discussion of such questions. They were thoughts that had been
expressed during the pursuit, at no time hurried. The captain and his
companions had easily kept pace with the pursued, while passing through
the dry forest; and time enough was allowed them to think and talk of
many things.
Now that they could no longer follow, scarce a word was exchanged
between them. Their emotions were too sad for utterance, otherwise than
by exclamations which spoke only of despair.
It was well they were silent, for it gave Saloo the opportunity of
listening. Ever since the ape had passed from their sight, his ear had
been keenly anxious to catch every sound, as he still entertained a hope
of being able to trace its passage through the trees.
Thoroughly conversant with the animal's habits, he knew that it must
have an abiding-place--a nest. This might be near at hand. The
proximity of the lagoon almost convinced him that it was so.
The mias makes a temporary roost for his repose anywhere it may be
wandering--constructing it in a few moments, by breaking off the
branches and laying them crosswise on a forked limb; but Saloo was aware
that, for its permanent residence, it builds a much more elaborate nest,
and this, too, always over water or marshy ground, where its human enemy
cannot conveniently follow it.
Moreover, it chooses for the site of its dwelling a low tree or bush
with umbrageous boughs, and never retires among the taller trees of the
forest.
This it does to avoid exposure to the chill winds, and the inconvenience
of being shaken to and fro during storms or typhoons.
With all this knowledge in his memory, the Malay had conceived a hope
that the monster's nest might not be far off, and they would still be
able to follow and find it--not to rescue the living child, but recover
her dead body.
Keenly and attentively he listened to every sound that came back through
the water-forest--cautioning the others to be silent. A caution scarce
needed, for they too stood listening, still as death, with hushed
voices, and hearts only heard in their dull sad beatings.
But for a short time were they thus occupied; altogether not more than
five minutes. They still detected the crackling of branches which
indicated the passage of the ape through the tree-tops.
All at once these sounds suddenly ceased, or rather were they drowned
out by sounds louder and of a very different intonation. It was a
chorus of cries, in which barking, grunting, growling, coughing,
cachinnation and the squalling of children seemed all to have a share.
There were evidently more than one individual contributing to this
strange _fracas_ of the forest; and the noises continued to come
apparently from the same place.
"Allah be thank!" exclaimed Saloo, in a subdued tone. "He home at lass.
Him family makee welcome. Maybe chile be live yet. Maybe mias no
killee after all. Trust we in Allah, what you Inglees people callee
God. Who know he yet help us!"
These last words came like a renewal of life to the despairing father.
He started on hearing them; fresh hope had sprung up in his breast, at
the thought that his beloved child might yet be alive, and that a chance
of rescuing her might still be possible.
"In thy mercy, O God, grant it may be so!" were the words that fell from
his lips: Murtagh, with equal fervour, saying "Amen!"
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
STRIKING OUT.
Inspired to renewed energy, Captain Redwood rushed to the edge of the
lagoon, with the view of ascertaining its depth, and seeing whether it
might possibly be waded.
He soon discovered that it could not. In less than ten paces from the
edge he was up to the arm-pits, and from thence it seemed to deepen
still more abruptly. Another step forward, and the water rose over his
shoulders, the bottom still sloping downwards. The lagoon was evidently
impassable.
He drew back despairingly, though not to return to the shore. He stood
facing the centre of the lagoon, whence still came the strange noises:
though scarce so loud or varied as before, they did not appear to be any
more distant. Whatever creatures were making them, it was evident they
were stationary, either in the trees or upon the ground. They did not
sound as if they came from on high; but this might be a deception,
caused by the influence of the water. One of the voices bore a singular
resemblance to that of a child. It could not be Helen's; it more
resembled the squalling of an infant. Saloo knew what it was. In the
plaintive tones he recognised the scream of a young ourang-outang.
It was a proof his conjecture was true, and that the mias had reached
its home.
All the more anxious was Captain Redwood to reach the spot whence the
sounds proceeded. Something like a presentiment had entered his mind
that there was still a hope, and that his child lived and might be
rescued.
