_Our Risky Audience With His Majesty. He Encoils Us in Allegiance. I
Open His Eyes. Gato’s Scheme of Regicide. A Bold Act by Christopher._
ON our way to the royal apartments, Beela again took us through the
vaults. I used the opportunity to fix in my memory the exact places
where the arms and ammunition from our vessel were kept. The king never
permitted any of his subjects to handle firearms.
Hard by the vaults she showed us a dungeon. Not within her memory had
it been occupied, and few, even in the palace, knew of its existence. It
was an ingeniously designed prison, a grated window for ventilation and
a little light being so placed that no sound could reach the outside;
and the door was so deadened that no beating could make a noise.
Anxious that none of the king’s attendants should see her, Beela gave
us directions how to go and what to say and do if we were halted,
and slipped away, informing us that we might see her face at a small
curtained window high in the east wall of the room where the king would
receive us.
One after another of the attendants whom we encountered on the way eyed
us curiously and, I thought, suspiciously, and put their heads together
after we had passed. One of them gave a low whistle; two came forward
from in front, stopped us, and demanded our identity and business. All
these men were armed.
“The king expects us,” was my curt answer; but more effective was our
cool assurance.
Thus we arrived at the door, which was open, a soldier on guard. More
peremptorily than the others he demanded our names and errand.
“The king expects us,” I repeated, and was going within; but the fellow
laid a hand on me. I flung it off, and so confused him that we were
within before he could interfere. He mustered some briskness to follow,
but was too late, for the king had seen us.
I was shocked at his appearance in the clearer light of day. At the
feast he had looked not far beyond his prime; his eyes were bright then,
and he bore himself with a commanding dignity. Now he was sinking into
decrepitude.
“I have been expecting these men,” he said, and the guard withdrew; but
I knew that he was slyly listening at the door.
We made an obeisance. I caught a glimpse of Beela’s encouraging face at
the window.
The king was lounging on a divan; he had been talking with two elderly
men seated on rugs before him. They regarded us keenly as the king asked
them to withdraw. When they had gone, Christopher closed and locked the
door, and stood with his back to it. The surprised and curious scrutiny
of the king was on him, passing down his grotesque figure. From
Christopher he turned to me.
“What do you wish?” he inquired.
“To serve you, Sire.”
“How?”
“Secretly, by finding out many things, by learning the truth; and in any
other way.”
“I have men for that.”
“You have Lentala also, Sire. She knows that you need us, and that we
will serve you intelligently, faithfully, and without fear.”
“Without fear of whom?”
“Every one of account has enemies, Sire.”
“Have I any? I want no guessing.”
“We will find out.”
“Does Lentala know?”
“Not positively, perhaps; but we all love her, and she has many ways
of learning, since she is not hedged about and kept in the dark as your
Majesty can be.” The king was brightening; a faint eagerness crept into
his face.
“Where did you learn to talk in that way?”
“I don’t understand your Majesty.”
“That inflexion. It isn’t pure Senatra.”
“It is my misfortune, Sire. A long time ago a white man, an American,
escaped from the natives with the aid of a Senatra girl. She went with
him into the lonely mountains back of the village Sumanali. There
my brother,” indicating Christopher, “and I were born. We speak our
father’s language as well as our mother’s.”
“English?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“I meant something else, also, in your speech,--a quickness, a
nimbleness.”
“The white man was bright and keen, Sire.”
“What is your name?” he asked me.
“Joseph, Sire.”
“And his?”
“Christopher, Sire.”
“Those are not Senatra names.”
“Our father was an American, Sire.”
He put me through a further shrewd examination, and I answered readily.
It was having a slow but conspicuous effect in heartening him. I was
evidently a new and refreshing element, perhaps bringing hope. He
appeared satisfied, and asked:
“Have you any suspicions?”
“I have, your Majesty.”
“Of what? and of whom?”
“Might it not be unjust, Sire, to express mere suspicions?”
He reflected a moment, and asked:
“Do you know Gato?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“And the Black Face?”
“Very well.”
“And the purple flame?”
“Yes. I saw it two days ago.”
“Where?” asked he in excitement, sitting erect.
“It was slipping along the top of the valley wall, near the Face.”
