THE TERRIBLE NIGHT
Leaving the house very softly, we found that the torrential rain had
dwindled to a kind of heavy drizzle which thickened the air, while on
the surface of the lake and the low-lying cultivated land there hung a
heavy mist. This, of course, was very favourable to us, since even if
there were watchers about they could not see us unless we stumbled
right into them.
As a matter of fact I think that there was none, all the population of
the place being collected at the ceremony in the cave. We neither saw
nor heard anybody; not even a dog barked, for these animals, of which
there were few on the island, were sleeping in the houses out of the
wet and cold. Above the mist, however, the great full moon shone in a
clear sky which suggested that the weather was mending, as in fact
proved to be the case, the tempest of rain, which we learned afterwards
had raged for months with some intervals of fine weather, having worn
itself out at last.
We reached the sluice house, and to our surprise found that the door
was unlocked. Supposing that it had been left thus through carelessness
by the inspecting priests, we entered softly and closed it behind us.
Then I lit a candle, some of which I always carried with me, and held
it up that we might look about us. Next moment I stepped back
horror-struck, for there on the coping of the water shaft sat a man
with a great spear in his hand.
Whilst I wondered what to do, staring at this man, who seemed to be
half asleep and even more frightened than I was myself, with the
greater quickness of the savage, Hans acted. He sprang at the fellow as
a leopard springs. I think he drew his knife but I am not sure. At any
rate, I heard a blow and then the light of the candle shone upon the
soles of the man’s feet as he vanished backwards into the pit of water.
What happened to him there I do not know; so far as we were concerned
he vanished for ever.
“How is this? You told us no one would be here,” I said to Dramana
savagely, for I suspected a trap.
She fell upon her knees, thinking, probably, that I was going to kill
her with the man’s spear which I had picked up, and answered,
“Lord, I do not know. I suppose that the priests grew suspicious and
set one of their number to watch. Or it may have been because of the
great flood which is rising fast.”
Believing her explanations, I told her to rise, and we set to work.
Having fastened the door from within, Hans climbed up the lever, and by
the light of the candle, which could not betray us, as there were no
windows to the shed, fixed the two flasks of powder in the hole in the
stone gate immediately beneath the pin of the lever. Then, as we had
arranged, he wedged them tight with pebbles that we had brought with
us.
This done, I procured a quantity of the sticky clay with which the
walls of the shed were plastered, taking it from a spot where the damp
had come through and made it moist. This clay we stuck all over the
flasks and the stones to a thickness of several inches. Only
immediately beneath the pin we left an opening, hoping thereby to
concentrate the force of the explosion on it and on the upper rim of
the hole that was bored through the sluice gate. The slow matches,
which now were dry, we inserted in the holes we had made in the flasks,
bringing them out through the clay encased in two long, hollow reeds
that we had drawn from the roof of our house where we lodged, hoping
thus to keep the damp away from them.
Thus arranged, their ends hung to within six feet of the ground, where
they could easily be lighted, even in a hurry.
By now it was a quarter past eleven, and the most terrible and
dangerous part of our task must be faced. Lifting the corpse of the
dead woman who had been killed, presumably, by a blow from the lever
that morning, Hans and I—Dramana would not touch her—bore her out
of the shed. Followed by Dramana with all our goods, for we dared not
leave them behind, as our retreat might be cut off, we carried her with
infinite labour, for she was very heavy, some fifty yards to a spot I
had noted during our examination in the morning at the edge of the Rock
of Offering, which spot, fortunately, rose to a height of six feet or
rather less above the level of the surrounding ground. Here there was a
little hollow in the rock face washed out by the action of water; a
small, roofless cavity large enough to shelter the three of us and the
corpse as well.
In this place we hid, for there, fortunately, the shape of the
surrounding rock cut off the glare from the two eternal fires, which in
so much wet seemed to be burning dully and with a good deal of smoke,
the nearer of them at a distance of not more than a dozen paces from
us. The post to which the victim was to be tied was perhaps the length
of a cricket pitch away.
