STARVATION
I was right. The Abati did think that we had been burned. It never
occurred to them that we might have escaped to the underground city. So
at least I judged from the fact that they made no attempt to seek us
there until they learned the truth in the fashion that I am about to
describe. If anything, this safety from our enemies added to the trials
of those hideous days and nights. Had there been assaults to repel and
the excitement of striving against overwhelming odds, at any rate we
should have found occupation for our minds and remaining energies.
But there were none. By turns we listened at the mouth of the passage
for the echo of footsteps that never came. Nothing came to break a
silence so intense that at last our ears, craving for sound, magnified
the soft flitter of the bats into a noise as of eagle’s wings, till
at last we spoke in whispers, because the full voice of man seemed to
affront the solemn quietude, seemed intolerable to our nerves.
Yet for the first day or two we found occupation of a sort. Of course
our first need was to secure a supply of food, of which we had only a
little originally laid up for our use in the chambers of the old
temple, tinned meats that we had brought from London and so forth, now
nearly all consumed. We remembered that Maqueda had told us of corn
from her estates which was stored annually in pits to provide against
the possibility of a siege of Mur, and asked her where it was.
She led us to a place where round stone covers with rings attached to
them were let into the floor of the cave, not unlike those which stop
the coal-shoots in a town pavement, only larger. With great difficulty
we prised one of these up; to me it did not seem to have been moved
since the ancient kings ruled in Mur and, after leaving it open for a
long while for the air within to purify, lowered Roderick by a rope we
had to report its contents. Next moment we heard him saying: “Want to
come up, please. This place is not pleasant.”
We pulled him out and asked what he had found.
“Nothing good to eat,” he answered, “only plenty of dead
bones and one rat that ran up my leg.”
We tried the next two pits with the same result—they were full of
human bones. Then we cross-examined Maqueda, who, after reflection,
informed us that she now remembered that about five generations before
a great plague had fallen on Mur, which reduced its population by
one-half. She had heard, also, that those stricken with the plague were
driven into the underground city in order that they might not infect
the others, and supposed that the bones we saw were their remains. This
information caused us to close up those pits again in a great hurry,
though really it did not matter whether we caught the plague or no.
Still, as she was sure that corn was buried somewhere, we went to
another group of pits in a distant chamber, and opened the first one.
This time our search was rewarded, to the extent that we found at the
bottom of it some mouldering dust that years ago had been grain. The
other pits, two of which had been sealed up within three years as the
date upon the wax showed, were quite empty.
Then Maqueda understood what had happened.
“Surely the Abati are a people of rogues,” she said. “See
now, the officers appointed to store away my corn which I gave them have
stolen it! Oh! may they live to lack bread even more bitterly than we
do to-day.”
We went back to our sleeping-place in silence. Well might we be silent,
for of food we had only enough left for a single scanty meal. Water
there was in plenty, but no food. When we had recovered a little from
our horrible disappointment we consulted together.
“If we could get through the mine tunnel,” said Oliver, “we
might escape into the den of lions, which were probably all destroyed by
the explosion, and so out into the open country.”
“The Fung would take us there,” suggested Higgs.
“No, no,” broke in Roderick, “Fung all gone, or if they do,
anything better than this black hole, yes, even my wife.”
“Let us look,” I said, and we started.
When we reached the passage that led from the city to the Tomb of Kings,
it was to find that the wall at the end of it had been blown bodily
back into the parent cave, leaving an opening through which we could
walk side by side. Of course the contents of the tomb itself were
scattered. In all directions lay bones, objects of gold and other
metals, or overturned thrones. The roof and walls alone remained as
they had been.
“What vandalism!” exclaimed Higgs, indignant even in his misery.
“Why wouldn’t you let me move the things when I wanted to,
Orme?”
“Because they would have thought that we were stealing them, old
fellow. Also those Mountaineers were superstitious, and I did not want
them to desert. But what does it matter, anyway? If you had, they would
have been burned in the palace.”
By this time we had reached that end of the vast tomb where the
hunchbacked king used to sit, and saw at once that our quest was vain.
The tunnel which we had dug beyond was utterly choked with masses of
fallen rock that we could never hope to move, even with the aid of
explosives, of which we had none left.
So we returned, our last hope gone.
Also another trouble stared us in the face; our supply of the crude
mineral oil which the Abati used for lighting purposes was beginning to
run low. Measurement of what remained of the store laid up for our use
while the mine was being made, revealed the fact that there was only
enough left to supply four lamps for about three days and nights: one
for Maqueda, one for ourselves, one for the watchman near the tunnel
mouth, and one for general purposes.
