to see the land animal effect a retreat from an antagonist even more formidable-looking than itself.
And in reality it did give ground at first; but only for a few long scrambling strides, made as much on its arms as legs—just far enough to place itself high and dry upon the bank. There it came to a stop, and stood firmly facing the foe.
They now perceived the truth of what Saloo had been telling them: that there is no animal in all Borneo, either in its forests or its rivers, of which the mias feels fear. Certainly there is none more to be dreaded than the gavial crocodile; yet the great ape, judging by its present attitude, was in no sense afraid of it. Had it been so, it would have retreated into the woods, where, by climbing a tree, it might easily have shunned the encounter. Even if it had retired a little uponterra firma, the amphibious animal would not have thought of following it, and it could at once have avoided the conflict, if desirous of doing so. On the contrary, it seemed rather to court it; for not only did it take a firm stand on the approach of the saurian, but continued to emit its hoarse cough and bark, which, as we have said before, closely resembled the growlings of an angry mastiff with his jaws held half-shut by the straps of a muzzle. At the same time it struck the ground repeatedly with its fore-paws, tearing up grass and weeds, and flinging them spitefully toward the crocodile, and into its very teeth, as if provoking the latter to the attack.
Undismayed, the scaly reptile continued to advance. Neither the strange noises nor the violent gesticulations of its four-handed enemy seemed to have any effect upon it. To all appearance, nothing could terrify the gigantic saurian. Confident in its great size and strength—above all, in the thick impenetrable skin that covered its body like a coat of shale armour—conscious of being so defended, the crocodile also believed that there was no living thing in all the land of Borneo, or in its waters either, that could withstand its terrible onslaught. It therefore advanced to the attack with no idea of danger to itself, but only the thought of seizing upon the half-crouching, half-upright form that had intruded upon its domain, and which possibly appeared to it only a weak human being—a poor Dyak, like some of its former victims.
In this respect it was woefully deceiving itself; and the slight retreat made by the mias toward the dry land no doubt further misled its assailant. The reptile paused for a moment, lest the retreat should be continued, at the same time sinking its body beneath the water as low as the depth would allow.
Remaining motionless for a few seconds, and seeing that its victim was not only not going any further, but maintained its defiant attitude, the gavial crawled silently and cautiously on till the reeds no longer concealed it. Then suddenly rising on its strong fore-arms, it bounded forward—aiding the movement by a stroke of its immense tail—and launched the whole length of its body on the bank, its huge jaws flying agape as they came in contact with the shaggy skin of its intended prey. For an instant of time its snout was actually buried in the long red hair of the gorilla, and the spectators expected to see the latter grasped between its jaws and dragged into the lake.
They were even congratulating themselves on the chance of thus getting rid of it, when a movement on the part of the mias warned them they were not to be so conveniently disembarrassed of its dangerous proximity. That movement was a leap partly to one side, and partly upward into the air. It sprang so high as completely to clear the head of its assailant, and so far horizontally, that when it came to the ground again, it was along the extended body of the crocodile, midway between its head and its tail. Before the unwieldy reptile could turn to confront it, the ape made a second spring, this time alighting upon the gavial’s back, just behind his shoulders. There straddling, and taking a firm hold with its thick short legs, it threw its long arms forward over the crocodile’s shoulder-blades, as with the intent to throttle it. And now commenced a struggle between the two monstrous creatures—a conflict strange and terrible—such as could only be seen in the depths of a Bornean or Sumatran forest, in the midst of those wild solitudes where man rarely makes his way. And even in such scenes but rarely witnessed; and only by the lone Dyak hunter straying along the banks of some solitary stream, or threading the mazes of the jungle-grown swamp or lagoon.
On the part of the crocodile the strife consisted simply in a series of endeavours to dismount the hairy rider who clung like a saddle to its back. To effect this purpose, it made every effort in its power; turning about upon its belly as upon a pivot; snapping its jaws till they cracked like pistol shots; lashing the ground with its long vertebrated tail, till the grass and weeds were swept off as if cut with the blade of a scythe; twisting and wriggling in every possible direction.
All to no purpose. The ape held on as firmly as a Mexican to a restive mule, one of its fore-arms clutching the shoulder-blade of the reptile, while the other was constantly oscillating in the air, as if searching for something to seize upon.
For what purpose it did this, the spectators could not at first tell, it was not long, however, before they discovered its intention. All at once the disengaged arm made a long clutch forward and grasped the upper jaw of the gavial. During the struggle this had been frequently wide agape, almost pointing vertically upward, as is customary with reptiles of the lizard kind, the singular conformation of the cervical vertebrae enabling them to open their jaws thus widely. One might have supposed that, in thus taking hold, the gorilla had got its hand into a terrible trap, and that in another instant its fingers would be caught between the quickly-closing teeth of the saurian, and snapped off like pipe-stems, or the tender shoots of a head of celery. The inexperienced and youthful spectators expected some such result; but not so the cunning old man-monkey, who knew what he was about; for, once he had gained a good hold upon the upper jaw, at itsA terrible conflictnarrowest part, near the snout, he made up his mind that those bony counterparts, now asunder, should never come together again. To make quite sure of this, he bent himself to the last supreme effort. Supporting his knees firmly against the shoulders of the saurian, and bending his thick muscular arms to the extent of their great strength, he was seen to give one grand wrench. There was a crashing sound, as of a tree torn from its roots, followed by a spasmodic struggle; then the hideous reptile lay extended along the earth, still writhing its body and flirting its tail.
The red gorilla saw that it had accomplished its task; victory was achieved, the danger over, and the hated enemy lay helpless, almost nerveless, in its hairy embrace.
At length, detaching itself from the scaly creature, whose struggles each moment grew feebler and feebler, it sprang to one side, squatted itself on its haunches, and with a hoarse laughter, that resembled the horrid yell of a maniac, triumphantly contemplated the ruin of its prostrate foe!
Chapter Twenty Eight.Still Trusting in God.The reader may suppose the strange conflict we have described to be a thing of the author’s imagination. Some will, no doubt, pronounce it a story of the sensational and fabulous kind—in short, a “sailor’s yarn.” So may it seem to those who give but little attention to the study of nature. To the naturalist, however, this chapter of animal life and habits will cause no astonishment; for he will know it to be a true one; and that the spectacle described, although perhaps not one coming every day under the eye of man, and especially civilised man, has nevertheless been witnessed by the inhabitants of the recesses of the Bornean forest.Ask any old Bornean bee-hunter, and he will tell you just such a tale as the above; adding that the ourang-outang, or red gorilla, which he callsmias, is a match, and more than a match, for any animal it may encounter in forest or jungle; and that the only two creatures which dare attack it are the crocodile and the greatularorpython, the latter a serpent of the boa-constructor kind, with one of which our castaways had already formed acquaintance. But the Bornean bee-hunter, usually a Dyak, will also tell you that in these conflicts the red gorilla is the victor, though each of the two great reptile antagonists that attack it is often thirty feet in length, with a girth almost equalling its own. Only fancy a snake ten yards long, and a lizard the same; either of which would reach from end to end of the largest room in which you may be seated, or across the street in which you may be walking! You will seldom find such specimens in our museums; for they are not often encountered by our naturalists or secured by our travellers. But take my word for it, there are such serpents and such lizards in existence, ay, and much larger ones. They may be found not only in the tropical isles of the Orient, but in the Western world, in the lagoons and forests of Equatorial America. Many of the “sailors’ yarns” of past times, which we have been accustomed so flippantly to discredit, on account of their appearing rather tough, have under the light of recent scientific exploration been proved true.And although some of them may seem to be incorporated in this narrative, under the guise of mere romance, the reader need not on this account think himself misled, or treat them with sublime contempt. If it should ever be his fate or fortune to make a tour through the East Indian Archipelago, he will cease to be incredulous.Henry Redwood and his sister Helen had no such tranquil reflections, as they stood under the shadow of the great tree, concealing themselves behind its trunk, and watching the terrible conflict between the two huge creatures, both in their eyes equally hideous.Giving way to an instinct of justice, they would have taken sides with the party assailed and against the assailant. But, under the circumstances, their leanings were the very reverse; for in the triumphant conqueror they saw a continuance of their own danger; whereas, had the amphibious animal been victorious, this would have been at an end. The strife now terminated, they stood trembling and uncertain as ever.The crocodile, although crushed, and no longer dangerous for any offensive manoeuvre, was not killed. Its body still writhed and wriggled upon the ground; though its movements were but the agonised efforts of mortal pain, excited convulsively and each moment becoming feebler.And the red gorilla stood near, squatted on its haunches; at intervals tossing its long hairy arms around its head, and giving utterance to that strange coughing laughter, as if it would never leave off exulting over the victory it had achieved. How long was this spectacle to last? It was sufficiently horrid for the spectators to desire its speedy termination.And yet they did not; they were in hopes it might continue till a voice coming from the forest, or the tread of a foot, would tell them that help was near.Tremblingly but attentively they listened. They heard neither one nor the other—neither voice nor footstep. Now and then came the note of a bird or the cry of some four-footed creature prowling through the glades; but not uttered in accents of alarm. The hunters must have wandered far in their search for game. They might not return in time.Again Henry bethought him of firing the musket to give them a signal. But even if heard, it might not have this effect. They knew that he was able to hold and handle the great gun, and might think some bird or animal had come near and tempted him to take a shot at it.On the other hand, the report would strike upon the ears of the mias, might distract it from the triumph in which it was indulging, and bring it to the spot where they were standing. Then, with an empty gun in his hand, what defence could the youth make, either for himself or for his sister?To fire the gun would never do. Better leave the trigger unpulled, and trust to Providence for protection.And then, as the brave boy reflected on the many dangers through which they had passed, and how they had always been delivered by some fortunate interposition, he knew it must be the hand of Providence, and was content to rely upon it again.He said so to his little sister, whispering consolation, as with one hand he drew her close to him, the other resting upon the musket. And Helen whispered back a pious response, as she nestled upon the breast of her brother.A moment more, and the faith of both was submitted to a severe trial.The red gorilla, after gloating for a long time over the agonised contortions of its disabled enemy, seemed at length satisfied that it was disabled to death, and facing toward the forest, showed signs of an intention to take its departure from the spot.Now came the crisis for Henry and Helen. Which way would the animal take?They had not time to exchange question and answer—scarce time even to shape them in their thoughts—when they saw the red satyr turn to the tree behind which they were standing, and come directly toward them.