In this hiding hole we could scarcely be discovered unless by ill
fortune someone walked right on to the top of us or approached from
behind. We crouched down and waited. A while later, shortly before
midnight, in the great stillness we heard a sound of paddles on the
lake. The canoe was coming! A minute afterwards we distinguished the
voices of men talking quite close to us.
Lifting my head, I peered very cautiously over the top of the rock. A
large canoe was approaching the landing steps, or rather, where these
had been, for now, except the topmost, they were under water because of
the flood. On the rock itself four priests, clad in white and wearing
veils over their faces with eyeholes cut in them, which made them look
like monks in old pictures of the Spanish Inquisition, were marching
towards these steps. As they reached them, so did the canoe. Next, from
its prow was thrust a tall woman, entirely draped in a white cloak that
covered both head and body, who from her height might very well be
Sabeela.
The priests received her without a word, for all this drama was enacted
in utter silence, and half led, half carried her to the stone post
between the fires, where, so far as I could see through the mist—that
night I blessed the mist, as we do in church in one of the psalms—no,
it is the mist that blesses the Lord, but it does not matter—they bound
her to the post. Then, still in utter silence, they turned and marched
away down the sloping rock to the mouth of the cave, where they
vanished. The canoe also paddled backwards a few yards—not far, I
judged from the number of strokes taken—and there floated quietly.
So far all had happened as Dramana told us that it must. In a whisper I
asked her if the priests would return. She answered no; no one would
come on to the rock till sunrise, when Heu-Heu, accompanied by women,
would issue from the cave to take his bride. She swore that this was
true, since it was the greatest of crimes for any one to look upon the
Holy Bride between the time that she was bound to the rock and the
appearance of the sun above the horizon.
“Then the sooner we get to business the better,” I said, setting my
teeth, and without stopping to ask her what she meant by saying that
Heu-Heu would come with the women, when, as we knew well, there was no
such person.
“Come on, Hans, while the mist still lies thick; it may lift at any
moment,” I added.
Swiftly, desperately, we clambered on to the rock, dragging the dead
woman after us. Staggering round the nearer fire with our awful burden,
we arrived with it behind the post—it seemed to take an age. Here by
the mercy of Providence the smoky reek from the fire propelled by a
slight breath of air, combined with the hanging fog to make us almost
invisible. On the farther side of the post stood Sabeela, bound, her
head drooping forward as though she were fainting. Hans swore that it
was Sabeela because he knew her “by her smell,” which was just like
him, but I could not be sure, being less gifted in that way. However, I
risked it and spoke to her, though doubtfully, for I did not like the
look of her. To tell the truth, I rather feared lest she should have
acted on her threat that as a last resource she would take the poison
which she said she carried hidden in her hair.
“Sabeela, do not start or cry out. Sabeela, it is we, the Lord
Watcher-by-Night and he who is named Light-in-Darkness, come to save
you,” I said, and waited anxiously, wondering whether I should ever
hear an answer.
Presently I gave a sigh of relief, for she moved her head slightly and
murmured,
“I dream! I dream!”
“Nay,” I answered, “you do not dream, or if you do, cease
from dreaming, lest we should all sleep for ever.”
Then I crept round the post and bade her tell me where was the knot by
which the rope about her was fastened. She nodded downwards with her
head; with her hands she could not point, because they were tied, and
muttered in a shaken voice,
“At my feet, Lord.”
I knelt down and found the knot, since if I cut the rope we should have
nothing with which to tie the body to the post. Fortunately, it was not
drawn tight because this was thought unnecessary, as no Holy Bride had
ever been known to attempt to escape. Therefore, although my hands were
cold, I was able to loose it without much difficulty. A minute later
Sabeela was free and I had cut the lashings which bound her arms. Next
came a more difficult matter, that of setting the dead woman in her
place, for, being dead, all her weight came upon the rope. However,
Hans and I managed it somehow, having first thrown Sabeela’s cloak and
veil over her icy form and face.
“Hope Heu-Heu will think her nice!” whispered Hans as we cast an
anxious look at our handiwork.
