IN THE JUNGLE
Our trial flight to Gorilla-land and back having been successfully
accomplished, we now began earnest preparations for the wholesale
capture of its inhabitants.
With his usual businesslike grasp of details, Gran'pa drew up a list of
the most important of our tasks, which were briefly as follows:--
(_a_) Construction of three cages (in sections); transportation to
suitable spots in jungle; erection; camouflage.
(_b_) Construction and transportation of two hangars.
(_c_) Transportation of two gas cylinders per cage.
(_d_) Lessons in language and habits of gorilla.
(_e_) Lessons in rapid binding with ropes, tying knots, etc.
One would have said that, fired with the great enthusiasm we all had
for the cause, such tasks as those outlined above should have taken
us only a few weeks to accomplish. They should. We had no trade union
restrictions, no lack of labor, no shortage of material, and no fear of
overproduction. Free from all these handicaps so carefully cultivated
by the Spirit of Modern Democracy, we ought to have made rapid progress.
But the natives were lazy, and argumentative, and curious, and
superstitious; the climate was abominably hot, and wet, and enervating;
transportation by aeroplane through a bumpy and tempestuous medium
was difficult, and dangerous, and very trying to the nerves; and the
general negroid disposition of always putting off till to-morrow what
you should do to-day was contagiously demoralizing even to the best of
us (Gran'pa!). All these things, added together, grew into a sort of
huge persuasive influence which insisted that labor was undignified and
crude.
Like a modern epitome of the British working man, I began reasoning
with myself thus: Why should I slave for others (that is, for
eighty-seven doddering old men on their way to Windhuk and Eternal
Youth)? Why should I toil my hardest, while a life of dignified ease
was the lot of so many others (that is, of the black population of
Corisco)? Why should I risk my life, or rack my brains, or endanger my
health? In short: why worry? Why hustle? And what was it all for, in
the end? And who cared? And, so on. . . .
This frame of mind was apparently common to all of us. We sometimes
caught one another lolling about in obscure and shady spots; or
swimming in the cool green water of miniature harbors; or even fast
asleep in corners of buildings, which were primarily designed and set
apart for human industry. Naturally, the individual who was found in
these attitudes of dignified repose or gentle relaxation was admonished
by the discoverer, but the latter always knew that he was just as bad
himself--when a suitable opportunity arose.
The climax came, however, one morning when I had been working unusually
hard at finishing the last of the three cages. As I hammered home the
final rivet I gave a great sigh of relief.
"That's _that_!" I thought, flinging the hammer aside and strolling out
into the tropical sunshine. "Now I'll pop over to the aerodrome, and
see how they're getting on."
Gran'pa, Dr. Croft and Stringer were there (in charge of one another
and some half-dozen natives), and I was anxious to let them know the
result of my morning's labors. It was intensely hot, and as I strolled
languidly through the mango plantation, I felt a grim satisfaction in
my physical condition of perspiring stickiness.
When I entered the large bamboo building which constituted our workshop
and aero garage I was immediately struck by its air of peace and
solitude. The portable lathe was silent and the benches were littered
with deserted tools, as though everyone had left hurriedly.
At first, the feverish pictures of a negro revolt, anarchy, or
assassination flashed through my brain; but presently, it became
obvious that nothing was damaged or taken. The place had been simply
left--as though it was under the spell of a dinner hour, or the
Sabbath. A terrible thought seized me, and hurrying into the open again
I began a search of the immediate vicinity, in the hope of finding some
loitering negro who could tell me what had happened to the toilers.
Not a soul was in sight. The countryside seemed to have been suddenly
swept clean of all life and movement; but, standing still and
listening, I at last heard a faint and distant sound of cheering.
It came unmistakably from the direction of the seashore. So I moved
forward again, worked my way down a narrow cliff pathway and thence
emerged on to a stretch of yellow sand. The noise--of much splashing
and shouting--was now on my right, but the cause of the commotion was
hidden by a handful of giant boulders which Nature had playfully flung
down at this spot.
After a ten minute search for footholds, I managed to climb to the top
of the highest boulder; and suddenly I saw a scene which nearly made
me weep at the futility of man's endeavor. There had I been working
hard all the morning, and here were Gran'pa, Croft, and Stringer--naked
and unashamed--careering round a miniature harbor on some crudely
fashioned raft-like object which was driven apparently by a petrol
engine.
As the thing drew nearer to me I could see that it was preceded by
a huge curling wave, which was made by some fiendish contrivance to
fling itself over the heads and bodies of the three mariners. Every
now and then, Gran'pa tugged at a piece of rope astern and the whole
craft leapt half out of the water, dived, and then settled down into a
sort of erratic seesaw movement. The cliff tops and beach were dotted
with excited negroes, and each time Gran'pa pulled the rope they broke
into loud cheers and flung themselves about in an ecstasy of wild
abandonment.
