ASHORE.
When Philip Garland again fully realized his situation he could hear,
above the roar of distant thunder, a continuous rumbling noise. Although
never having traveled on the sea very much, he understood that this dull
booming was caused by the surf, and he thought that the supreme moment
had come.
Then he heard a deafening crash, from what cause he knew not. It
was as if a violent blow had been delivered full upon his head, and
consciousness again deserted him.
On opening his eyes it seemed as though he had been awakened from a
profound sleep. The sun beamed down from a blue, cloudless sky. He raised
himself and saw the ocean at his feet, but it was as placid as a lake.
He was lying on the wet beach, hardly three feet from where the waves
were rippling over the sand with a musical murmur, which afforded a vivid
contrast to their wild shrieking of the previous night.
Looking around on every hand, not a vessel, boat or human face was to be
seen. He was alone, so far as could be told from his limited range of
vision, upon an uninhabited island.
The ill-fortune which began with the destruction of his establishment by
Magog had surely spent itself in thus throwing him upon this tiny speck
of land on the vast ocean, where, if any one should come, it would most
likely be those more implacable than the elements.
Philip knew, through books and from conversations with the captain of the
Swallow, that since passing through the Straits of Sunda they were in the
immediate vicinity of pirates from Sooloo or Magindinao.
Even the less warlike natives of the Archipelago were to be feared, for
he remembered at this moment better than ever before the writings of an
old traveler, who says:
The inhabitants of these islands exceed every other people in
cruelty. They regard killing a man as a mere jest; nor is there
any punishment allotted for such a deed. If any one purchases
a new sword and wishes to try it, he will thrust it into the
breast of the first person he meets. The passers-by examine
the wound, and praise the skill of him who inflicted it if he
thrust in the weapon direct.
In this particular portion of the sea, where Philip had every reason to
suppose he was, the pirates have literally paralyzed trading on the water.
Every year these scourges of the Archipelago wander in one
direction or another, rendezvousing on some uninhabited island,
carrying devastation to all the small settlements around,
robbing, destroying, or taking captive every one they meet.
Their long, well-manned proas escape from the pursuit of
sailing vessels by pulling away right in the wind’s-eye; and
the warning smoke of a steamer generally enables them to hide
in some shallow bay, narrow river, or forest-covered inlet
until the danger is past.
Even while the Swallow was at Batavia information had been received from
Banda to the effect that the pirates were in the vicinity with a fleet of
fifteen proas, attacking and destroying the villages, and carrying away
women and children as slaves. Men they seldom or never hold as prisoners.
The thrust of a knife or a blow on the head with the butt of a musket
serves to rid them of a troublesome captive.
Two days before the wreck the Swallow spoke a proa which had been
attacked forty-eight hours previous. Three of the crew escaped in their
small-boat and hid in the jungle of a neighboring island, while the
pirates killed the remainder and plundered the vessel.
These men reported the force as numbering sixteen large war-boats, and
the only blow struck by the traders in their own defence was when the
fleet set sail, leaving a prize-crew of three on the dismantled proa. The
captain, driven to desperation by his loss, swam off from the shore armed
only with his parang, or long knife, and coming upon them unawares made a
furious attack, killing one and wounding the others mortally.
Knowing all this, it is not to be wondered at that Philip was filled
with dismay on finding himself alone upon an inhospitable shore.
One does not willingly submit to the embrace of death, however, and
before resigning himself to what now seemed the inevitable he resolved to
make a last effort for life.
With this purpose in view he started toward the interior, but after
traveling a few moments his legs refused to obey his will.
The exhaustion caused by the previous night’s exposure and the intense
heat so far prostrated him that he fell half-fainting at the foot of a
palm-tree, whose cool and refreshing shade served to revive him so far
that in a short time he closed his eyes.
When he awoke the sun was low in the heavens. He must have slept fully
eight hours.
His limbs were yet weary, and his eyes heavy from the profound sleep. In
order to dissipate the lethargy which hung over him he arose to his feet,
walking rapidly forward.