Then, all being done, we retreated as we had come, bending low to keep
our bodies in the layer of the mist which now was thinning and hung
only about three feet above the ground like an autumn fog on an English
marsh. We reached our hole, Hans bundling Sabeela over its edge
unceremoniously, so that she fell on to the back of her sister,
Dramana, who crouched in it terrified. Never, I think, did two
tragically separated relations have a stranger meeting. I was the last
of our party, and as I was sliding into the hollow I took a good look
round.
This is what I saw. Out of the mouth of the cave emerged two priests.
They ran swiftly up the gentle slope of rock till they reached the two
columns of burning natural gas or petroleum or whatever it was, one of
them halting by each column. Here they wheeled round and through the
holes in their masks or veils stared at the victim bound to the post.
Apparently what they saw satisfied them, for after one glance they
wheeled about and ran back to the cave as swiftly as they had come, but
in a methodical manner which showed no surprise or emotion.
“What does this mean, Dramana?” I exclaimed. “You told me
that it was against the law for any one to look upon the Holy Bride
until the moment of sunrise.”
“I don’t know, Lord,” she answered. “Certainly it is
against the law. I suppose that the diviners must have felt that
something was wrong and sent out messengers to report. As I have told
you, the priests of Heu-Heu are masters of magic, Lord.”
“Then they are bad masters, for they have found out nothing,” I
remarked indifferently.
But in my heart I was more thankful than words can tell that I had
persisted in the idea of lashing the dead woman to the post in place of
Sabeela. Whilst we were dragging her from the shed, and again when we
were lifting her out of the hole on to the rock, Hans had suggested
that this was unnecessary, since Dramana vowed that no man ever looked
upon the Holy Bride between her arrival upon the rock and the moment of
sunrise, and that all we needed to do was to loose Sabeela.
Fortunately some providence warned me against giving way. Had I done so
all would have been discovered and humanly speaking we must have
perished. Probably this would have happened even had I not remembered
to run back and pick up the pieces of cord that I had cut from
Sabeela’s wrists and left lying on the rock, since the messengers might
have seen them and guessed a trick. As it was, so far we were safe.
“Now, Hans,” I said, “the time has come for you to swim to
the canoe, which you must do quickly, for the mist seems to be melting
beneath the moon and otherwise you may be seen.”
“No, Baas, I shall not be seen, for I shall put that bundle from the
Tree of Dreams on my head, which will make me look like floating weeds,
Baas. But would not the Baas like, perhaps, to go himself? He swims
better than I do and does not mind cold so much; also he is clever and
the Walloo fools in the boat will listen to him more than they will to
me; and if it comes to shooting, he is a better shot. I think, too,
that I can look after the Lady Sabeela and the other lady and know how
to fire a slow match as well as he can.”
“No,” I answered, “it is too late to change our plans, though
I wish I were going to get into that boat instead of you, for I should
feel happier there.”
“Very good, Baas. The Baas knows best,” he replied resignedly.
Then, quite indifferent to conventions, Hans stripped himself, placing
his dirty clothes inside the mat in which was wrapped the bundle of
twigs from the Tree of Illusions, because, as he said, it would be nice
to have dry things to put on when he reached the boat, or the next
world, he did not know which.
These preparations made, having fastened the bundle on to his head by
the help of the bonds which we had cut off Sabeela’s hands, that I tied
for him beneath his armpits, he started, shivering, a hideous,
shrivelled, yellow object. First, however, he kissed my hand and asked
me whether I had any message for my Reverend Father in the Place of
Fires, where, he remarked, it would be, at any rate, warmer than it was
here. Also he declared that he thought that the Lady Sabeela was not
worth all the trouble we were taking about her, especially as she was
going to marry someone else. Lastly he said with emphasis that if ever
we got out of this country, he intended to get drunk for two whole days
at the first town we came to where gin could be bought—a promise, I
remember, that he kept very faithfully. Then he sneaked down the side
of the rock and holding his revolver and little buckskin cartridge case
above his head, glided into the water as silently as does an otter.
