CHAPTER XLIII

SURROUNDED BY THE BLACKS

It was a strange sensation to skim along that river through the dark, irregular walls of trees, for the sounds of the jungle came to us clearly and these were all we could hear. At times we could see but a short distance ahead; at many a bend it appeared as if the great silent water-way ended abruptly. Then again it would open out and curve away, lighted only by its own reflections of the stars.

So much did this outlet wind that I lost all account of directions, but I knew we were traversing miles to accomplish but little direct advance. Our talking amounted to nothing. My mood was not for conversation, while I am sure the goddess dreaded to speak a word. From time to time some water creature splashed its way among the grasses, next the bank. No matter how often this sound was repeated, it made me start and breathe heavily till we were past the place.

The hours sped by, bringing no material change that could be noted. The night was exceedingly dark, owing in part to the density of the forest so near on either side. Pausing at length in my rowing, I observed that we drifted more rapidly than I had thought the current to be moving. Having become a trifle soft, while on my back, I found that my arms had grown tired already from the work. Fatty had succumbed to his habit of sleeping, acquired by going to bed at dark. His fears, however, had kept him awake much later than usual. He was curled down in the hold, where he twitched his feet and made little noises, like a dog that dreams.

I whispered to the goddess that she had better try to follow Fatty’s example, but I was quite unable to ascertain whether she slept or not, so still had she been for an hour. Deeming it wise to conserve my strength for the daylight rowing, I now permitted the boat to float down the river at its own speed, merely keeping her out toward the centre of the stream by steering with one or the other of the oars. She swung about, broadside on, but as this enabled me to watch ahead easily, I made no effort to keep her pointed directly down the current.

Drifting thus, I kept the lonely vigil, hour after hour. I think I have never felt more depressed than I finally became in that heart of the wilderness. Not that anything threatened, nor that the sounds about me were more than usually weird, but simply because there seemed to be no end in promise; there appeared to be no progress toward anything different from that interminable jungle, in which the river seemed merely to wind without purpose. I felt as if the stream were like a figure 8, on which we could float forever and never get out of the maze. I knew better than this, but everything contributed to make me hopeless. Sleepy and weary, dully aching in the muscles and bones made weak by the fever, I almost thought the whole business a failure and the life, for which I had fought so persistently, a mockery unworthy of the effort.

On and on, winding and curving, drifted the boat with its extraordinary cargo. Now and again I stirred the embers of fire, which were dully glowing in my furnace-like receptacle of clay. In this place these burning sticks appeared like the eyes of some crouching animal. I gave up all idea of ever seeing dawn. Nodding, jerking myself awake, bathing my heavy lids with water, steering my crooked course on this stream of mystery, I passed the time without a single relieving incident to break the deadening monotony of sound, motion and thought.

Even when the first yellow streaks of morning did make slits in the clouds, above the horizon of trees, it seemed as if the process of day-breaking ceased and that the actuator had forgotten the method. About this time, a rain commenced to fall, light, but wet and not desired. Fatty and the goddess awoke. I stumbled over the faithful Link to arrange a protection for the fire, which might otherwise have been extinguished. Then in my eagerness to get back to the oars and head us off from the bank, toward which we were gliding, I forgot to cover the bombs.

Grateful for the diversion, as well as for the company of my two companions, I picked up my spirits rapidly, becoming actually cheerful. This humour seemed to accelerate the coming of morning amazingly. The river reflected the pale streaks of light, the trees began to emerge in detail from the walls of gloom, and the dismal sounds, of hooting and howling things, were abated. Before we knew it, day was upon us, our winding course became a ceaseless invitation to hasten on and round the next succeeding curve, and we were drifting with a doubled speed.

Though the rain continued to fall, it was not annoying. I ate a bit of fruit and manned the oars, soon having us going at an encouraging speed. When the sun peered over the edge of the world, I felt like a boy. I let out a shout and a roar to relieve the pressure of over exhilaration. The echoes chased through the jungle madly.

Glancing ahead I now discovered that the river narrowed down abruptly between rude stairways of rock. On either side were shelves of the adamant, not more than a foot above the tide; the whole gateway was barely more than six feet in width. As might have been expected the current was fairly being sucked through this chasm, which explained the extra speed of the current where we were.

Seeing nothing in or about the place which should make it difficult of navigation, I merely kept the boat headed for the centre of the pass and let her shoot along with the powerful sweep of waters. The place was not long, nor were the rocks high nor difficult of access from the banks below. I remember to have thought how easily a man could cross the river at this peculiar place by simply jumping.

The boat was tossed on the turbulent surface, as we darted through, but below was another broad, smooth expanse, and the ever-inevitable curve of the river. This latter we reached soon. I was then somewhat surprised to observe two things: First, that for several hundred feet the stream was nearly straight, and second that it narrowed again below us, between banks a yard in height on which the growth was dense and which were so close together that several slender creepers hung like the cables of a projected suspension bridge across the stream, from branch to branch. I thought the wind must have blown the first slight tendrils over and that later they had grown to their present size. I also noted that again the placid river became rapids, which tossed and foamed in their agitated plunge between these banks.

