_A Powerless Ruler Confronts a Mutiny. Death of the Sovereign
Demanded. The Army Under My Command. Christopher’s Sacrifice. The Final
Cataclysm._
AFTER a hard run, I laid Mr. Vancouver across Hobart’s shoulder. There
was no need to urge all speed to the colony. I turned back to meet the
pursuers, and ran swiftly until I encountered the foremost. Before they
had seen me I dropped to the ground and was diligently examining it when
they came up and halted, others running behind.
“Which way?” inquired the first.
“Stand back!” I said. “I have the trail.”
They obeyed, but my knife was ready for a contingency. I pretended
to lose the signs, but found them again, followed a few paces, and
announced that the fugitives had turned there and headed for the trail.
“That will bring them into a trap,” I added, “for people are still
coming up the trail to the clearing. I will follow the runaways and give
the alarm. You men spread up and down here, for they may double back.
When others come from the clearing, turn them all back, for they will
spoil the trail and I never can find it again. Then you too go back if
you don’t hear from me very soon. Send a man at once to the priest, and
tell him to hold the people there, and to order up more wood and prepare
for the sacrifice. I am a Suminali man and can trail like a dog.”
I was turning away, but paused, to make sure of them. “Have you heard
the news from the palace?” I inquired.
“No.”
“The king has given the crown to Lentala, and the command of the army
also.”
It surprised them. “Where’s Gato?” asked one.
“He disobeyed the king, and is dead,” I answered. “Tell the news to the
priest. Spread it among the crowd.” It was on my tongue to add that the
queen would soon appear with the army and disperse the crowd, but there
were dangers in it, and I held my peace. Sufficient for the present that
I had stopped the pursuit.
[Illustration: 0275]
On arriving at the road to the clearing I found a commotion, and learned
that the army was rapidly approaching. The people did not know how to
take that news,--whether it meant a forwarding or a breaking up of the
sacrifice.
There came a scrambling of stragglers to escape the army, which advanced
on the trot, Christopher running in front. He saw me, wheeled, and
raised his hand. I knew that his glance at my face had told him
the whole story. My heart swelled to see Lentala, borne aloft in an
uncanopied crimson velvet palanquin emblazoned with the royal insignia.
Her dress was the one she had worn at the feast, with the addition of
the crown. In her hand she carried a naked sword, fine and lean.
“Make way for the queen!” at intervals shouted a man running ahead of
the queen and behind Christopher.
On seeing Christopher’s signal she raised her sword, and the palanquin
halted. She was anxiously watching the glow from the altar fire, but her
glance discovered me, and a surprised joy sprang to her face.
“Am I too late?” she called in English.
“No, your Majesty. All is well.”
“Choseph!” she chokingly cried, throwing her sword away and seizing both
my hands.
It was a public scandal. The soldiers stared.
I gave her a warning look, and said, “Your Majesty!”
She drew away with freezing dignity. A soldier picked up her sword,
wiped it as he would a baby’s face, knelt, and handed it to her. She
slammed it angrily into its scabbard, gave me a crushing glance,
and opened her lips to speak, but I drove the words back by suddenly
dropping in an obeisance. I would have given a good deal to see her face
in the long pause before she bade me rise. My face was grave as I met
her angry, suspicious gaze.
“This is no time nor place to make fun of me,” she cuttingly said.
“I beg your Majesty’s pardon.”
She was studying me. “You have seen Annabel, I suppose?” she inquired.
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“And talked with her?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“You--were glad--to see each other?”
“Very, your Majesty.”
“She is as lovely as ever?”
“Quite, your Majesty.”
She examined the splendid jewel in the head of her sword-hilt, looked up
with a composed face, and demanded that I tell her what had happened. I
did so, and she beamed, forgetting Annabel.
“I’ll take the army to the clearing,” she said, “put a stop to the
nonsense, and send the people home.”
She said it confidently, either ignoring the danger or ignorant of it.
Evidently her purpose was the protection of the colony, but I surmised
that some power greater than hers would be required. Christopher had
been standing near, a silent listener.
Her imposing arrival had a strong effect on the restless mob as in the
cross-light of the moon and the altar fire she stood up in the palanquin
and raised her sword for attention. She told them of her crowning, made
a plea for their confidence, and commanded them to go home. But she said
nothing about a sacrifice.
No sign of obedience appearing in the crowd, she gave me a glance that
sought guidance. I knew that the moment was critical and the risk great,
but it seemed the only recourse. I glanced at the army. She understood,
hesitated a moment, and ordered the soldiers to clear the place. A
slight movement and a buzz ran through the ranks, but there was no
forward movement. Then rang a cry, instantly taken up till it became a
roar:
“Sacrifice! Sacrifice!”