The reader may suppose the strange conflict we have described to be a thing of the author’s imagination. Some will, no doubt, pronounce it a story of the sensational and fabulous kind—in short, a “sailor’s yarn.” So may it seem to those who give but little attention to the study of nature. To the naturalist, however, this chapter of animal life and habits will cause no astonishment; for he will know it to be a true one; and that the spectacle described, although perhaps not one coming every day under the eye of man, and especially civilised man, has nevertheless been witnessed by the inhabitants of the recesses of the Bornean forest.
Ask any old Bornean bee-hunter, and he will tell you just such a tale as the above; adding that the ourang-outang, or red gorilla, which he callsmias, is a match, and more than a match, for any animal it may encounter in forest or jungle; and that the only two creatures which dare attack it are the crocodile and the greatularorpython, the latter a serpent of the boa-constructor kind, with one of which our castaways had already formed acquaintance. But the Bornean bee-hunter, usually a Dyak, will also tell you that in these conflicts the red gorilla is the victor, though each of the two great reptile antagonists that attack it is often thirty feet in length, with a girth almost equalling its own. Only fancy a snake ten yards long, and a lizard the same; either of which would reach from end to end of the largest room in which you may be seated, or across the street in which you may be walking! You will seldom find such specimens in our museums; for they are not often encountered by our naturalists or secured by our travellers. But take my word for it, there are such serpents and such lizards in existence, ay, and much larger ones. They may be found not only in the tropical isles of the Orient, but in the Western world, in the lagoons and forests of Equatorial America. Many of the “sailors’ yarns” of past times, which we have been accustomed so flippantly to discredit, on account of their appearing rather tough, have under the light of recent scientific exploration been proved true.
And although some of them may seem to be incorporated in this narrative, under the guise of mere romance, the reader need not on this account think himself misled, or treat them with sublime contempt. If it should ever be his fate or fortune to make a tour through the East Indian Archipelago, he will cease to be incredulous.
Henry Redwood and his sister Helen had no such tranquil reflections, as they stood under the shadow of the great tree, concealing themselves behind its trunk, and watching the terrible conflict between the two huge creatures, both in their eyes equally hideous.
Giving way to an instinct of justice, they would have taken sides with the party assailed and against the assailant. But, under the circumstances, their leanings were the very reverse; for in the triumphant conqueror they saw a continuance of their own danger; whereas, had the amphibious animal been victorious, this would have been at an end. The strife now terminated, they stood trembling and uncertain as ever.
The crocodile, although crushed, and no longer dangerous for any offensive manoeuvre, was not killed. Its body still writhed and wriggled upon the ground; though its movements were but the agonised efforts of mortal pain, excited convulsively and each moment becoming feebler.
And the red gorilla stood near, squatted on its haunches; at intervals tossing its long hairy arms around its head, and giving utterance to that strange coughing laughter, as if it would never leave off exulting over the victory it had achieved. How long was this spectacle to last? It was sufficiently horrid for the spectators to desire its speedy termination.
And yet they did not; they were in hopes it might continue till a voice coming from the forest, or the tread of a foot, would tell them that help was near.
Tremblingly but attentively they listened. They heard neither one nor the other—neither voice nor footstep. Now and then came the note of a bird or the cry of some four-footed creature prowling through the glades; but not uttered in accents of alarm. The hunters must have wandered far in their search for game. They might not return in time.
Again Henry bethought him of firing the musket to give them a signal. But even if heard, it might not have this effect. They knew that he was able to hold and handle the great gun, and might think some bird or animal had come near and tempted him to take a shot at it.
On the other hand, the report would strike upon the ears of the mias, might distract it from the triumph in which it was indulging, and bring it to the spot where they were standing. Then, with an empty gun in his hand, what defence could the youth make, either for himself or for his sister?
To fire the gun would never do. Better leave the trigger unpulled, and trust to Providence for protection.
And then, as the brave boy reflected on the many dangers through which they had passed, and how they had always been delivered by some fortunate interposition, he knew it must be the hand of Providence, and was content to rely upon it again.
He said so to his little sister, whispering consolation, as with one hand he drew her close to him, the other resting upon the musket. And Helen whispered back a pious response, as she nestled upon the breast of her brother.
A moment more, and the faith of both was submitted to a severe trial.
The red gorilla, after gloating for a long time over the agonised contortions of its disabled enemy, seemed at length satisfied that it was disabled to death, and facing toward the forest, showed signs of an intention to take its departure from the spot.
Now came the crisis for Henry and Helen. Which way would the animal take?
They had not time to exchange question and answer—scarce time even to shape them in their thoughts—when they saw the red satyr turn to the tree behind which they were standing, and come directly toward them.
Chapter Twenty Nine.A Captive carried aloft.“We are lost!” were the words that rushed from Henry Redwood’s lips. They came involuntarily; for, as soon as said, he regretted them, seeing how much they added to the alarm of his sister. It was a crisis in which she needed rather to be inspired to confidence by words of encouragement.They were said, however, and he could not recall them. He had no time to speak of anything, or to think of what course they should now pursue. Coming straight toward the tree with an awkward, shambling, but speedy gait withal, the monster would soon reach the spot where they stood. Its movements showed it to be in a state of excitement—the natural consequence of its late conflict with the crocodile. If seen, they would come in for a share of its anger, already roused.If seen! They were almost sure of being seen. They were endeavouring to avoid it by keeping on the other side of the tree, and screening themselves among the parasitical plants. But the concealment was slight, and would not avail them if the animal should pass the trunk and look around after passing. And now it was making straight for the tree, apparently with the design of ascending it.At this crisis Henry once more bethought him of running away and taking Helen with him. He now regretted not having done so sooner. Even to be lost in the forest would have been a less danger than that which now threatened them.A glance told him it would be too late. There was an open space beyond and all around the trunk behind which they had taken shelter. Should they attempt to escape, the ape would be certain of seeing them before they could get under cover of the woods, and, as they supposed, might easily overtake them in their flight.Another tree was near, connecting that under which they stood with the adjoining forest. But it was in a side direction, and they would be seen before reaching it. There was no alternative but to risk a chase, or stay where they were, and take the chances of not being seen by the horrid creature that was approaching. They chose the latter.Silently they stood, hands clasped and close to the stem of the tree, on the side opposite to that on which the gorilla was advancing. They no longer saw it; for now they dared not look around the trunk, or even peep through the leaves of the orchids, lest their faces might betray them.After all, the ape might pass into the forest without observing them. If it did, the danger would be at an end; if not, the brave boy had summoned up all his energies to meet and grapple with it. He held the loaded musket in his hand, ready at a moment’s notice to raise it to the level and fire into the face of the red-haired satyr.They waited in breathless silence, though each could hear the beating of the other’s heart.It was torture to stand thus uncertain; and, as if to continue it, the animal was a long time in getting to the tree. Had it stopped, or turned off some other way?Henry was tempted to peep round the trunk and satisfy himself. He was about to do this, when a scratching on the other side fell upon their ears. It was the claws of the mias rasping against the bark. The next moment the sound seemed higher up, and they were made aware that the creature was ascending the tree.Henry was already congratulating himself on this event. The ape might go up without seeing them; and as the tree was a very tall one, with a thick head of foliage and matted creepers, once among these, it might no longer think of looking down. Then they could steal away unobserved, and, keeping at a safe distance, await the return of the hunters.At this moment, however, an incident arose that interfered with this desirable programme, in an instant changing the position of everything that promised so well into a sad and terrible catastrophe.It was Murtagh who caused, though innocently, the lamentable diversion.The ship-carpenter, returning from his excursion, had just stumbled upon the crocodile where it lay upon the shore of the lake, which, though helpless to return to its proper element, was not yet dead. With jaw torn and dislocated, it was still twisting its body about in the last throes of the death-struggle.Not able to account for the spectacle of ruin thus presented, it caused the Irishman much surprise, not unmingled with alarm—the latter increasing as he looked towards the tree where Henry and Helen had been left, and saw they were no longer there.Had he prudently held his peace, perhaps all might have been well; but, catching sight of the huge hairy monster ascending the trunk, the thought flashed across his mind that the young people had been already destroyed, perhaps devoured, by it; and, giving way to this terrible fancy, he uttered a dread cry of despair.It was the worst thing he could have done; for, despite the discouraging tone of his voice, it seemed joyful to those crouching in concealment; and, yielding to an instinct that they were now saved by the presence of a stanch protector, they rushed from their ambuscade, and in so doing discovered themselves to the ourang-outang.Its eyes were upon them—dark, demon-like orbs, that seemed to scintillate sparks of fire. The gorilla had only gone up the trunk to a height of about twenty feet, when the cry of the alarmed ship-carpenter brought its ascent to a sudden stop; then, bringing its body half round, and looking below, it saw the children.As if connecting them with the enemy it had just conquered, its angry passions seemed to rekindle; and once more giving utterance to that strange barking cough, it glided down the tree, and made direct for the one who was nearest.As ill luck would have it, this chanced to be the little Helen, altogether defenceless and unarmed. Murtagh, still shouting, rushed to the rescue; while Henry, with his musket raised to his shoulder, endeavoured to get between the ape and its intended victim, so that he could fire right into the face of the assailant, without endangering the life of his sister.He would have been in time had the gun proved true, which it did not. It was an old flint musket, and the priming had got damp during their journey through the moist tropical forest. As he pulled trigger, there was not even a flash in the pan; and although he instinctively grasped the gun by its barrel, and, using it as a club, commenced belabouring the hairy giant over the head, his blows were of no more avail than if directed against the trunk of the tree itself.Once, twice, three times the butt of the gun descended upon the skull of the satyr, protected by its thick shock of coarse red hair; but before a fourth blow could be given, the ape threw out one of its immense arms, and carrying it round in a rapid sweep, caught the form of the girl in its embrace, and then, close hugging her against its hairy breast, commenced reascending the tree.Shouts and shrieks were of no avail to detain the horrid abductor. Nor yet the boy’s strength, exerted to its utmost. His strength alone; for Murtagh was not yet up. Henry seized the gorilla’s leg, and clung to it as long as ever he could. He was dragged several feet up the trunk; but a kick from the gorilla shook him off, and he fell, stunned and almost senseless, to the earth.