By now, as I have said, the mist was vanishing rapidly, perhaps before
a draught of air which drew out of the east, as I have noticed it often
does in those parts of Africa between midnight and sunrise, even on
still nights. On the face of the water it still hung, however, so that
through it I could only discover the faint outline of the canoe about a
hundred yards away.
Presently, with a beating heart, I observed that something was
happening there, since the canoe seemed to turn round and I thought
that I heard astonished voices speaking in it, and saw people standing
up. Then there was a splash and once more all became still and silent.
Evidently Hans reached the boat safely, though whether he had entered
it I could not tell. I could only wonder and hope.
As we could do no good by remaining in our present most dangerous
position, I set out to return to the sluice shed where other matters
pressed, carrying all our gear as before, but, thank goodness! without
the encumbrance of the corpse. Sabeela seemed to be still half dazed,
so at present I did not try to question her. Dramana took her left arm
and I her right and, supporting her thus, we ran, doubled up, back to
the shed and entered it in safety. Leaving the two women here, I went
out on to the little pier and crouched at the top of the fishermen’s
steps, watching and waiting for the coming of Hans with the canoe to
take us off, for, as you may remember, the arrangement was that I was
not to fire the slow matches until it had arrived.
No canoe appeared. During all the long hours—they seemed an
eternity—before the breaking of the dawn did I wait and watch,
returning now and again to the shed to make sure that Dramana and
Sabeela were safe. On one of these visits I learned that both her
father, the Walloo, and Issicore were in the canoe, which made its
non-arrival not to be explained, that is, if Hans had reached it
safely. But if he had not, or perhaps had been killed or met with some
other accident in attempting to board it, then the explanation was easy
enough, as her crew would not know our plight or that we were waiting
to be rescued. Lastly they might have refused to make the attempt—for
religious reasons.
The problem was agonizing. Before long there would be light and without
doubt we should be discovered and killed, perhaps by torture. On the
other hand, if I fired the powder the noise of the explosion would
probably be heard, in which case also we should be discovered. Yet
there was an argument for doing this, since then, if things went well,
the water would rush in and give those priests something to think about
that would take their minds off hunting for and capturing us.
I looked about me. The canoe was invisible in the mist. It might be
there or it might be gone, only if it had gone and Hans were still
alive, I was certain that, as arranged, to advise me he would have
fired his pistol, which, to keep the cartridges dry, he had carried
above his head in his left hand. Indeed, I thought it probable that,
rather than desert me thus, he would have swum back to the island, so
that we might see the business through together. The longer I pondered
all these and other possibilities the more confused I grew and the more
despairing. Evidently something had happened, but what—what?
The water continued to rise; now all the steps were covered and it was
within an inch or two of the surface of the pier on which I must
crouch. It was a mighty flood that looked as though presently it would
begin to flow over the top of the sea wall, in which case the sluice
shed would undoubtedly be inundated and made uninhabitable.
As I think I told you, a few yards to our right, rising above the top
of the sea wall to a height of seven or eight feet, was a great rock
that had the appearance of a boulder ejected at some time from the
crater of the volcano, which rock would be easy to climb and was large
enough to accommodate the three of us. Moreover, no flood could reach
its top, since to do so it must cover the land beyond to a depth of
many feet. Considering it and everything else, suddenly I came to a
conclusion, so suddenly indeed and so fixedly that I felt as though it
were inspired by some outside influence.
I would bring the women out and make them lie down upon the top of that
boulder, trusting to Dramana’s dark cloak to hide them from observation
even in that brilliant moonlight. Then I would return to the shed and
set light to the match, and, after I had done this, join them upon the
rock whence we could see all that happened, and watch for the canoe,
though of this I had begun to despair.
Abandoning all doubts and hesitations, I set to work to carry out this
scheme with cold yet frantic energy. I fetched the two sisters, who,
imagining that relief was in sight, came readily enough, made them
clamber up the rock and lie down there on their faces, throwing
Dramana’s large dark cloak over both of them and our belongings. Then I
went back to the shed, struck a light, and applied it to the ends of
the slow matches, that began to smoulder well and clearly. Rushing from
the shed, I locked the heavy door and sped back to the rock, which I
climbed.