Suddenly from the thicket directly in front of him he heard what sounded
very like a human voice crying “Wawk, wawk, wawk!”
This was so nearly a command in his own language that Philip ran forward
eagerly, fancying for the moment that he was about to see a white man,
when the whirring of wings and a quick passage of gorgeous plumage
against the dark green foliage told he had made the acquaintance for the
first time of a great Bird-of-Paradise, which is to be found only in this
portion of the world.
It was a large male, radiant in all the brilliant plumage which renders
its skin such a valuable article of merchandise. The wings and tail were
of a rich dark brown, the breast a deep violet, and the head and neck
of a delicate yellow, the feathers being so short and close set as to
resemble velvet. The lower part of the eyes was a vivid green, while the
back and feet were pale blue.
The two middle feathers of the tail were what gave a striking appearance
to this winged beauty. They were nearly a yard long, the extreme ends
curving into a complete circle.
Never before had Philip seen even the skin of one of these rare birds,
and forgetting all his troubles, he watched its flight in mute admiration.
It was to be his good fortune, while in this wretched condition of both
body and mind, to see what few except the natives of the Archipelago have
ever had the pleasure of witnessing-a party of feathered dancers all clad
in the same gorgeous plumage as the one he had just startled.
Pushing forward softly among the foliage to catch one more glimpse of
those curling orange feathers, he saw a dozen or twenty full-plumaged
males on a stout limb, raising and dropping their wings, stretching their
necks, and vibrating their delicately-tinted coats as if really engaged
in some species of terpsichorean festivities, while now and then they
darted from branch to branch until it appeared that the entire tree was
filled with waving plumes.
It is at such a time as this that the bird-hunter secures his richest
prizes, and with comparative ease.
When the Malays find a tree which the birds have fixed upon as their
dancing-place, a little shelter of palm leaves is built near the trunk
among the branches, and in it before daylight the hunter hides himself,
armed with a bow and several arrows which terminate in a rough knob. At
the foot of the tree another hunter is concealed. When the dance has
begun the native above shoots his blunt arrow with such force as to stun
the bird, who is secured and killed by the one on the ground without its
plumage being injured by a drop of blood. The others pay no attention
to this sudden disappearance of their companion, and the slaughter is
continued until the greater number of the birds are slain.
Philip gazed at this rare and beautiful sight nearly a quarter of an
hour, and then, as if suddenly remembering his own necessities, he pushed
forward once more among the matted and tangled underbrush.
Before twenty yards had been traversed the glimpse of a moving object
among the trees caused him to utter a cry of joy. He had seen that which
bore close resemblance to a human form, and quite naturally he believed
it to be some inhabitant of the island.
Running at full speed, urged to put forth every effort by the belief that
he would soon find aid, food and shelter, no inconsiderable distance was
traversed during the next ten minutes. To his most intense surprise,
however, he failed to see again this figure which had so raised hope, or
even to discover in what direction it fled.
Disheartened, and fancying his eyes had deceived him, he continued to
make his way forward; but not with the same energy as before. He became
like one who toils without hope of a happy conclusion to the labor.
Courage revived again however when, on emerging from the thicket of palms
through which he had been making his way to a more open portion of the
forest, the same figure stood revealed to view.
Philip now watched with the utmost attention, and was surprised at the
wonderful celerity of the stranger’s movements. He disappeared and then
appeared again, passing from one point to another much more rapidly than
any person could have run, and in many ways gave such evidence of fear
that the shipwrecked young man advanced yet more boldly.
Upon arriving at the place where the supposed native had last been seen,
Philip was startled, almost frightened, as the object of his search
suddenly descended from the top of a tree at his very feet.
It was an ape!
With one bound the animal mounted the tree again, then leaped down, and
finally placed himself immediately in Philip’s path, as if to prevent him
from proceeding.
One trained as Philip Garland had been could feel but little fear of
such an animal. He broke a branch from the nearest tree, and raising it
with a threatening gesture stepped forward.