“We are lost!” were the words that rushed from Henry Redwood’s lips. They came involuntarily; for, as soon as said, he regretted them, seeing how much they added to the alarm of his sister. It was a crisis in which she needed rather to be inspired to confidence by words of encouragement.
They were said, however, and he could not recall them. He had no time to speak of anything, or to think of what course they should now pursue. Coming straight toward the tree with an awkward, shambling, but speedy gait withal, the monster would soon reach the spot where they stood. Its movements showed it to be in a state of excitement—the natural consequence of its late conflict with the crocodile. If seen, they would come in for a share of its anger, already roused.
If seen! They were almost sure of being seen. They were endeavouring to avoid it by keeping on the other side of the tree, and screening themselves among the parasitical plants. But the concealment was slight, and would not avail them if the animal should pass the trunk and look around after passing. And now it was making straight for the tree, apparently with the design of ascending it.
At this crisis Henry once more bethought him of running away and taking Helen with him. He now regretted not having done so sooner. Even to be lost in the forest would have been a less danger than that which now threatened them.
A glance told him it would be too late. There was an open space beyond and all around the trunk behind which they had taken shelter. Should they attempt to escape, the ape would be certain of seeing them before they could get under cover of the woods, and, as they supposed, might easily overtake them in their flight.
Another tree was near, connecting that under which they stood with the adjoining forest. But it was in a side direction, and they would be seen before reaching it. There was no alternative but to risk a chase, or stay where they were, and take the chances of not being seen by the horrid creature that was approaching. They chose the latter.
Silently they stood, hands clasped and close to the stem of the tree, on the side opposite to that on which the gorilla was advancing. They no longer saw it; for now they dared not look around the trunk, or even peep through the leaves of the orchids, lest their faces might betray them.
After all, the ape might pass into the forest without observing them. If it did, the danger would be at an end; if not, the brave boy had summoned up all his energies to meet and grapple with it. He held the loaded musket in his hand, ready at a moment’s notice to raise it to the level and fire into the face of the red-haired satyr.
They waited in breathless silence, though each could hear the beating of the other’s heart.
It was torture to stand thus uncertain; and, as if to continue it, the animal was a long time in getting to the tree. Had it stopped, or turned off some other way?
Henry was tempted to peep round the trunk and satisfy himself. He was about to do this, when a scratching on the other side fell upon their ears. It was the claws of the mias rasping against the bark. The next moment the sound seemed higher up, and they were made aware that the creature was ascending the tree.
Henry was already congratulating himself on this event. The ape might go up without seeing them; and as the tree was a very tall one, with a thick head of foliage and matted creepers, once among these, it might no longer think of looking down. Then they could steal away unobserved, and, keeping at a safe distance, await the return of the hunters.
At this moment, however, an incident arose that interfered with this desirable programme, in an instant changing the position of everything that promised so well into a sad and terrible catastrophe.
It was Murtagh who caused, though innocently, the lamentable diversion.
The ship-carpenter, returning from his excursion, had just stumbled upon the crocodile where it lay upon the shore of the lake, which, though helpless to return to its proper element, was not yet dead. With jaw torn and dislocated, it was still twisting its body about in the last throes of the death-struggle.
Not able to account for the spectacle of ruin thus presented, it caused the Irishman much surprise, not unmingled with alarm—the latter increasing as he looked towards the tree where Henry and Helen had been left, and saw they were no longer there.
Had he prudently held his peace, perhaps all might have been well; but, catching sight of the huge hairy monster ascending the trunk, the thought flashed across his mind that the young people had been already destroyed, perhaps devoured, by it; and, giving way to this terrible fancy, he uttered a dread cry of despair.
It was the worst thing he could have done; for, despite the discouraging tone of his voice, it seemed joyful to those crouching in concealment; and, yielding to an instinct that they were now saved by the presence of a stanch protector, they rushed from their ambuscade, and in so doing discovered themselves to the ourang-outang.
Its eyes were upon them—dark, demon-like orbs, that seemed to scintillate sparks of fire. The gorilla had only gone up the trunk to a height of about twenty feet, when the cry of the alarmed ship-carpenter brought its ascent to a sudden stop; then, bringing its body half round, and looking below, it saw the children.
As if connecting them with the enemy it had just conquered, its angry passions seemed to rekindle; and once more giving utterance to that strange barking cough, it glided down the tree, and made direct for the one who was nearest.
As ill luck would have it, this chanced to be the little Helen, altogether defenceless and unarmed. Murtagh, still shouting, rushed to the rescue; while Henry, with his musket raised to his shoulder, endeavoured to get between the ape and its intended victim, so that he could fire right into the face of the assailant, without endangering the life of his sister.
He would have been in time had the gun proved true, which it did not. It was an old flint musket, and the priming had got damp during their journey through the moist tropical forest. As he pulled trigger, there was not even a flash in the pan; and although he instinctively grasped the gun by its barrel, and, using it as a club, commenced belabouring the hairy giant over the head, his blows were of no more avail than if directed against the trunk of the tree itself.
Once, twice, three times the butt of the gun descended upon the skull of the satyr, protected by its thick shock of coarse red hair; but before a fourth blow could be given, the ape threw out one of its immense arms, and carrying it round in a rapid sweep, caught the form of the girl in its embrace, and then, close hugging her against its hairy breast, commenced reascending the tree.
Shouts and shrieks were of no avail to detain the horrid abductor. Nor yet the boy’s strength, exerted to its utmost. His strength alone; for Murtagh was not yet up. Henry seized the gorilla’s leg, and clung to it as long as ever he could. He was dragged several feet up the trunk; but a kick from the gorilla shook him off, and he fell, stunned and almost senseless, to the earth.
Chapter Thirty.What will become of her?It would be impossible to paint the despair that wrung her brother’s heart, as he stood with upturned face and eyes bent upon a scene in which he had no longer the power to take part.Not much less intense was the agonised emotion of Murtagh; for little Helen was almost as dear to the Irishman as if she had been his own daughter.Neither could have any other thought than that the child was lost beyond hope of recovery. She would either be torn to pieces by the claws of the monster, or by its great yellow teeth, already displayed to their view, and flung in mangled fragments to the ground. They actually stood for some time in expectation of seeing this sad catastrophe; and it would be vain to attempt any description of their emotions.It was no relief when the two hunters came up, as they did at that instant, on their return from the chase. Their approach for the last two or three hundred yards had been hastened into a run by the shrieks of Helen and the shouts of Henry and Murtagh. Their arrival only added two new figures to the tableau of distress, and two voices to its expression.The ape could still be seen through the foliage ascending to the top of the tree; but Captain Redwood felt that the rifle he held in his hands, though sure of aim and fatal in effect, was of no more use than if it had been a piece of wood.Saloo had the same feeling in regard to his blow-gun. The rifle might send a deadly bullet through the skull of the gorilla, and the latter pierce its body with an arrow that would carry a quick-spreading poison through its veins.But to what purpose, even though they could be certain of killing it? Its death would be also the death of the child. She was still living, and apparently unhurt; for they could see her moving, and hear her voice, as she was carried onward and upward in that horrible embrace.Captain Redwood dared not send a bullet nor Saloo an arrow. Slight as the chances were of saving the girl, either would have made them slighter. A successful shot of the rifle or puff of the blow-gun would be as fatal to the abducted as the abductor; and the former, with or without the latter, would be certain to fall to the foot of the tree. It was a hundred feet sheer from the point which the ape had attained to the ground. The child would not only be killed, but crushed to a shapeless mass.Ah me! what a terrible scene for her father! What a spectacle for him to contemplate!And as he stood in unutterable agony, his companions gathered around, all helpless and irresolute as to how they should act, they saw the ape suddenly change his direction, and move outward from the trunk of the tree along one of its largest limbs. This trended off in a nearly horizontal direction, at its end interlocking with a limb of the neighbouring tree, which stretched out as if to shake hands with it.A distance of more than fifty feet lay between the two trunks, but their branches met in close embrace.The purpose of the ape was apparent. It designed passing from one to the other, and thence into the depths of the forest.The design was quickly followed by its execution. As the spectators rushed to the side by which the gorilla was retreating, they saw it lay hold of the interlocking twigs, draw the branch nearer, bridge the space between with its long straggling arm, and then bound from one to the other with the agility of a squirrel.And this with the use of only one arm, for by the other the child was still carried in the same close hug. Its legs acted as arms, and for travelling through the tree-tops three were sufficient.On into the heart of the deep foliage of the second tree, and without a pause on into the next; along another pair of counterpart limbs, which, intertwining their leafy sprays and boughs, still further into the forest, all the time bearing its precious burden along with it.The agonised father ran below, rifle in hand. He might as well have been without one, for all the use he dared to make of it.And Henry, too, followed with the ship’s musket. True, it had missed fire, and the damp priming was still in the pan. Damp or dry, it now mattered not. Saloo’s sumpitan was an equally ineffective weapon. Murtagh with his fishing-hooks might as well have thought of capturing the monster with a bait.On it scrambled from tree to tree, and on ran the pursuers underneath, yet with no thought of being able to stay its course. They were carried forward by the mere mechanical instinct to keep it in sight, with perhaps some slight hope that in the end something might occur—some interruption might arise by which they would be enabled to effect a rescue of the child from its horrible captor.It was at best but a faint consolation. Nor would they have cherished it, but for their trust in a higher power than their own. Of themselves they knew they could not let or hinder the abductor in its flight.All felt their own helplessness. But it is just in that supreme moment, when man feels his utter weakness, that his vague trust in a superior Being becomes a devout and perfect faith.Captain Redwood was not what is usually called a religious man, meaning thereby a strict adherent to the Church, and a regular observer of its ordinances. For all this he was a firm believer in the existence of a providential and protecting power.His exclamations were many, and not very coherent; but their burden was ever a prayer to God for the preservation of his daughter.“Helen, my child! Helen! What will become of her? O Father! O God, protect her!”