The king’s perturbation increased, but he found no wavering of my eyes
under his sharp gaze.
“More than that, Sire; my brother and I went into the river passage
through the wall. We saw the red fire and barely missed a great
explosion.”
The king’s astonishment brought him to his feet.
“Tell me more!” he demanded.
I gave him an account of all that we had seen and endured, including the
flaming waterfall, the boiling cauldron, and the earthquake.
“You dared that passage!” he exclaimed, looking from one to the other of
us in amazement. “It was the white blood. Not another man in the kingdom
would do it. Gato could not make any of his men go; yet I was anxious to
know.”
He was saying this partly to himself, as he aimlessly walked the floor.
“Why did you go?” he abruptly asked.
“We had heard that no one else was willing, and we wished to serve your
Majesty.”
The king’s back being turned, I glanced up at the window. The curtain
parted for a moment, and Beela’s beaming face nodded and smiled.
“Yes,” muttered the king in a profound disturbance, “it means that
an upheaval is at hand,--and a crisis!” He came and stood before me,
plumping this question at me: “Do you fear the Black Face, the flame,
and the earthquake?”
“Not in the least, Sire,” I smilingly answered.
“All the others do.”
“Your Majesty has not forgotten that our father was white. He taught us
many wise things.”
He was smitten with a look that seemed to come from his conscience, and
sank with a groan into the divan.
“Had I only been as true to my duty, and led my people to the light!” he
exclaimed. “Lentala begged me to. Now I must pay, I must pay!”
I needed no recalling of my pledge to Beela, for pity held me. I looked
to the window, and the radiance coming thence lighted my wits.
“There is always hope, Sire,” I cheerfully said; “we can work and hope.”
He gave me a haggard look. “You know,” he said, “the Senatras believe
that unless sacrifices are made of the white people in the valley there
will come no more wrecks and castaways, and that the Black Face will
therefore send the terrible earthquake and eruptions which frighten our
people into madness, sweep the island with fire, and destroy lives and
farms. But how can a sacrifice be made? The people think that to offer
up a madman would infuriate the Face and cause frightful disaster. It
is impossible to bring another white man from the valley, because
the colony would fight rather than give him up. Yet unless there is a
sacrifice the Senatras will rebel through fear of the Face, the army
will revolt, my palace will be seized, and the queen, Lentala and I,
with all our friends and servants, will be put to the sword.”
“A leader, who must be a traitor, would be required for that, your
Majesty. That would mean a man of eminence among us; and not that alone,
but one who has already laid his plans and is ready at this moment to
strike.”
The king was staring at me in terror.
“You speak with a deep understanding,” he huskily said, “and you have
more to tell me. Proceed.”
“Yes, Sire. The white people wish only to leave the island, and to go in
peace. They will do no harm if they are not opposed; if they are, they
will harm only those who oppose them.”
“How do you know?”
“I speak with knowledge from my white father.”
“But if they are permitted to go, they will spread tales of great riches
here, and destroying ships and armies will come.”
“Permit me, Sire. In the first place, with such coadjutors as Lentala,
my brother and I, you could make the island impregnable. That would be
far wiser than the risk which you are now running, for the sea, even in
my father’s time, was filling with ships, and the great countries were
hunting new possessions. At any time a ship may come without the aid of
the storms. She would see this large and beautiful island, and, though
driven off, would inform her own country, which would send vessels and
men to overwhelm us.”
“Yes, yes. But would it be possible for us to prepare defenses?”
“It is our duty to do all that we can, Sire. But there can be an
additional protection. So long as we keep our present backwardness we
shall be deemed the rightful prey of any nation. If we aim to be more
like the great countries, and send ambassadors to them and make treaties
with them, they will protect us against one another.”
This mightily impressed the king.
“That sounds reasonable,” he said with a pitiful air of wisdom, “but it
may be attended to hereafter. We are facing a present crisis. You said
that a leader of an insurrection would be required.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“The army could put down any trouble.”
“With the army itself in revolt?”
“But Gato’s control of the army is powerful.”
“Yet it is on the edge of revolt. If Gato is all-powerful with his
men, and in spite of that fact says he can’t control them,----But your
Majesty is abler than I to draw inferences.”