Even if torn, injured, disfigured for life, she might survive. Any sort
of life, so long as she could be recovered; and if she could not be
restored, at least she might breathe her last breath in his arms. Even
that would be easier to bear than the thought that she had gone to rest
in the grasp of the hirsute gorilla, with its hideous offspring grinning
and gibbering around her.
The lagoon could not be waded on foot; but a good swimmer might cross
it. The captain was an experienced and accomplished swimmer. The
voices came from no great distance--certainly not above half a mile. On
one occasion he had accomplished a league in a rough sea! There could
be no difficulty in doing as much on the smooth, tranquil water of that
tree-shaded lake.
He had opened his arms and prepared to strike out, when a thought stayed
him. Saloo, who had waded to his side, also arrested him by laying a
hand on his shoulder.
"You try swimmee, cappen, no good without weapon; we both go togedder--
muss take gun, sumpitan, kliss, else no chance killee mias."
It was the thought that had occurred to Captain Redwood himself.
"Yes, you are right, Saloo. I must take my rifle, but how am I to keep
it dry?--there's not time to make a raft."
"No raff need, cappen; givee me you gun--Saloo swim single-hand well as
two; he cally the gun."
Captain Redwood knew it to be true that Saloo, as he said, could swim
with one hand as well as he himself with both.
He was a Malay, to whom swimming in the water is almost as natural as
walking upon the land. His old pilot could scarcely have been drowned
if he had been flung into the sea twenty miles from shore.
He at once yielded to Saloo's counsel; and both hastily returned to the
edge of the lagoon to make preparations.
These did not occupy long. The captain threw off some of his clothes,
stowed his powder-flask and some bullets in the crown of his hat, which
he fastened firmly on his head. He retained a knife--intended in case
of necessity--to be carried between his teeth, giving his gun to Saloo.
The Malay, having less undressing to do, had already completed the
arrangements. On the top of his turban, safely secured by a knotting of
his long black hair, he had fastened his bamboo quiver of poisoned
arrows; while his kris--with which a Malay under no circumstances thinks
of parting--lay along his thigh, kept in position by the waist-strap
used in suspending his _sarong_. With his sumpitan and the captain's
gun in his left hand, he was ready to take to the water. Not another
moment was lost; the voices of the ourangs seemed to be calling them;
and plunging through the shallow, they were soon out in deep water, and
striking steadily but rapidly, silently but surely, towards the centre
of the lagoon.
Henry and Murtagh remained on the shore looking after them. The
ship-carpenter was but an indifferent swimmer, and the youth was not
strong enough to have swam half a mile. It was doubtful if either could
have reached the spot where the apes seemed to have made their
rendezvous. And if so, they would have been too exhausted to have
rendered any service in case of a sudden conflict.
The brave Irishman, devoted to his old skipper, and Henry, anxious to
share his father's fate, would have made the attempt; but Captain
Redwood restrained them, directing both to await his return.
They stood close to the water's edge, following the swimmers with their
eyes, and with prayers for their success, scarcely uttered in words, but
fervently felt; Murtagh, according to the custom of his country and
creed, sealing the petition by making the sign of the cross.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.
SWIMMING IN SHADOW.
Silently and swiftly the two swimmers continued their course through the
shadowy aisles of the forest. Twilight, almost darkness, was above and
around them; for the trees meeting overhead caused an obscurity sombre
as night itself. No ray of sunlight ever danced upon the surface of
that dismal lagoon.
They would have lost their way, had not the noises guided them. Should
these be discontinued, their exertions might be all in vain.
They thought of this as they proceeded, and reflected also on the course
to be adopted when they reached the rendezvous of the gorillas.
Supposing there could be no footing found, how were they to use either
gun or sumpitan?
The question passed between them in a whisper as they swam side by side.
Neither knew how to answer it.
Saloo only expressed a hope that they might get upon the limb of a tree
near enough to send a bullet or arrow into the body of the mias, and
terminate his career.
There seemed no other chance, and they swam on, keeping it before their
minds.
