THE FIGHT OF THE SEA MONSTERS.
The island on which they now were was very small, not being more than
one half mile in circumference. In fact it was a mere dot on the surface
of this vast inland lake, but it was of considerable importance,
nevertheless, for here the King made periodical excursions, and often
took up his residence for weeks at a time in its charming villa. From
the shore on which the party landed, the island rose gently to the
centre, and on this slight eminence stood the villa. On the opposite
side the shores were precipitous, rising in a cliff about fifty feet
high. Bordering this cliff had been built a low, onyx wall and the
intervening space between this and the villa had been laid out in a
magnificent garden, filled with the redolent flowers so numerous in this
country.
It was this delightful spot, shaded by immense palms and eucalyptus
trees, which so pleased the King and which brought him here so
frequently. From this garden could be seen the cliffs far away to the
south and east and the fertile country lying between, and on the
opposite side of the lake spreading on and on until merged into the blue
horizon. Even from the broad dining hall, in which the party were now
sitting, could be caught glimpses of the city as it lay bathed in the
bright moonlight far away, and occasionally dim lights could be seen
which shone from the open villa of the pink-white city.
“Look,” said Enola. “Is the scene not grand?”
“Yes,” said Harry, “the most exquisite picture I ever looked upon.”
“It is because of this natural picturesqueness that I visit this island
so frequently,” said Onrai. “To me it has no equal, and I can conceive
of nothing more beautiful.”
“No,” said Enola, “nothing could be more beautiful, for here we have
every element which goes to make up a grand landscape; the distant city
standing on the gentle slope of the foothills, the towering cliffs
beyond, their jagged rocks softened by the moonlight; the broad fields,
the noble forests, and about us the blue waters of the lake.”
“Truly a good country to live in,” said Mr. Bruce.
“Yes, a fair country, with which God has dealt most kindly,” said Mr.
Graham.
The party arose and through the broad halls and lofty entrance they went
into the garden; across this and near to the stone wall reclining seats
had been placed for them. The scene which now met their gaze was
ineffably grand. The lake lay before them like a sea of liquid silver
the surface scarcely ruffled by the soft evening breeze; beyond, the
shore of the mainland with its flickering lights, dimmed by the bright
rays of the moon, and beyond these the magnificent panorama already
described. The party sat for a long time lost in contemplation of the
magnificent scenery.
“Look,” said Enola, “a boat.”
“No, Enola, not a boat,” said Onrai, “for it means death to any who may
venture on the lake at night.”
“It may mean death, Onrai, but nevertheless some one of your countrymen
has undertaken the hazardous journey to-night, for see, the lights in
the bow shine brightly,” replied Enola.
Onrai had arisen as Enola had spoken, and stepping to the wall looked
long at the black object coming toward them, then resuming his seat, he
said:
“No, it is one of the monsters; those lights are its fiery eyes.”
A shudder ran through the frames of all present excepting Onrai, who had
long since become accustomed to look upon these fearful sea serpents. On
the black mass came, growing larger and larger as it neared them.
Remembrances of the fearful race with and escape from the monster in the
cavern came to the minds of those who had participated in this dreadful
scene, and Mrs. Graham arising, said:
“Onrai, you will pardon, I hope, a woman’s faintheartedness, but I
cannot look upon the scenes which we have been told by you will shortly
take place near us; so with your kind permission I will retire to my
apartment.”
“You have my permission most assuredly, Mrs. Graham, and it grieves me
to think that I have been the cause of this disturbance of mind. When
these monsters come together the battle will be fearful, and if the
other ladies feel that they cannot witness it, it would be better for
them to retire also, for see! other monsters are now coming, and the
fight will soon commence.”
At this Nellie arose and together with her mother they entered the
villa.
As Onrai had said, other black masses were now seen and the glow of red
eyes shone through the semi-darkness from all directions. On came their
bodies growing larger as they came nearer. Now the foremost had reached
the base of the cliff and raising its huge body half out of the water,
threw its ugly head back and fastened its glittering eyes on those who
were watching its movements from above. The moon shone full on its long,
dragon-like body and the party shuddered with horror as they recognized
in it the exact counterpart of the sea-monster of the cave. After gazing
on those above it for a full minute, and then realizing probably that
they were out of its reach, the monster became enraged and, throwing
itself back into the water beat the surface with its wing-like fins and
long tail until almost lost to view in the foam thus created. But others
had now come close to the rock, and as the number increased the water
was blackened by their dark bodies. It was a mass of writhing,
horror-depicting sea reptiles, and as they wound in and out under and
over each other, their eyes glowing the while, it was enough to make the
stoutest heart grow faint.