Lentala sprang to the ground, waved the palanquin-bearers away, and with
a free sword confronted the soldiers, her head high, her eyes flashing.
I knew she realized that there was but one way out of the desperate
dilemma, and that she was casting about to find it without a confession
of failure. Clearly she knew that, although old Rangan had deeply
planted a sense of loyalty in the soldiers, she was hampered both by
a want of experience in handling them and by the pressure of the mob
behind her, which was swelling its demand for a sacrifice to a mutinous
outbreak that the soldiers would have no spirit to meet, they being in
sympathy with the movement. It became necessary for me to act.
I sprang forward and prostrated myself before her.
“Rise,” she said, extending her sword over me.
When I had come to my feet she gave me her sword, and said, her voice
ringing clear and far:
“I must go among my people and quiet them. You were King Rangan’s
friend; you are the man who threw Gato from the wall,--Gato, who had
been unfaithful to his sovereign. I give you command of my army while I
go among my people.”
I took her sword and promptly faced the bewildered ranks as Lentala
drifted away; but not until I had seen that Christopher was observing;
he would understand that I had turned her over to his protection.
It was fortunate that on the beach and during the march to the valley I
had closely observed Gato’s method of handling his men. They were crude
soldiers and their drill was childish, but my training knew the value
of discipline to any extent, and I remembered Gato’s tactics. More
important than any evolutions that they knew was the spirit of the one
commanding them.
I rapped out an order for company formation, as the men were in loose
order. As I had expected, some of them stared at me and the others at
the rapidly growing mob spirit before them.
It should be explained that Gato’s organization was wholly different
from that of civilized nations. While the men composing the army came
nearly to half the number of a modern regiment, and while some rude
idea of subsidiary groupings had been observed, the absence of actual
experience in warfare had made the organization hardly more than a
stolid, pompous mob, and the under-officers little besides repeaters
and enforcers of the general orders. All officers were merely the
“general’s” staff.
I did the best I could with such a machine. Upon repeating my order in
a still sharper tone, and seeing only an uneasy, tentative pretense
of obedience, I sprang toward the officer whom I may call the
lieutenant-colonel, stung his cheek with the flat of my rapier, and sent
him spinning down the ranks. Another officer instantly found himself
treated to a similar slap, and another, as I continued to shout the
order. The fourth, a sullen brute, took the blow without wincing, and in
both hands began to raise his sword to cleave me. He never knew what it
was that sent his blade clattering to the ground; and his attention
at once became engaged in a spouting rip in his arm. That brought the
staring regiment to its senses; the under-officers all sprang to their
duty.
Then, charging up and down the front rank while I raked the stomachs
of the soldiers with my sword, I ordered platoon formation. Under other
circumstances it would have been amusing to see the officers scrambling
for minor commands not already occupied. Evidently there had never
before been such sprightly movement required of them; my rapier
continually flashed, and men winced when it came near.
Having thus secured control, I was in a dilemma.
My purpose was to face them about, so that they should not see the
turbulence rapidly increasing in the mob; but that would bring them
facing the altar fire, which was burning emptily, reminding them that
the people had been cheated. But there was no choice; I must be where I
could face the storm breaking over Lentala and Christopher. There was no
time for marching to secure a back-presentation to the mob; I must risk
the awkwardness of a reverse formation.
The command to about-face was promptly obeyed, and the soldiers appeared
to be surprised on finding me again before them. It was necessary to
keep them absorbed in maneuvers, which, of the simplest kind, such as
they could understand, I immediately put in force.
This did not distract my attention from the turbulence centering about
Lentala. I saw the densely packed and highly excited mob crowding her;
I heard the shouts for a sacrifice, the calls to the army to join the
rebellion; I heard her clear, steady voice; I saw now and then glimpses
of Christopher standing as a rock behind her; and all the time my sword
was swinging and my orders were keeping the army at work. It would be
but a matter of time when I might turn it to the service of the queen,
but the danger was pressing alarmingly.
Of a sudden there was a commotion about Lentala. Before I could turn
over the command to the officer next in rank and go to Lentala’s rescue,
Christopher, bearing her on his shoulder, broke through the mob, skirted
my left flank on the run, and bounded toward the altar, the flames
of which had sunk almost to a mass of glowing coals, exceedingly hot.
Without attempting to comprehend his movement, but seeing that he had
brought the queen behind the army for some purpose, I instantly opened
the order of my men, commanded swords drawn, and cried:
“The queen’s army to her defense!”