Five minutes passed, and just as I was beginning to think that the
matches had failed in some way, I heard a heavy thud. It was not very
loud; indeed, at a distance of even fifty yards I doubted whether any
one would have noticed it unless his attention were on the strain. That
shed was well built and roofed and smothered sounds. Also this one had
nothing of the crack of a rifle about it, but rather resembled that
which is caused by something heavy falling to the ground.
After this for a while nothing particular happened. Presently, however,
looking down from my rock I saw that the water in the sluice, which,
being retained by the stone door in the shed, hitherto had been still,
was now running like a mill race, and with a thrill of triumph learned
that I had succeeded.
_The sluice was down and the flood was rushing over it!_
Watching intently, a minute or so later I observed a stone fall from
the coping of the channel, for it was full to the brim, then another,
and another, till presently the whole work seemed to melt away. Where
it had been was now a great and ever-growing gap in the sea wall
through which the swollen waters of the lake poured ceaselessly and
increasingly. Next instant the shed vanished like a card house, its
foundations being washed out, and I perceived that over its site, and
beyond it, a veritable river, on the face of which floated portions of
its roof, was fast inundating the low-lying lands behind that had been
protected by the wall.
I looked at the east; it was lightening, for now the blackness of the
sky where it seemed to meet the great lake, had turned to grey. The
dawn was at hand.
With a steady roar, through the gap in the sea wall which grew wider
every moment, the waters rushed in, remorseless, inexhaustible; the
aspect of them was terrifying. Now our rock was a little island
surrounded by a sea, and now in the east appeared the first ray from
the unrisen sun stabbing the rain-washed sky like a giant spear. It was
a wondrous spectacle and, thinking that probably it was the last I
should ever witness upon earth, I observed it with great interest.
By this time the women at my side were sobbing with terror, believing
that they were going to be drowned. As I was of the same opinion, for I
felt our rock trembling beneath us as though it were about to turn over
or, washed from its foundations, to sink into some bottomless gulf, and
could do nothing to help them, I pretended to take no notice of their
terror, but only stared towards the east.
It was just then that, emerging out of the mist on the face of the
waters within a few yards of us, I saw the canoe. Hear the sound of the
paddles I could not, because of the roar of the rushing water. In it at
the stern, with his pistol held to the head of the steersman, stood
Hans.
I rose up, and he saw me. Then I made signs to him which way he should
come, keeping the canoe straight over the crest of the broken wall
where the water was shallow. It was a dangerous business, for every
moment I thought it would overset or be sucked into the torrent beyond,
where the sluice channel had been; but those Walloos were clever with
their paddles, and Hans’s pistol gave them much encouragement.
Now the prow of the canoe grated against the rock, and Hans, who had
scrambled forward, threw me a rope. I held it with one hand and with
the other thrust down the shrinking women. He seized them and bundled
them into the canoe like sacks of corn. Next I threw in our gear and
then sprang wildly myself, for I felt our stone turning. I half fell
into the water, but Hans and someone else gripped me and I was dragged
in over the gunwale. Another instant and the rock had vanished beneath
the yellow, yeasty flood!
The canoe oscillated and began to spin round; happily it was large and
strong, with at least a score of rowers, being hollowed from a single,
huge tree. Hans shrieked directions and the paddlers paddled as never
they had done before. For quite a minute our fate hung doubtful, for
the torrent was sucking at us and we did not seem to gain an inch. At
last, however, we moved forward a little, towards the Rock of Sacrifice
this time, and within sixty seconds were safe and out of the reach of
the landward rush of the water.
“Why did you not come before, Hans?” I asked.
“Oh, Baas, because these fools would not move until they saw the first
light, and when the Walloo and Issicore wanted to, told them that they
would kill them. They said it was against their law, Baas.”
“Curse them all for ten generations!” I exclaimed, then was silent,
for what was the use of arguing with such a superstition-ridden set?
Superstition is still king of most of the world, though often it calls
itself Religion. These Walloos thought themselves very religious
indeed.
Thus ended that terrible night.