CHAPTER THIRTY.
CONCERNING A TERROR.
A dark, comparatively cool, and restful retreat--a blaze of outsidesunshine glimpsed through the aperture of a low doorway. A sense ofawaking to yet another phase of passage through the shades; of a weirdkaleidoscopic phantasmagoria which represents a wholly or partiallysuspended consciousness of days or even weeks; of the stirred, uneasyrest of supposed death--such were the first gropings of the mind of himwho lay there.
Where was he? A recollection of the battered hulk, heaving to the oilyswell; of hunger and thirst--especially thirst; of a furious sun pouringits rays down upon him in molten streams; of a fierce, maddening desirefor shade--almost equal to that for cool, liquid drink; for blessedshade, to shut out, if even for one moment, that awful blinding glare--these were the recollections that came upon his mind with the firstglimmerings of returning consciousness.
Others followed--a sense of movement, of being borne helplessly onward,through mysterious tracts, to the accompaniment of strange, mysteriousvoices, and glimpses of weird, dark shapes. Then oblivion--again to befollowed by fitful awakenings--but ever to sink again into the samelethargy, the same utter indifference to all things that ever had been,that ever would be--in short, to life itself. And now--and now--Wherewas he?
He stared upward. A large cockroach dropped from the palmetto ceiling,and scurried away, almost over his face; but he heeded it not. Hestared around. The circular wall of the place was uneven and rough. Ashis eyes grew accustomed to the light, or rather the gloom, he made outthat it was the interior of a large hut constructed of grass and withes.Two poles supported the centre, and on these were hung sundryimplements of fantastic make and appearance--such as he had seen inmuseums and private collections representing barbaric trophies offar-off lands. A hum of voices--utterly unintelligible--came fromwithout; and there was that in the very tones which savoured of thescarcely human--at any rate to one whose lines had been cast hithertoexclusively within those of civilisation.
He tried to rise, tottered, and then fell back. He was very weak, fartoo weak to rise unaided. Things grew dizzy around him. Then the sunstrip which cut the gloom was darkened. Somebody had entered; and thenhe became aware of the presence of two beings--black, and of ferociousaspect, with wool standing out from their heads in stiff, rolled-outspikes, and the white of their eyeballs glistened when the ray of lightcoming in through the low doorway fell upon it. They bent over him; andhaving peered into his face for a moment one of them raised his headwith no gentle touch, while the other put a calabash to his lips andpoured its contents into his mouth. This at any rate was not anunacceptable operation. The stuff was cool, and had a combination ofsweet and acid taste. What it was he had no notion, but he drankgratefully.
"That's good," he ejaculated faintly.
For answer they uttered a clucking sound, and grinned; but the grin wasnot a genial one--it was hideous, ghastly, showing rows of filed teeth.It reminded him of the shark which had risen to seize him, and hadseized the deck-chair instead. As they stood over him, watching him, hetook them in--their appearance, their demeanour, their stature. Thelatter was tall and muscular. For the rest, they looked a pair of aboutthe most ferocious and bloodthirsty savages the imagination could by anypossibility conjure up. And yet--they had just been engaged in adistinct work of mercy.
Wagram's brain power began to return. How he had got off--or been gotoff--the derelict he had not the faintest conception; but obviously hehad, since here he was. Then came back to him the captain'spronouncement as to what would happen to anybody unfortunate enough tobe stranded on the coast they were then off. "We'd very likely beeaten," had been the dictum. So this "work of mercy" was, in reality,nothing of the sort. It was equivalent to that of doctoring an ailingox or sheep. He was being brought back into fitting condition forbutchery. He was to supply the material for a cannibal feast. Andthese two ruffians looked the part--every inch.
They had squatted down on the floor, and were watching him, keeping upthe while a subdued conversation in a kind of guttural hum. One carrieda formidable-looking native axe, and both had big, broad-bladed knives,with a curious crook inward, on the edge side, towards the point. Thedemoniacal aspect of the pair--the hungry expression of their revoltingcountenances, as they sat like a pair of evil beasts watching theirexpected prey--was too much for Wagram's nerves, all defenceless as hewas, and absolutely in their power. He tried asking them questions,but, of course, they did not understand one word he said. They did noteven shake their heads, but sat staring at him as before. So he gave itup, and made signs that he wanted to go to sleep. This seemedintelligible, and they rose, and with an evil, snarling chuckle left theplace.
This was a relief at any rate. Where was he? speculated the castaway.Where was he, and how far from the sea-coast? What would be his fate--alone, unarmed, helpless, in the power of such as these? Even if hewere not to be butchered immediately--all sorts of visions rose beforehis mind, of lifelong slavery in the interior, or figuring prominentlyin some ghastly and hideous human sacrifice on a gigantic scale. Heavenhelp him! And then Heaven did help him to this extent. Whether due tothe effects of the potion that had been administered to him, or to theweakness following upon all that he had gone through, a lassitude cameover him, and, forgetful of surroundings--of present or future peril--hefell fast asleep.