The command was taken up by every subordinate officer. Again the men
found me facing them as the mob came howling at my back; but the double
line stood firm as an interposing wall before the queen. Then I knew
that I had them in hand, but I dared not risk a charge, and I must see
what Christopher was doing. The tumbling mob halted before the drawn
swords.
When Christopher reached the altar he stopped and turned, he and his
burden making a striking silhouette against the red heap of coals. She
appeared unconscious, for she hung limp over his shoulder, her arms
pendent. The halting of the mob and Christopher’s pause aided his
unexpected dash in sending a hush on the crowd. In the midst of it rose
Christopher’s voice for all to hear:
“We’ll sacrifice the queen! The queen!” With that he flung her to the
ground and began savagely to tear her outer skirt into strips, with the
obvious purpose of binding her.
The scene was clear to the mob through the open ranks of my men. I was
no less appalled than were the savages at the audacity of the move and
Christopher’s ferocious method of procedure. And I made no attempt to
keep the soldiers from turning their heads to see. My task was instantly
to find my cue in the drama that Christopher was playing. It came before
I was ready. As Christopher, after the binding, which required but a
moment, was carrying Lentala up to the pyre, she began to struggle, and
called:
“My soldiers, save me!”
I bounded through the ranks as I gave the command to about-face and
forward double-quick. But I outran the soldiers, struck Christopher
down with my sword, and caught Lentala as she was falling. The shortest
instant was needed to cut her bonds, but that was sufficient for me to
lose control of the situation. Christopher’s splendid ruse had succeeded
in saving the queen from the mob, and I knew that nothing concerning
himself mattered beyond that. Indeed, I have always thought that he
deliberately chose the time to give his life for her sake.
As the old king had said, the natives were children, and the sudden
revulsion of feeling in favor of the queen was more even than the
soldiers, who had a little discipline, could calmly bear. A wave of
passionate devotion swept over them. It was only a mob that I faced with
my sword as I stood before Lentala. Christopher was lying face downward
on the ground as he had fallen. I knew he was unhurt and free to make a
fight for his life. None could have realized more clearly than he
that the mob would take vengeance on him, but none could have better
understood that his resistance might imperil the queen. He had simply
made the bold play for her sake, had won, and then lain down to die.
I could not bear that, nor could Lentala, who comprehended. Without
hesitation she left me and bent over him, to receive the blow, and
was careful that he should not know her purpose. I did what I could,
shouting, commanding the soldiers to form, waving my sword menacingly.
It had a staying effect, and I cannot now say with certainty that it
would have failed.
Suddenly, with a sickening sensation, I felt the earth tremble beneath
my feet. A strange sense of dizziness, of reeling, made my movements
waver. The soldiers also were staggering, and their purpose to rend
Christopher appeared to be relaxing; but nothing could withstand the
pressure of the mob behind them. I had barely time to snatch up Lentala
and cut a way back to the altar before Christopher, whose glance found
Lentala and me safe, began to rise as the lurching horde hurled itself
upon him.
In a staggering run, nearly tripped at every step, I bore her to the
edge of the clearing, on the side toward the colony, and hid us both in
the shadows. When I had picked her up she buried her face in my shoulder
and clung to me with both arms round my neck.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A volcanic eruption.”
“Where’s Christopher?”
I put my hand on her lips, and she trembled as she clung closer. She was
silent as the earthquake increased in violence, and presently asked:
“Do you see it, Choseph?”
I had been observing it since we were seated. “Yes. It is at the river
passage. The mountain appears to be blown out there, and------”
“Stop!” she cried, holding me closer.
Undoubtedly the eruption had occurred at the boiling cauldron that we
had passed under the mountain. Its first violence was already spent, and
the earthquake was subsiding; but I reflected that the water from the
valley stream and from the crimson fall must be pouring into the hot
interior, and that the end was not yet.
The ejecta of the outburst were already falling about us from the great
height to which the explosion had thrown them. Hot stones of all sizes
rained. Had not the forest been damp, it would have broken into flame at
a thousand places.
The writhing savages in the clearing were but dimly visible. No
definiteness came out of the mass still crowded and heaped where we had
left Christopher. All sufficiently near for me to see sat staring at the
Face, which was now clearly taking its vengeance; all were moaning and
howling, and prostrated with fear.
A deep-red flame rose with a rushing noise from the seat of the eruption
as renewed rumblings and roarings came from the quivering ground. The
rising flame plunged into a rapidly spreading canopy of smoke and ashes
from the initial explosion. The hither edge of the vast cloud was wan in
the moonlight, but the under surface reflected the crimson of the flame.