This general-purpose lamp, as a matter of fact, was mostly made use of
by Higgs. Truly, he furnished a striking instance of the ruling passion
strong in death. All through those days of starvation and utter misery,
until he grew too weak and the oil gave out, he trudged backward and
forward between the old temple and the Tomb of Kings carrying a large
basket on his arm. Going out with this basket empty, he would bring it
back filled with gold cups and other precious objects that he had
collected from among the bones and scattered rubbish in the Tomb. These
objects he laboriously catalogued in his pocket-book at night, and
afterwards packed away in empty cases that had contained our supplies
of explosive and other goods, carefully nailing them down when filled.
“What on earth are you doing that for, Higgs?” I asked petulantly,
as he finished off another case, I think it was his twentieth.
“I don’t know, Doctor,” he answered in a thin voice, for like
the rest of us he was growing feeble on a water-diet. “I suppose it
amuses me to think how jolly it would be to open all these boxes in my
rooms in London after a first-rate dinner of fried sole and steak cut
thick,” and he smacked his poor, hungry lips. “Yes, yes,” he went
on, “to take them out one by one and show them to —— and
——,” and he mentioned by name officials of sundry great
museums with whom he was at war, “and see them tear their hair with
rage and jealousy, while they wondered in their hearts if they could
not manage to seize the lot for the Crown as treasure-trove, or do me
out of them somehow,” and he laughed a little in his old, pleasant
fashion.
“Of course I never shall,” he added sadly, “but perhaps one
day some other fellow will find them here and get them to Europe, and if
he is a decent chap, publish my notes and descriptions, of which I have
put a duplicate in each box, and so make my name immortal. Well, I’m
off again. There are four more cases to fill before the oil gives out,
and I must get that great gold head into one of them, though it is an
awful job to carry it far at a time. Doctor, what disease is it that
makes your legs suddenly give way beneath you, so that you find
yourself sitting in a heap on the floor without knowing how you came
there? You don’t know? Well, no more do I, but I’ve got it bad. I
tell you I’m downright sore behind from continual and unexpected
contact with the rock.”
Poor old Higgs! I did not like to tell him that his disease was
starvation.
Well, he went on with his fetching and carrying and cataloguing and
packing. I remember that the last load he brought in was the golden
head he had spoken of, the wonderful likeness of some prehistoric king
which has since excited so much interest throughout the world. The
thing being too heavy for him to carry in his weakened state, for it is
much over life-size, he was obliged to roll it before him, which
accounts for the present somewhat damaged condition of the nose and
semi-Egyptian diadem.
Never shall I forget the sight of the Professor as he appeared out of
the darkness, shuffling along upon his knees where his garments were
worn into holes, and by the feeble light of the lamp that he moved from
time to time, painfully pushing the great yellow object forward, only a
foot or two at each push.
“Here it is at last,” he gasped triumphantly, whilst we watched him
with indifferent eyes. “Japhet, help me to wrap it up in the mat and
lift it into the box. No, no, you donkey—face upward—so. Never mind
the corners, I’ll fill them with ring-money and other trifles,” and
out of his wide pockets he emptied a golden shower, amongst which he
sifted handfuls of dust from the floor and anything else he could find
to serve as packing, finally covering all with a goat’s-hair blanket
which he took from his bed.
Then very slowly he found the lid of the box and nailed it down, resting
between every few strokes of the hammer whilst we watched him in our
intent, but idle, fashion, wondering at the strange form of his
madness.
At length the last nail was driven, and seated on the box he put his
hand into an inner pocket to find his note-book, then incontinently
fainted. I struggled to my feet and sprinkled water over his face till
he revived and rolled on to the floor, where presently he sank into
sleep or torpor. As he did so the first lamp gave out.
“Light it, Japhet,” said Maqueda, “it is dark in this
place.”
“O Child of Kings,” answered the man, “I would obey if I
could, but there is no more oil.”
Half-an-hour later the second lamp went out. By the light that remained
we made such arrangements as we could, knowing that soon darkness would
be on us. They were few and simple: the fetching of a jar or two of
water, the placing of arms and ammunition to our hands, and the
spreading out of some blankets on which to lie down side by side upon
what I for one believed would be our bed of death.
While we were thus engaged, Japhet crawled into our circle from the
outer gloom. Suddenly I saw his haggard face appear, looking like that
of a spirit rising from the grave.