While he slept, in another part of the native town things werehappening. The two who had entered the hut were haranguing others oftheir kind--all of similarly hideous aspect; but, on the other hand, itmight have been observed that this race, whatever it was, Nature hadexceptionally favoured in thews and stature. Low howls, and beast-like,of savage delight greeted the words, echoed more shrilly by womenhanging on to the outskirts of the gathering. These began to produceknives and examine the edges; then the whole rout moved with one consenttowards a hut rather larger and more important-looking than the rest onthe outskirts of the town. Into this one of the number entered--one ofthe two, it may be remarked, who had just come away from "tending"Wagram on his awaking to consciousness.
But if he entered he could not have remained there long, and his methodof egress must have been artificially hastened, for in a moment he shotforth again, half stumbling, half running. Behind him, beneath the lowverandah, now appeared another man.
From this man's lips there rolled forth thick and fast a very torrent ofimprecation, and that in about six of the different dialects understoodin those parts. Anyhow, it was intelligible to these, for they shrankback for the moment quiet and abashed. And, in truth, this was notwithout justification, for there was something in the man's aspect thatwas absolutely terrific as he stood there confronting the savage mobwith the aspect of a slave-master, whip in hand, standing over a mob ofcowering slaves. Yet these were not cowering, far from it. He was verytall and athletic. His face, strong and hawk-like, half covered by aheavy beard, was working with passion; but it was in his eyes, brightand piercing beneath the shaggy brows, that the charm seemed to lie.They were absolutely snake-like in their flash of demoniacal cruelty--eyes of one who delighted to look upon all that against which humannature revolts; eyes that, when moved to wrath, blasted; eyes of a veryfiend, in short. Yet among those who crowded before him were eyes everywhit as cruel, among those before him were frames every whit as sinewyand athletic--and all these were armed, and he to all appearance wasnot. But--he was a white man.
They stood sullenly while he invoked every mysterious and terribleimprecation of sorcery upon themselves and their fathers and mothers,upon their children unto the third and fourth generations--dooming themto awful and mysterious forms of dissolution for daring to invade hisprivacy and disturb his rest. They waited through it all; for quite anew and unwonted form of hideous enjoyment lay now before them. Thentheir clamour broke forth afresh.
This white stranger they had taken from the water, whom they had bornecarefully over this weary distance in order to bring to life again. Hewas al
ive again, and could see and hear and talk. Him now they musthave. The feast to which they had been looking forward must now begin.
And the ghastly proposal was confirmed with a roar, whose vibratingsavagery was sufficient to have appalled the most iron-nerved who shouldset himself to withstand this clamouring of fiends.
This one, however, must have been iron-nerved beyond the ordinary, forhe did set himself to withstand it and that deliberately. He laughed--an evil, sneering, yet wholly mirthful laugh. What? Did they not knowhim yet, to think that they were in a position to come and lay commandsupon him? Upon him? The stranger was not to be touched--for thepresent; no, not until he should give the word--and death should fallupon whoever laid a hand upon him; yes, and upon the whole town for thatmatter.
They hesitated. Perhaps the qualification "for the present" may havehad something to do with determining their attitude. It was only a joypostponed, then. But their awful appetites had been whetted, and neededsome appeasing. A murmur--soon growing to a shout--arose among thegroup. Atonement ought to be made for the feast they were not to have.He who refused it to them had plenty of slaves; he would give them oneof them. And then they named one of his favourite female slaves.
He, for answer, looked at them, and laughed again--the same sneering,contemptuous laugh. Then he called aloud a name.
In a moment there came hurrying round from the back of the palisades awoman--a young woman, tall and finely formed, with rather a pleasingcountenance, and lighter in colour than those here. She stood in anattitude of obeisance. Then the man--the white man--said:
"Take her."
A howl went up; ferocious, beast-like, as the howl of a pack of wolves.The crowd surged forward, and a score of hands were laid upon thewretched creature. She struggled and screamed at sight of thefiend-like faces and brandished knives, wailing forth despairingentreaties to her master, who, not one whit less fiend-like than theseblack barbarians, looked stolidly on, finally repeating "Take her."Then he turned and re-entered the hut, to fling himself down and resumein a moment his disturbed sleep.
The sun was dipping lower and lower, flooding the tree tops with hishot, steamy, but golden light. One wretched victim would behold it nomore--one more wretched victim whom human-shaped demons were draggingoff to the accustomed shambles to furnish them with one more awful,indescribable feast.