A METAMORPHOSIS.
Until this night Philip had fancied that the dwelling would serve him as
an impregnable fort; but the result of the first day’s battle showed how
idle was such belief. It was hardly probable the building would withstand
another attack, and he who had flattered himself that he was safe as long
as he remained indoors understood how shelterless he would be after four
or five hours more of stone-throwing.
The knowledge of such imminent danger had a beneficial effect upon the
solitary occupant of Captain Seaworth’s house. It cleared the fumes of
liquor from his brain, as it were, and left him weaker in body, but
mentally better able to comprehend his exact position.
Carrying his weapons, he descended to the kitchen once more, and there
the excitement brought on a fever turn, with which came also despair.
He was like one in an ague-fit, and after the heat of the melee had
subsided—which was not until he had partially cleaned his weapons with
wine instead of water—a cold chill took possession of him.
Now a covering of some sort became necessary. It seemed as if he was
literally freezing to death, and with a lighted candle in his hand he
rushed frantically upstairs, hoping to find draperies with which to
screen his almost naked body, or failing in that, intending to use the
light covering of the bed.
Ammunition had become as essential to success as clothing, and again he
searched feverishly around the room.
It was while overhauling one of Captain Seaworth’s chests that Philip
placed his hands on a thick fur which felt soft as silk.
Delighted at the discovery he examined it closely, and found that it was
the entire hide of an animal similar to those by whom he was besieged.
From its enormous size he became convinced it was the coat of the
gigantic mandrill killed by the captain—the same brute whose skeleton,
hanging in the mimosas, had caused him so much surprise as well as fear.
With the exception of a slit in the stomach the hide had been taken off
entire, and, shrunken somewhat during the process of drying, it fitted
Philip as well as if it were made by an expert furrier.
Through the opening in the front he inserted his body, as does a boy who
puts on one of those peculiar night-gowns made to cover each limb; and
in order that none of the warmth so necessary just then should escape,
he laced up the aperture with a piece of string. Pulling the top of the
hide over his head, he had cap, coat and trousers of the same material,
all fitting like a glove, and warm enough to withstand the rigors of an
Arctic winter.
When his toilet was completed he looked at himself in the glass, but
immediately drew back with a cry of alarm.
His brown skin, thin cheeks and parched lips, which allowed his teeth to
be seen, his prominent cheek-bones, disheveled hair, together with eyes
hollow and restless, because of the fever, caused him to look exactly
like the ape whose garment he was wearing.
It would hardly be possible to imagine a more striking resemblance, and
Philip himself was decidedly troubled. It seemed as if he had descended,
both in body and mind, to the level of his enemies.
There was warmth in this garment, however, and with it came a return of
the fever. At all events, it is better to say his subsequent movements
were caused by the fire in his blood than to fancy for a single moment
that the skin of the animal had such an effect as to make him leap over
the chairs or tables in the same fashion as its original owner might have
done.
He was transformed into an ape in appearance, and one could fancy this
had unsettled his mind, for many moments elapsed before he resumed the
bearing of a human being.
Then he descended to the kitchen, spread for himself a repast composed of
delicacies which had become distasteful, and forced himself to eat until
the generous food caused the fever to subside somewhat.
The sight of his fur-covered arms almost frightened him, and not for all
the treasure in the subterranean chambers would he have taken another
glance at the glass, lest his own identity be forgotten in the belief
that he had become one of that species in whose education he formerly
felt so much interest.
His mind was a curious mixture of fancies and realities, all so strangely
interwoven that it seemed more like some hideous nightmare than the
events of life.
Not until nearly daybreak did he fall into an uneasy slumber, which
brought with it representations of every specimen of the monkey-tribe,
and on awakening shortly after sunrise he felt as weary as if sleep had
long been a stranger to his eyelids.
It was necessary he should be at his post of duty when the battle was
opened once more, as it undoubtedly soon would be, and with his weapons
in but little better condition than on the previous day he went into the
room above, stationing himself at the corner window opposite the one
which had been demolished.
This time it was the besiegers, not the besieged, who began the attack.
Philip had hardly opened the loop-hole when showers of stones fell,
and before he had time even to discharge a weapon a large portion of
the front wall and roof collapsed under the weight of missiles, thus
contracting his place of refuge to less than half its original size.
Realizing that he must check, if possible, this furious attack, lest the
building be utterly demolished and he crushed to death amid the ruins,
Philip began to fire with the utmost rapidity. During the next hour
he sent shot after shot at intervals of not more than ten or fifteen
seconds, but with no better result than before. It is true he could see
an ape fall at every discharge, but his enemies were so numerous that
the gaps were immediately closed with soldierly precision, and when
fifty rounds had been fired it seemed as if the numbers of the besiegers
increased rather than diminished.
Now and then a crash could be heard, telling that some portion of the
building had fallen, and it seemed hardly probable he would be able to
continue the struggle an hour longer.
Even though he might succeed in so far husbanding his strength as to
keep up the firing indefinitely, his weapons would soon cease to be of
service. Already was he reduced to one musket, the barrel of which was
so hot as to burn his hands, and it was only a question of a few moments
before he would be defenceless.
He could see Goliah leaping from point to point as he urged his followers
to greater exertions, and never once remaining in one position long
enough to serve as a fair target.
The rocks fell like rain in a summer shower, and at the expiration of
a quarter of an hour the last remaining musket was so choked as to be
useless. The entire front of the house gave way. The floor of the chamber
swayed to and fro like the branches of a tree in a storm, and it was
only by clutching at the window-casings that he saved himself from being
precipitated into the road.
He could feel the building crumbling beneath his feet, and it now
remained for him to accept one of the two alternatives. He must stay
where he was, knowing he would soon be crushed under the fragments of the
dwelling, or leap into the midst of the savage brutes who were maddened
by thought of victory, and there die like a man.
On a shelf near by was a dagger, perhaps the very weapon the Malays had
left sticking in the sand, and beside it lay his revolver, which he had
discarded when the battle first began, believing it too small to be of
any real service.
These two he seized, one in each hand, and mentally nerving himself for
the death which he fancied must come immediately, he leaped through the
rent in the walls, alighting on his feet in the road half a dozen paces
from the vindictive Goliah.
In his mind there was not the slightest thought that it would be possible
to escape a painful death. His only idea was to die while fighting,
rather than submit to capture and such torture as the apes could probably
devise.
Therefore it is not to be wondered at that an astonishment amounting
almost to bewilderment seized upon him when the army, instead of making
a deadly assault, dropped their weapons, drew back with every show of
respect and even terror, and then bent before him as if trying to assume
the most humble positions.
[Illustration: The front of the house gave way under the shower of stones
thrown at Philip by the monkeys.—(See page 191.)]
The leaders of the troop, who a few moments previous had been so eager
to encompass his death, now literally cringed before Philip like whipped
curs, and with Goliah at their head gathered around, fawning and
caressing, while Philip stood as if stupefied; and in fact only that word
would explain his mental condition.
The entire army crouched around him, some licking his hands, others his
feet, and all showing in every possible way delight and abasement. Not a
gesture of anger was made, and every head was bowed in evident respect.
It was fully a quarter of an hour before the bewildered Philip had so
far gained the mastery over himself as to form the slightest conjecture
of the reason for this sudden change in the behavior of his enemies,
and then like a flash of light came into his mind the thought that in
the mandrill’s skin he was mistaken for the gigantic ape whom Captain
Seaworth had suspected was the leader of all the apes on the island.
From the bearing of those who had so lately bent every energy to kill him
there could be no doubt but that he was safe, and his salvation was due
only to the fact that in him the army recognized an ape, or rather the
king of apes.