As I watched, I visualized that terrible business of Gran'pa and the
dug-out at home in England, and I could see that he was as wilful as
ever. To think that I had been working myself to a shadow in this
infernal tropical heat while he and Croft and Stringer were disporting
themselves in this aquatic and hysterical fashion!
I stood up on the boulder top and waved my arms and shouted. The only
answer was a loud and unanimous whoop of joy from the negroes, who no
doubt thought that I had joined them as another enthusiastic spectator.
Presently, however, the craft turned round and began heading in my
direction. As it did so, two of the crew were precipitated into the
water, where they commenced behaving like hilarious porpoises. The
man still left in charge of the thing was (naturally) Gran'pa, who
continued serenely onwards until he finally ran aground on a kind of
quayside composed of rugged, flat-topped rocks which jutted out into
the sea like a pier.
It was at this point that I went out to meet him--and tell him exactly
what was in my mind.
"Come on, George!" he shouted. "Off with your clothes!"
The temptation was terrible; but I had to remember my dignity.
"I'm ashamed of you!" I said, gazing at his cool, sea-drenched body and
laughing face.
"What's the matter now?"
"I naturally concluded that you were all busy at work--the same as me.
How the blazes do you expect us to get this job done if you behave in
this demoralizing way?"
"Ah! This is a brain-wave. Dr. Croft and I thought it out this morning
and acted on it there and then."
"So I can gather, quite easily!"
Gran'pa turned off the engine and stepped ashore.
"Those damned natives are getting sick of work," he said. "This morning
they were worse than ever. We offered 'em more cheap and nasty jewelry.
But they've lost interest in it. They're overloaded with the stuff.
So we cudgelled our brains, and this is the result. At heart they're
little children. What they want is enjoyment, not gimcrack knickknacks.
This little exhibition of aquatic merriment has turned their heads.
Look at them! . . . They'd give anything for a joy-ride on this. See
the idea?"
"You mean that excursions on this horrible contrivance will be their
reward for industry?"
"You've hit it first time, my lad. For every day of good hard, honest
toil they'll get fifteen minutes' excitement round the harbor. And I'll
stake my last farthing that when they know, we shall be simply besieged
with applicants for jobs."
I began divesting myself of my unnecessary and encumbering garments.
"You're a genius!" I said, as I scrambled aboard. "Let her rip!"
The contrivance on which I managed to secure a perilous foothold was
a rough, heart-shaped raft, with a long, narrow, rectangular hole cut
between the bows. It was through this hole that the water presently
began shooting upwards and backwards in a deliciously cool spray. The
engine--taken from an old petrol launch which Gran'pa had bought a few
days previously at Libreville--was encased in a water-tight covering
made of aeroplane fabric stretched over a metal framework. Between this
and the rudder was a vertical board which could be alternately lowered
into and raised out of the water, this giving our craft the motion of a
greyhound leaping in the chase. One maintained (or tried to maintain)
one's balance by standing with the feet well apart and clutching a
couple of the half dozen ropes fastened at one end to the deck.
Bathed in sunshine and falling water, Gran'pa and I shot outwards into
the little blue bay, where he began frisking and seesawing, to the
immense enjoyment of ourselves and the spectators. They lined the beach
in hundreds, and shouted themselves hoarse with glee (and envy!).
"Like it, George?" cried Gran'pa, as we playfully leapt half out of the
water.
"Rather! Why even I would do a day's work for a joy-ride like this
every afternoon!"
We slowed down and picked up Croft and Stringer. But with four of us
aboard the thing became top-heavy and cumbersome. So we made for land.
There, Gran'pa explained to the crowding and excited negroes the new
system of payment for labor; and, as a proof of good faith (and an
advertisement), he took our black foreman for a little jaunt round the
harbor.
Ten minutes later the poor fellow came back absolutely delirious with
joy.
Thus did we solve the great labor question in Corisco. . . .
It proved more satisfactory to our employees than any system of
profit-sharing, coöperation, or payment by result ever devised, and
it was certainly cheaper for the employer. The work was now done so
thoroughly and speedily that in less than another week we were ready
for our first real invasion of the jungle.
We all knew the gorilla language by now--a matter of some twenty or
more sounds--were experts at knot-tying and rope-binding, and could
give a very passable imitation of a live gorilla (when we were suitably
clad in one of the animal's skins and a mask). Our skill in making
a gas attack unawares was so perfect that we had even experimented
on some of the natives without their having had the faintest idea of
why they had suddenly fallen asleep. (I should like to give the exact
formula for this specially prepared gas, which we called _Gorilene_,
but unfortunately Gran'pa would never divulge the secret. It was
practically odorless and non-poisonous, and its effect was swift and
painless, rendering its victim unconscious for about 60 to 90 seconds.)