About the direction, they had no difficulty whatever. Although the
surface of the water was of inky blackness, from the shadowing trees
above, and the huge trunks standing out of it now and then forced them
into an occasional deviation, they advanced without any great
difficulty.
They swam around the tree trunks, and, guided by the voices of the
gorillas, easily regained their course. The noises were no longer sharp
screams or hoarse coughs, but a kind of jabbering jargon, as if the apes
were engaged in a family confabulation.
The swimmers at length arrived so near, that they no longer felt any
fear about finding the way to the place where the reunion of the
_quadrumana_ was being held; and which could not be more than a hundred
yards distant.
Silently gliding through the water, the eyes of both peered intently
forward, in an endeavour to pierce the obscurity, and, if possible,
discover some low limb of a tree, or projecting buttress, on which they
might find a foothold. They had good hope of success, for they had seen
many such since starting from the shore. Had rest been necessary, they
might have obtained it more than once by grasping a branch above, or
clinging to one of the great trunks, whose gnarled and knotted sides
would have afforded sufficient support.
But they were both strong swimmers, and needed no rest. There was none
for the bereaved father--could be none--till he should reach the
termination of their strange enterprise, and know what was to be its
result.
As they swam onward, now proceeding with increased caution, their eyes
scanning the dark surface before them, both all of a sudden and
simultaneously came to a stop. It was just as if something underneath
the water had laid hold of them by the legs, checking them at the same
instant of time.
And something _had_ impeded their farther progress, but not from behind.
In front was the obstruction, which proved to be a bank of earth, that,
though under the water, rose within a few inches of its surface. The
breast of each swimmer had struck against it, the shock raising them
into a half-erect attitude, from which they had no need to return to the
horizontal. On the contrary, they now rose upon their feet, which they
felt to be resting on a firm hard bottom.
Standing in pleased surprise, they could better survey the prospect
before them; and after a minute spent in gazing through the gloom, they
saw that dry land was close to the spot where they had been so abruptly
arrested.
It appeared only a low-lying islet, scarce rising above the level of the
lagoon, and of limited extent--only a few rods in superficial area. It
was thickly covered with trees; but, unlike those standing in the water,
which were tall and with single stems, those upon the islet were
supported by many trunks, proclaiming them to be some species of the
Indian fig or _banyan_.
One near the centre, from its greater width and more numerous supporting
pillars, seemed the patriarch of the tribe; and to this their eyes were
especially directed. For out of its leafy shadows came the strange
sounds which had hitherto guided them.
Among its branches, without any doubt, the red gorilla had his home; and
there he would be found in the bosom of his family.
Grasping his gun, and whispering to Saloo to follow him, Captain Redwood
started towards the tree so clearly indicated as the goal of their
expedition.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
THE FAMILY AT HOME.
Soon after the intended assailants stood among the rooted branches of
the banyan. The gloom underneath its umbrageous branches was deepened
by what appeared to be an immense scaffolding constructed near the top
of the tree, and extending far out along the horizontal limbs.
Saloo at once recognised the permanent nest or roosting-place of a _mias
rombi_--such as he had often seen in the forests of Sumatra, where the
same, or a closely allied species, has its home.
The tree was not a tall one, but low and widespreading; while the broad
platform-like nest, formed by interwoven branches, upon which lay a
thick layer of grass and leaves, was not more than twenty feet above the
surface of the earth.
The obscurity which prevailed around favoured their stealthy approach;
and like a pair of spectres gliding through the upright pillars, Captain
Redwood and his old pilot at length found a position favourable for a
survey of the platform erected by the gorilla.
The father's heart was filled with strange indescribable emotions, as
with eye keenly bent he stood upon a projecting branch, that brought his
head on a level with this curious structure.
There he saw a scene which stirred his soul to its deepest depths.
His daughter, appearing snow-white amid the gloom, was lying upon the
scaffold, her golden hair dishevelled, her dress torn into ribbons--
portions of it detached and scattered about.
To all appearance she was dead; for, scanning her with the earnest
anxious glance of a keen solicitude, he could not detect any movement
either in body or limbs; and it was too dark for him to tell whether her
eyes were open or closed.