It would be impossible to paint the despair that wrung her brother’s heart, as he stood with upturned face and eyes bent upon a scene in which he had no longer the power to take part.
Not much less intense was the agonised emotion of Murtagh; for little Helen was almost as dear to the Irishman as if she had been his own daughter.
Neither could have any other thought than that the child was lost beyond hope of recovery. She would either be torn to pieces by the claws of the monster, or by its great yellow teeth, already displayed to their view, and flung in mangled fragments to the ground. They actually stood for some time in expectation of seeing this sad catastrophe; and it would be vain to attempt any description of their emotions.
It was no relief when the two hunters came up, as they did at that instant, on their return from the chase. Their approach for the last two or three hundred yards had been hastened into a run by the shrieks of Helen and the shouts of Henry and Murtagh. Their arrival only added two new figures to the tableau of distress, and two voices to its expression.
The ape could still be seen through the foliage ascending to the top of the tree; but Captain Redwood felt that the rifle he held in his hands, though sure of aim and fatal in effect, was of no more use than if it had been a piece of wood.
Saloo had the same feeling in regard to his blow-gun. The rifle might send a deadly bullet through the skull of the gorilla, and the latter pierce its body with an arrow that would carry a quick-spreading poison through its veins.
But to what purpose, even though they could be certain of killing it? Its death would be also the death of the child. She was still living, and apparently unhurt; for they could see her moving, and hear her voice, as she was carried onward and upward in that horrible embrace.
Captain Redwood dared not send a bullet nor Saloo an arrow. Slight as the chances were of saving the girl, either would have made them slighter. A successful shot of the rifle or puff of the blow-gun would be as fatal to the abducted as the abductor; and the former, with or without the latter, would be certain to fall to the foot of the tree. It was a hundred feet sheer from the point which the ape had attained to the ground. The child would not only be killed, but crushed to a shapeless mass.
Ah me! what a terrible scene for her father! What a spectacle for him to contemplate!
And as he stood in unutterable agony, his companions gathered around, all helpless and irresolute as to how they should act, they saw the ape suddenly change his direction, and move outward from the trunk of the tree along one of its largest limbs. This trended off in a nearly horizontal direction, at its end interlocking with a limb of the neighbouring tree, which stretched out as if to shake hands with it.
A distance of more than fifty feet lay between the two trunks, but their branches met in close embrace.
The purpose of the ape was apparent. It designed passing from one to the other, and thence into the depths of the forest.
The design was quickly followed by its execution. As the spectators rushed to the side by which the gorilla was retreating, they saw it lay hold of the interlocking twigs, draw the branch nearer, bridge the space between with its long straggling arm, and then bound from one to the other with the agility of a squirrel.
And this with the use of only one arm, for by the other the child was still carried in the same close hug. Its legs acted as arms, and for travelling through the tree-tops three were sufficient.
On into the heart of the deep foliage of the second tree, and without a pause on into the next; along another pair of counterpart limbs, which, intertwining their leafy sprays and boughs, still further into the forest, all the time bearing its precious burden along with it.
The agonised father ran below, rifle in hand. He might as well have been without one, for all the use he dared to make of it.
And Henry, too, followed with the ship’s musket. True, it had missed fire, and the damp priming was still in the pan. Damp or dry, it now mattered not. Saloo’s sumpitan was an equally ineffective weapon. Murtagh with his fishing-hooks might as well have thought of capturing the monster with a bait.
On it scrambled from tree to tree, and on ran the pursuers underneath, yet with no thought of being able to stay its course. They were carried forward by the mere mechanical instinct to keep it in sight, with perhaps some slight hope that in the end something might occur—some interruption might arise by which they would be enabled to effect a rescue of the child from its horrible captor.
It was at best but a faint consolation. Nor would they have cherished it, but for their trust in a higher power than their own. Of themselves they knew they could not let or hinder the abductor in its flight.
All felt their own helplessness. But it is just in that supreme moment, when man feels his utter weakness, that his vague trust in a superior Being becomes a devout and perfect faith.
Captain Redwood was not what is usually called a religious man, meaning thereby a strict adherent to the Church, and a regular observer of its ordinances. For all this he was a firm believer in the existence of a providential and protecting power.
His exclamations were many, and not very coherent; but their burden was ever a prayer to God for the preservation of his daughter.
“Helen, my child! Helen! What will become of her? O Father! O God, protect her!”
Chapter Thirty One.The Pursuit Arrested.From branch to branch, and tree to tree, the red gorilla continued its swift advance; still bearing with it the little Helen.From trunk to trunk, the pursuers crawled through the underwood beneath, feeling as helpless as ever.What was to be the end of this strangely singular pursuit they could not tell, for they had never before—and perhaps no man at any time had—taken part in such a chase, or even heard of one so terrible.They could offer no conjecture as to what might be its termination; but moved forward mechanically, keeping the gorilla in sight.Was Helen yet living, or was she dead? No cry came from her lips, no word, no sound! Had the life been crushed out of her body by the pressure of that strong muscular arm, twined round her like the limb of an oak? Or was the silence due to temporary loss of feeling?She might well have swooned away in such a situation; and her father, struggling with faint hopes, would have been glad to think this was indeed the case.No signs could be gained from what they heard, and none from what they saw. They were now passing through the very depth of the forest—a tropical forest, with the trees meeting overhead, and not a speck of sky visible through the interwoven branches, loaded with their thick festoons of leaves and lianas.They were gliding through dense arcades, lit up with just sufficient sunshine to wear the sombre shadows of a dusky twilight. There were even places where the retreating form of the ape could not have been distinguishable in the obscurity, but for the white drapery of the child’s dress, now torn into shreds, and flaunting like streamers behind it. These luckily served as a beacon to guide them on through the gloom.Now and then the chase led them into less shady depths, where the sunlight fell more freely through the leafy screen above. At such points they could obtain a better view, both of the red abductor and its captive.But even then only a glimpse—the speed at which the gorilla was going, as well as the foliage that intervened, preventing any lengthened observation.Nor were the pursuers at any time able to get sight of the child’s face. It appeared to be turned toward the animal’s breast, her head buried in its coarse shaggy hair, with which her own tresses were mingled in strange contrast.Even her form could not be clearly distinguished. As far as they could decide by their occasional glimpses, they thought she was still alive. The brute did not seem to treat her with any malevolent violence. Only in a rude uncouth way; which, however, might suffice to cause the death of one so young and frail.To depict the feelings of her father, under such circumstances, would be a task the most eloquent pen could not successfully attempt. Agony like his can never be described. Language possesses not the power. There are thoughts which lie too deep for words; passions whose expression defies the genius of the artist or the poet.Perhaps he was hindered from realising the full measure of his bereavement during the first moments of the pursuit. The excitement of the chase, and the incidents attending it—the hope still remaining that some chance would arise in their favour—the certainty, soon ascertained, that they could keep up with the ape, which, despite its agility in the trees, cannot outstrip a man pursuing it along the ground,—all these circumstances had hitherto withheld him from giving way to utter despair.But the time had come when even these slight supports were to fail.It was when they arrived upon the brink of a lagoon, and a water-surface gleamed before their eyes; reflected by a daylight that struggled dimly down through the tops of the tall trees.The trees rose out of the water, their trunks wide apart, but their branches intermingling.The path of our pursuers was interrupted—they saw it at once—but that of the pursued seemed continuous as before.They were arrested suddenly on the brink of the lagoon, apparently with no chance of proceeding farther. They saw the red gorilla still climbing among the trees, with the white drapery streaming behind it.Soon they saw it not—only heard the crackle of twigs, and the swishing recoil of the branches, as its huge body swung from tree to tree.The monster was now out of sight, along with its victim—a victim, in very truth, whether living or dead!But for the support of Murtagh and Saloo, Captain Redwood would have fallen to the earth. In their arms he sobbed and gasped,—“Helen! my child, Helen! What will become of her? O Father! O God, protect her!”