Suddenly one of them, which had been crowded close to the rocks by the
great number from behind, and finding it impossible to extricate itself
in any other way, dove, and piercing the body of the one next to it,
held it half out of water, pinioned on its formidable horn.
“Ah, the battle has commenced,” said Onrai.
“It is fearful,” again said Enola.
“Horrible but fascinating,” said Mr. Bruce.
“This is but the beginning,” said Onrai. “In a few moments the whole
seething mass will be engaged in one grand battle royal. If, Enola, you
think you cannot look on this hideous spectacle, it would be better for
you to retire now.”
“No,” said Enola, “I wish to see it all.”
They again turned their attention to the monsters. When the beast had
been pierced by the horn of its companion, it had given out a fearful
groan like that of a dying man. This seemed to be a signal, for
immediately the beast began to beat the water with fins and tail, until
the spray was forced upward almost splashing our friends. In fact the
lake looked as if it had been struck by a hurricane so turbulent had the
waters become. All this commotion was but preliminary, however, for it
soon ceased, and all was perfectly quiet for a moment, when, as if moved
by a common impulse the battle commenced in earnest.
Each had, seemingly, during the short interval of rest, selected its
prey or opponent, for as far as could be seen the fight was a succession
of duels, not more than two being engaged at once in tearing each other
to pieces. Fastening their fiery eyes on each other they would retreat
for a short distance, and then, with heads thrown back and their
enormous jaws opened, would make a rush for each other, coming together
with sickening force, their huge jaws crunching into each other’s
bodies, or, perhaps fastening jaw into jaw. Then they would writhe and
squirm, beating each other with their fins and tails. Upon becoming
exhausted, if one or the other had not been overcome with the struggle
they would disengage themselves, and retreating, rest for a moment and
then make another rush for each other. Now they would dive, ripping each
other with their murderous tusks, frequently both being beneath the
surface, but the agitation of the water telling that the fearful battle
was being continued far beneath.
Again they would rise to the surface, their bodies torn and lacerated,
and blood from the gaping wounds dyeing the water a crimson red. One
would finally succumb and the survivors, after giving their fallen
antagonists a parting thrust, would swim away until outside the
seething, battling mass. Here it would nurse its wounds, waiting
seemingly for the horrible struggle to end. Here also it would be joined
by other victors, but these undoubtedly having the proper respect for
the fighting powers of those about them, would not again take the risk
of being annihilated.
The duelling was becoming less fierce each moment for the weaker were
fast being overcome and the survivors joining their victorious comrades.
All this time the dreadful groans continued. Now the last victor had
vanquished his foe and joined the others.
“Ah, the battle is finished,” said Mr. Bruce.
“No, not yet,” said Onrai. “Watch the line of victors.”
These had formed a straight compact line, and as if by a signal, they
charged on the bodies of the dead and wounded floating on the surface.
Their movements were as swift as lightning, and like a body of
well-drilled cavalrymen they charged, killing the helpless wounded, and
lacerating the bodies of the dead. Then they again retreated and, as the
first faint rays of morn streaked the eastern heavens, they sank beneath
the surface, leaving the bodies of their victims to rot in the heat of
the equatorial sun.
When the party again reached the mainland, they were taken to the villa
in which they were to spend the night. The men returned to the lake in
the evening and watched the process of cutting up the monsters, and
taking from them the fat which produced the oil. The remains of the
animals were then piled in heaps and burned. One hundred and four had
been killed the night before, but how many still remained to be
slaughtered by their mates?
As the men stood watching the scene, Onrai said:
“This sight is even becoming loathsome to me; let us return to the
villa.”
As they were crossing the broad avenue, a suspicion of music was wafted
from the direction of the city. It was so faint that our friends could
not say whether it was the music of distant harps, or the song of some
night bird, far away. They stopped for a moment and listened, but the
sound not again being heard, they resumed their walk toward the villa.
Onrai had also stopped and seemed to be listening, but had offered no
explanation until they again started for the villa. Our friends seemed
to think he could explain this distant music if he wished to, and they
looked at him inquiringly. Noticing this look, Onrai said:
“In two months comes the Day of Resis. It is our custom during the two
months previous to this day to sing songs of praise at this hour each
evening.”
“Are they songs of joy and happiness?” asked Mr. Bruce.
“They are,” said Onrai. But he would say nothing further on the subject.