Chapter 18
Paulvitch Plots Revenge
As Jane and Tarzan stood upon the vessel's deck recounting to oneanother the details of the various adventures through which each hadpassed since they had parted in their London home, there glared at themfrom beneath scowling brows a hidden watcher upon the shore.
Through the man's brain passed plan after plan whereby he might thwartthe escape of the Englishman and his wife, for so long as the vitalspark remained within the vindictive brain of Alexander Paulvitch nonewho had aroused the enmity of the Russian might be entirely safe.
Plan after plan he formed only to discard each either as impracticable,or unworthy the vengeance his wrongs demanded. So warped by faultyreasoning was the criminal mind of Rokoff's lieutenant that he couldnot grasp the real truth of that which lay between himself and theape-man and see that always the fault had been, not with the Englishlord, but with himself and his confederate.
And at the rejection of each new scheme Paulvitch arrived always at thesame conclusion--that he could accomplish naught while half the breadthof the Ugambi separated him from the object of his hatred.
But how was he to span the crocodile-infested waters? There was nocanoe nearer than the Mosula village, and Paulvitch was none too surethat the Kincaid would still be at anchor in the river when he returnedshould he take the time to traverse the jungle to the distant villageand return with a canoe. Yet there was no other way, and so, convincedthat thus alone might he hope to reach his prey, Paulvitch, with aparting scowl at the two figures upon the Kincaid's deck, turned awayfrom the river.
Hastening through the dense jungle, his mind centred upon his onefetich--revenge--the Russian forgot even his terror of the savage worldthrough which he moved.
Baffled and beaten at every turn of Fortune's wheel, reacted upon timeafter time by his own malign plotting, the principal victim of his owncriminality, Paulvitch was yet so blind as to imagine that his greatesthappiness lay in a continuation of the plottings and schemings whichhad ever brought him and Rokoff to disaster, and the latter finally toa hideous death.
As the Russian stumbled on through the jungle toward the Mosula villagethere presently crystallized within his brain a plan which seemed morefeasible than any that he had as yet considered.
He would come by night to the side of the Kincaid, and once aboard,would search out the members of the ship's original crew who hadsurvived the terrors of this frightful expedition, and enlist them inan attempt to wrest the vessel from Tarzan and his beasts.
In the cabin were arms and ammunition, and hidden in a secretreceptacle in the cabin table was one of those infernal machines, theconstruction of which had occupied much of Paulvitch's spare time whenhe had stood high in the confidence of the Nihilists of his native land.
That was before he had sold them out for immunity and gold to thepolice of Petrograd. Paulvitch winced as he recalled the denunciationof him that had fallen from the lips of one of his former comrades erethe poor devil expiated his political sins at the end of a hempen rope.
But the infernal machine was the thing to think of now. He could domuch with that if he could but get his hands upon it. Within thelittle hardwood case hidden in the cabin table rested sufficientpotential destructiveness to wipe out in the fraction of a second everyenemy aboard the Kincaid.
Paulvitch licked his lips in anticipatory joy, and urged his tired legsto greater speed that he might not be too late to the ship's anchorageto carry out his designs.
All depended, of course, upon when the Kincaid departed. The Russianrealized that nothing could be accomplished beneath the light of day.Darkness must shroud his approach to the ship's side, for should he besighted by Tarzan or Lady Greystoke he would have no chance to boardthe vessel.
The gale that was blowing was, he believed, the cause of the delay ingetting the Kincaid under way, and if it continued to blow until nightthen the chances were all in his favour, for he knew that there waslittle likelihood of the ape-man attempting to navigate the tortuouschannel of the Ugambi while darkness lay upon the surface of the water,hiding the many bars and the numerous small islands which are scatteredover the expanse of the river's mouth.
It was well after noon when Paulvitch came to the Mosula village uponthe bank of the tributary of the Ugambi. Here he was received withsuspicion and unfriendliness by the native chief, who, like all thosewho came in contact with Rokoff or Paulvitch, had suffered in somemanner from the greed, the cruelty, or the lust of the two Muscovites.
When Paulvitch demanded the use of a canoe the chief grumbled a surlyrefusal and ordered the white man from the village. Surrounded byangry, muttering warriors who seemed to be but waiting some slightpretext to transfix him with their menacing spears the Russian could donaught else than withdraw.
A dozen fighting men led him to the edge of the clearing, leaving himwith a warning never to show himself again in the vicinity of theirvillage.
Stifling his anger, Paulvitch slunk into the jungle; but once beyondthe sight of the warriors he paused and listened intently. He couldhear the voices of his escort as the men returned to the village, andwhen he was sure that they were not following him he wormed his waythrough the bushes to the edge of the river, still determined some wayto obtain a canoe.