From branch to branch, and tree to tree, the red gorilla continued its swift advance; still bearing with it the little Helen.
From trunk to trunk, the pursuers crawled through the underwood beneath, feeling as helpless as ever.
What was to be the end of this strangely singular pursuit they could not tell, for they had never before—and perhaps no man at any time had—taken part in such a chase, or even heard of one so terrible.
They could offer no conjecture as to what might be its termination; but moved forward mechanically, keeping the gorilla in sight.
Was Helen yet living, or was she dead? No cry came from her lips, no word, no sound! Had the life been crushed out of her body by the pressure of that strong muscular arm, twined round her like the limb of an oak? Or was the silence due to temporary loss of feeling?
She might well have swooned away in such a situation; and her father, struggling with faint hopes, would have been glad to think this was indeed the case.
No signs could be gained from what they heard, and none from what they saw. They were now passing through the very depth of the forest—a tropical forest, with the trees meeting overhead, and not a speck of sky visible through the interwoven branches, loaded with their thick festoons of leaves and lianas.
They were gliding through dense arcades, lit up with just sufficient sunshine to wear the sombre shadows of a dusky twilight. There were even places where the retreating form of the ape could not have been distinguishable in the obscurity, but for the white drapery of the child’s dress, now torn into shreds, and flaunting like streamers behind it. These luckily served as a beacon to guide them on through the gloom.
Now and then the chase led them into less shady depths, where the sunlight fell more freely through the leafy screen above. At such points they could obtain a better view, both of the red abductor and its captive.
But even then only a glimpse—the speed at which the gorilla was going, as well as the foliage that intervened, preventing any lengthened observation.
Nor were the pursuers at any time able to get sight of the child’s face. It appeared to be turned toward the animal’s breast, her head buried in its coarse shaggy hair, with which her own tresses were mingled in strange contrast.
Even her form could not be clearly distinguished. As far as they could decide by their occasional glimpses, they thought she was still alive. The brute did not seem to treat her with any malevolent violence. Only in a rude uncouth way; which, however, might suffice to cause the death of one so young and frail.
To depict the feelings of her father, under such circumstances, would be a task the most eloquent pen could not successfully attempt. Agony like his can never be described. Language possesses not the power. There are thoughts which lie too deep for words; passions whose expression defies the genius of the artist or the poet.
Perhaps he was hindered from realising the full measure of his bereavement during the first moments of the pursuit. The excitement of the chase, and the incidents attending it—the hope still remaining that some chance would arise in their favour—the certainty, soon ascertained, that they could keep up with the ape, which, despite its agility in the trees, cannot outstrip a man pursuing it along the ground,—all these circumstances had hitherto withheld him from giving way to utter despair.
But the time had come when even these slight supports were to fail.
It was when they arrived upon the brink of a lagoon, and a water-surface gleamed before their eyes; reflected by a daylight that struggled dimly down through the tops of the tall trees.
The trees rose out of the water, their trunks wide apart, but their branches intermingling.
The path of our pursuers was interrupted—they saw it at once—but that of the pursued seemed continuous as before.
They were arrested suddenly on the brink of the lagoon, apparently with no chance of proceeding farther. They saw the red gorilla still climbing among the trees, with the white drapery streaming behind it.
Soon they saw it not—only heard the crackle of twigs, and the swishing recoil of the branches, as its huge body swung from tree to tree.
The monster was now out of sight, along with its victim—a victim, in very truth, whether living or dead!
But for the support of Murtagh and Saloo, Captain Redwood would have fallen to the earth. In their arms he sobbed and gasped,—
“Helen! my child, Helen! What will become of her? O Father! O God, protect her!”
Chapter Thirty Two.Listening In Despair.For some seconds Captain Redwood was powerless in a frenzy of despair. Henry was equally overcome by grief truly agonising. It was to both father and son a moment of the most unutterable anguish.Helen, the dear daughter and sister, carried out of their sight, apparently beyond reach of pursuit. And in the arms of a hideous creature which was neither wholly man nor wholly beast, but combined the worst attributes of each.Perhaps she was already dead within the loathsome embrace—her tender body soon to be torn to pieces, or tossed from the top of some tall tree; to be crushed and mangled on the earth, or thrown with a plunge into the cold dark waters of that dismal lagoon, never more to be seen or heard of.These were horrid thoughts and hideous images which rushed rapidly through their minds as they stood in the sombre shadow, picturing to themselves her too probable fate. It was no longer a question about her life.They knew, or believed, her to be dead. They only thought of what was to become of her body; what chance there might be of recovering and giving it the sacred rights of sepulture. Even this slight consolation occupied the mind of the distracted father.The Malay, well acquainted with the habits of the great man-ape, could give no answer. He only knew that the child’s body would not be eaten up by it; since the red gorilla is never known to feed upon flesh—fruit and vegetables being its only diet.The whole thing was perplexing him, as an occurrence altogether unusual. He had known of people being killed and torn to pieces by the animal in its anger; but never of one being carried up into the trees.Usually these animals will not volunteer an attack upon man, and are only violent when assailed. Then, indeed, are they terrible in their strength as in their ferocity.The one now encountered must have been infuriated by its fight with the crocodile; and coming straight from the encounter, had in some way connected the children with its conquered enemy. Murtagh’s shout might have freshly incensed it; or, what to Saloo seemed more probable than all, the seizure of the child might be a wild freak suddenly striking the brain of the enraged satyr.He had heard of such eccentricities on the part of the ourang-outang, and there is a belief among the Dyak hunters that the mias sometimes goesmad, just as men do.This reasoning did not take place on the edge of the lagoon, nor any discussion of such questions. They were thoughts that had been expressed during the pursuit, at no time hurried. The captain and his companions had easily kept pace with the pursued, while passing through the dry forest; and time enough was allowed them to think and talk of many things.Now that they could no longer follow, scarce a word was exchanged between them. Their emotions were too sad for utterance, otherwise than by exclamations which spoke only of despair.It was well they were silent, for it gave Saloo the opportunity of listening. Ever since the ape had passed from their sight, his ear had been keenly anxious to catch every sound, as he still entertained a hope of being able to trace its passage through the trees.Thoroughly conversant with the animal’s habits, he knew that it must have an abiding-place—a nest. This might be near at hand. The proximity of the lagoon almost convinced him that it was so.The mias makes a temporary roost for his repose anywhere it may be wandering—constructing it in a few moments, by breaking off the branches and laying them crosswise on a forked limb; but Saloo was aware that, for its permanent residence, it builds a much more elaborate nest, and this, too, always over water or marshy ground, where its human enemy cannot conveniently follow it.Moreover, it chooses for the site of its dwelling a low tree or bush with umbrageous boughs, and never retires among the taller trees of the forest.This it does to avoid exposure to the chill winds, and the inconvenience of being shaken to and fro during storms or typhoons.With all this knowledge in his memory, the Malay had conceived a hope that the monster’s nest might not be far off, and they would still be able to follow and find it—not to rescue the living child, but recover her dead body.Keenly and attentively he listened to every sound that came back through the water-forest—cautioning the others to be silent. A caution scarce needed, for they too stood listening, still as death, with hushed voices, and hearts only heard in their dull sad beatings.But for a short time were they thus occupied; altogether not more than five minutes. They still detected the crackling of branches which indicated the passage of the ape through the tree-tops.All at once these sounds suddenly ceased, or rather were they drowned out by sounds louder and of a very different intonation. It was a chorus of cries, in which barking, grunting, growling, coughing, cachinnation and the squalling of children seemed all to have a share. There were evidently more than one individual contributing to this strangefracasof the forest; and the noises continued to come apparently from the same place.“Allah be thank!” exclaimed Saloo, in a subdued tone. “He home at lass. Him family makee welcome. Maybe chile be live yet. Maybe mias no killee after all. Trust we in Allah, what you Inglees people callee God. Who know he yet help us!”These last words came like a renewal of life to the despairing father. He started on hearing them; fresh hope had sprung up in his breast, at the thought that his beloved child might yet be alive, and that a chance of rescuing her might still be possible.“In thy mercy, O God, grant it may be so!” were the words that fell from his lips: Murtagh, with equal fervour, saying “Amen!”
For some seconds Captain Redwood was powerless in a frenzy of despair. Henry was equally overcome by grief truly agonising. It was to both father and son a moment of the most unutterable anguish.
Helen, the dear daughter and sister, carried out of their sight, apparently beyond reach of pursuit. And in the arms of a hideous creature which was neither wholly man nor wholly beast, but combined the worst attributes of each.
Perhaps she was already dead within the loathsome embrace—her tender body soon to be torn to pieces, or tossed from the top of some tall tree; to be crushed and mangled on the earth, or thrown with a plunge into the cold dark waters of that dismal lagoon, never more to be seen or heard of.
These were horrid thoughts and hideous images which rushed rapidly through their minds as they stood in the sombre shadow, picturing to themselves her too probable fate. It was no longer a question about her life.
They knew, or believed, her to be dead. They only thought of what was to become of her body; what chance there might be of recovering and giving it the sacred rights of sepulture. Even this slight consolation occupied the mind of the distracted father.