We could also fly an aeroplane or shoot an animal at 100 yards; and in
an emergency we could climb trees with grace and agility. We had even
been taught how to do interesting and murderous things with knives and
spears. . . .
In addition, we could all of us (including Molly and Sally Rebecca)
carry on more or less intelligent conversations with the natives in
pigeon-English (with the occasional help of an excellent German-made
dictionary!). At swimming we were experts and almost "lived" our spare
time in the water; with the exception of Sally Rebecca, who could be
persuaded only to paddle. Even this she first attempted with stockings
on! But, as for Molly, I really believe that she would have developed
fins and web-feet in another six months! She was brown skinned from
head to foot, and constant exercise in the open air and sunshine had
already increased her stature by at least an inch. We were the jolliest
party imaginable, and I am certain that all of us hated the prospect of
ever returning to England.
I mention these things to show that, in spite of our deep sense of
duty towards the aged, we still had our lighter moments of gaiety and
abandon.
At last the time came when we were able to make the actual declaration
of war on the gorillas. Our boat, "The Pilgrim Father," after landing
its cargo of ancients at Swakopmund, had returned and had been prepared
for the reception of our anthropoid guests; the three cages had
been placed in the jungle, some 150 miles from Corisco (their exact
positions being indicated by small, bright-red, captive balloons); a
hangar for the shelter of two aeroplanes had been constructed on a
neighboring plateau; and a week's supply of emergency rations had been
conveyed to each of these four points of attack (and defence). We were
ready.
Ninety minutes before dawn on May 15th (the commencement of the six
months' dry season) was the appointed hour to strike.
I don't think any of us slept the previous night. We arose early, fed
ourselves, wheeled out the two aeroplanes, climbed aboard, and wished
everyone "good-by"--although we intended returning the same evening, if
possible. I leant over the side and kissed Molly, and Gran'pa kissed
Sally Rebecca (who didn't look a day older than sixty in the faint
light of the early morn); and Stringer and Dr. Croft and the two pilots
waved to the assembled multitude. Immediately afterwards our propellers
were swung and we rose into the air like two great birds in quest of
other and pleasanter climes.
As was fitting, the leading 'plane contained Gran'pa, Stringer and
Oakley--Dr. Croft and myself and Newland (one of our other pilots)
followed behind at a distance of about five hundred feet. We also had
our mascots aboard. Mine was a small teddy bear (2 inches in height)
given me by Molly; Croft's was a human knuckle bone (previously
belonging to some ancient, mummified Egyptian princess); Stringer's
was a carved crocodile's tooth (given him, possibly under hypnotic
influence, by Njambai, the Mbenga chief); Oakley's and Newland's were
a couple of green wool, miniature golliwogs; and Gran'pa's was a small
photograph of Sally Rebecca (at the age of 32)--a thing of art and
beauty and sentiment, perhaps, but obviously of very little value,
otherwise.
We flew across the Bay of Corisco at a height of about 1,500 feet,
making straight for the mouth of the Moondah, which glistened like the
head of an arrow pointing towards the heart of the Gorilla Country. The
air was icy cold, and clear; but by the time the sun had risen and we
had crossed the Coast Range we found the way blocked by a long bank of
clouds. To save time, we flew through the gaps, which, as we entered
them, became huge caves. By towering cliffs and over deep chasms we
passed--aflight in another world, which was every bit as solid-looking
as the real one lying sunlit and green-clad beneath.
It was after passing through the last of these cloud gaps that we saw
half-a-dozen miles to our right--three patches of bright red, standing
out like tiny, clear-cut discs on the olive green expanse of jungle.
They were the balloons which gave us the exact location of our cages. A
little further on, the top of our hangar was visible as a blob of white
in the one corner of a light green clearing.
Presently, Newland pulled back the throttle and pushed the joy-stick
forward and we descended swiftly to a height of 1,000 feet. At that
point he shut off the engine; the deep roar, which we had grown
accustomed to for the last two and a half hours, was changed into the
shrill whine of wind against the struts; the aeroplane flattened out,
and we at last commenced our swift glide earthwards.
We landed a couple of minutes or so after our leaders, and immediately
began making arrangements for our journey to the cages.
A dozen negroes from one of the neighboring tribes had been left in
charge of the aerodrome for the last week, and from these we now chose
six as our personal bodyguard through the jungle. Fine fellows they
were--tall, powerfully built, industrious (more or less) and very
willing and obedient (as becomes the properly missionarified black).
They treated us with idolatrous respect, chattered excitably of the
gorillas they had heard in the vicinity, and told us that the narrow
pathways which they had cut to our cages were in complete readiness.
