CHAPTER XX
MY LAST SIGHT OF THE REVEREND JOHN LAPUTA
It was dark before I got into the gorge of the Letaba. I passed manypatrols, but few spoke to me, and none tried to stop me. Some may haveknown me, but I think it was my face and figure which tied theirtongues. I must have been pale as death, with tangled hair and feverburning in my eyes. Also on my left temple was the splash of blood.
At Main Drift I found a big body of police holding the ford. I splashedthrough and stumbled into one of their camp-fires. A man questioned me,and told me that Arcoll had got his quarry. 'He's dead, they say.They shot him out on the hills when he was making for the Limpopo.'But I knew that this was not true. It was burned on my mind thatLaputa was alive, nay, was waiting for me, and that it was God's willthat we should meet in the cave.
A little later I struck the track of the Kaffirs' march. There was abroad, trampled way through the bush, and I followed it, for it led toDupree's Drift. All this time I was urging the _schimmel_ with all thevigour I had left in me. I had quite lost any remnant of fear. Therewere no terrors left for me either from Nature or man. At Dupree'sDrift I rode the ford without a thought of crocodiles. I lookedplacidly at the spot where Henriques had slain the Keeper and I hadstolen the rubies. There was no interest or imagination lingering in mydull brain. My nerves had suddenly become things of stolid, untemperediron. Each landmark I passed was noted down as one step nearer to myobject. At Umvelos' I had not the leisure to do more than glance atthe shell which I had built. I think I had forgotten all about thatnight when I lay in the cellar and heard Laputa's plans. Indeed, mydoings of the past days were all hazy and trivial in my mind. I onlysaw one sight clearly--two men, one tall and black, the other littleand sallow, slowly creeping nearer to the Rooirand, and myself, amidget on a horse, spurring far behind through the bush on their trail.I saw the picture as continuously and clearly as if I had been lookingat a scene on the stage. There was only one change in the setting; thethree figures seemed to be gradually closing together.
I had no exhilaration in my quest. I do not think I had even muchhope, for something had gone numb and cold in me and killed my youth.I told myself that treasure-hunting was an enterprise accursed of God,and that I should most likely die. That Laputa and Henriques would dieI was fully certain. The three of us would leave our bones to bleachamong the diamonds, and in a little the Prester's collar would glowamid a little heap of human dust. I was quite convinced of all this,and quite apathetic. It really did not matter so long as I came upwith Laputa and Henriques, and settled scores with them. That matteredeverything in the world, for it was my destiny.
I had no means of knowing how long I took, but it was after midnightbefore I passed Umvelos', and ere I got to the Rooirand there was afluttering of dawn in the east. I must have passed east of Arcoll'smen, who were driving the bush towards Majinje's. I had ridden thenight down and did not feel so very tired. My horse was stumbling, butmy own limbs scarcely pained me. To be sure I was stiff and nervelessas if hewn out of wood, but I had been as bad when I left Bruderstroom.I felt as if I could go on riding to the end of the world.
At the brink of the bush I dismounted and turned the _schimmel_ loose. Ihad brought no halter, and I left him to graze and roll. The light wassufficient to let me see the great rock face rising in a tower of dimpurple. The sky was still picked out with stars, but the moon had longgone down, and the east was flushing. I marched up the path to thecave, very different from the timid being who had walked the same roadthree nights before. Then my terrors were all to come: now I hadconquered terror and seen the other side of fear. I was centuriesolder.
But beside the path lay something which made me pause. It was a deadbody, and the head was turned away from me. I did not need to see theface to know who it was. There had been only two men in my vision, andone of them was immortal.
I stopped and turned the body over. There was no joy in my heart, noneof the lust of satisfied vengeance or slaked hate. I had forgottenabout the killing of my dog and all the rest of Henriques' doings. Itwas only with curiosity that I looked down on the dead face, swollenand livid in the first light of morning.
The man had been strangled. His neck, as we say in Scotland, was'thrawn', and that was why he had lain on his back yet with his faceturned away from me. He had been dead probably since before midnight.I looked closer, and saw that there was blood on his shirt and hands,but no wound. It was not his blood, but some other's. Then a few feetoff on the path I found a pistol with two chambers empty.
What had happened was very plain. Henriques had tried to shoot Laputaat the entrance of the cave for the sake of the collar and the treasurewithin. He had wounded him--gravely, I thought, to judge from theamount of blood--but the quickness and marksmanship of the Portuguesehad not availed to save his life from those terrible hands. After twoshots Laputa had got hold of him and choked his life out as easily as aman twists a partridge's neck. Then he had gone into the cave.
I saw the marks of blood on the road, and hastened on. Laputa had beenhours in the cave, enough to work havoc with the treasure. He waswounded, too, and desperate. Probably he had come to the Rooirandlooking for sanctuary and rest for a day or two, but if Henriques hadshot straight he might find a safer sanctuary and a longer rest. Forthe third time in my life I pushed up the gully between the straighthigh walls of rock, and heard from the heart of the hills the thunderof the imprisoned river.