The Malay, well acquainted with the habits of the great man-ape, could give no answer. He only knew that the child’s body would not be eaten up by it; since the red gorilla is never known to feed upon flesh—fruit and vegetables being its only diet.
The whole thing was perplexing him, as an occurrence altogether unusual. He had known of people being killed and torn to pieces by the animal in its anger; but never of one being carried up into the trees.
Usually these animals will not volunteer an attack upon man, and are only violent when assailed. Then, indeed, are they terrible in their strength as in their ferocity.
The one now encountered must have been infuriated by its fight with the crocodile; and coming straight from the encounter, had in some way connected the children with its conquered enemy. Murtagh’s shout might have freshly incensed it; or, what to Saloo seemed more probable than all, the seizure of the child might be a wild freak suddenly striking the brain of the enraged satyr.
He had heard of such eccentricities on the part of the ourang-outang, and there is a belief among the Dyak hunters that the mias sometimes goesmad, just as men do.
This reasoning did not take place on the edge of the lagoon, nor any discussion of such questions. They were thoughts that had been expressed during the pursuit, at no time hurried. The captain and his companions had easily kept pace with the pursued, while passing through the dry forest; and time enough was allowed them to think and talk of many things.
Now that they could no longer follow, scarce a word was exchanged between them. Their emotions were too sad for utterance, otherwise than by exclamations which spoke only of despair.
It was well they were silent, for it gave Saloo the opportunity of listening. Ever since the ape had passed from their sight, his ear had been keenly anxious to catch every sound, as he still entertained a hope of being able to trace its passage through the trees.
Thoroughly conversant with the animal’s habits, he knew that it must have an abiding-place—a nest. This might be near at hand. The proximity of the lagoon almost convinced him that it was so.
The mias makes a temporary roost for his repose anywhere it may be wandering—constructing it in a few moments, by breaking off the branches and laying them crosswise on a forked limb; but Saloo was aware that, for its permanent residence, it builds a much more elaborate nest, and this, too, always over water or marshy ground, where its human enemy cannot conveniently follow it.
Moreover, it chooses for the site of its dwelling a low tree or bush with umbrageous boughs, and never retires among the taller trees of the forest.
This it does to avoid exposure to the chill winds, and the inconvenience of being shaken to and fro during storms or typhoons.
With all this knowledge in his memory, the Malay had conceived a hope that the monster’s nest might not be far off, and they would still be able to follow and find it—not to rescue the living child, but recover her dead body.
Keenly and attentively he listened to every sound that came back through the water-forest—cautioning the others to be silent. A caution scarce needed, for they too stood listening, still as death, with hushed voices, and hearts only heard in their dull sad beatings.
But for a short time were they thus occupied; altogether not more than five minutes. They still detected the crackling of branches which indicated the passage of the ape through the tree-tops.
All at once these sounds suddenly ceased, or rather were they drowned out by sounds louder and of a very different intonation. It was a chorus of cries, in which barking, grunting, growling, coughing, cachinnation and the squalling of children seemed all to have a share. There were evidently more than one individual contributing to this strangefracasof the forest; and the noises continued to come apparently from the same place.
“Allah be thank!” exclaimed Saloo, in a subdued tone. “He home at lass. Him family makee welcome. Maybe chile be live yet. Maybe mias no killee after all. Trust we in Allah, what you Inglees people callee God. Who know he yet help us!”
These last words came like a renewal of life to the despairing father. He started on hearing them; fresh hope had sprung up in his breast, at the thought that his beloved child might yet be alive, and that a chance of rescuing her might still be possible.
“In thy mercy, O God, grant it may be so!” were the words that fell from his lips: Murtagh, with equal fervour, saying “Amen!”
Chapter Thirty Three.Striking Out.Inspired to renewed energy, Captain Redwood rushed to the edge of the lagoon, with the view of ascertaining its depth, and seeing whether it might possibly be waded.He soon discovered that it could not. In less than ten paces from the edge he was up to the arm-pits, and from thence it seemed to deepen still more abruptly. Another step forward, and the water rose over his shoulders, the bottom still sloping downwards. The lagoon was evidently impassable.He drew back despairingly, though not to return to the shore. He stood facing the centre of the lagoon, whence still came the strange noises: though scarce so loud or varied as before, they did not appear to be any more distant. Whatever creatures were making them, it was evident they were stationary, either in the trees or upon the ground. They did not sound as if they came from on high; but this might be a deception, caused by the influence of the water. One of the voices bore a singular resemblance to that of a child. It could not be Helen’s; it more resembled the squalling of an infant. Saloo knew what it was. In the plaintive tones he recognised the scream of a young ourang-outang.It was a proof his conjecture was true, and that the mias had reached its home.All the more anxious was Captain Redwood to reach the spot whence the sounds proceeded. Something like a presentiment had entered his mind that there was still a hope, and that his child lived and might be rescued.Even if torn, injured, disfigured for life, she might survive. Any sort of life, so long as she could be recovered; and if she could not be restored, at least she might breathe her last breath in his arms. Even that would be easier to bear than the thought that she had gone to rest in the grasp of the hirsute gorilla, with its hideous offspring grinning and gibbering around her.The lagoon could not be waded on foot; but a good swimmer might cross it. The captain was an experienced and accomplished swimmer. The voices came from no great distance—certainly not above half a mile. On one occasion he had accomplished a league in a rough sea! There could be no difficulty in doing as much on the smooth, tranquil water of that tree-shaded lake.He had opened his arms and prepared to strike out, when a thought stayed him. Saloo, who had waded to his side, also arrested him by laying a hand on his shoulder.“You try swimmee, cappen, no good without weapon; we both go togedder—muss take gun, sumpitan, kliss, else no chance killee mias.”It was the thought that had occurred to Captain Redwood himself.“Yes, you are right, Saloo. I must take my rifle, but how am I to keep it dry?—there’s not time to make a raft.”“No raff need, cappen; givee me you gun—Saloo swim single-hand well as two; he cally the gun.”Captain Redwood knew it to be true that Saloo, as he said, could swim with one hand as well as he himself with both.He was a Malay, to whom swimming in the water is almost as natural as walking upon the land. His old pilot could scarcely have been drowned if he had been flung into the sea twenty miles from shore.He at once yielded to Saloo’s counsel; and both hastily returned to the edge of the lagoon to make preparations.These did not occupy long. The captain threw off some of his clothes, stowed his powder-flask and some bullets in the crown of his hat, which he fastened firmly on his head. He retained a knife—intended in case of necessity—to be carried between his teeth, giving his gun to Saloo.The Malay, having less undressing to do, had already completed the arrangements. On the top of his turban, safely secured by a knotting of his long black hair, he had fastened his bamboo quiver of poisoned arrows; while his kris—with which a Malay under no circumstances thinks of parting—lay along his thigh, kept in position by the waist-strap used in suspending hissarong. With his sumpitan and the captain’s gun in his left hand, he was ready to take to the water. Not another moment was lost; the voices of the ourangs seemed to be calling them; and plunging through the shallow, they were soon out in deep water, and striking steadily but rapidly, silently but surely, towards the centre of the lagoon.Henry and Murtagh remained on the shore looking after them. The ship-carpenter was but an indifferent swimmer, and the youth was not strong enough to have swam half a mile. It was doubtful if either could have reached the spot where the apes seemed to have made their rendezvous. And if so, they would have been too exhausted to have rendered any service in case of a sudden conflict.The brave Irishman, devoted to his old skipper, and Henry, anxious to share his father’s fate, would have made the attempt; but Captain Redwood restrained them, directing both to await his return.They stood close to the water’s edge, following the swimmers with their eyes, and with prayers for their success, scarcely uttered in words, but fervently felt; Murtagh, according to the custom of his country and creed, sealing the petition by making the sign of the cross.
Inspired to renewed energy, Captain Redwood rushed to the edge of the lagoon, with the view of ascertaining its depth, and seeing whether it might possibly be waded.
He soon discovered that it could not. In less than ten paces from the edge he was up to the arm-pits, and from thence it seemed to deepen still more abruptly. Another step forward, and the water rose over his shoulders, the bottom still sloping downwards. The lagoon was evidently impassable.
He drew back despairingly, though not to return to the shore. He stood facing the centre of the lagoon, whence still came the strange noises: though scarce so loud or varied as before, they did not appear to be any more distant. Whatever creatures were making them, it was evident they were stationary, either in the trees or upon the ground. They did not sound as if they came from on high; but this might be a deception, caused by the influence of the water. One of the voices bore a singular resemblance to that of a child. It could not be Helen’s; it more resembled the squalling of an infant. Saloo knew what it was. In the plaintive tones he recognised the scream of a young ourang-outang.
It was a proof his conjecture was true, and that the mias had reached its home.
All the more anxious was Captain Redwood to reach the spot whence the sounds proceeded. Something like a presentiment had entered his mind that there was still a hope, and that his child lived and might be rescued.
Even if torn, injured, disfigured for life, she might survive. Any sort of life, so long as she could be recovered; and if she could not be restored, at least she might breathe her last breath in his arms. Even that would be easier to bear than the thought that she had gone to rest in the grasp of the hirsute gorilla, with its hideous offspring grinning and gibbering around her.
The lagoon could not be waded on foot; but a good swimmer might cross it. The captain was an experienced and accomplished swimmer. The voices came from no great distance—certainly not above half a mile. On one occasion he had accomplished a league in a rough sea! There could be no difficulty in doing as much on the smooth, tranquil water of that tree-shaded lake.