Absorbed in what I saw and watching my course narrowly, I gave no heed to anything else. Therefore I started with galvanic quickness at a sudden scream from the goddess. In answer, a chorus of yells, triumphant, and diabolical enough to curdle the blood in one’s veins, went up instantly. Then the jungle below us appeared literally to swarm with terrible forms.

The black Links, dancing like maniacs, screaming and racing toward the rapids to intercept us, were surging from every possible space between the trees, on the left-hand side of the river. They dashed ahead, fully comprehending the situation and their own advantage. I thought I could beat them to the rapids, but they were there by the score before we could approach within a stone’s throw of its top, a fierce and terrible array, armed with their clubs with which they could not have missed us by throwing.

To have attempted to run through the narrows would merely have been to court a sudden death. I backwatered quickly and held the boat from drifting. Fatty was whining; the goddess was white as paper. I thought of the rapids above us, against the current of which I could not have pulled the boat to save our souls. I looked about and noted the densely wooded banks, which made escape in that direction impossible, even if we could have landed on the side opposite the foe in the vain hope that they could not get across as easily as we.

We were trapped!

The wild brutes, insane to get the goddess again in their clutches, mad to tear Fatty in shreds, and crazy to beat me to a pulp, as their arch-nemesis, simply writhed in eager anticipation of bagging us all, in spite of all we could do.

It was maddening; it all but drove me out of my senses. I knew that to wait for night would mean that when they were goaded sufficiently by their own impatience, the monsters would reach us, even if they had to swim, in addition to which I should certainly not dare to run the rapids after dark. Escape was utterly impossible, turn where I might.

The greed for gold had done the trick! The time I had wasted to get it would have saved us. Had I not delayed, we should have passed this place before the light had become strong enough to reveal our presence.

The demons never ceased for a moment to yell. That they knew we were caught I could not doubt. Not only did the males all congregate to smash us to atoms if we should attempt to shoot the rapids, but the females also appeared like magic from the jungle and lined up along the bank, a cruel looking mob with fingers that itched to tear poor Fatty and me to strings of meat. I was alarmed, desperate, and enraged by turns. Keeping off the boat and attempting to see a way out, I suddenly thought of my bombs.

Immediately I conceived a plan by which I meant to scatter the fiends in utter dismay. Dropping the boat down toward them I stopped it just outside the range of their clubs and headed it back up the stream. Before it had ceased to go forward, under the impulse of a powerful stroke, I shipped the oars, grabbed up a bomb and darted over Fatty to the fire. Snatching up an ember, I applied it to the fuse, meaning to throw the deadly explosive into their midst and dart through the rapids in the instantaneous confusion which would follow.

But the rain had dampened the powder!

The fuse would not ignite! The trick was worse than a failure!

With a curse on my lips, I sprang back to the oars and spun the boat about, barely in time to save it from shooting the narrows broadside on. A dozen clubs, whizzing and hurtling end over end, splashed the water about us, as I drove the boat back to a safe position. In despair I examined all the bombs, only to find them as useless and harmless as so many hunks of cork. All my elaborate work to provide myself with these weapons and with the fire to make them of use, had been wholly undone in a moment of thoughtless neglect. I might have protected these instruments of death, but I had failed at the critical moment.

The weight of this calamity nearly overcame me. It seemed as if the bombs had been our only hope, and that now we were certainly doomed. The raging Blacks yelled more horribly than ever; they were more assured of their prey. Nothing more ferocious can be imagined than this mass of fiends, many of them foaming at the mouth, all excitedly moving from place to place, and all showing fangs of teeth, as they watched us with the nervous, near-together eyes which I knew so well.

I was rendered so thoroughly unfit by the failure of my bombs, that I gave up trying to think of any other way of outwitting the monsters. The rain re-commenced. With a bitter sniff of scorn at myself for the action, I covered the bamboo explosives with a skin, to prevent them from getting any wetter. As if powder could be any wetter when it has become too damp to ignite!

“Oh what shall we do? what shall we do?” moaned the goddess.

I tried to answer cheerfully, but having no sensible reply was denied even this negative pleasure. I tried to think, in order to make some rejoinder.

“There is only one scheme and that is nearly hopeless,” I told her at last. “If I can make them believe we are about to land on the opposite side, up above, perhaps they might abandon their present position and then we could make a dash for it and beat them past that narrow channel.”

She made no comment, but in her eyes there was such an imploring light that I deemed no effort too great to make. Somewhat inspirited by the plan concocted on the spur of a moment, I strung my bow and laid an arrow near and immediately turning the prow up stream began to row away from the waiting Blacks, toward the furthest bank we could see.