“My lamp is burned out,” he moaned; “it began to fail whilst
I was on watch at the tunnel mouth, and before I was half-way here it
died altogether. Had it not been for the wire of the
‘thing-that-speaks’ which guided me, I could never have reached
you. I should have been lost in the darkness of the city and perished
alone among the ghosts.”
“Well, you are here now,” said Oliver. “Have you anything to
report?”
“Nothing, lord, or at least very little. I moved some of the small
rocks that we piled up, and crept down the hole till I came to a place
where the blessed light of day fell upon me, only one little ray of it,
but still the light of day. I think that something has fallen upon the
tunnel and broken it, perhaps one of the outer walls of the palace. At
least I looked through a crack and saw everywhere ruins—ruins that
still smoke. From among them I heard the voices of men shouting to each
other.
“One of them called to his companion that it was strange, if the
Gentiles and the Child of Kings had perished in the fire, that they had
not found their bones which would be known by the guns they carried.
His friend answered that it was strange indeed, but being magicians,
perhaps they had hidden away somewhere. For his part he hoped so, as
then sooner or later they would be found and put to death slowly, as
they deserved, who had led astray the Child of Kings and brought so
many of the heaven-descended Abati to their death. Then fearing lest
they should find and kill me, for they drew near as I could tell by
their voices, I crept back again, and that is all my story.”
We said nothing; there seemed to be nothing to say, but sat in our sad
circle and watched the dying lamp. When it began to flicker, leaping up
and down like a thing alive, a sudden panic seized poor Japhet.
“O Walda Nagasta,” he cried, throwing himself at her feet,
“you have called me a brave man, but I am only brave where the sun and
the stars shine. Here in the dark amongst so many angry spirits, and
with hunger gnawing at my bowels, I am a great coward; Joshua himself
is not such a coward as I. Let us go out into the light while there is
yet time. Let us give ourselves up to the Prince. Perhaps he will be
merciful and spare our lives, or at least he will spare yours, and if
we die, it will be with the sun shining on us.”
But Maqueda only shook her head, whereon he turned to Orme and went on:
“Lord, would you have the blood of the Child of Kings upon your hands?
Is it thus that you repay her for her love? Lead her forth. No harm
will come to her who otherwise must perish here in misery.”
“You hear what the man says, Maqueda?” said Orme heavily.
“There is some truth in it. It really does not matter to us whether we
die in the power of the Abati or here of starvation; in fact, I think
that we should prefer the former end, and doubtless no hand will be
laid on you. Will you go?”
“Nay,” she answered passionately. “A hand would be laid on
me, the hand of Joshua, and rather than that he should touch me I will
die a hundred deaths. Let fate take its course, for as I have told you,
I believe that then it will open to us some gate we cannot see. And if
I believe in vain, why there is another gate which we can pass
together, O Oliver, and beyond that gate lies peace. Bid the man be
silent, or drive him away. Let him trouble me no more.”
The lamp flame sank low. It flickered, once, twice, thrice, each time
showing the pale, drawn faces of us six seated about it, like wizards
making an incantation, like corpses in a tomb.
Then it went out.
How long were we in that place after this? At least three whole days and
nights, I believe, if not more, but of course we soon lost all count of
time. At first we suffered agonies from famine, which we strove in vain
to assuage with great draughts of water. No doubt these kept us alive,
but even Higgs, who it may be remembered was a teetotaller, afterwards
confessed to me that he has loathed the sight and taste of water ever
since. Indeed he now drinks beer and wine like other people. It was
torture; we could have eaten anything. In fact the Professor did manage
to catch and eat a bat that got entangled in his red hair. He offered
me a bite of it, I remember, and was most grateful when I declined.
The worst of it was also that we had a little food, a few hard ship’s
biscuits, which we had saved up for a purpose, namely, to feed Maqueda.
This was how we managed it. At certain intervals I would announce that
it was time to eat, and hand Maqueda her biscuit. Then we would all
pretend to eat also, saying how much we felt refreshed by the food and
how we longed for more, smacking our lips and biting on a piece of wood
so that she could not help hearing us.
This piteous farce went on for forty-eight hours or more until at last
the wretched Japhet, who was quite demoralized and in no mood for
acting, betrayed us, exactly how I cannot remember. After this Maqueda
would touch nothing more, which did not greatly matter as there was
only one biscuit left. I offered it to her, whereon she thanked me and
all of us for our courtesy toward a woman, took the biscuit, and gave
it to Japhet, who ate it like a wolf.
It was some time after this incident that we discovered Japhet to be
missing; at least we could no longer touch him, nor did he answer when
we called. Therefore, we concluded that he had crept away to die and, I
am sorry to say, thought little more about it for, after all, what he
suffered, or had suffered, we suffered also.