Leaving Oakley and Newland and the remainder of the negroes at the
aerodrome, we soon reached the first cage, which was about a quarter of
a mile away. There Stringer and I pitched camp for the day, retaining
one-third of the bodyguard for porter work.
"If you have any luck," I said to Gran'pa and Dr. Croft, "send a
messenger along. The first capture will probably be the most important
of all. To-day is a sort of apprenticeship."
"Quite right, George! Much depends on our initial encounter with a free
gorilla and whoever scores the first bull's-eye should hand on the
valuable knowledge he has thereby acquired. . . . So long!"
Stringer and I watched them disappear into the dense green mass of the
encircling jungle, and then entered our fortress and donned our female
gorilla garments. We saw that our revolvers were loaded and efficient,
slipped them into the "hip pockets" cut in the rear of the skins,
and turned our attention to the "gas-works." A flexible green tube
(artfully disguised as a trailing tendril!) was affixed to each of the
two cylinders and one nozzle was placed outside and the other inside
the cage. Ropes, handcuffs, and chains were also placed in readiness.
While we were thus engaged none of us spoke above the merest whisper,
and the negroes themselves moved as silently as shadows. To a
spectator, we should have presented a strange sight indeed. He would
have seen a small, natural clearing in the jungle and a peculiar,
leaf-bedecked arrangement of vertical green bars, behind which two
negroes and (apparently) two gorillas were working in perfect harmony
and peace. He would also have smelt a strong odor of aniseed (beloved
of all animals), and, so we hoped, a reliable camouflage to our
tell-tale "man-scent." Then he would have seen the centre portion of
the bars slide apart and one of the gorillas emerge into the open and
emit weird cries. At this point such a spectator would probably have
fled (or fired!). . . .
The interior of the cage was painted a dull black, so that from the
outside everything behind the bars was, as it were, in deep shadows,
the negroes themselves being almost invisible. (Yes! We had thought of
everything!)
When Stringer stepped out of our shelter and gave vent to that inhuman
call signifying "food and plenty," I held my breath and listened. The
air was hot, heavy, damp and oppressive--an almost tangible medium in
which we were immersed from the throat downwards. Animal and insect
life was silent and deathlike, but from the moisture-laden, luxurious
foliage came the subdued murmur of at least one form of movement.
_Drip! . . . Drip! . . . Drip! . . ._
As Stringer cautiously advanced, he carried in his left hand that
sleep-inducing nozzle connected with the gas cylinder; whilst in his
right hand he held a death-inducing automatic--in case there arose the
vital question: "My life or yours?"
At a distance of twenty or thirty feet from the cage he sat down on his
haunches, raised his great anthropoid head to heaven, and let forth
another and louder cry.
There was no answer, save that eternal and infernal:
_Drip! . . . Drip! . . . Drip! . . ._
A giant tree shook itself in a slight breeze which sprang up, and I saw
a snake make its way stealthily across one corner of the clearing and
disappear into the underbrush.
Silence and stillness again.
And then an answering call came from the depths of the jungle. Like a
cry of some triumphant and bloodthirsty accomplishment, it rose slowly
upwards and upwards until it reached a pæan of ecstacy and abandonment;
then it sank into a low gurgle of animal contentment.
Was it Gran'pa, or Dr. Croft, or another gorilla?
Stringer turned his head and looked at me in a way which, in spite of
his anthropoid appearance, was almost human. No doubt he was asking
himself (and me), the same question.
I shook my shaggy head and waddled out into the open. There, I emitted
a cry very similar to the one that we had just heard.
It was answered almost immediately, from two separate points in
succession, and I knew at once that Gran'pa and Dr. Croft were now
engaged in the same occupation as ourselves and that they were
notifying us of the fact.
Presently, we heard and sensed the vague stir of animal life. Birds
alighted on near-by trees; distant and hidden twigs and branches
cracked; a little curious-visaged monkey appeared on a tree-top and
watched us alertly; a brilliantly colored parrot shrieked and whistled.
The denizens of the forest were at last emerging from that temporary
retirement occasioned by the advent of our party from the outside
world. With only a couple of playful-looking gorillas in sight, they
were no doubt feeling quite at home again.
When we gave vent to our ardent appeals for the companionship of our
tribe, the sounds of busy life around us continued with unabated
industry--a great compliment to our power of imitative animal
articulation. We, and our cage, and the statuesque negroes in the two
back corners, were definitely part and parcel of the jungle. We were
being accepted by its folk, sheltered by its encompassing vegetation,
and warmed and moistened by its atmosphere. So acclimatized did I feel
that I ventured further out into the open and joined Stringer.
"There doesn't seem to be anything doing yet," I whispered in
civilized, human slang.
