THE CAPTURE OF LITTLE WILLIE
From what little we already knew of the anthropoid apes and from what
the natives told us, we soon realized the improbability of discovering
a very young gorilla without its mother. Even then, it would be
necessary to sacrifice life before a capture could be effected.
It took over two hours to convince Gran'pa of the likelihood of having
to shoot at least one female gorilla. Fortunately, I was not yet well
enough to take part in the affair, and so the objectionable task fell
to the lot of Stringer and Dr. Croft.
For the first time in the history of our campaign we sent forth a
detachment of our party with the sole aim of killing--like "real
sportsmen," as Gran'pa said with bitter cynicism.
To our eternal shame, this is what happened.
Armed with guns and accompanied by two natives, Stringer and Croft were
walking cautiously and quietly through the forest when they heard the
wail of a young gorilla--a harsh, half-moaning sound, quite unlike any
cry uttered by the adult.
The heavy silence of mid-day was upon the woods, and the four assassins
crept noiselessly towards the spot where the baby was spasmodically
conversing with its mother and, possibly, its father--who would be
doubly dangerous when protecting his wife and offspring.
Croft's heart was beating furiously, Stringer's eyebrows and moustache
were bristling with excitement, and the two negroes were showing a very
evident desire for flight. One can understand the emotions of the
party, for this was their first attempt at big game stalking.
Presently, through a sheltering screen of branches and leaves, they
had their first vision of what might be called the domestic side of
gorilladom.
A young gorilla was seated on the ground, enjoying a meal of berries;
whilst a yard or so further away sat its mother, who was also having
lunch. Stringer says that it was a pretty and interesting sight. I
believe him.
With a quiet courage, born possibly of intense curiosity, Stringer,
Croft and the two natives lay down on the earth, hardly daring to
breathe, their guns in readiness, determined to wait awhile--and
watch. . . .
So far, there were no signs of the dread _paterfamilias_, but before
a couple of minutes had passed, the bush moved and the huge husband
waddled forth. He looked a trifle uneasy, as if sensing some vague,
antagonistic presence, and his wicked and cunning little eyes seemed
to search the surrounding foliage in bloodthirsty anticipation of
slaughter.
After glancing round at him, his wife called her child, with a low
guttural cluck. It ran over to her immediately and flung its arms round
her neck, its legs round her body, and its face against her chest--the
very picture of human infantile shyness!
Apparently, the female gorilla's sensitiveness to danger would shame
the most coy and retiring woman ever created.
Without waiting for a word of real warning from her lord and master,
she gave vent to a loud scream and took to instant flight. Meanwhile,
the male protector erected himself to his full height. He then let
up a deep, challenging roar of defiance and smote at his chest with
clenched fists, as if beating himself into a fury.
Both Stringer and Croft afterwards stated that, at this point, the
powers of human reason and kindliness forsook them. They became
mere machines behind the gleaming barrels of the guns--sportsmen,
relentlessly driven into action by the spirit of the chase--or the
spirit of self-defence--or, what you will.
They fired almost simultaneously, and both the adult gorillas fell
mortally wounded, the baby still clinging to its mother and crying
pitifully. "_Hoo! . . . Hoo! . . ._"
Ashamed and trembling, Stringer and Croft waited in ambush for a few
moments, before they prepared to take the little one from its dead
mother.
Still clutching her neck and body, it kept its face half-buried in her
chest; but the moment its enemies came into the open it turned and
screamed at them with all the inherited savagery of its race.
Then, with extraordinary courage, it suddenly rushed at one of the
natives, bit him in the leg, and rapidly retreated to a small tree.
A second later, it was sitting aloft, shouting vindictive threats at
its aggressors.
A council of war was held. No one showed the least inclination to try
and capture this mere two-year-old baby boy. Apart from its biting
capacity, it was probably much stronger than a full grown man--and
certainly twice as nimble.
But in the end, as Gran'pa had so often insisted, brains will tell.
Stringer, who had secretly profited by his circus experience in the
old lion-taming days, gave a little exhibition in the gentle art of
lassoing--under difficulties.
After an extremely thrilling performance, lasting over half-an-hour,
Little Willie, as he was eventually called, was brought home,
ignominiously and under great protest, in a sack.
Never have I met such a two-foot bundle of savagery and cunning. Four
men could hold him more or less comfortably; three, uncomfortably; two,
with the utmost difficulty; and, one--I shudder to think what would
have happened. . . .
When he and Gran'pa were first introduced to one another, Little Willie
was sitting peacefully at the end of his fully extended chain, deeply
absorbed in one of his toe-nails.