I recall that before we were overtaken by the last sleep, a strange fit
came upon us. Our pangs passed away, much as the pain does when
mortification follows a wound, and with them that horrible craving for
nutriment. We grew cheerful and talked a great deal. Thus Roderick gave
me the entire history of the Fung people and of his life among them and
other savage tribes. Further, he explained every secret detail of their
idol worship to Higgs, who was enormously interested, and tried to make
some notes by the aid of our few remaining matches. When even that
subject was exhausted, he sang to us in his beautiful voice—English
hymns and Arab songs. Oliver and Maqueda also chatted together quite
gaily, for I heard them laughing, and gathered that he was engaged in
trying to teach her English.
The last thing that I recollect is the scene as it was revealed by the
momentary light of one of the last matches. Maqueda sat by Oliver. His
arm was about her waist, her head rested upon his shoulder, her long
hair flowed loose, her large and tender eyes stared from her white, wan
face up toward his face, which was almost that of a mummy.
Then on the other side stood my son, supporting himself against the wall
of the room, and beyond him Higgs, a shadow of his former self, feebly
waving a pencil in the air and trying, apparently, to write a note upon
his Panama straw hat, which he held in his left hand, as I suppose,
imagining it to be his pocket-book. The incongruity of that sun-hat in
a place where no sun had ever come made me laugh, and as the match went
out I regretted that I had forgotten to look at his face to ascertain
whether he was still wearing his smoked spectacles.
“What is the use of a straw hat and smoked spectacles in
kingdom-come?” I kept repeating to myself, while Roderick, whose arm I
knew was about me, seemed to answer:
“The Fung wizards say that the sphinx Harmac once wore a hat, but, my
father, I do not know if he had spectacles.”
Then a sensation as of being whirled round and round in some vast
machine, down the sloping sides of which I sank at last into a vortex
of utter blackness, whereof I knew the name was death.
Dimly, very dimly, I became aware that I was being carried. I heard
voices in my ears, but what they said I could not understand. Then a
feeling of light struck upon my eyeballs which gave me great pain.
Agony ran all through me as it does through the limbs of one who is
being brought back from death by drowning. After this something warm
was poured down my throat, and I went to sleep.
When I awoke again it was to find myself in a large room that I did not
know. I was lying on a bed, and by the light of sunrise which streamed
through the window-places I saw the three others, my son Roderick, Orme
and Higgs lying on the other beds, but they were still asleep.
Abati servants entered the room bringing food, a kind of rough soup with
pieces of meat in it of which they gave me a portion in a wooden bowl
that I devoured greedily. Also they shook my companions until they
awoke and almost automatically ate up the contents of similar bowls,
after which they went to sleep again, as I did, thanking heaven that we
were all still alive.
Every few hours I had a vision of these men entering with the bowls of
soup or porridge, until at last life and reason came back to me in
earnest, and I saw Higgs sitting up on the bed opposite and staring at
me.
“I say, old fellow,” he said, “are we alive, or is this
Hades?”
“Can’t be Hades,” I answered, “because there are Abati
here.”
“Quite right,” he replied. “If the Abati go anywhere,
it’s to hell, where they haven’t whitewashed walls and four-post
beds. Oliver, wake up. We are out of that cave, anyway.”
Orme raised himself on his hand and stared at us.
“Where’s Maqueda?” he asked, a question to which of course,
we could give no answer, till presently Roderick woke also and said:
“I remember something. They carried us all out of the cave; Japhet was
with them. They took the Child of Kings one way and us another, that is
all I know.”
Shortly afterwards the Abati servants arrived, bearing food more solid
than the soup, and with them came one of their doctors, not that old
idiot of a court physician, who examined us, and announced that we
should all recover, a fact which we knew already. We asked many
questions of him and the servants, but could get no answer, for
evidently they were sworn to silence. However, we persuaded them to
bring us water to wash in. It came, and with it a polished piece of
metal, such as the Abati use for a looking-glass, in which we saw our
faces, the terrible, wasted faces of those who have gone within a
hair’s breadth of death by starvation in the dark.
Yet although our gaolers would say nothing, something in their aspect
told us that we were in sore peril of our lives. They looked at us
hungrily, as a terrier looks at rats in a wire cage of which the door
will presently be opened. Moreover, Roderick, who, as I think I have
said, has very quick ears, overheard one of the attendants whisper to
another:
“When does our service on these hounds of Gentiles come to an end?”
to which his fellow answered, “The Council has not yet decided, but I
think to-morrow or the next day, if they are strong enough. It will be a
great show.”