"It's a game of patience. We may have to wait hours or even days. We'll
bring a book to read to-morrow."
"Might frighten them."
"Not if you kept it well out of sight in this long grass."
"Yes! . . . We could take it in turns. It would never do for both of
us to get absorbed in a yarn. One would have to watch while the other
read."
At this point our conversation suddenly ceased. We had heard the sharp
crack of breaking twigs in some spot immediately behind us.
Turning swiftly but cautiously, we peered at the dense green tangle of
leaves and branches, trying to make our gaze penetrate into the gloomy
interior of the forest.
With great presence of mind, Stringer also began making little
whimpering and seductive noises at the back of his throat, like a
female gorilla in distress.
The noise stopped and I was conscious--with every high-strung nerve
in my body!--that we were being watched. Was it with curiosity, with
malicious intent, or with fear? And by _what_? Had the fateful hour
at last struck? Were all our plans and preparations for the previous
six months now to be put to the great test? Were we facing victory, or
defeat--or death?
As these thoughts sped through my mind I became aware of a feeling of
intense exhilaration. I was eager to see what stark and naked peril lay
behind the shelter of those harmless trees and bushes. To have advanced
towards the spot with the intention of making closer investigations
would have been foolish. It might frighten away our unseen watcher, or
lead to a sudden attack which would take us unawares.
So Stringer and I commenced slowly waddling back to our cage, with gas
nozzles and revolvers in readiness for instant use. As we moved, we
made a pretence of eating the plentiful supply of nuts and white-ribbed
pineapple leaves which we had brought with us. At the same time we
emitted alluring noises signifying "food." Surely no _male_ gorilla,
at any rate, would be able to resist this joint attraction of food and
mates!
We were mistaken, however, for presently we heard faint and stealthy
movements of retreat and a few moments later our ears were listening to
only the constant: _Drip! . . . Drip! . . . Drip! . . ._ of the jungle.
"Damn!" I whispered to Stringer.
"Don't worry!" he said. "If it's a gorilla I'll bet its curiosity will
get the better of it presently and it'll return to another spot. If it
is _not_ a gorilla--then we've lost nothing!"
"True!"
I let forth another call and heard Gran'pa and Dr. Croft give their
answering cries as if in mocking derision at our first failure.
"It may go ambling off to _their_ cages," I whispered, in a spirit of
intense rivalry.
"Just as good," answered Stringer.
"It isn't! _We_ want to score the first victory."
Again we called to our kinsmen of the forest; and this time our efforts
were rewarded with astonishing success.
Without the least sound or warning, the branches of the surrounding
trees suddenly parted at two places at once, and there emerged into the
open a couple of huge male gorillas on all fours.
They stopped, stared first at us, and then at one another.
"Rivals for our hands--by jingo!" whispered Stringer, with a nervous
attempt at humor.
"I hope to goodness they don't fight!" I answered.
For fully a minute they sat there on their haunches, supporting
themselves with their long arms and glaring at each other with hatred,
but indecision.
Suddenly the larger one arose and commenced moving slowly in our
direction, using its arms as sort of crutches. It looked Stringer
straight in the face, and Stringer returned the gaze with all the
unwavering calmness of his magnetic soul!
The other brute also began waddling towards us and, as it did so, the
first turned its head, struck its immense chest with its hands and
let forth roar upon roar of defiance. It bared its teeth, rapidly
oscillated its eyebrows, and assumed the most threatening attitude it
could command.
Its smaller rival hesitated--as well it might--then it looked
covetously in my direction and I could see from the way it eyed me that
it was not going to be intimidated in this manner. I adopted an air
of complete indifference and went on pretending to eat my pineapple
leaves. Whether it was the tasty food or me it wanted I would not be
conceited enough to say; but, anyway, it decided to fight.
With a sharp bark and a roar like thunder the two gorillas were upon
one another in an instant.
The sight was magnificent, but awful. The great, muscular brutes
tore at each other's throats with their hands (and even their feet);
they twisted and turned and contorted themselves; they bit; they
scratched; and they screamed out their hatred in every key conceivable.
The brutality of two men fighting to the death was a mere, friendly
sparring match compared with this. They fought without conforming to
any rules of sport, without mercy, and without respite. Pieces of hairy
skin were torn off by tooth and claw; arms and legs were wrenched and
twisted to breaking point; heads were thrust back in an endeavor to get
at the throat; and bodies were lacerated with pieces of broken wood as
the two infuriated and interlocked monsters flung themselves hither and
thither on the earth.
Once, their powerful, wide-open jaws met one against the other in a
hideous clash and something white and glistening flew out on to the
grass. It was a broken tooth! The strength they were exerting must have
been tremendous--sufficient to crush a man to jelly--and yet neither
seemed able to gain any decisive advantage over the other.