"Well, old chap?" said Gran'pa, affably.
No answer.
"Poor little fellow! I expect he's pretty homesick, George!"
No doubt Gran'pa's intentions were of the best. He merely wanted to
be friendly and, at the same time, to examine our little captive more
closely. So, after carefully satisfying himself that there was no risk
of being bitten, Gran'pa approached still nearer, stooped, and made
further remarks signifying comradeship.
Little Willie ignored him for about half a minute. Then he turned his
head slightly, as though measuring the distance which separated him
from this new and talkative specimen of humanity.
The next moment a hairy foot shot out; there was a gorilla scream of
revengeful glee, a human yell of alarm and pain, a sound of scuffling
and tearing--and Little Willie quickly retreated, holding a piece of
trouser-leg in his left foot.
Unsatisfied with Gran'pa's curses and this tangible emblem of victory
(which was now in Little Willie's mouth), the sprightly gorilla-child
next dashed across to an amused native, severely bit him in the leg,
and then described a large circle round the stake to which his chain
was fastened.
Apparently, he wanted to make a clean sweep of all spectators. He
accomplished his desire quite easily. The natives ran for their lives.
Gran'pa and I hurriedly withdrew; and Stringer, who had been coming in
our direction, suddenly stopped--and thought better of it.
"Cunning little beast!" grunted Gran'pa, exploring his bruised shin
through the hole in his trouser leg.
"I told you he was dangerous!" I said.
"Dangerous, yes! But you didn't say _treacherous_!"
"Is it any worse," I asked, "than our dressing up as lady gorillas and
gassing our innocent admirers?"
"Er . . . put that way, perhaps not. Still, we must be very
careful. . . ."
"I always am!" I observed, thinking of the air of indifference
displayed by Gran'pa when I had once been chased by a snake in the
jungle.
"Don't goad me, George! It was perfectly natural to try if the little
fellow was amenable to ordinary human kindness?"
Stringer had joined us by now and expressed the opinion that all
gorillas, especially male, were absolutely untamable and that it was a
waste of time to appeal to their better nature, because they had none.
"We shall see. . . ." said Gran'pa mysteriously.
Unfortunately, we didn't; for the next day Little Willie performed the
same gymnastic feat on Oakley. The only difference was that, instead of
procuring a piece of cloth as a reward, he removed a small portion of
Oakley's flesh.
So much for a newly-captured baby gorilla as a possible pet.
As a decoy, however, Little Willie was much more promising, and a week
or so after his compulsory enlistment in the services of the aged we
took him out to his native jungle again.
Staking him in the centre of a small clearing in the forest--as near
as possible to the new gorilla haunt discovered by Nchago--Croft and I
donned our gorilla garb and retired to the cage.
Instead of sitting in the open and calling for mates, we intended
giving Little Willie the honor of notifying the females of his race
that he was in dire need of help and comfort.
He did this admirably and almost incessantly, while several yards away
from him lay a circle of half-a-dozen hidden nozzles connected with the
"gas-works."
Exactly what he said was not known to us. He may have been merely
complaining of the great difficulty of escaping to the shelter of the
forest. Or, he may have been shouting out the names of his friends and
relations.
Once or twice, he made that pathetic noise of "_Hoo! . . . Hoo! . . ._"
as if pondering on the tenderness of his years and bemoaning the
harshness of life.
Still as death, we sat huddled in our cage, watching and waiting!
The minutes dragged by into hours. Noon came, with its strange silence
and stifling heat. A long way off, we heard the bark of a male gorilla.
Later, the scream of a startled female.
As this last sound reached him, Little Willie gave a loud cry of
distress and tugged wildly at his chain. Then silence again.
I looked at my watch. In two hours' time we should have to start our
flight back to Corisco.
Stealthily and silently, Croft and I partook of food and drink. We
needed it. So, no doubt, did poor Little Willie; but it would have been
very unwise to have left our cage in order to feed him. In the gloomy
shelter of the surrounding bush, we knew not how many pairs of eyes
might even now be watching--how many gorilla hearts might be on the
point of responding to his plaintive appeals.
Throughout the whole of our African adventures I think that none had
been as trying and nerve-racking as the present. It was a terrible
strain to keep still and silent when we might have been gambolling in
the open, calling for male companionship.
Every jungle sound, too, was magnified by our alert brains into
something of tremendous importance. A cracking twig or branch
immediately betokened the hesitating steps of some curious gorilla. An
unusual cry or movement on the part of Willie was instantly interpreted
as a sign that he had seen or heard one of his kinsfolk.