At first they were undecided, or else they refused to believe we were leaving. But their wits were keen only within narrow limits. Taking the bait, in a moment, they seemed suddenly to remember the rock-passage, over which they doubtless knew they could jump. By the score they chased up the bank, swinging along in the trees with astonishing agility and gaining on us every moment.

I was purposely rowing slowly, but with great show of exertion. As far as I could determine, from that distance, every demon in the tribe came chasing up the river, to be in at the death. Dozens of them remained visible, marking the position of the main body as it moved up the bank, but the great majority were soon hidden in the tangle of verdure, through which they weaved like so many animated black shuttles, playing in and out through the warp of green.

Steering now for the bank which was just below the upper rapids, and appearing to row with all possible haste, I had the extreme satisfaction of seeing our mad pursuers swarming toward the rocks where the stream could be leaped at a bound. So eagerly did they push and crowd, when they came to the place, that some, who paused undecided at the brink, were shoved headlong into the angry current. But no sooner was I sure that the ruse had succeeded than I swung the boat, as if she had been on a pivot, and sent her shooting down the stream with might and main.

Shrieks of rage and dismay burst from a hundred throats as the baffled demons suddenly comprehended my game. With all their speed, and in a frenzy of fury, they came running and climbing and swinging back. But this time I had the double advantage of a shorter, straighter route and the force of all the current to sweep me along. I rowed like an engine; the race was a race for life or death. Every muscle was strained, every volt of the superhuman dynamic, developed by the peril of our position, surged upward to drive us onward, toward that narrow gate of safety.

We neared it; we were far ahead of the mob; I saw victory smiling in the sun-lit jungle beyond. Like a hideous black comet, then, athwart my line of vision, a Link suddenly swung across the river, on one of the creepers that spanned the space between the banks. He reached the branches on the opposite side. Instantly another one followed. I groaned, for evidently they had been left there to guard the pass. Another and yet another swung across. They quickly formed a “monkey-bridge” and hung suspended above the water like a sagging hammock—not from the creepers, which would have broken, but each from the arms of his neighbour. In less than half a minute their line was complete. We were still driving toward them.

“Oh, the horrible old woman!” cried the girl, in affright.

I realised then that more than half the creatures in the bridge were females; and out across them came swinging that she-devil who had caught me with the gold, and whose fingers I had severed, and whose ribs I had skinned—the harpy who had watched the goddess like a hawk.

She meant to lean down over the ones in the bridge and clutch the girl, as we shot beneath their bodies. Then others quickly joined her who intended to snatch for Fatty and myself. It was diabolically clever. If ever they reached us with those powerful arms, they could hold us against a team of pulling horses.

To turn now meant to abandon all hope; the Links who were tearing after us behind, once fooled could be hoaxed no more; and all would be more than ever infuriated and likely to swamp the boat. It looked like a swift and awful death.

In a heat of uncontainable rage myself, I stood up, as we swept toward the rapids, and grabbing my bow, strung an arrow in desperate haste and drew for a shot, which fury made vicious and fierce. I had become so angered that I seemed to care nothing for what could happen. The arrow sprang away like a streak of light. Just at that second the line of Links slipped down a foot. In the brief time before the shaft could arrive, my heart sank with dread—the slip of the target had ruined my shot.

But like the angered messenger of hate which it was, the arrow struck where it had not been aimed—in the forearm of a Link who supported the weight of all the line. It stabbed clean through, tearing the muscles savagely as it plowed. Down swung the whole living bridge of demons, with the shrieking “old woman” in the melee, for that supporting arm let go as if it had been slashed in twain.

Instantly the dropping fiends struck the stream where the current boiled like a mill-race. Splashing, battling, screaming in fright, the intertwisted monsters went swiftly down, every one trying to climb out on his neighbour, all of them fighting, rolling like rags of waste and gurgling as they attempted still to yell, with mouths full of water.

The boat by this time had been caught in the tow of the torrent. We swung down into the foam and tossing waves and drifted into the mass of brutes as they fought and drowned in the irresistible flood. Two of them flung an arm across our gunwale. Yelling as madly as themselves, we beat them off with the clubs, Fatty fighting like a fury. The hideous old female clutched in desperation and fastened her deadly grip on the wrist of the goddess. What a scream of malice and triumph she gave! I jumped across the seat and struck her arm a blow that smashed the bone and flesh to a quivering pulp on the edge of the boat. About her neck was flung the arm of a drowning beast at her side; and down they went together.

Yells upon yells now arose from the other Blacks, who had come to the narrows. We were slowly revolving in a whirlpool. The creatures could still have dashed to positions above us and sunk the boat with their clubs. I shot out the oars and drove the craft quickly ahead. A monster came boiling to the surface; I slashed him hard with my right-hand sweep and he sank like a rock. One, a rod away was swimming with the inborn skill and instinct of all wild animals, but the others had fought one another, fatally, in that vortex of swirling water, and only this one got back to the bank.

Through the seething foam to where the turbulent river grew calmer, we sped away, and at last these implacable demons were far behind.