Life itself depended upon his reaching the Kincaid and enlisting thesurvivors of the ship's crew in his service, for to be abandoned hereamidst the dangers of the African jungle where he had won the enmity ofthe natives was, he well knew, practically equivalent to a sentence ofdeath.
A desire for revenge acted as an almost equally powerful incentive tospur him into the face of danger to accomplish his design, so that itwas a desperate man that lay hidden in the foliage beside the littleriver searching with eager eyes for some sign of a small canoe whichmight be easily handled by a single paddle.
Nor had the Russian long to wait before one of the awkward littleskiffs which the Mosula fashion came in sight upon the bosom of theriver. A youth was paddling lazily out into midstream from a pointbeside the village. When he reached the channel he allowed thesluggish current to carry him slowly along while he lolled indolentlyin the bottom of his crude canoe.
All ignorant of the unseen enemy upon the river's bank the lad floatedslowly down the stream while Paulvitch followed along the jungle path afew yards behind him.
A mile below the village the black boy dipped his paddle into the waterand forced his skiff toward the bank. Paulvitch, elated by the chancewhich had drawn the youth to the same side of the river as that alongwhich he followed rather than to the opposite side where he would havebeen beyond the stalker's reach, hid in the brush close beside thepoint at which it was evident the skiff would touch the bank of theslow-moving stream, which seemed jealous of each fleeting instant whichdrew it nearer to the broad and muddy Ugambi where it must for everlose its identity in the larger stream that would presently cast itswaters into the great ocean.
Equally indolent were the motions of the Mosula youth as he drew hisskiff beneath an overhanging limb of a great tree that leaned down toimplant a farewell kiss upon the bosom of the departing water,caressing with green fronds the soft breast of its languorous love.
And, snake-like, amidst the concealing foliage lay the malevolent Russ.Cruel, shifty eyes gloated upon the outlines of the coveted canoe, andmeasured the stature of its owner, while the crafty brain weighed thechances of the white man should physical encounter with the blackbecome necessary.
Only direct necessity could drive Alexander Paulvitch to personalconflict; but it was indeed dire necessity which goaded him on toaction now.
There was time, just time enough, to reach the Kincaid by nightfall.Would the black fool never quit his skiff? Paulvitch squirmed andfidgeted. The lad yawned and stretched. With exasperatingdeliberateness he examined the arrows in his quiver, tested his bow,and looked to the edge upon the hunting-knife in his loin-cloth.
Again he stretched and yawned, glanced up at the river-bank, shru
ggedhis shoulders, and lay down in the bottom of his canoe for a little napbefore he plunged into the jungle after the prey he had come forth tohunt.
Paulvitch half rose, and with tensed muscles stood glaring down uponhis unsuspecting victim. The boy's lids drooped and closed. Presentlyhis breast rose and fell to the deep breaths of slumber. The time hadcome!
The Russian crept stealthily nearer. A branch rustled beneath hisweight and the lad stirred in his sleep. Paulvitch drew his revolverand levelled it upon the black. For a moment he remained in rigidquiet, and then again the youth relapsed into undisturbed slumber.
The white man crept closer. He could not chance a shot until there wasno risk of missing. Presently he leaned close above the Mosula. Thecold steel of the revolver in his hand insinuated itself nearer andnearer to the breast of the unconscious lad. Now it stopped but a fewinches above the strongly beating heart.
But the pressure of a finger lay between the harmless boy and eternity.The soft bloom of youth still lay upon the brown cheek, a smile halfparted the beardless lips. Did any qualm of conscience point itsdisquieting finger of reproach at the murderer?
To all such was Alexander Paulvitch immune. A sneer curled his beardedlip as his forefinger closed upon the trigger of his revolver. Therewas a loud report. A little hole appeared above the heart of thesleeping boy, a little hole about which lay a blackened rim ofpowder-burned flesh.
The youthful body half rose to a sitting posture. The smiling lipstensed to the nervous shock of a momentary agony which the consciousmind never apprehended, and then the dead sank limply back into thatdeepest of slumbers from which there is no awakening.
The killer dropped quickly into the skiff beside the killed. Ruthlesshands seized the dead boy heartlessly and raised him to the lowgunwale. A little shove, a splash, some widening ripples broken by thesudden surge of a dark, hidden body from the slimy depths, and thecoveted canoe was in the sole possession of the white man--more savagethan the youth whose life he had taken.
Casting off the tie rope and seizing the paddle, Paulvitch bentfeverishly to the task of driving the skiff downward toward the Ugambiat top speed.
Night had fallen when the prow of the bloodstained craft shot out intothe current of the larger stream. Constantly the Russian strained hiseyes into the increasing darkness ahead in vain endeavour to pierce theblack shadows which lay between him and the anchorage of the Kincaid.