Our disappointments were innumerable, and our faith in the gorilla's
"human" nature was being undermined with every passing minute. It was
inconceivable that none of Willie's own people had heard his cries.
Why, then, had they not answered? Were they so utterly inhuman that no
appeal, however pitiful, could penetrate their selfishness?
I half expected such depravity of the males, but I could not bring
myself to believe it of the females. Nchago had told me that he once
saw a mother gorilla tenderly stroking the head of her child as it
fed at her breast. If she could do that, why could she not understand
and respond to Little Willie's cries for maternal comfort? Were the
gorilla's nobler instincts confined solely to its own children?
At three o'clock in the afternoon I lost hope completely and grew
reckless enough to stretch my arms and legs.
In sympathy, Croft did likewise.
"Confound these shy and sensitive females. . . ." he whispered.
"There's only half-an-hour left."
As if he were able to read our thoughts and was very anxious to
help us, Little Willie threw back his head and gave a great cry of
distress--a sort of last whining appeal to the better nature of his
male and female relations in general.
In the ensuing silence, it seemed as though the whole jungle was
listening--and hesitating. Not a tree moved; not a branch; not a leaf.
Coincidental as it must have been, that childlike wail of anguish was
followed by all nature suddenly becoming inanimate.
Even Croft and I had turned to stone, so expectant were we, so
convinced of the imminence of great events.
Then the tension relaxed.
A neighboring tree stirred, a small, brightly colored bird flew by
with a startled tweet, twigs began cracking, and Little Willie ran
along on all fours until he was roughly pulled up by the jerk of
his fully-extended chain. Back again in the opposite direction he
scampered, excitedly muttering to himself the while.
There was now no doubt whatever that his quick eyes had seen something.
He emitted a long drawn "_Hoo--oo--oo! . . ._" repeated it, and finally
lost his self-control in a fit of gibbering ecstasy.
A second later, the reward of all those long hours of patience was at
hand. The bush parted, the hideous face of an adult gorilla appeared in
the opening, a low "cluck-cluck!" proceeded from its great, projecting
muzzle, and Little Willie commenced wildly dancing up and down on his
hands and feet.
The newcomer hesitated before advancing into the open, but I was
already convinced by its action, its build and its voice that it
belonged to the female persuasion--which was exactly what we wanted.
As the brute cautiously waddled into full view I saw that she was long
past her prime. Her hair was grayish, her back bowed with age, and her
gait awkward and jerky, a veritable grandmother.
My disappointment at this unexpected development was so keen that I
nearly shouted at her to go away. From Little Willie's point of view
she was undoubtedly a great success, for he put his arms around her at
once; but from our own, and more humanitarian point of view, she was
useless. Only a lunatic would think of trying to rejuvenate himself
with the glands of a grandmother gorilla. The thing was ridiculous and,
in our enthusiasm for the cause, wholly unanticipated. What we required
were young, virile gorillas, not doddering old females.
I glanced at Croft through the corner of my eyes, forgetting for the
moment that any dismay which he might be feeling would naturally be
hidden behind his gorilla mask.
When I looked round again at Little Willie and his companion, I was
surprised to find that three other gorillas were now approaching,
and--what was still more exciting--they were youthful and active--and
feminine.
"Aunts!" I thought. "Or, possibly, sisters. . . ."
Without further speculation as to the precise relationships involved in
this family reunion, I leant carefully forward, found the taps of the
cylinders, and turned on the gas.
For nearly half-a-minute Little Willie and his fair companions
continued their affectionate demonstrations. They examined him,
chattered amicably with one another, and showed an intelligent but
suspicious interest in his chain.
Presently, the grandmother of the party heaved a deep sigh,
disentangled herself from Willie's embraces and settled down
contentedly for an afternoon nap. At the same time, her foundling crept
over to her, placed his face against her chest, and sympathetically
joined her in slumber.
The other three ladies looked puzzled and stupefied; then slightly
alarmed. They commenced sauntering back to the bush, where they
probably intended sleeping off the effect of this strange tired feeling
which had seized them.
We watched them calmly, staking the reputation of our gas against their
waning powers of locomotion. Their great difficulty was to use their
long arms in the normal way--as a species of crutches--and before they
had gone a couple of yards it was clear that whatever else happened, a
short recuperative rest was first essential.
"One . . . two . . . three . . ." counted Croft, as they capitulated.
"Nice little bag of flappers, eh?"