The king came nervously to his feet.
“It is easy to understand, Sire,” I went on, “that an ambitious and
unscrupulous man would see his opportunity when the people are paralyzed
with fear of the Face or with an outburst of its wrath.”
“Opportunity for what?” the king demanded. “What would he want, Sire?
Your throne would be a temptation, and so would Lentala to a man who
wanted a beautiful wife.”
The king gripped the edge of a table.
“He asked me for her,” the wretched man growled like a lion gnawing a
bone. “I refused him. She is very dear to me. I wanted her to have a
better man, of her own choosing. For I have provided that she is to rule
my people when I am gone.”
Though greatly surprised, I refrained from looking toward the window,
and kept silence while the broken man fought out his agony. When the
urgency of his situation had measurably restored him, he began to pace
the floor, and asked:
“Something has to be done immediately. What would you suggest?”
“What does your Majesty understand the case to be?”
“We are on the eve of a revolution. The task is to check it.”
“Meanwhile, Sire, I observe that a score of Gato’s soldiers are in the
palace. Is that customary?”
The king stopped and turned a livid look on me.
“No. Gato suggested that it would be safer to have them here for the
present as a protection.”
“Protection for whom, Sire?”
The hint in the question swept the breath out of him, and he stood
staring.
“I hadn’t suspected----” he struggled for breath to begin. Then, “I see,
I see.”
The imminence of danger electrified his dormant forces. He hardened and
expanded, and fighting blood began to run in his veins. I said:
“There is one thing more, your Majesty. The white people in the valley
are able, daring, and cunning. Already some of them have escaped and are
at large in the island.”
“Impossible!” he exclaimed in consternation.
“I have seen them myself, Sire. They are perfectly disguised as
natives.” A quick look at the window showed me a frightened but not a
reprimanding face.
“You are positive?”
“Absolutely, Sire.”
“How did they come out?”
“Either by tricking Gato’s men, or by connivance with some one, of
course.”
A rap at the door prevented further discussion.
“That is Gato,” the king whispered. “Hide there,” pointing to a
curtained door in the rear wall.
We were immediately concealed. The place was an anteroom. Through the
curtain we could hear and see everything.
Gato entered.
“What news?” the king inquired in a friendly, business-like fashion.
“Everything is quiet, your Majesty.”
“How is the weather?”
“It is beginning to clear.”
“Good! If the storm has made any wrecks, a castaway for the sacrifice
may drift ashore. That would restore order.”
Gato solemnly shook his head. The king reclined in silence, and then
asked:
“How many soldiers have you in and about the palace?”
The man was surprised. “Twenty, Sire,” he hesitatingly answered.
“Send them to the Council Chamber, and summon Lentala.”
“May I ask your Majesty----”
Gato found a look that he was not accustomed to see. It was evident from
the slowness with which he proceeded to obey that he was alarmed and was
gaining time for new plans.
Christopher and I stepped forth when Gato was gone. Beela exhibited some
fear, but I sent her a smile.
“You,” the king commanded me, “observe his manner with his men. You,” to
Christopher, “follow him to Lentala and see that no harm befalls her;
I will show you a way. Don’t let him see either of you. Come with me to
the Council Chamber immediately after the soldiers have assembled.”
Beela nodded to me, and dropped the curtain. The king led Christopher
into the anteroom, gave him hurried directions, opened a door leading
out of that room, dismissed Christopher, and returned. By this time I
was passing out, having observed that no one in the corridor was looking
toward me.
Gato had formed his plan, and it contemplated swift execution, as I
judged from his prompt, incisive manner with his men. In each instance
he gave an order which I knew from the pantomime included the Council
Chamber; then, in the man’s ear, he added something which brought
a start, a stiffening of the body, and an unconscious grip of the
sword-hilt. As the men were straggling past me to assemble, the king
leisurely strolled out into the corridor, and was sauntering beyond me,
when he stopped, turned, and asked under his voice:
“What are the signs?”
“He has ordered them to kill you in the Council Chamber at a sign from
him.”
“Umph!” The king passed on toward his living-apartments, which he
entered.
When he came quietly walking back, the corridor was clear of soldiers.