For nearly a couple of minutes we watched with horror and fascination
this deadly combat between two of the cruellest and most vindictive
brutes in the whole of the animal world. We could do nothing but stare
breathlessly at the scene, and thank God that we were not actively
involved as well.
At last, however, one of us spoke.
"We must stop this," whispered Stringer, hoarsely. "They'll kill each
other."
"What can we do--except shoot?"
"There's . . . _this_!" he answered quietly. "If we can get near
enough."
He held up the nozzle of the gas projector.
"By jove!" I said. "Of course!"
I gave the prearranged sign to the two scared negroes crouching in the
cage and they turned on the cocks of the cylinders.
As the gas began sizzling out of the flexible tubes, we fixed over our
nostrils the breathing apparatus connected with the filters which we
carried on our backs.
Then we advanced stealthily towards the gyrating mass of animal fury
and played on it.
The miraculous happened. Gradually, the monsters relinquished their
stranglehold. It was as if sudden exhaustion had seized them. They sat
down on their haunches, like two worn-out old men, panting for breath,
dazed and clearly very surprised.
One of them made a whimpering noise, opened its mouth in a vain
endeavor to escape the suffocating effects of the gas, passed its arm
wearily across its face as if to wipe something away--and suddenly
collapsed.
The other attempted to escape. But its legs and arms were too weak to
propel its great body and a moment or so later it, too, lay down with a
deep grunt of contentment.
I shouted to the negroes--shouted at the top of my voice in modern
English:
"Hustle, there!"
They understood.
Without a second's delay they came running out to us with all the
paraphernalia of bondage--ropes, chains, handcuffs, and sacks.
I gave Stringer my gas projector, asked him to keep the two brutes
quiet while I fetched the ether, and told the negroes to hold their
breath until they had dropped their burden and retreated again.
For the next five minutes we were four of the busiest people on earth.
We substituted ether for gas, got the gorillas into a nice pliable
condition of utter unconsciousness, handcuffed their hands behind their
backs, tied up their legs in sacks, wound their arms and bodies round
and round with ropes and chains, and then withdrew to our cage, where
we took a cool and refreshing draught of lime-juice and water.
The perspiration was running from us. The gorilla is an immense brute
weighing from two hundred to two hundred and fifty pounds, and the
trussing up of that amount of dead weight in the damp tropical heat had
demanded tremendous exertions. Even the great six-foot negroes looked
exhausted.
"Well!" I said to Stringer, "how's that for the first morning's bag?"
"Great! Won't the others be jealous!"
"Won't they just! We'll send them word at once."
I despatched the two blacks with our message of victory, turned to the
wire which held our balloon captive, hauled down the bright red ball
to earth, fastened the Stars and Stripes and the Union Jack beneath
it, and let it up into the air again. This was our simple method of
requesting Oakley and Newland to send carriers from the aerodrome.
"Now," I said, "let's go and inspect the vanquished!"
They lay there on the green grass as peaceful as little children asleep
in their cots, and to look at them lying thus it was difficult to
imagine that they were the same two beings that less than ten minutes
previously, had been locked in deadly combat.
Their coats were of an iron-gray color, due to alternate rings of black
and gray on the individual hairs--which were quite two inches long on
the arms. The skin was black and naked on the face, the breast and the
palms of the hands; the head was covered in short, reddish brown hair;
the eyes were deeply sunken, and lay beneath overhanging ridges of
bone, which gave the face an expression of scowling savagery; and the
wide mouth was fringed by sharply-cut lips which were drawn back so as
to expose the huge and powerful canines.
In spite of the ferocity of their recent encounter, they were
practically undamaged, excepting for a few skin wounds and contusions.
We anointed several wounds with carbolic ointment, removed a particle
of broken wood which was embedded in the smaller gorilla's thigh,
propped the two brutes up against a couple of tree trunks, and then
stepped back and awaited their return to consciousness.
Stringer's suitor awoke first. He was in such a position that he could
see us, but not his rival, and no doubt his first impression was that
he had won the fight--but had naturally been left very bruised and
exhausted. He looked at Stringer and me with what was very nearly an
expression of quiet triumph and he seemed to invite our approach.
We spoke to him soothingly, trying to convey to his numbed brain that
all danger was over and that prosperity (in the shape of food) lay
before us all.
He listened intelligently, gave a little grunt of satisfaction and
tried to join us.
The sudden realization that it was impossible to move any part of
himself save his head must have proved a terrible shock. We saw him
inflate his immense chest to its fullest capacity, strain at his bonds,
and then relax into a condition of panting impotence.
By this time, my own suitor had regained consciousness and was also
endeavoring to reach us.