After those six weary hours of silence, I laughed aloud. It was,
indeed, a fitting reward for our exemplary patience--and wouldn't
Gran'pa (and Sally Rebecca) be pleased?
"So that's that!" I said. "Now let's get into our gas masks."
We donned our protectors, opened the door of the cage, and swaggered
forth to truss up the fruits of victory.
With the grace and skill that comes of long practice, we first bound
and handcuffed the three younger females. Then we turned to the
grandmother.
It was at this point that the usual thing happened--the unexpected. It
seems characteristic of any well-organized jungle always to spring some
surprise on human intruders.
About half-a-dozen yards to the rear of us, a sudden roll of thunder
burst from the bush. Without attempting to finish the job we already
had on hand, we swung round in the direction of the newcomer, just in
time to see him advance into the open.
He was extremely angry, as any faithful husband naturally would be
at seeing one (or more) of his wives lying bound and helpless on the
grass; and he signified his emotion in the usual theatrical way.
First, he stood erect; then he smote himself on the chest, as if he
were beating a drum; finally, he broke into a long roar, which ended in
a series of staccato barks.
I saw Croft shiver through his gorilla skin, and knew that he had a
similar vision of me. Except for our disarming and feminine disguise,
we were unprotected. In our haste we had left our revolvers in the
cage. But, thank heavens, we had not turned off the gas. Therein lay
our one hope of victory.
Realizing the importance of pacific measures, I raised my gas mask for
a moment and gave the low guttural call of the female to its mate. So
did Croft.
But the huge brute, which was now hardly a dozen feet away, was not
going to be hoodwinked in this manner. He may have believed that we
were friendly disposed females of his own race, but apparently he
intended demanding an explanation of our conduct. What had we been
doing to the others? Why were they lying there wounded?
He struck himself again--and there we sat, gibbering with fear and
contrition, in the midst of that invisible cloud of gas.
"?*?*?" said Croft, softly and seductively.
I tried to echo his sentiments, but couldn't. The great, terrifying
bulk was so near that I could hear its breath coming out in deep gasps,
could see into its cavernous mouth--black-lipped, white-fanged and
hideous. My limbs were dead and useless, my throat dry, and my heart
pounding madly at my ribs.
I saw the brute raise his hand to strike, and waited for the shock with
a half-stupefied feeling of resignation.
But the blow never matured. At the last second of the eleventh hour,
his energy and anger forsook him. With a deep groan, he lurched
forward, blundered on to me (as I fell backwards), and sprawled face
downwards on the grass.
As though escaping from the clutches of some hideous nightmare, I felt
the power of movement returning. My arms and legs twitched playfully,
the warm blood coursed through my back again, my hair subsided, and my
mouth instinctively opened to let forth a loud cry for help.
Croft was at my side instantly, tugging at the dead weight which lay
across my legs. Bruised and shaken, I wriggled my way back to freedom.
Then we staggered over to the cage, gulped down a brandy, pocketed our
revolvers and returned to the fray.
Ten minutes later, all the gorillas, except Little Willie, were safely
bound, the gas was turned off and we were sitting in the cage again,
slowly recuperating. The perspiration was streaming from me, my hands
and knees were trembling, and I felt as weak as a man recovering from a
severe attack of influenza.
"It--never rains--but it pours!" panted Croft.
"Yes!" I gasped. "Even the perspiration! . . . We're understaffed. It's
too much--for only two of us."
Having no desire for further captures that afternoon, we presently
fired half-a-dozen revolver shots to scare off any intending intruders
and then let up the balloons with a string of five Stars and Stripes
and Union Jacks attached, as a signal to the aerodrome.
With a very luke-warm interest, after so much excitement, we watched
the gorillas slowly regain consciousness, and listened sympathetically
to the male's language when he fully awoke to the general state of
affairs. It must have been extremely galling to find himself sitting
bound, helpless and dazed, after the dramatic and promising appearance
which he had made only a few minutes previously. But to suffer this
indignity in full view of his womenfolk must indeed have been draining
the cup of misery to the dregs.
Whether or not the others were taunting him I do not know, but after
listening to some of their softer and more ladylike remarks, he broke
out into a terrible paroxysm of fury, glaring in our direction and
barking and roaring at us for quite five minutes with hardly a pause
for breath. Add to this deafening noise the encouraging screams of the
three young females, the croaks of the old grandmother, and the harsh
yells of Little Willie as he dashed to and fro, deliberately fanning
the flames of hatred and revenge. The result may be imagined. Our
bruised nerves threatened to give way under the strain.