All things adopted that dreadful hue. The green foliage took it on as
the muddy purple of decay; the brown faces of the natives looked as if
beaten to a pulp.
There came another light, and it woke a more insidious terror. Striating
the crimson column and issuing snakily from many independent orifices
distributed over a wide area of the valley rim, was the purple flame.
And now the most wonderful of all was the great Face itself. The crimson
light caught it in profile, and thus so sharpened its features as to
make it seem a living monster of inconceivable ferocity. Nor was that
the worst. The purple flame again issued from below the face with a
great augmentation. In rising and spreading it cast a thin veil over the
visage, making it ghastly.
[Illustration: 0287]
The falling of heavy stones ceased, but the more numerous small ones
began to pelt us. I drew my coat round Lentala’s head, and broke
tree-branches within reach to shield her body, for the stones had a
vicious sting.
The heat was growing, both by radiation from the crimson column and by
reflection from the canopy. Flames were leaping from the forest near the
eruption, for the heat was drying the leaves.
As the ground opened in many seams under the strain, steam found
numerous issues on the front of the opposite valley wall, near the Face.
The quaking of the earth deepened; the moans of the natives became cries
of frenzy.
“Is it growing worse, Joseph?”
She had been Beela since the scene at the altar, and I had nearly
forgotten Lentala. It was sweet to feel her breath on my neck as she
clung like a frightened child.
“Be brave,” I said. “Remember, we came safely through the passage.”
“I will, Joseph,” but I felt a sob against my breast.
The increasing heat began to make wild mischief in the air. Little
whirlwinds had been rising, twirling leaves upward. All at once they
ceased, leaving an ominous calm. Then came a rushing, swirling roar,
with the crashing of trees,--the noises of a tornado. I looked round.
Nearly in a line with the moon rose a spinning column bearing upward
dismembered trees, liberating them far above, and sending them down
destructively. This monster, whose seizure would mean death, was
mounting the slope in its approach to the volcano, and seemingly would
sweep the clearing in its passage. I did not know what to do, and did
not wish Lentala to see what was coming, but I must unconsciously have
given an alarming sign, for she silently caught her breath and tightened
her hold.
As I was looking about in helplessness, an extraordinary vision of
tatters and despair staggered toward us out of the forest, peering
about. Her staring eyes found me, and she stopped in fear.
“Annabel!” I cried.
Lentala sprang to her feet, her terror gone, and stared for a moment;
then, springing forward, she took Annabel in her arms before I had
reached her.
“Where is my father?” begged Annabel, recognizing us both.
“He is safe with Captain Mason at the colony, dear,” Lentala sweetly
answered.
I confirmed the news, and because she was much more deeply shaken than
Lentala, I took her to myself and made her sit on the ground. I seated
myself beside her, took her hand, and told her cheerful things about her
father and Mr. Rawley. She had become suspicious and left the colony to
search for her father before Captain Mason’s return with him.
She was quietly sobbing in gratefulness. A woman’s gentler offices were
needed now, and I looked round for Lentala. To my astonishment she had
disappeared. That alarmed me. In looking about for her without leaving
Annabel I discovered that the tornado had torn away the trees on the
opposite side of the clearing, and was breaking to pieces after tumbling
into the valley; but I could not guess what havoc, if any, it had
wrought in the clearing, and a profound uneasiness on Lentala’s
account made my duty to care for Annabel irksome. Even at the best, the
collections of the tornado were falling about us and on the clearing,
and an increase of the dismal howling indicated cruel results, in
which both Lentala and Christopher might be involved. And the danger
to Annabel and me was great. I did what I could to protect her from the
merciless rain of riven timber.
It had been impossible for me to abandon hope on Christopher’s account.
Even though I believed that he had lain down in perfect content to give
his life for Lentala, the eruption had offered him an opportunity for
which he must have been ready. If he was alive and anywhere near the
zone of Lentala’s danger, she would be cared for. I could accept no
other faith than that he was.
Annabel reasonably secure and quiet, I noted the progress of the
catastrophe, knowing that Christopher would let me hear from him soon,
if at all. The trembling of the ground had become remittent and more
violent. The cries of the natives were falling to despairing moans.
The tripping ground had made their flight impossible, even had fear not
paralyzed them. Besides, the effect of the weird light on the Face was
sufficient to hold them in a fascinated helplessness.