This movement aroused the animal to anger. He retreated a few steps,
uttering loud, shrill cries, which were evidently intended as signals
to his companions in the vicinity; and, as a result, troop upon troop
of apes came from every side through the openings in the forest. They
were of all colors and sizes, and clambered up the trees, ran along
the branches like squirrels, or, taking a stand about the stranger,
threatened him with their glances and gestures as they uttered hissing
cries, or gnashed their teeth with such a deafening noise that the
traveler grew positively bewildered.
Better than any one else did Philip understand the vicious nature of
these animals when gathered in such numbers, and he knew full well that
to save his life retreat was necessary.
This thought came too late, however. On every side were closely-packed
ranks of apes, some of whom appeared to be as strong as gorillas, and the
first movement toward escape might be the signal for his death.
Philip had in his pocket a small revolver, placed there during the
mutiny on the Swallow; but of what avail would it be to kill five of his
adversaries when they could be numbered by hundreds, and had hemmed him
in so closely?
An attempt at flight would be as foolhardy as any effort toward
intimidation. The only course which could be pursued with the slightest
chance of success was to remain silent and motionless.
With one hand inside the breast of his coat, clutching the weapon he was
resolved to use only when death seemed inevitable, he stood immovable as
the animals crowded nearer.
At this juncture the outer circle of apes began to chatter, as if they
were discussing some new aspect of the affair which had presented itself,
and a moment later the entire party suddenly began to leap to and fro,
making the most hostile demonstrations.
The branch which Philip had broken from the tree was lying on the ground
directly at his feet, and with a quick movement one of the animals seized
it. Before he had time to place himself in a position of defense, or even
to draw his weapon, the ape showered blow after blow on his arms, legs,
face and head in such rapid succession that he could not avoid them.
It was difficult to remain passive under such a castigation, and also
very humiliating, for one whose business had been the training of
monkeys, to receive punishment from members of the same tribe he had so
often flogged; but under the circumstances there was no alternative.
At the first blow the apes gave way, much as a party of men might who
form a ring for two pugilists, and from their points of vantage evinced
the most profound delight. A crowd of boys could hardly have shown more
pleasure at the flogging of some obnoxious pedagogue and Philip’s anger
almost blinded his prudence.
During fully ten minutes the punishment, was continued without
intermission, and it might have resulted fatally to the unfortunate
animal-trader if he had not bethought himself of past experiences, when
he was master and apes were forced to receive his blows.
Around his neck he wore a blue silk handkerchief after the fashion of
sailors, and this he untied quickly, throwing it among the crowd of
spectators, knowing full well that any bright color will attract apes
more readily than food or noise.
In an instant the decorous assemblage had resolved themselves into a
shrieking, howling mob. They rushed toward the one who had been so
fortunate as to secure the prize, each trying in turn to seize it,
chattering and screaming until the din was absolutely deafening. He who
had played the part of castigator followed the example of the others, and
from a friendly contest it soon became a veritable fight, during which
there was but little question that the object of their desires would be
torn into shreds.
This was Philip’s opportunity. Not one of the combatants was paying the
slightest attention to him, and after stealing softly through the foliage
until the apes were shut out from view, he ran toward the interior of the
island at full speed.
It must not be supposed that Philip’s flight through the thicket was
attended with no more inconvenience than would be the case in an
American forest. Almost every shrub and tree was infested with small
black ants, and as the fugitive brushed past they loosened their hold on
the foliage to literally take possession of his body.
Before running a hundred yards his face and neck were covered, and he
could feel them on every inch of his skin, as they bit with a sharpness
which seemed like the prick of a huge needle.
In addition to these pests, which were very painful, there was a species
of blue-bottle fly, so numerous that the buzzing sounded like the humming
of bees; and when they alighted on Philip’s body it was with difficulty
he brushed them off, for their legs seemed to contain deposits of glue,
which held them firmly in place until sometimes it was necessary to
actually dismember them.
His skin soon became a mass of blotches, for the poison of the insects
caused the wounds to swell like boils, and it was no longer possible to
distinguish his features.