Also that evening, about sunset, we heard a mob shouting outside the
barrack in which we were imprisoned, for that was its real use, “Give
us the Gentiles! Give us the Gentiles! We are tired of waiting,”
until at length some soldiers drove them away.
Well, we talked the thing over, only to conclude that there was nothing
to be done. We had no friend in the place except Maqueda, and she, it
appeared, was a prisoner like ourselves, and therefore could not
communicate with us. Nor could we see the slightest possibility of
escape.
“Out of the frying-pan into the fire,” remarked Higgs gloomily.
“I wish now that they had let us die in the cave. It would have been
better than being baited to death by a mob of Abati.”
“Yes,” answered Oliver with a sigh, for he was thinking of Maqueda,
“but that’s why they saved us, the vindictive beasts, to kill us
for what they are pleased to call high treason.”
“High treason!” exclaimed Higgs. “I hope to goodness their
punishment for the offence is not that of mediæval England; hanging is
bad enough—but the rest——!”
“I don’t think the Abati study European history,” I broke in;
“but it is no use disguising from you that they have methods of their
own. Look here, friends,” I added, “I have kept something about me
in case the worst should come to the worst,” and I produced a little
bottle containing a particularly swift and deadly poison done up into
tabloids, and gave one to each of them. “My advice is,” I added,
“that if you see we are going to be exposed to torture or to any
dreadful form of death, you should take one of these, as I mean to do,
and cheat the Abati of their vengeance.”
“That is all very fine,” said the Professor as he pocketed his
tabloid, “but I never could swallow a pill without water at the best
of times, and I don’t believe those beasts will give one any. Well, I
suppose I must suck it, that’s all. Oh! if only the luck would turn,
if only the luck would turn!”
Three more days went by without any sign of Higgs’s aspiration being
fulfilled. On the contrary, except in one respect, the luck remained
steadily against us. The exception was that we got plenty to eat and
consequently regained our normal state of health and strength more
rapidly than might have been expected. With us it was literally a case
of “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.”
Only somehow I don’t think that any of us really believed that we
should die, though whether this was because we had all, except poor
Quick, survived so much, or from a sneaking faith in Maqueda’s
optimistic dreams, I cannot say. At any rate we ate our food with
appetite, took exercise in an inner yard of the prison, and strove to
grow as strong as we could, feeling that soon we might need all our
powers. Oliver was the most miserable among us, not for his own sake,
but because, poor fellow, he was haunted with fears as to Maqueda and
her fate, although of these he said little or nothing to us. On the
other hand, my son Roderick was by far the most cheerful. He had lived
for so many years upon the brink of death that this familiar gulf
seemed to have no terrors for him.
“All come right somehow, my father,” he said airily. “Who can
know what happen? Perhaps Child of King drag us out of mud-hole, for
after all she was very strong cow, or what you call it, heifer, and I
think toss Joshua if he drive her into corner. Or perhaps other thing
occur.”
“What other thing, Roderick?” I asked.
“Oh! don’t know, can’t say, but I think Fung thing. Believe
we not done with Fung yet, believe they not run far. Believe they take
thought for morrow and come back again. Only,” he added sadly,
“hope my wife not come back, for that old girl too full of lofty
temper for me. Still, cheer up, not dead yet by long day’s march, and
meanwhile food good and this very jolly rest after beastly underground
city. Now I tell Professor some more stories about Fung religion, den
of lions, and so forth.”
On the morning after this conversation a crisis came. Just as we had
finished breakfast the doors of our chamber were thrown open and in
marched a number of soldiers wearing Joshua’s badge. They were headed
by an officer of his household, who commanded us to rise and follow
him.
“Where to?” asked Orme.
“To take your trial before the Child of Kings and her Council,
Gentile, upon the charge of having murdered certain of her subjects,”
answered the officer sternly.
“That’s all right,” said Higgs with a sigh of relief.
“If Maqueda is chairman of the Bench we are pretty certain of an
acquittal, for Orme’s sake if not for our own.”
“Don’t you be too sure of that,” I whispered into his ear.
“The circumstances are peculiar, and women have been known to change
their minds.”
“Adams,” he replied, glaring at me through his smoked spectacles,
“If you talk like that we shall quarrel. Maqueda change her mind
indeed! Why, it is an insult to suggest such a thing, and if you take
my advice you won’t let Oliver hear you. Don’t you remember, man,
that she’s in love with him?”
“Oh, yes,” I answered, “but I remember also that Prince
Joshua is in love with her, and that she is his prisoner.”