Neither of them showed the least trace of anger or fear--a remarkable
fact when one considers their position of helpless bondage. Had they
seen each other, the situation would no doubt have developed into
another display of tempestuous fury, but, as it was, they made no sound
other than that of labored breathing. Possibly, they had experienced
this feeling of returning consciousness and helplessness before, and
were convinced that it would presently pass off. It was one of the
symbols of victory.
I put my mouth to Stringer's ear and whispered:
"Let's get nearer and see if they still suffer from the delusion that
we are of the same blood."
Apparently they did; and Stringer actually had the temerity to reach
out a hairy arm and stroke his gorilla on the head. The poor brute shut
its eyes in mild contentment.
Could anything have been more pitiably human than this great monster
succumbing to such a kindly caress? Were not all those stories of the
untamable ferocity of the male gorilla merely due to ignorance and
superstition? Were these animals any more malignant and savage than we
should be, had we to face the same daily perils of life in the jungle?
I recalled Gran'pa's display of murderous intent on that terrible night
when I had tried to coax him from his dug-out into the warm shelter of
a house, and I could see that external conditions accounted for a great
deal, even in human conduct. How much more so must this have been the
case with animals.
Here were these two poor, misguided brutes, shattered and dazed by
recent battle, asking for comfort and kindness, and when it was
administered to them (by the women of their own species!) they became
as little children. It was a touching sight, and I was so pleased with
Stringer's achievement that I could not refrain from leaning forward to
stroke my own captive.
But the brute was suspicious (smelling beneath the aniseed, perhaps, a
whiff of that hate-inducing scent of MAN), and it suddenly showed its
ill-temper in a quick jerk of the head, a clash of white teeth and a
guttural snarl. The fingers of my right hand were saved by less than an
inch and the tenth of a second.
"You would, would you?" I said, completely forgetting my anthropoid
part.
At the sound of my human voice it barked again, and as it did so,
Stringer's gorilla twisted its head round, saw its rival still in the
land of the living, and let up a terrible, rolling roar of defiance.
Pandemonium broke loose again. The two animals screamed and barked and
roared at one another as if they were mad--each probably under the
impression that the other was responsible for the ropes and chains of
bondage. They strained and twisted at their shackles until I began to
fear that they would break. I could have sworn that I heard something
snap.
And so I had; for at the opposite side of the clearing an immense
gorilla was standing, erect and uncertain, clutching in its hands the
broken and leafless bough of a tree.
"Look out!" I warned Stringer.
He swung round in the direction I pointed, and for one awful
half-minute there was a dead silence, as the whole five of us stood
watching one another for the first sign of attack.
Revolvers in hand, Stringer and I came together and commenced backing
towards the cage. But before we could reach it, the newcomer was after
us on all fours--running along the ground like a bent old man, with
incredible speed and ungainliness.
We didn't wait the hundredth part of a second. Nor, thank heaven, did
we fire. I don't believe we could have hit the brute had we tried.
We simply turned, rushed pell mell for our shelter, scrambled inside,
slammed the trap doors to, and retreated to the farthest corner.
With an ear-splitting roar, the monster flung itself at the bars,
bending them and shaking the whole cage with the force of its impact.
"Quick!" I cried. "Turn on that blooming gas!"
There was no time to bother about gas masks. I picked up the nearest
tube, held my breath, and thrust the projector right between the
hideous brute's open jaws.
They came together with a horrible crunch, there was a choking
splutter of rage, and a moment later the poor wretch had followed its
predecessors' swift flight to the realms of sleep. Heaving a deep sigh,
I shouted to Stringer:
"This is our busy day!"
The next second I saw Stringer, the gorilla, the cage and the whole
jungle spin round, turn a somersault and begin converging in on me. I
thought:
"We're nose-diving . . . side-slipping. . . . Now for the crash! . . .
Ugh!"
I shut my eyes tightly, terrified by the sudden drumming of blood in my
ears, and felt all sensation of touch slipping from my limbs and body.
The sounds of the outside world grew fewer and fainter, and I heard
the beating of my heart quieten down into a little murmur of weary
contentment.
"This is death!" I thought, without fear or excitement.
Then I seemed to leave the falling aeroplane and ascend rapidly into
space.
I saw the stars winking at me in a pitch black sky and performing
phantasmagoric dances; but presently these, too, disappeared and I was
alone in an infinite void, without light, or sound, or movement. In
some strange way I still had the power of thought, but every vestige of
sensation had been taken from me.
"Is this life after death?" I asked myself dispassionately.
My mind struggled with the problem, trying its utmost to achieve some
form of activity. But it had no eyes, no hands, no limbs, no ears, no
nose, no mouth, with which to accomplish anything. It was steam without
the engine, electricity without the motor, energy without the necessary
mechanism for transmitting it to power, soul without the body.