He had opened his arms and prepared to strike out, when a thought stayed him. Saloo, who had waded to his side, also arrested him by laying a hand on his shoulder.
“You try swimmee, cappen, no good without weapon; we both go togedder—muss take gun, sumpitan, kliss, else no chance killee mias.”
It was the thought that had occurred to Captain Redwood himself.
“Yes, you are right, Saloo. I must take my rifle, but how am I to keep it dry?—there’s not time to make a raft.”
“No raff need, cappen; givee me you gun—Saloo swim single-hand well as two; he cally the gun.”
Captain Redwood knew it to be true that Saloo, as he said, could swim with one hand as well as he himself with both.
He was a Malay, to whom swimming in the water is almost as natural as walking upon the land. His old pilot could scarcely have been drowned if he had been flung into the sea twenty miles from shore.
He at once yielded to Saloo’s counsel; and both hastily returned to the edge of the lagoon to make preparations.
These did not occupy long. The captain threw off some of his clothes, stowed his powder-flask and some bullets in the crown of his hat, which he fastened firmly on his head. He retained a knife—intended in case of necessity—to be carried between his teeth, giving his gun to Saloo.
The Malay, having less undressing to do, had already completed the arrangements. On the top of his turban, safely secured by a knotting of his long black hair, he had fastened his bamboo quiver of poisoned arrows; while his kris—with which a Malay under no circumstances thinks of parting—lay along his thigh, kept in position by the waist-strap used in suspending hissarong. With his sumpitan and the captain’s gun in his left hand, he was ready to take to the water. Not another moment was lost; the voices of the ourangs seemed to be calling them; and plunging through the shallow, they were soon out in deep water, and striking steadily but rapidly, silently but surely, towards the centre of the lagoon.
Henry and Murtagh remained on the shore looking after them. The ship-carpenter was but an indifferent swimmer, and the youth was not strong enough to have swam half a mile. It was doubtful if either could have reached the spot where the apes seemed to have made their rendezvous. And if so, they would have been too exhausted to have rendered any service in case of a sudden conflict.
The brave Irishman, devoted to his old skipper, and Henry, anxious to share his father’s fate, would have made the attempt; but Captain Redwood restrained them, directing both to await his return.
They stood close to the water’s edge, following the swimmers with their eyes, and with prayers for their success, scarcely uttered in words, but fervently felt; Murtagh, according to the custom of his country and creed, sealing the petition by making the sign of the cross.
Chapter Thirty Four.Swimming in Shadow.Silently and swiftly the two swimmers continued their course through the shadowy aisles of the forest. Twilight, almost darkness, was above and around them; for the trees meeting overhead caused an obscurity sombre as night itself. No ray of sunlight ever danced upon the surface of that dismal lagoon.They would have lost their way, had not the noises guided them. Should these be discontinued, their exertions might be all in vain.They thought of this as they proceeded, and reflected also on the course to be adopted when they reached the rendezvous of the gorillas. Supposing there could be no footing found, how were they to use either gun or sumpitan?The question passed between them in a whisper as they swam side by side. Neither knew how to answer it.Saloo only expressed a hope that they might get upon the limb of a tree near enough to send a bullet or arrow into the body of the mias, and terminate his career.There seemed no other chance, and they swam on, keeping it before their minds.About the direction, they had no difficulty whatever. Although the surface of the water was of inky blackness, from the shadowing trees above, and the huge trunks standing out of it now and then forced them into an occasional deviation, they advanced without any great difficulty.They swam around the tree trunks, and, guided by the voices of the gorillas, easily regained their course. The noises were no longer sharp screams or hoarse coughs, but a kind of jabbering jargon, as if the apes were engaged in a family confabulation.The swimmers at length arrived so near, that they no longer felt any fear about finding the way to the place where the reunion of thequadrumanawas being held; and which could not be more than a hundred yards distant.Silently gliding through the water, the eyes of both peered intently forward, in an endeavour to pierce the obscurity, and, if possible, discover some low limb of a tree, or projecting buttress, on which they might find a foothold. They had good hope of success, for they had seen many such since starting from the shore. Had rest been necessary, they might have obtained it more than once by grasping a branch above, or clinging to one of the great trunks, whose gnarled and knotted sides would have afforded sufficient support.But they were both strong swimmers, and needed no rest. There was none for the bereaved father—could be none—till he should reach the termination of their strange enterprise, and know what was to be its result.As they swam onward, now proceeding with increased caution, their eyes scanning the dark surface before them, both all of a sudden and simultaneously came to a stop. It was just as if something underneath the water had laid hold of them by the legs, checking them at the same instant of time.And somethinghadimpeded their farther progress, but not from behind. In front was the obstruction, which proved to be a bank of earth, that, though under the water, rose within a few inches of its surface. The breast of each swimmer had struck against it, the shock raising them into a half-erect attitude, from which they had no need to return to the horizontal. On the contrary, they now rose upon their feet, which they felt to be resting on a firm hard bottom.Standing in pleased surprise, they could better survey the prospect before them; and after a minute spent in gazing through the gloom, they saw that dry land was close to the spot where they had been so abruptly arrested.It appeared only a low-lying islet, scarce rising above the level of the lagoon, and of limited extent—only a few rods in superficial area. It was thickly covered with trees; but, unlike those standing in the water, which were tall and with single stems, those upon the islet were supported by many trunks, proclaiming them to be some species of the Indian fig orbanyan.One near the centre, from its greater width and more numerous supporting pillars, seemed the patriarch of the tribe; and to this their eyes were especially directed. For out of its leafy shadows came the strange sounds which had hitherto guided them.Among its branches, without any doubt, the red gorilla had his home; and there he would be found in the bosom of his family.Grasping his gun, and whispering to Saloo to follow him, Captain Redwood started towards the tree so clearly indicated as the goal of their expedition.
Silently and swiftly the two swimmers continued their course through the shadowy aisles of the forest. Twilight, almost darkness, was above and around them; for the trees meeting overhead caused an obscurity sombre as night itself. No ray of sunlight ever danced upon the surface of that dismal lagoon.
They would have lost their way, had not the noises guided them. Should these be discontinued, their exertions might be all in vain.
They thought of this as they proceeded, and reflected also on the course to be adopted when they reached the rendezvous of the gorillas. Supposing there could be no footing found, how were they to use either gun or sumpitan?
The question passed between them in a whisper as they swam side by side. Neither knew how to answer it.
Saloo only expressed a hope that they might get upon the limb of a tree near enough to send a bullet or arrow into the body of the mias, and terminate his career.
There seemed no other chance, and they swam on, keeping it before their minds.
About the direction, they had no difficulty whatever. Although the surface of the water was of inky blackness, from the shadowing trees above, and the huge trunks standing out of it now and then forced them into an occasional deviation, they advanced without any great difficulty.
They swam around the tree trunks, and, guided by the voices of the gorillas, easily regained their course. The noises were no longer sharp screams or hoarse coughs, but a kind of jabbering jargon, as if the apes were engaged in a family confabulation.
The swimmers at length arrived so near, that they no longer felt any fear about finding the way to the place where the reunion of thequadrumanawas being held; and which could not be more than a hundred yards distant.
Silently gliding through the water, the eyes of both peered intently forward, in an endeavour to pierce the obscurity, and, if possible, discover some low limb of a tree, or projecting buttress, on which they might find a foothold. They had good hope of success, for they had seen many such since starting from the shore. Had rest been necessary, they might have obtained it more than once by grasping a branch above, or clinging to one of the great trunks, whose gnarled and knotted sides would have afforded sufficient support.
But they were both strong swimmers, and needed no rest. There was none for the bereaved father—could be none—till he should reach the termination of their strange enterprise, and know what was to be its result.
As they swam onward, now proceeding with increased caution, their eyes scanning the dark surface before them, both all of a sudden and simultaneously came to a stop. It was just as if something underneath the water had laid hold of them by the legs, checking them at the same instant of time.
And somethinghadimpeded their farther progress, but not from behind. In front was the obstruction, which proved to be a bank of earth, that, though under the water, rose within a few inches of its surface. The breast of each swimmer had struck against it, the shock raising them into a half-erect attitude, from which they had no need to return to the horizontal. On the contrary, they now rose upon their feet, which they felt to be resting on a firm hard bottom.
Standing in pleased surprise, they could better survey the prospect before them; and after a minute spent in gazing through the gloom, they saw that dry land was close to the spot where they had been so abruptly arrested.
It appeared only a low-lying islet, scarce rising above the level of the lagoon, and of limited extent—only a few rods in superficial area. It was thickly covered with trees; but, unlike those standing in the water, which were tall and with single stems, those upon the islet were supported by many trunks, proclaiming them to be some species of the Indian fig orbanyan.
One near the centre, from its greater width and more numerous supporting pillars, seemed the patriarch of the tribe; and to this their eyes were especially directed. For out of its leafy shadows came the strange sounds which had hitherto guided them.
Among its branches, without any doubt, the red gorilla had his home; and there he would be found in the bosom of his family.
Grasping his gun, and whispering to Saloo to follow him, Captain Redwood started towards the tree so clearly indicated as the goal of their expedition.