The volcanic pillar of fire had shortened, for the still spreading
canopy was thickening downward. The roar was louder, with occasional
detonations from lateral explosions which smashed the mountains
environing the western end of the valley and made a still wider breach
in the opening blasted by the first outbreak. The purple flame had found
new exits, lending the opposite valley wall a cadaverous light, and,
with the spreading flame issuing from below the Face, giving the
horrible visage an unspeakable hideousness.
Worse than all that had gone before came next. The canopy suddenly
effaced the moon, and looked like an enormous mushroom on a blood-red
stem. Violent gusts of wind fell here and there with a rending force,
working havoc in the forest and among the natives. Now and then rose a
sharp solitary cry from one struck by a falling stone or spattered by
blistering mud. At times a swarm of cries rang from the dip of scorching
gases. Clouds were gathering. Lightning flashed between them and the
canopy; the crash of near thunder swelled the tumult. I tried not to
think of the colony.
“Where is Lentala?” cried Annabel in my ear, rousing out of a
half-stupor.
“She has gone to the clearing,” I ventured.
“Go and find her,” urged Annabel in fright, forcibly withdrawing from
me.
“How can I leave you?”
“I am safe here, and will wait for you. Go!”
I obeyed, staggering into the clearing and falling over the kneeling or
prostrate savages. My heart presently gave a bound of joy; for, working
side by side, fearless and devoted, were Lentala and Christopher,
apparently unhurt, and doing all they could to pacify the frantic
natives, encouraging them, binding their wounds, and sending them to
the service of others, thus rapidly starting centers of control and help
that enlarged with magical rapidity. I came near, but the two who were
dear to me did not observe, so intent were they on their duty. I had
never seen so lovely a look on Lentala’s face, and I determined to let
no foolish barrier stand between us thenceforth. Christopher saw me
first, but gave no sign whatever. Then Lentala, and there was a divine
light in her startled, happy face.
“You came to me, didn’t you, Joseph?” she said, seizing my hand.
“Annabel discovered that you were gone, and sent me to find you.”
Her face went blank, and she dropped my hand. Terrible though the
moment was, her childishness angered me. It was no time for coquettish
discipline.
“She wants your Majesty,” I said. “Shall I bring her to you?”
Her eyes flashed, but she replied, “Take me to her.”
I tried to take her hand, in order to lead her, for the ground was
rolling and there were unpleasant things to see on the way in the red
glare; but she walked alone and as steadily as I. As we approached the
trees there came a sickening heave different from the earth-movements
before. Christopher sprang past us toward Annabel, shouting:
“Down--on your faces!”
I seized Lentala and lurched ahead, but before we had quite reached
Annabel and Christopher we went down in a blazing crash.
*****
“Shake yourself up, sir,” came in a thin voice from a great distance.
I could open my eyes but a moment under the vigorous shaking that
Christopher gave me, for slimy, warm drops were falling on my face; but
I had met the darkness that the blind know. A painful throbbing made my
head roll as Christopher dragged me to shelter and propped me against a
tree.
“Where are we?” I asked. My groping hands found a prone body at my left.
I opened my eyes, and the world was blotted out.
“Keep still, sir.”
“Are they both here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Alive?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Choseph!” came feebly from the body under my hand.
My arms went round her and drew her up.
“Where’s Annabel, Christopher?” I asked.
“On your right, sir.”
“Unconscious?”
“Yes, sir.”
Lentala lay collapsed in my arms. The rain of mud from the canopy
pattered and splashed about us. The ground was still, and there was
hardly a sound except the slimy drip.
“The volcano has stopped, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
I asked the next question in the conviction that I had been stricken
blind: “Is there any light at all?”
“No, sir.”
Lentala clutched me. “I’m glad, Choseph! I thought I was blind.”
“What happened, Christopher?” I asked.
“The world blew up, sir.”
“What then?”
“Darkness.”
The rain had extinguished the forest fires, and the sirupy drip was
mingled with the hissing of hot stones. There was nothing to do but
wait. Wails began to creep out of the silent clearing. Lentala drew
away.
“Poor children!” she said. “I can teach them better now. There’s a good
life ahead for me here.” Clearly she was thinking of nothing else, and
she said it with a simple earnestness. During all these dark months her
every plan and act had been for her own and our escape from the island.
I had thought that she accepted the crown as a temporary expedient to
restore order and save the colony; but now I knew that, while she still
intended to send us safely away, she had severed all other bonds and
would give her life where it was most needed. The conduct of the people
during the eruption had given the finishing touch to her decision. It
was the putting away of all her hopes and dreams; it was the dismissal
of me.
I sat a moment in a desolate silence, and found her hand. She returned
my clasp, but it was different from any she had ever given me before. It
grew firmer, imparting a silent message of finality.