He slipped a modern revolver into my hand.
“Do you understand its use?”
“Perfectly, Sire.”
“May I trust your nerve and judgment to use it at the right moment and
without missing?”
“You may, Sire.”
“I think one shot will settle the matter. If
“There will be three of us, your Majesty.”
He nodded, passed on, and turned back. He had become transformed, and
appeared to look forward eagerly to the crucial moment.
“Gato ought to be here with Lentala by this time,” he said.
He walked slowly to the private audience-room, looked in, and strolled
back. Near me he stopped short, intently listening.
“Did you hear that?” he asked.
“No, Sire.”
“It sounded like the roar of an infuriated animal.”
His strolling began again, but with an increasing uneasiness.
“I don’t understand it,” he said. At intervals he stopped and listened.
Finally he came back.
“I sent for her,” he explained, “to announce that she was heir-apparent
to the throne, and vested with present authority to take any measures in
this crisis that would seem proper in her discretion.”
I did not know before that my heart could be so touched by such a man.
His impatience at last slipped control. “We will go and see what detains
them,” he said.
We started down the corridor. At his own apartments he paused to send a
servant to the Council Chamber with word that he would soon appear. We
had gone but a short distance beyond, when we met Christopher.
“Is all well?” asked the king.
“Yes, Sire.”
“Are Lentala and Gato coming?”
“No, Sire.”
“Why not?”
“He’s in the dungeon, Sire.”
“In the dungeon! Locked up?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Who put him there?”
“Me, Sire.”
“What for?”
“Your Majesty told me not to let him harm her.”
“Harm her! Did he try to?”
“I was there. She wants to see you.” He turned to me. “And you, sir.”
We three hastened to her apartments, where we found her lying on a couch
and attended by a number of frightened women.
“Lentala!” the king anxiously said; “what is the matter?”
She forced a smile, held out one hand to the king and the other to me,
gave mine a quick, tight squeeze, released our hands, in a weak voice
bade us be seated, and with a wave of her hand dismissed the women.
“What has happened, child?” the king insisted.
“Gato came. I was alone. He didn’t know that Christopher was behind
him.” She was speaking with difficulty, often pausing. “He was
impatient. He said he loved me and wanted me. And if I wouldn’t marry
him, he’d... he’d strangle me here and now.... That his men were waiting
in the Council Chamber to kill you, if I refused him, and then they
would kill the queen.... I said no. I trusted Christopher. Gato’s
fingers hooked like that,” she showed with her own hands, “his eyes
glared terribly, and he came at me.... Christopher crept up, said to
me, ‘Don’t scream,’ and leaped on Gato. They grappled, and rolled on the
floor. Gato roared like a wild beast.” Lentala covered her eyes with her
hands. “I heard things crack and break. I couldn’t look. Then came an
awful squeak. Christopher said again to me, ‘Don’t scream.’ It meant he
was safe. I felt myself falling.... When I saw again, I was lying on
this divan, and my women were with me. Gato was gone. Christopher was
standing in the door. I asked him where Gato was. He said, ‘In the
dungeon.’ He would say no more, and I sent him for you.” She looked at
him, and added, “Dear old Christopher!”
His face was blank.
“Can I do anything for you?” the king gently asked.
“No, thank you. I’m only a little shaken, and will be up in a few
minutes.”
“Would you like the queen to come?”
“No. It would distress her. Not a word of this to her!”
The king led us out. At the door I looked back and won a smile.
We went in silence, and the king stepped into his apartments, bidding us
wait in the corridor a minute.
I turned a keen look on Christopher, and he met it frankly.
“Are you hurt?” I asked.
“No, sir.”
“Is he badly injured?”
“Him?”
“Yes.”
“He don’t need no doctor, sir.”
“Did he go with you quietly?”
“Yes, sir.”
“He’ll hang for this, Christopher.”
“Sir?”
“The king will hang him for this.”
Christopher’s gaze wandered vacantly round the corridor, and after a
while he quietly said:
“It won’t hurt him, sir.”
The truth blazed through me. I had been misled by Christopher’s perfect
calm.
“Christopher!” I cried, seizing his hand and wringing it; but he looked
bored.