A DESPERATE ATTEMPT
Attero sent for me the following day and asked me to continue my
descriptions of American life. In view of the fact that he was
determined upon the destruction of our entire band I thought best to
impress upon him our national importance and to assure him that, as our
ships sailed every sea, it was only a question of time when others would
discover Faytan and come in such numbers that they could not be
successfully opposed. Also I explained many of the luxuries and
conveniences we enjoyed, of which the Faytans were wholly ignorant, and
informed the king that he and his people could readily secure them all
in exchange for a portion of their pearls.
“At present the pearls are of no value to you,” said I, “as you can use
them only as ornaments. But by disposing of even your smallest ones you
can secure practical inventions and manufactured goods that would have
the effect of civilizing your people and render their lives far more
pleasant and useful.”
Attero thought deeply upon this matter, and I could see my arguments
tempted him; but neither during this interview nor others could I
overthrow the prejudices inherited from a long line of exclusive
ancestors, who believed Faytan was the important portion of the world
and none but Faytans must ever be permitted to live upon the island.
“I would like the good things the pale-skins have,” he admitted, “but
not at the price we would have to pay. Our riches lie in our pearls; not
because they could be exchanged for so many other things, but because
they bring us good luck, and the vast collection we have keeps the Pearl
God here among us, and thus insures his protection. We are now
prosperous and do not miss your great inventions because we have never
had them. But if we allowed you to go away and return with more of your
people, think what would happen! Our happy life would become one of
turmoil and eagerness to gain worldly goods. Some of my people would
want more than their share, and that would lead to envy and quarrels. At
present all property belongs to the King, and each of his subjects is
given what he requires. My people are content with this condition and it
would be foolish for me to change it.”
“Then,” said I, “I have another proposition. Allow us to leave this
island, and do you come with us as our guest. We will take you to
America and show you our cities and our great civilization. You will
acquire much wisdom, much learning and experience. And afterward, if you
still desire it, we will bring you back here, land you upon your island,
and go away without telling anyone of Faytan or its king. We will
faithfully keep your secret, your Majesty, and you will be no worse off
than before we came, but far richer in knowledge of the world.”
I thought this would win him, for a time; but finally he rejected the
plan, as he did all others I suggested. We talked together on several
days, but my stories of our life and the wonders of our civilization
seemed to content him. One evening he said to me:
“You have given me much to think of, Steele; and after you are dead I
shall remember you as a good teacher. I am even sorry the law compels me
to put you to death; but it does, and my chiefs and medicine men are
beginning to reproach me for the delay.”
“The King is supreme,” I said rather uneasily.
“Because he obeys the same laws his subjects do,” was the answer. “Were
I to disobey the laws of my great ancestors there would soon be rebels
and traitors in Faytan.”
I remembered the suggestion of the Crooked One.
“The King who makes the laws has power to change them,” I asserted. “If
you proclaim a new law, saying that I, your friend, must be permitted to
live, your subjects will accept it willingly.”
He smiled and looked at me rather pityingly.
“It would please me to do that,” said he; “but it would be wrong. I must
not, for my own pleasure, disobey my forefathers, who in their wisdom
said that all strangers must be put to death. Is my own judgment so
perfect that I dare oppose that of twenty noble rulers of Faytan? No. I
have the power to save you in that way; but I will not do so.”
“Never mind,” said I; “we will speak of this matter again, some other
time.”
He gave me a steady look.
“There will be no opportunity,” was his reply. “I like you, Steele. I am
glad you have been my friend. But to-morrow you will be put to death.”
“To-morrow!”
“I have waited too long already. My people are unhappy to see a
pale-skin alive when the law condemns him to death. It will be
to-morrow.”
He turned away.
“Wait, your Majesty—hear me!” I pleaded.
He waved me aside with a haughty gesture and left the room. The Faytans
are philosophers and accept death without a murmur. The king, my friend,
could not understand my protest.
Friend? Well, it was a queer sort of friendship that made no effort to
save me; that had no sympathy for my unhappy fate.
I am a good deal of a coward at times. That night I could not sleep.
Thinking over my predicament with sober care I could see no possible way
of escape. My prison was well guarded. If I managed to leave it there
was no chance of my being able to pass through the native city and gain
the ship unchallenged. Still, desperate conditions require desperate
remedies, and I had my two revolvers in my pocket, both fully loaded.
About midnight it occurred to me to make a bold dash for liberty. If I
failed I could be no worse off than now, since I was condemned to die
the next morning.
The windows of my room were not glazed or barred. They were big square
openings placed about five feet above the floor. By standing on the
stone bench that ran around the room I could look out upon the square at
the rear of the temple. I had no light; neither was there any light
burned outside; but the stars were bright enough for me to observe all
surrounding objects distinctly. I found the square deserted save by a
solitary form standing almost directly beneath my window, his back
toward me. A blanket covered his head and shoulders, for the natives
dread the chill night air and usually wear a blanket in this manner when
abroad at night.
I waited for the man to move away, but when a half hour passed and he
did not stir I decided he was a sentry placed there to prevent my
escape. It was the first time a guard of any sort had been set to watch
over me.
The sight of his blanket gave me an idea. I gathered up one of the
heaviest of those with which my bench was provided and creeping into the
thick embrasure of the window I spread the blanket, dropped it swiftly
over the head of the sentry, and then leaped down and caught him firmly
around the arms, bearing him to the ground with my weight.
Although muffled in the blanket, which obstructed free action, the
fellow struggled desperately, and I soon realized I could not subdue
him. I dared not fire a revolver, as the sound would bring a horde upon
me; so I managed to draw my pocket knife and open the blade. With this I
stabbed repeatedly at the blanket, trying to reach the man’s heart, but
the cloth was so thick and closely woven that the rather blunt end of my
knife would not penetrate it, and all the while I was having greater
difficulty in holding him down.
Rendered desperate by this condition I suddenly sprang away and made for
the nearest alley that led out of the square, leaving the sentry to
fumble with the blanket until he could free his head.
Before he could do this I had entered a narrow street, up which I ran at
my best speed. By good luck it led westward, and I had visions of making
a successful run across the island when suddenly in the darkness a pair
of strong arms were flung around me and I was pinioned in a viselike
grip.
“Pardon me,” said a low, sneering voice, in the native tongue. “It is
not wise to walk out at night. The dews of Faytan are dangerous.”
It was the Crooked One.
Panting and breathless I stood an unresisting prisoner, for I knew the
game was up. But I did not reply, understanding that any remark would
only call forth more triumphant sneers. As we stood there footsteps
hastily approached and another joined us.
“Have you got him?” asked the newcomer.
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“Good,” said Attero. “He nearly smothered me.”
“I beg your Majesty’s pardon,” said I. “I had no idea it was you.”
“And had you known—what then?” he asked.
“I believe I should have acted in the same way.”
The Crooked One laughed, and said:
“While I hold him, your Majesty will do well to search him. He may carry
dangerous weapons.”
Attero had no hesitation in obeying this request. He took away my
revolvers. My knife I had dropped in the square. Then I was led back to
my prison.
“I suspected,” said the Crooked One as he thrust me into my old room,
“that on this night you would attempt to escape, knowing you are to die
to-morrow.”
“It was but natural,” added the king, calmly. “So we watched, my
chieftain and I, that we might prevent it. Good night, Steele. Myself, I
cannot sleep because of your impending doom. It makes me very unhappy.
But die you must.”
With these words he left me, but the Crooked One remained to say:
“Every street is well guarded. Escape is impossible. Be patient,
therefore, for no man can evade his fate.”
He shuffled after the king, and left alone I threw myself upon the bench
and waited for daylight.