AMAZING DISCOVERIES
It was nearly dark when at length I beached the boat and made the
painter fast to a tree. The Links were in a state of great anxiety,
fearing the dread lake had swallowed me down. They had fished, during my
absence, with such success that they had lost every hook, snarled all
the lines, broken several rods and procured about a hundred pounds of
shiners for dinner.
A few of the fellows were attempting to fashion new hooks with the
knives of flint. There was promise, in the work of some, indicating that
in this direction at least there was chance for progress. Old Fatty, who
had whined on the shore when I left in the morning, romped about me
insanely, as usual. He and little Tike had occupied my shelter
throughout the day, awaiting my return. My “Little Man” was asleep there
when I entered, a troubled look on his serious little face. I carried
him off to his mother, but he did not awake, so weary had he grown at
his vigil that warm, long day.
He was crooning “Man, man” beside me in the morning, happily, yet so
wistfully that it played upon every cord in my breast. How thin the
little fellow looked as he gazed in my eyes with that dumb affectionate
expression; how different he appeared from all the other Links, with the
golden sunlight streaming in on his quaint, childish countenance. When I
had taken my morning bath, I washed the tiny chap. He caught his breath
in funny little gasps, but I think he liked it immensely. Then we ate my
breakfast. He ate so small a portion that I shook my head and pushed the
fruits aside before I had taken half my usual quantity.
Having vaguely thought of my exploration business as a duty to be
continued faithfully, I had half intended to leave, later in the day,
for a shorter trip. When the wee youngster nestled up to be comforted,
the plan faded away. We would have a quiet day of rest and peace. The
elders of the tribe, discovering my mood, gave up to the laziest of
lounging and rolling about, playing at indolent games and wrestling,
throwing bits of twigs and pulling at each other’s feet and toes. The
chief and his white mate sat about in a somewhat superior style, the
latter eyeing me sullenly from time to time, while her husband gazed by
the hour into the half-clear depths of the great rock-crystal at the end
of his club. The fellow seemed to adore this stone, as well he might,
for by its weight and his own overtowering height he had made himself
chief of his fellows.
His chieftainship continued, although I had long believed I could
overthrow the fellow and usurp his power to add to my own, did I wish to
create a disturbance. But inasmuch as I was in no way hampered, and was
obeyed, my position amounted to that of a ruler, while I gave this giant
Link no offense. As long as he continued to feel himself the master of
the family, my own sway could never be complete, but for this I cared
nothing as long as I was enabled to proceed with my plans. More than
once I might have taken advantage of the awe created by natural means to
bring the chief under my rule, but I was waiting to see what he would do
of his own accord. The day when my cannon exploded he had been so ready
to acknowledge my leadership that a look would have brought him cowering
to my feet, but I had turned my back upon him and he had refrained from
doing anything impulsive.
In order to provide entertainment for little Tike, this day of rest, I
selected a slender section of bamboo rod and cut him a whistle. By
placing a second piece inside of this and sliding it up and down, I had
a primitive trombone, which begot a craze of delight among all the
Links. I played this instrument about an hour during which time the
fellows all came crawling up on all fours, to squat about in a circle
where they remained, nodding, blinking and holding their heads on one
side, with the greatest attention and pleasure.
I bethought me then of a drum and procuring a section of bamboo six
inches or more in diameter, stretched a wetted fish-skin across the end
and let it dry there. This thing produced a fine resonant tone that made
the creatures jump with astonishment at first and dance with excitement
later. In point of popularity this instrument eclipsed the whistle
totally. The Links took to it as naturally as a cat takes to mice.
Having pleased little Tike and having rested myself, while providing a
holiday of amusement for the tribe, I decided to go at my navigation
again in the morning. Agreeable as some of these moments appear to have
been, I was fretting constantly to be away from the unclean, semi-animal
beings, and once more restored to my kind and to civilisation, where I
could lie on a decent bed, eat a decent meal and listen to something
besides barbarous language. So desperate did I frequently become to hear
my native tongue, that I spouted every quotation and sang every song I
could conjure from my memory. This performance was always attended by a
demonstration of surprise and unrest on the part of all the Links who
were close enough to hear.
The following morning was the cool, still forerunner of another sultry
day. Fatty waddled behind me to the boat, where he whined again and
started convulsively every time I bade him “come along,” but to master
his fear of the lake sufficiently to enter the boat and trust himself
away from the shore, was quite beyond his power. He wanted to go, but
had he been thrust in by force, he would have scrambled wildly back to
the bank, to run up and down and dance, like an unwilling dog who has
been thrown in the water whether he would or no. I left him, sad and
anxious, on the beach.
According to my previously formulated scheme, I directed the prow toward
the left shore this morning, and rowed as before, about fifty yards out
from the wall of foliage which marked the boundary of lake and jungle.
In half an hour I passed the place where I had fought the battle with
the alligator, while I was floating on the log. On this present occasion
not a saurian could I see, but I knew the place where I was sure there
were half a dozen.