"Let me die outright!" I prayed. "Annihilation is better than this mere
mentality afloat in nothing. . . ."
A little twinkle of light showed itself in the utter darkness. Then
another, and another. And again the stars came into being.
But, by this time they were receding and I began dropping back to the
dear old earth.
"This is resurrection!" I thought gladly. "Life--and _Movement_! . . ."
I felt my body returning to me as something warm, and sensitive, and
oh! so human! Never was home more welcome to a weary traveller than was
this uprush of sensuous consciousness to my isolated and lonely brain.
As the first sounds of the outside world broke on my ears again, I
opened my eyes and was surprised to find myself contemplating the
intense blue of a tropical sky.
I was lying on the grass, a few yards from our cage, and when I raised
my head I saw Stringer panting and puffing over the prostrate form of
our latest capture. Single-handed, he was trying to bind the brute's
arms and legs.
"What's happened?" I cried, sitting up dizzily.
"You got a whiff of that gas, young man, and I had to drag you out into
the open. If you can, give me a hand before he comes round."
I pulled myself together, got on my hands and feet, and crawled over to
Stringer's side. There, I managed to render a little help.
"Did you--give it a . . . sniff of ether?" I gasped between by
exertions.
"Yes!"
"You must have been pretty quick."
"Never hustled so much in my life. . . ."
"This is absurd," I said. "We can't continue raking in gorillas at this
rate all day. The strain's too great."
I wiped my perspiring brow and helped to tie the last knot.
"The other two seem to be very quiet," remarked Stringer.
We turned and looked at them. They were sitting just as they had been
placed, perfectly still and upright, and showed clear signs of the
deepest interest in our movements. Naturally, they had never seen
anything like this before and must have been almost hypnotized with
amazement. Once the elements of fear and anger are eliminated, it is
probable that the anthropoid ape is capable of experiencing emotions
very similar to our own. They can feel pity, affection, astonishment
and--most of all--intense curiosity.
Apparently, they did not fear us and were not angry with us (or even
with one another, now) but their curiosity must have been tremendous.
Nothing else could account for their quiet behavior under such
circumstances. It might be argued that the pressure of their bonds
would hurt sufficiently to enrage even the most curious brute, but
I think that the pain from the wounds caused in the fight would, in
_their_ opinion, account for all such discomforts. Their reasoning
powers, equal to those of an eighteen months old child, were too
limited to connect Stringer and myself with most of their troubles,
and no doubt they still looked on us as two harmless and inoffensive
females of their own species.
When our third captive regained consciousness, however, he must have
told them of his suspicions, for I distinctly heard him give the DANGER
call. It was followed by a guttural sound in a low key--an anthropoid
expression with which I was not familiar. It may have been equivalent
to "Impostors!" or "Spiteful Beasts!" or "Bad Characters!" Gorillas
must meet such animals in their own tribe, and it is probable that
they can express their resentment of the fact to one another.
It is only human conceit which makes us think that character-reading,
with the allied arts of backbiting and slander, are peculiar to our own
species. Many of the so-called "dumb" brutes may be just as proficient
as we are in telling one another exactly what they think of a third
animal. In any case, I am convinced that our last victim gave us away
to the other two.
The noise which they all began making was terrible. It must have been
audible two or three miles away, and was evidently an exhibition of
rage, with the intention of frightening us away.
"D'you think they're calling for help?" I asked Stringer. "If so, we'd
better get back into the cage again."
"I don't like it," he shouted in reply. "Why haven't those infernal
natives returned by now? And when are those stretcher bearers from the
aerodrome going to arrive?"
I could feel in my bones that something tragic had happened--or was
going to happen--or might happen! What was it? Whence would it come?
I scanned the encircling trees and when my gaze alighted on the first
two gorillas I saw a sight which held me spellbound. The bushes
immediately behind the smaller of the brutes had suddenly been thrust
aside, and there emerged another of these jungle folk with an uplifted
hand, bearing a club-shaped piece of wood.
It flashed through my startled brain that this ferocious-looking
newcomer was about to strike one of our defenceless captives--an
unthinkable crime--a piece of animal "awfulness" which could not be
tolerated by even the most callous human being.
There was only one way of preventing this sudden and dastardly attack,
and I chose it unhesitatingly. Raising my automatic, I cried out to
Stringer, hooked my finger round the trigger and pulled.
But I was too late. The strangest thing in the world had happened.
Stringer's hand had shot forth with incredible swiftness, struck up my
own, and diverted the bullet into the tree-tops.
"Good God!" he shouted, "Are you _blind_, man?"
I peered through the clearing smoke.
"Well, I'm damned!" I said.