Was the ship still riding there upon the waters of the Ugambi, or hadthe ape-man at last persuaded himself of the safety of venturing forthinto the abating storm? As Paulvitch forged ahead with the current heasked himself these questions, and many more beside, not the leastdisquieting of which were those which related to his future should itchance that the Kincaid had already steamed away, leaving him to themerciless horrors of the savage wilderness.
In the darkness it seemed to the paddler that he was fairly flying overthe water, and he had become convinced that the ship had left hermoorings and that he had already passed the spot at which she had lainearlier in the day, when there appeared before him beyond a projectingpoint which he had but just rounded the flickering light from a ship'slantern.
Alexander Paulvitch could scarce restrain an exclamation of triumph.The Kincaid had not departed! Life and vengeance were not to elude himafter all.
He stopped paddling the moment that he descried the gleaming beacon ofhope ahead of him. Silently he drifted down the muddy waters of theUgambi, occasionally dipping his paddle's blade gently into the currentthat he might guide his primitive craft to the vessel's side.
As he approached more closely the dark bulk of a ship loomed before himout of the blackness of the night. No sound came from the vessel'sdeck. Paulvitch drifted, unseen, close to the Kincaid's side. Onlythe momentary scraping of his canoe's nose against the ship's plankingbroke the silence of the night.
Trembling with nervous excitement, the Russian remained motionless forseveral minutes; but there was no sound from the great bulk above himto indicate that his coming had been noted.
Stealthily he worked his craft forward until the stays of the bowspritwere directly above him. He could just reach them. To make his canoefast there was the work of but a minute or two, and then the man raisedhimself quietly aloft.
A moment later he dropped softly to the deck. Thoughts of the hideouspack which tenanted the ship induced cold tremors along the spine ofthe cowardly prowler; but life itself depended upon the success of hisventure, and so he was enabled to steel himself to the frightfulchances which lay before him.
No sound or sign of watch appeared upon the ship's deck. Paulvitchcrept stealthily toward the forecastle. All was silence. The hatchwas raised, and as the man peered downward he saw one of the Kincaid'screw reading by the light of the smoky lantern depending from theceiling of the crew's quarters.
Paulvitch knew the man well, a surly cut-throat upon whom he figuredstrongly in the carrying out of the plan which he had conceived.Gently the Russ lowered himself through the aperture to the rounds ofthe ladder which led into the forecastle.
He kept his eyes turned upon the reading man, ready to warn him tosilence the moment that the fellow discovered him; but so deeplyimmersed was the sailor in the magazine that the Russian came,unobserved, to the forecastle floor.
There he turned and whispered the reader's name. The man raised hiseyes from the magazine--eyes that went wide for a moment as they fellupon the familiar countenance of Rokoff's lieutenant, only to narrowinstantly in a scowl of disapproval.
"The devil!" he ejaculated. "Where did you come from? We all thoughtyou were done for and gone where you ought to have gone a long timeago. His lordship will be mighty pleased to see you."
Paulvitch crossed to the sailor's side. A friendly smile lay on theRussian's lips, and his right hand was extended in greeting, as thoughthe other might have been a dear and long lost friend. The sailorignored the proffered hand, nor did he return the other's smile.
"I've come to help you," explained Paulvitch. "I'm going to help youget rid of the Englishman and his beasts--then there will be no dangerfrom the law when we get back to civilization. We can sneak in onthem while they sleep--that is Greystoke, his wife, and that blackscoundrel, Mugambi. Afterward it will be a simple matter to clean upthe beasts. Where are they?"
"They're below," replied the sailor; "but just let me tell yousomething, Paulvitch. You haven't got no more show to turn us menagainst the Englishman than nothing. We had all we wanted of you andthat other beast. He's dead, an' if I don't miss my guess a whole lotyou'll be dead too before long. You two treated us like dogs, and ifyou think we got any love for you you better forget it."
"You mean to say that you're going to turn against me?" demandedPaulvitch.
The other nodded, and then after a momentary pause, during which anidea seemed to have occurred to him, he spoke again.
"Unless," he said, "you can make it worth my while to let you go beforethe Englishman finds you here."
"You wouldn't turn me away in the jungle, would you?" asked Paulvitch."Why, I'd die there in a week."
"You'd have a chance there," replied the sailor. "Here, you wouldn'thave no chance. Why, if I woke up my maties here they'd probably cutyour heart out of you before the Englishman got a chance at you at all.It's mighty lucky for you that I'm the one to be awake now and not noneof the others."
"You're crazy," cried Paulvitch. "Don't you know that the Englishmanwill have you all hanged when he gets you back where the law can gethold of you?"
"No, he won't do nothing of the kind," replied the sailor. "He's toldus as much, for he says that there wasn't nobody to blame but you andRokoff--the rest of us was just tools. See?"