But he had now very little hope. He was indeed too certain they were
closed in the sleep of death.
Around her were assembled three human-like forms, monstrous withal, and
all alike covered with a coating of red hair, thick, long, and shaggy.
They were of different sizes, and in the largest one he recognised the
abductor of his child.
The second in size, whose form proclaimed it to be a female, was
evidently the wife of the huge man-ape; while the little creature, about
eighteen inches in height--though a perfect miniature likeness of its
parents--was the infant whose squalling had contributed more than
anything else to guide them through the shades of the lagoon.
The old male, perhaps suffering fatigue from its fight with the
crocodile, as well as from the chase he had sustained, crouched upon the
scaffold, seemingly asleep.
The other two were still in motion, the mother at intervals seizing her
hairy offspring, and grotesquely caressing it; then letting it go free
to dance fantastically around the recumbent form of the unconscious
captive child. This it did, amusing itself by now and then tearing off
a strip of the girl's dress, either with its claws or teeth.
It was a spectacle wild, weird, altogether indescribable; and by Captain
Redwood not to be looked upon a moment longer than was necessary to
embrace its details.
Having satisfied himself, he raised his rifle to fire upon the family
party, intending first to aim at the father, whose death he most
desired, and who living would no doubt prove by far the most dangerous
antagonist.
In another instant his bullet would have sped towards the breast of the
sleeping giant, but for Saloo, who, grasping his arm, restrained him.
"Tay, cappen," said the Malay in a whisper; "leave me kill em. Sumpit
bettel dun bullet. De gun makee noise--wake old mias up, an' maybe no
killee em. De upas poison bettel. It go silent--quick. See how Saloo
slay dem all tlee!"
There was something in Saloo's suggestions which caused Captain Redwood
to ground his rifle and reflect. His reflections quickly ended in his
giving place to his old pilot, and leaving the latter to work out the
problem in his own way.
Stepping up to the branch assigned to him, which commanded a view of the
spectacle so torturing to his master, the Malay took a brief glance at
the scene--only a very brief one. It enabled him to select the first
victim for his envenomed shaft, the same which Captain Redwood had
destined to receive the leaden missile from his gun.
Bringing to his mouth the sumpitan, in whose tube he had already placed
one of his poisoned arrows, and compressing the trumpet-shaped
embouchure against his lips, he gave a puff that sent the shaft on its
deadly way with such velocity, that even in clear daylight its exit
could only have been detected like a spark from a flint.
In the obscurity that shrouded the gorilla's roost, nothing at all was
seen, and nothing heard; for the sumpit is as silent on its message as
the wing of an owl when beating through the twilight.
True, there was something heard, though it was not the sound of the
arrow.
Only a growl from the great red gorilla, that had felt something sting
him, and on feeling it threw up his paw to scratch the place, no doubt
fancying it to be but the bite of a mosquito or hornet. The piece of
stick broken off by his fingers may have seemed to him rather strange,
but not enough so to arouse him from his dreamy indifference.
Not even when another and another sting of the same unusual kind caused
him to renew his scratching--for by this time he was beginning to
succumb to the narcotic influence that would soon induce the sleep of
death.
It did thus end: for after a time, and almost without a struggle, the
red-haired monster lay stretched upon the platform which had long been
his resting-place, his huge limbs supple and tremulous with the last
throes of life.
And beside him, in the same condition, was soon after seen his wife,
who, of weaker conformation, had more quickly yielded to the soporific
effect of the upas poison, from which, when it has once pervaded the
blood, there is no chance of recovery.
Saloo did not deem the infant mias worthy a single arrow, and after its
parents had been disposed of, he sprang upon the scaffold, followed by
Captain Redwood, who, the moment after, was kneeling by his child, and
with ear closely pressed to her bosom, listened to learn if her heart
was still beating.
_It was_!
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.
AN IMPROVISED PALANQUIN.
"She lives! thank God, she lives!"
These were the words that fell upon the ears of Henry and Murtagh, when
Saloo, swimming back to the shore, related to them what had transpired.