There was only the faintest gleam of light in the cleft, but itsufficed to show me that the way to the cave was open. The hiddenturnstile in the right wall stood ajar; I entered, and carelessly swungit behind me. The gates clashed into place with a finality which toldme that they were firmly shut. I did not know the secret of them, sohow should I get out again?
These things troubled me less than the fact that I had no light at allnow. I had to go on my knees to ascend the stair, and I could feelthat the steps were wet. It must be Laputa's blood.
Next I was out on the gallery which skirted the chasm. The sky aboveme was growing pale with dawn, and far below the tossing waters werefretted with light. A light fragrant wind was blowing on the hills,and a breath of it came down the funnel. I saw that my hands were allbloody with the stains on the steps, and I rubbed them on the rock toclean them. Without a tremor I crossed the stone slab over the gorge,and plunged into the dark alley which led to the inner chamber.
As before, there was a light in front of me, but this time it was apin-point and not the glare of many torches. I felt my way carefullyby the walls of the passage, though I did not really fear anything. Itwas by the stopping of these lateral walls that I knew I was in thecave, for the place had only one single speck of light. The fallingwall of water stood out grey green and ghostly on the left, and Inoticed that higher up it was lit as if from the open air. There mustbe a great funnel in the hillside in that direction. I walked a fewpaces, and then I made out that the spark in front was a lantern.
My eyes were getting used to the half-light, and I saw what was besidethe lantern. Laputa knelt on the ashes of the fire which the Keeperhad kindled three days before. He knelt before, and half leaned on, arude altar of stone. The lantern stood by him on the floor, and itsfaint circle lit something which I was not unprepared for. Blood waswelling from his side, and spreading in a dark pool over the ashes.
I had no fear, only a great pity--pity for lost romance, for vainendeavour, for fruitless courage. 'Greeting, Inkulu!' I said inKaffir, as if I had been one of his indunas.
He turned his head and slowly and painfully rose to his feet. Theplace, it was clear, was lit from without, and the daylight wasgrowing. The wall of the river had become a sheet of jewels, passingfrom pellucid diamond above to translucent emerald below. A duskytwilight sought out the extreme corners of the cave. Laputa's tallfigure stood swaying above the white ashes, his hand pressed to hisside.
'Who is it?' he said, looking at me with blind eyes.
&
nbsp; 'It is the storekeeper from Umvelos',' I answered.
'The storekeeper of Umvelos',' he repeated. 'God has used the weakthings of the world to confound the strong. A king dies because apedlar is troublesome. What do they call you, man? You deserve to beremembered.'
I told him 'David Crawfurd.'
'Crawfurd,' he repeated, 'you have been the little reef on which agreat vessel has foundered. You stole the collar and cut me off frommy people, and then when I was weary the Portuguese killed me.'
'No,' I cried, 'it was not me. You trusted Henriques, and you got yourfingers on his neck too late. Don't say I didn't warn you.'
'You warned me, and I will repay you. I will make you rich, Crawfurd.You are a trader, and want money. I am a king, and want a throne. ButI am dying, and there will be no more kings in Africa.'
The mention of riches did not thrill me as I had expected, but the lastwords awakened a wild regret. I was hypnotized by the man. To see himgoing out was like seeing the fall of a great mountain.
He stretched himself, gasping, and in the growing light I could see howbroken he was. His cheeks were falling in, and his sombre eyes hadshrunk back in their sockets. He seemed an old worn man standing thereamong the ashes, while the blood, which he made no effort to staunch,trickled down his side till it dripped on the floor. He had ceased tobe the Kaffir king, or the Christian minister, or indeed any one of hisformer parts. Death was stripping him to his elements, and the manLaputa stood out beyond and above the characters he had played,something strange, and great, and moving, and terrible.
'We met for the first time three days ago,' he said, 'and now you willbe the last to see the Inkulu.'
'Umvelos' was not our first meeting,' said I. 'Do you mind the Sabbatheight years since when you preached in the Free Kirk at Kirkcaple? Iwas the boy you chased from the shore, and I flung the stone thatblacked your eye. Besides, I came out from England with you andHenriques, and I was in the boat which took you from Durban to DelagoaBay. You and I have been long acquaint, Mr Laputa.'
'It is the hand of God,' he said solemnly. 'Your fate has been twistedwith mine, and now you will die with me.'
I did not understand this talk about dying. I was not mortally woundedlike him, and I did not think Laputa had the strength to kill me evenif he wished. But my mind was so impassive that I scarcely regardedhis words.
'I will make you rich,' he cried. 'Crawfurd, the storekeeper, will bethe richest man in Africa. We are scattered, and our wealth isanother's. He shall have the gold and the diamonds--all but theCollar, which goes with me.'