Chapter Thirty Five.The Family at Home.Soon after the intended assailants stood among the rooted branches of the banyan. The gloom underneath its umbrageous branches was deepened by what appeared to be an immense scaffolding constructed near the top of the tree, and extending far out along the horizontal limbs.Saloo at once recognised the permanent nest or roosting-place of amias rombi—such as he had often seen in the forests of Sumatra, where the same, or a closely allied species, has its home.The tree was not a tall one, but low and widespreading; while the broad platform-like nest, formed by interwoven branches, upon which lay a thick layer of grass and leaves, was not more than twenty feet above the surface of the earth.The obscurity which prevailed around favoured their stealthy approach; and like a pair of spectres gliding through the upright pillars, Captain Redwood and his old pilot at length found a position favourable for a survey of the platform erected by the gorilla.The father’s heart was filled with strange indescribable emotions, as with eye keenly bent he stood upon a projecting branch, that brought his head on a level with this curious structure.There he saw a scene which stirred his soul to its deepest depths.His daughter, appearing snow-white amid the gloom, was lying upon the scaffold, her golden hair dishevelled, her dress torn into ribbons—portions of it detached and scattered about.To all appearance she was dead; for, scanning her with the earnest anxious glance of a keen solicitude, he could not detect any movement either in body or limbs; and it was too dark for him to tell whether her eyes were open or closed.But he had now very little hope. He was indeed too certain they were closed in the sleep of death.Around her were assembled three human-like forms, monstrous withal, and all alike covered with a coating of red hair, thick, long, and shaggy. They were of different sizes, and in the largest one he recognised the abductor of his child.The second in size, whose form proclaimed it to be a female, was evidently the wife of the huge man-ape; while the little creature, about eighteen inches in height—though a perfect miniature likeness of its parents—was the infant whose squalling had contributed more than anything else to guide them through the shades of the lagoon.The old male, perhaps suffering fatigue from its fight with the crocodile, as well as from the chase he had sustained, crouched upon the scaffold, seemingly asleep.The other two were still in motion, the mother at intervals seizing her hairy offspring, and grotesquely caressing it; then letting it go free to dance fantastically around the recumbent form of the unconscious captive child. This it did, amusing itself by now and then tearing off a strip of the girl’s dress, either with its claws or teeth.It was a spectacle wild, weird, altogether indescribable; and by Captain Redwood not to be looked upon a moment longer than was necessary to embrace its details.Having satisfied himself, he raised his rifle to fire upon the family party, intending first to aim at the father, whose death he most desired, and who living would no doubt prove by far the most dangerous antagonist.In another instant his bullet would have sped towards the breast of the sleeping giant, but for Saloo, who, grasping his arm, restrained him.“Tay, cappen,” said the Malay in a whisper; “leave me kill em. Sumpit bettel dun bullet. De gun makee noise—wake old mias up, an’ maybe no killee em. De upas poison bettel. It go silent—quick. See how Saloo slay dem all tlee!”There was something in Saloo’s suggestions which caused Captain Redwood to ground his rifle and reflect. His reflections quickly ended in his giving place to his old pilot, and leaving the latter to work out the problem in his own way.Stepping up to the branch assigned to him, which commanded a view of the spectacle so torturing to his master, the Malay took a brief glance at the scene—only a very brief one. It enabled him to select the first victim for his envenomed shaft, the same which Captain Redwood had destined to receive the leaden missile from his gun.Bringing to his mouth the sumpitan, in whose tube he had already placed one of his poisoned arrows, and compressing the trumpet-shaped embouchure against his lips, he gave a puff that sent the shaft on its deadly way with such velocity, that even in clear daylight its exit could only have been detected like a spark from a flint.In the obscurity that shrouded the gorilla’s roost, nothing at all was seen, and nothing heard; for the sumpit is as silent on its message as the wing of an owl when beating through the twilight.True, there was something heard, though it was not the sound of the arrow.Only a growl from the great red gorilla, that had felt something sting him, and on feeling it threw up his paw to scratch the place, no doubt fancying it to be but the bite of a mosquito or hornet. The piece of stick broken off by his fingers may have seemed to him rather strange, but not enough so to arouse him from his dreamy indifference.Not even when another and another sting of the same unusual kind caused him to renew his scratching—for by this time he was beginning to succumb to the narcotic influence that would soon induce the sleep of death.It did thus end: for after a time, and almost without a struggle, the red-haired monster lay stretched upon the platform which had long been his resting-place, his huge limbs supple and tremulous with the last throes of life.And beside him, in the same condition, was soon after seen his wife, who, of weaker conformation, had more quickly yielded to the soporific effect of the upas poison, from which, when it has once pervaded the blood, there is no chance of recovery.Saloo did not deem the infant mias worthy a single arrow, and after its parents had been disposed of, he sprang upon the scaffold, followed by Captain Redwood, who, the moment after, was kneeling by his child, and with ear closely pressed to her bosom, listened to learn if her heart was still beating.It was!
Soon after the intended assailants stood among the rooted branches of the banyan. The gloom underneath its umbrageous branches was deepened by what appeared to be an immense scaffolding constructed near the top of the tree, and extending far out along the horizontal limbs.
Saloo at once recognised the permanent nest or roosting-place of amias rombi—such as he had often seen in the forests of Sumatra, where the same, or a closely allied species, has its home.
The tree was not a tall one, but low and widespreading; while the broad platform-like nest, formed by interwoven branches, upon which lay a thick layer of grass and leaves, was not more than twenty feet above the surface of the earth.
The obscurity which prevailed around favoured their stealthy approach; and like a pair of spectres gliding through the upright pillars, Captain Redwood and his old pilot at length found a position favourable for a survey of the platform erected by the gorilla.
The father’s heart was filled with strange indescribable emotions, as with eye keenly bent he stood upon a projecting branch, that brought his head on a level with this curious structure.
There he saw a scene which stirred his soul to its deepest depths.
His daughter, appearing snow-white amid the gloom, was lying upon the scaffold, her golden hair dishevelled, her dress torn into ribbons—portions of it detached and scattered about.
To all appearance she was dead; for, scanning her with the earnest anxious glance of a keen solicitude, he could not detect any movement either in body or limbs; and it was too dark for him to tell whether her eyes were open or closed.
But he had now very little hope. He was indeed too certain they were closed in the sleep of death.
Around her were assembled three human-like forms, monstrous withal, and all alike covered with a coating of red hair, thick, long, and shaggy. They were of different sizes, and in the largest one he recognised the abductor of his child.
The second in size, whose form proclaimed it to be a female, was evidently the wife of the huge man-ape; while the little creature, about eighteen inches in height—though a perfect miniature likeness of its parents—was the infant whose squalling had contributed more than anything else to guide them through the shades of the lagoon.
The old male, perhaps suffering fatigue from its fight with the crocodile, as well as from the chase he had sustained, crouched upon the scaffold, seemingly asleep.
The other two were still in motion, the mother at intervals seizing her hairy offspring, and grotesquely caressing it; then letting it go free to dance fantastically around the recumbent form of the unconscious captive child. This it did, amusing itself by now and then tearing off a strip of the girl’s dress, either with its claws or teeth.
It was a spectacle wild, weird, altogether indescribable; and by Captain Redwood not to be looked upon a moment longer than was necessary to embrace its details.
Having satisfied himself, he raised his rifle to fire upon the family party, intending first to aim at the father, whose death he most desired, and who living would no doubt prove by far the most dangerous antagonist.
In another instant his bullet would have sped towards the breast of the sleeping giant, but for Saloo, who, grasping his arm, restrained him.
“Tay, cappen,” said the Malay in a whisper; “leave me kill em. Sumpit bettel dun bullet. De gun makee noise—wake old mias up, an’ maybe no killee em. De upas poison bettel. It go silent—quick. See how Saloo slay dem all tlee!”
There was something in Saloo’s suggestions which caused Captain Redwood to ground his rifle and reflect. His reflections quickly ended in his giving place to his old pilot, and leaving the latter to work out the problem in his own way.
Stepping up to the branch assigned to him, which commanded a view of the spectacle so torturing to his master, the Malay took a brief glance at the scene—only a very brief one. It enabled him to select the first victim for his envenomed shaft, the same which Captain Redwood had destined to receive the leaden missile from his gun.
Bringing to his mouth the sumpitan, in whose tube he had already placed one of his poisoned arrows, and compressing the trumpet-shaped embouchure against his lips, he gave a puff that sent the shaft on its deadly way with such velocity, that even in clear daylight its exit could only have been detected like a spark from a flint.
In the obscurity that shrouded the gorilla’s roost, nothing at all was seen, and nothing heard; for the sumpit is as silent on its message as the wing of an owl when beating through the twilight.
True, there was something heard, though it was not the sound of the arrow.
Only a growl from the great red gorilla, that had felt something sting him, and on feeling it threw up his paw to scratch the place, no doubt fancying it to be but the bite of a mosquito or hornet. The piece of stick broken off by his fingers may have seemed to him rather strange, but not enough so to arouse him from his dreamy indifference.
Not even when another and another sting of the same unusual kind caused him to renew his scratching—for by this time he was beginning to succumb to the narcotic influence that would soon induce the sleep of death.
It did thus end: for after a time, and almost without a struggle, the red-haired monster lay stretched upon the platform which had long been his resting-place, his huge limbs supple and tremulous with the last throes of life.
And beside him, in the same condition, was soon after seen his wife, who, of weaker conformation, had more quickly yielded to the soporific effect of the upas poison, from which, when it has once pervaded the blood, there is no chance of recovery.
Saloo did not deem the infant mias worthy a single arrow, and after its parents had been disposed of, he sprang upon the scaffold, followed by Captain Redwood, who, the moment after, was kneeling by his child, and with ear closely pressed to her bosom, listened to learn if her heart was still beating.
It was!