"Give 'em a little gas, for the love of glory!" shouted Croft.
In this way we quietened them down, until Gran'pa arrived from the
aerodrome, followed by a single file of stretcher bearers.
"This is very gratifying, George," he said. "When I counted those flags
I could hardly believe my eyes. You get extraordinary luck. Everything
you touch seems to turn to--gorilla!"
The gas having been cut off, the chorus of hate broke loose again.
"We can't have this din," shouted Gran'pa.
"I don't see how you'll get your gorilla without it," I cried. "It's
those wretched females that keep the old man going. I believe he'd have
enough sense to remain quiet if he were by himself."
Gran'pa watched them for awhile.
"Yes," he said at last. "You can see that they're deliberately inciting
him to shout us down--evidently under the impression that if only they
scream hard enough we shall funk it and run. Just like some of our own
women, George. . . ."
I was not in the mood for cheap cynicism. All I wanted was peace,
comfort, and Corisco.
"We've very little time to waste," I yelled. "What are you going to do?"
"Take them as they are," he answered. "Once we get them separated they
may calm down a bit."
Plunging boldly into the midst of the inferno of noise, we first lifted
the three young females on to the stretchers and despatched them to the
aerodrome, with Croft in charge of the procession.
Then we turned to the gray-haired grandmother, who had shouted herself
so hoarse that she could now speak hardly above a whisper.
Gran'pa looked down at her, with a kindly light in his eyes, as if he
understood only too well what it was to be old and decrepit.
"The really humane thing," he said, during a comparative calm, "would
be to ask her to join the Rejuvenation Club. But the other members
might object. So we'll let her end her days in peace. She seems a
decent old lady--a little rugged and repulsive-looking, judged by our
own standards of beauty, but probably quite a respected member of
society in the jungle. . . . Very interesting, George! Do these old
people support themselves, or are they dependent on their children and
grandchildren, I wonder. . . ."
Gran'pa's speculative garrulity irritated me. I still felt far too
jumpy to respond to his feeble attempts at humor.
"Why not spend a few days with her?" I suggested. "Dressed up as her
eldest daughter, you could obtain quite an insight into gorilla life."
"Too risky!" he laughed. "The other girls might be jealous--which would
only lead to discord."
"On the other hand, you might get an offer of marriage from some
wealthy young bachelor."
"You flatter me, George!"
"Not at all! You've just the build and . . . becoming appearance. . . ."
"Now you're getting merely rude, George. . . . Give me a hand with
papa!"
We lifted the roaring mass of bone and muscle on to the stretcher,
tucked him in, so to speak, and then turned our attention to Little
Willie.
It was terrible to see such rage in one so young. He must have been
repeating every oath in the gorilla vocabulary. He also showed us every
tooth in his head, tore savagely at his chain, and even flung handfuls
of turf at us. But we knew how to deal with these childish tantrums.
A novice might have tried smacking him--and so might one of his own
people. Our method was much safer. A straight six-foot branch, forked
at the one end, is the best device I know for leading baby gorillas
quietly home.
After about five minutes' active manoeuvring, Gran'pa managed to place
the fork against Little Willie's neck, the chain being held just slack
enough to permit of sufficient room for breathing purposes.
"Now!" said Gran'pa, kindly but firmly.
His captive made what was no doubt a fitting reply, caught hold of the
branch in both hands, tried to bite it, found the feat a gymnastic
impossibility, and ignominiously gave in. Sitting down, he awaited
developments.
"Come along!" requested Gran'pa, tugging at the chain and stick.
Little Willie was wise. He followed Gran'pa much in the same playful
and affectionate way that a monkey follows an organ grinder.
When they were twenty yards or so away I loosened the old lady
gorilla's bonds sufficiently to allow her to escape--after a little
necessary ingenuity--and hurried after Gran'pa.
A couple of hours later we were all safely back in Corisco.
In one day we had demonstrated beyond question that not only could baby
gorillas communicate with their own people, but also that the female
adults were creatures capable of exhibiting an astonishing depth of
devotion towards the young. Furthermore, our total number of live and
serviceable gorillas had leapt from eleven to fifteen--a progress
sufficiently noteworthy to impress Gran'pa with a sense of even my
importance.
That same evening, he said:
"We're getting on, George, although it's a much longer job than I
expected when we first came out here. We must be patient, however.
At any moment there may be a new idea come along which will cause a
landslide--and we shall capture a whole jungleful of 'em. I feel much
more hopeful now you've joined up again. . . ."