The day was practically a repetition of the other, except that this
western shore had a greater number of small streams, and none that were
large, contributing to the body of the lake. I dipped into bays and
inlets without number, many of which were of exceeding beauty. These
were frequently so large that I travelled many miles without being more
than three or four from camp, by air line. In the late afternoon, when I
had worked perhaps two miles further away in actual distance—or about
eight as I skirted the edge—I approached what appeared to be a deeper
and narrower bay than any before discovered.
This arm of the lake presently curved about a point, which made me think
it might perhaps be another tributary stream, or river, like the one in
which I had passed a desperate fifteen minutes. I felt not entirely fond
of such experiences and therefore regarded this place with suspicion. It
was freer of insects than the other had been, although there were some I
could have spared; while the alligator population was not numerously
represented. There was the grass which I thought indicated flowing
water, however, and the trees on the banks were like those of the other
place which I dreaded.
When I had penetrated several hundred yards into the jungle on the bosom
of this winding stream, the shadows from the overhanging trees were
again exceedingly dense. I confess I had a poor stomach for doing much
of this sort of thing at the end of day. My brain began to invent
excuses for proceeding home and coming again when the light was better.
A number of scares, to which I had been subjected during the day, had
contributed largely to this lack of proper enthusiasm. Soon I conceived
a brilliant scheme for determining whether this stream were inlet or
outlet to the lake. In either case there would be a slight current. I
would stop the boat and let it drift. If it went on “up” I could be sure
I had found the outlet which in all reason should flow eventually to the
sea; if I drifted back toward the lake, I must continue my search on the
morrow.
Pulling slowly to the next turning, I brought the craft to a standstill
and awaited results. For a long time I failed to detect any movement in
either direction, so sluggish was the current. I became absorbed in
studying a number of stakes, which stood in the water, near the bank.
“Surely,” I thought at last, “we are moving slightly—down the stream.”
Was it then actually the outlet for which I was seeking?
I grew excited as I watched the stakes. Then I began to comprehend
something. These stakes suggested order. Could it be possible they had
been planted? I could not see how they could get there at such
semi-regular intervals, in any natural manner. How far did they extend?
Where was the first one I had noticed? I looked back. Then I was
convinced, abruptly, that the boat was drifting down the stream much
more rapidly that I had suspected.
It was the outlet!
This truth flashed upon me with all the power of instantaneous
conviction. I forgot the stakes and all the line of speculation which
their mysterious presence had engendered. I looked toward that green
gate of deliverance. Mentally I saw myself rowing and drifting down this
gentle, winding current, hastening away from this extraordinary
land—away from this jungle fastness to the great open sea. A thousand
suggestions came tumbling in upon me, as to how to provision my boat,
how to leave the Links, how to sleep at night on “Outlet” river, how to
search for a village when I should find myself at last free, and how
then to take a steamer and hasten back to the world which was really a
world!
“The outlet!” I muttered in fervent thankfulness. “Freedom—Life—Home!”
I was wrought to a fever in my excitement of hope; I was all but
transported, thus to find the gate that let me out of my prison of
greenery, when suddenly I nearly froze from chills and paralysis of all
my senses and blood-circulation.
A voice rose clear in the silence of ended day—a human voice, in that
wilderness of jungle and jungle-creatures,—a voice pronouncing words in
English—a singular mixture of words with no reason. Then presently they
settled into the musical order of poetry:
“There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium’s capital had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men,
And when music arose with its voluptuous——”
I arose to cry out at the top of my voice. A human being—a man, no
doubt, was in reach of my voice—a friend, companion, perhaps, to share
my fate and solitude! I filled my lungs for a mighty halloo—a cry to
this partner in exile—when out from the trees on the bank, not a spear’s
throw distant, issued a black, ungainly form—and then another.
Links! They were black Missing Links!
Those stakes were theirs! I had found their camp. The voice—this human
being—was he then a prisoner? What did it mean—and what should I do?
To cry out meant instant detection—perhaps immediate death. The two had
failed to see me—they might go back. But I was drifting—drifting toward
them. One of them turned about.
A yell went up immediately. I was known. The alarm spread like
prairie-fire, up through the wood. I swung the boat about like mad and
headed for the lake. A club came whizzing through the air, struck in the
water beside the boat and splashed me with spray. A score of the
villainous looking devils came running to join their companions. Along
the bank they dashed in pursuit, crying out and making crazy
gesticulations. The water foamed where it left the oars and it rippled
and swashed from the prow of my craft. Club after club came hurtling
toward me, end over end. One of these struck the stern a resounding
thump; the demons cried out savagely and showered more. A small one
would have dashed out my brains had I not been quick to duck to the
bottom of the boat.
I shot across the river to the opposite side, but a curve gave my
infuriated pursuers a slight advantage. It seemed as if the thickets and
trees were simply bridges over which the creatures hurried the faster.
Making as if to sweep along below them, I back-watered one of my oars
and pulled with the other, at the turn, spinning the boat clean about to
hard-a-port, and sent her ahead so swiftly that all the clubs, which the
devils threw at point-blank range, plunged stone-head first into the
ripples behind.
“Never touched me!” I bawled out in derision.
They screamed in impotent rage. I rounded the curve and sped away with
all the advantage mine. They gave up the chase. Ten minutes more saw me
out on the lake and well away.