He staggered into a dark recess, one of many in the cave, and Ifollowed him. There were boxes there, tea chests, cartridge cases, andold brass-ribbed Portuguese coffers. Laputa had keys at his belt, andunlocked them, his fingers fumbling with weakness. I peered in and sawgold coin and little bags of stones.
'Money and diamonds,' he cried. 'Once it was the war chest of a king,and now it will be the hoard of a trader. No, by the Lord! Thetrader's place is with the Terrible Ones.' An arm shot out, and myshoulder was fiercely gripped.
'You stole my horse. That is why I am dying. But for you I and myarmy would be over the Olifants. I am going to kill you, Crawfurd,'and his fingers closed in to my shoulder blades.
Still I was unperturbed. 'No, you are not. You cannot. You havetried to and failed. So did Henriques, and he is lying dead outside.I am in God's keeping, and cannot die before my time.'
I do not know if he heard me, but at any rate the murderous fit passed.His hand fell to his side and his great figure tottered out into thecave. He seemed to be making for the river, but he turned and wentthrough the door I had entered by. I heard him slipping in thepassage, and then there was a minute of silence.
Suddenly there came a grinding sound, followed by the kind of muffledsplash which a stone makes when it falls into a deep well. I thoughtLaputa had fallen into the chasm, but when I reached the door hisswaying figure was coming out of the corridor. Then I knew what he haddone. He had used the remnant of his giant strength to break down thebridge of stone across the gorge, and so cut off my retreat.
I really did not care. Even if I had got over the bridge I shouldprobably have been foiled by the shut turnstile. I had quite forgottenthe meaning of fear of death.
I found myself giving my arm to the man who had tried to destroy me.
'I have laid up for you treasure in heaven,' he said. 'Your earthlytreasure is in the boxes, but soon you will be seeking incorruptiblejewels in the deep deep water. It is cool and quiet down there, andyou forget the hunger and pain.'
The man was getting very near his end. The madness of despair cameback to him, and he flung himself among the ashes.
'We are going to die together, Crawfurd,' he said. 'God has twined ourthreads, and there will be only one cutting. Tell me what has becomeof my army.'
'Arcoll has guns on the Wolkberg,' I said. 'They must submit orperish.'
'I have other armies ... No, no, they are nothing. They will allwander and blunder and fight and be beaten. There is no leaderanywhere ... And I am dying.'
There was no gainsaying the signs of death. I asked him if he wouldlike water, but he made no answer. His eyes were fixed on vacancy, andI thought I could realize something of the bitterness of that greatregret. For myself I was as cold as a stone. I had no exultation oftriumph, still less any fear of my own fate. I stood silent, thehalf-remorseful spectator of a fall like the fall of Lucifer.
'I would have taught the world wisdom.' Laputa was speaking English ina strange, thin, abstracted voice. 'There would have been no king likeme since Charlemagne,' and he strayed into Latin which I have been toldsince was an adaptation of the Epitaph of Charles the Great. '_Sub hocconditorio_,' he crooned, '_situm est corpus Joannis, magni et orthodoxiImperatoris, qui imperium Africanum nobiliter ampliavit, et multos perannos mundum feliciter rexit_.'[1] He must have chosen this epitaphlong ago.
He lay for a few seconds with his head on his arms, his breast heavingwith agony.
'No one will come after me. My race is doomed, and in a little theywill have forgotten my name. I alone could have saved them. Now theygo the way of the rest, and the warriors of John become drudges andslaves.'
Something clicked in his throat, he gasped and fell forward, and Ithought he was dead. Then he struggled as if to rise. I ran to him,and with all my strength aided him to his feet.
'Unarm, Eros,' he cried. 'The long day's task is done.' With thestrange power of a dying man he tore off his leopard-skin and belt tillhe stood stark as on the night when he had been crowned. From hispouch he took the Prester's Collar. Then he staggered to the brink ofthe chasm where the wall of green water dropped into the dark depthbelow.
I watched, fascinated, as with the weak hands of a child he twined therubies round his neck and joined the clasp. Then with a last effort hestood straight up on the brink, his eyes raised to the belt of daylightfrom which the water fell. The light caught the great gems and calledfires from them, the flames of the funeral pyre of a king.
Once more his voice, restored for a moment to its old vigour, rang outthrough the cave above the din of the cascade. His words were thosewhich the Keeper had used three nights before. With his hands heldhigh and the Collar burning on his neck he cried, 'The Snake returns tothe House of its Birth.'
'Come,' he cried to me. 'The Heir of John is going home.' Then heleapt into the gulf. There was no sound of falling, so great was therush of water. He must have been whirled into the open below where thebridge used to be, and then swept into the underground deeps, where theLabongo drowses for thirty miles. Far from human quest he sleeps hislast sleep, and perhaps on a fragment of bone washed into a crevice ofrock there may hang the jewels that once gleamed in Sheba's hair.
[1] 'Under this stone is laid the body of John, the great and orthodoxEmperor, who nobly enlarged the African realm, and for many yearshappily ruled the world.'
&nbs
p;