And more too. She had recovered from her swoon, a long-protracted
syncope, which had fortunately kept her in a state of unconsciousness
almost from the moment of her capture to that of her rescue.
With the exception of some scratches upon her delicate skin, and a
slight pain caused by the compression to which she had been subjected in
that hideous hug, no harm had befallen her--at least no injury that
promised to be of a permanent nature.
Such was the report and prognosis of Saloo, who had swam back to the
shore to procure the ship-carpenter's axe, and his aid in the
construction of a raft.
This was to carry Helen from the islet--from a spot which had so nearly
proved fatal to her.
A bamboo grove grew close at hand, and with Saloo's knowledge and the
ship-carpenter's skill, a large life-preserver was soon set afloat on
the water of the lagoon. It was at once paddled to the islet, and
shortly after came back again bearing with it a precious freight--a
beautiful young girl rescued by an affectionate father, and restored to
an equally affectionate brother.
Long before the raft had grounded against the shore, Henry, plunging
into the shallow water, had gone to meet it, and mounting upon the
buoyant bamboos, had flung his arms around the form of his little
sister.
How tender that embrace, how fond and affectionate, how different from
the harsh hostile hug of the monster, whose long hairy arms had late so
cruelly encircled her delicate form!
As the child was still weak--her strength prostrated more by her first
alarm when seized, than by aught that had happened afterwards--Captain
Redwood would have deemed it prudent to make some stay upon the shore of
the lagoon.
But the place seemed so dismal, while the air was evidently damp and
unhealthy, to say naught of the unpleasant thoughts the scene suggested,
he felt desirous to escape from it as soon as possible.
In this matter the Malay again came to his assistance, by saying they
could soon provide a litter on which the child might be transported with
as much ease to herself as if she were travelling in the softest
sedan-chair that ever carried noble lady of Java or Japan.
"Construct it then," was the reply of Captain Redwood, who was
altogether occupied in caressing his restored child.
Saloo needed no further directions: he only requested the assistance of
Murtagh, along with what remained to him of his tools; and these being
as freely as joyfully furnished, a score of fresh bamboos soon lay
prostrate on the ground, out of which the palanquin was to be built up.
Lopped into proper lengths, and pruned of their great leaf-blades, they
were soon welded into the shape of a stretcher, with a pair of long
handles projecting from each end.
The palanquin was not yet complete, and by rights should have had a roof
over it to shelter its occupant from rain or sun; but as there was no
appearance of rain, and certainly no danger of being scorched by the sun
in a forest where its glowing orb was never seen nor its rays permitted
to penetrate, a roof was not thought necessary, and Saloo's task was
simplified by leaving it a mere stretcher.
He took pains, however, that it should be both soft and elastic. The
latter quality he obtained by a careful choice of the bamboos that were
to serve as shafts; the former requisite he secured by thickly bedding
it with the lopped-off leaves, and adding an upper stratum of cotton,
obtained from a species of bombyx growing close at hand, and soft as the
down of the eider-duck.
Reclining upon this easy couch, borne upon its long shafts of elastic
bamboo, Saloo at one end and Murtagh at the other, Helen was transported
like a queen through the forest she had lately traversed as a captive in
a manner so strange and perilous.
Before the sun had set, they once more looked upon its cheering light,
its last declining rays falling upon her pale face as she was set down
upon the shore of the lake, beside that same tree from which she had
taken her involuntary departure.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.
THE JOURNEY CONTINUED.
The captain's daughter, with the natural vigour of youth, soon recovered
from the slight injuries she had sustained in her singular journey
through the maze of boughs. The previous perils of shipwreck, and the
various hairbreadth escapes through which she had more recently passed,
made her last danger all the lighter to bear; for by these her child's
spirit had become steeled to endurance, and her courage was equal to
that of a full-grown woman. Otherwise the fearful situation in which
she had been placed, if leaving life, might have deprived her of reason.
As it happened, no serious misfortune had befallen, and with Helen's
strength and spirits both fully restored, her companions were able on
the third day to resume their overland journey.