For half an hour the Russian pleaded or threatened as the mood seizedhim. Sometimes he was upon the verge of tears, and again he waspromising his listener either fabulous rewards or condign punishment;but the other was obdurate. [condign: of equal value]
He m
ade it plain to the Russian that there were but two plans open tohim--either he must consent to being turned over immediately to LordGreystoke, or he must pay to the sailor, as a price for permission toquit the Kincaid unmolested, every cent of money and article of valueupon his person and in his cabin.
"And you'll have to make up your mind mighty quick," growled the man,"for I want to turn in. Come now, choose--his lordship or the jungle?"
"You'll be sorry for this," grumbled the Russian.
"Shut up," admonished the sailor. "If you get funny I may change mymind, and keep you here after all."
Now Paulvitch had no intention of permitting himself to fall into thehands of Tarzan of the Apes if he could possibly avoid it, and whilethe terrors of the jungle appalled him they were, to his mind,infinitely preferable to the certain death which he knew he merited andfor which he might look at the hands of the ape-man.
"Is anyone sleeping in my cabin?" he asked.
The sailor shook his head. "No," he said; "Lord and Lady Greystokehave the captain's cabin. The mate is in his own, and there ain't noone in yours."
"I'll go and get my valuables for you," said Paulvitch.
"I'll go with you to see that you don't try any funny business," saidthe sailor, and he followed the Russian up the ladder to the deck.
At the cabin entrance the sailor halted to watch, permitting Paulvitchto go alone to his cabin. Here he gathered together his few belongingsthat were to buy him the uncertain safety of escape, and as he stoodfor a moment beside the little table on which he had piled them hesearched his brain for some feasible plan either to ensure his safetyor to bring revenge upon his enemies.
And presently as he thought there recurred to his memory the littleblack box which lay hidden in a secret receptacle beneath a false topupon the table where his hand rested.
The Russian's face lighted to a sinister gleam of malevolentsatisfaction as he stooped and felt beneath the table top. A momentlater he withdrew from its hiding-place the thing he sought. He hadlighted the lantern swinging from the beams overhead that he might seeto collect his belongings, and now he held the black box well in therays of the lamplight, while he fingered at the clasp that fastened itslid.
The lifted cover revealed two compartments within the box. In one wasa mechanism which resembled the works of a small clock. There also wasa little battery of two dry cells. A wire ran from the clockwork toone of the poles of the battery, and from the other pole through thepartition into the other compartment, a second wire returning directlyto the clockwork.
Whatever lay within the second compartment was not visible, for a coverlay over it and appeared to be sealed in place by asphaltum. In thebottom of the box, beside the clockwork, lay a key, and this Paulvitchnow withdrew and fitted to the winding stem.
Gently he turned the key, muffling the noise of the winding operationby throwing a couple of articles of clothing over the box. All thetime he listened intently for any sound which might indicate that thesailor or another were approaching his cabin; but none came tointerrupt his work.
When the winding was completed the Russian set a pointer upon a smalldial at the side of the clockwork, then he replaced the cover upon theblack box, and returned the entire machine to its hiding-place in thetable.
A sinister smile curled the man's bearded lips as he gathered up hisvaluables, blew out the lamp, and stepped from his cabin to the side ofthe waiting sailor.
"Here are my things," said the Russian; "now let me go."
"I'll first take a look in your pockets," replied the sailor. "Youmight have overlooked some trifling thing that won't be of no use toyou in the jungle, but that'll come in mighty handy to a poor sailormanin London. Ah! just as I feared," he ejaculated an instant later as hewithdrew a roll of bank-notes from Paulvitch's inside coat pocket.
The Russian scowled, muttering an imprecation; but nothing could begained by argument, and so he did his best to reconcile himself to hisloss in the knowledge that the sailor would never reach London to enjoythe fruits of his thievery.
It was with difficulty that Paulvitch restrained a consuming desire totaunt the man with a suggestion of the fate that would presentlyovertake him and the other members of the Kincaid's company; butfearing to arouse the fellow's suspicions, he crossed the deck andlowered himself in silence into his canoe.
A minute or two later he was paddling toward the shore to be swallowedup in the darkness of the jungle night, and the terrors of a hideousexistence from which, could he have had even a slight foreknowledge ofwhat awaited him in the long years to come, he would have fled to thecertain death of the open sea rather than endure it.
The sailor, having made sure that Paulvitch had departed, returned tothe forecastle, where he hid away his booty and turned into his bunk,while in the cabin that had belonged to the Russian there ticked on andon through the silences of the night the little mechanism in the smallblack box which held for the unconscious sleepers upon the ill-starredKincaid the coming vengeance of the thwarted Russian.