Down the Ugambi
Halfway between the Ugambi and the village of the Waganwazam, Tarzan
came upon the pack moving slowly along his old spoor. Mugambi could
scarce believe that the trail of the Russian and the mate of his savage
master had passed so close to that of the pack.
It seemed incredible that two human beings should have come so close to
them without having been detected by some of the marvellously keen and
alert beasts; but Tarzan pointed out the spoor of the two he trailed,
and at certain points the black could see that the man and the woman
must have been in hiding as the pack passed them, watching every move
of the ferocious creatures.
It had been apparent to Tarzan from the first that Jane and Rokoff were
not travelling together. The spoor showed distinctly that the young
woman had been a considerable distance ahead of the Russian at first,
though the farther the ape-man continued along the trail the more
obvious it became that the man was rapidly overhauling his quarry.
At first there had been the spoor of wild beasts over the footprints of
Jane Clayton, while upon the top of all Rokoff’s spoor showed that he
had passed over the trail after the animals had left their records upon
the ground. But later there were fewer and fewer animal imprints
occurring between those of Jane’s and the Russian’s feet, until as he
approached the river the ape-man became aware that Rokoff could not
have been more than a few hundred yards behind the girl.
He felt they must be close ahead of him now, and, with a little thrill
of expectation, he leaped rapidly forward ahead of the pack. Swinging
swiftly through the trees, he came out upon the river-bank at the very
point at which Rokoff had overhauled Jane as she endeavoured to launch
the cumbersome dugout.
In the mud along the bank the ape-man saw the footprints of the two he
sought, but there was neither boat nor people there when he arrived,
nor, at first glance, any sign of their whereabouts.
It was plain that they had shoved off a native canoe and embarked upon
the bosom of the stream, and as the ape-man’s eye ran swiftly down the
course of the river beneath the shadows of the overarching trees he saw
in the distance, just as it rounded a bend that shut it off from his
view, a drifting dugout in the stern of which was the figure of a man.
Just as the pack came in sight of the river they saw their agile leader
racing down the river’s bank, leaping from hummock to hummock of the
swampy ground that spread between them and a little promontory which
rose just where the river curved inward from their sight.
To follow him it was necessary for the heavy, cumbersome apes to make a
wide detour, and Sheeta, too, who hated water. Mugambi followed after
them as rapidly as he could in the wake of the great white master.
A half-hour of rapid travelling across the swampy neck of land and over
the rising promontory brought Tarzan, by a short cut, to the inward
bend of the winding river, and there before him upon the bosom of the
stream he saw the dugout, and in its stern Nikolas Rokoff.
Jane was not with the Russian.
At sight of his enemy the broad scar upon the ape-man’s brow burned
scarlet, and there rose to his lips the hideous, bestial challenge of
the bull-ape.
Rokoff shuddered as the weird and terrible alarm fell upon his ears.
Cowering in the bottom of the boat, his teeth chattering in terror, he
watched the man he feared above all other creatures upon the face of
the earth as he ran quickly to the edge of the water.
Even though the Russian knew that he was safe from his enemy, the very
sight of him threw him into a frenzy of trembling cowardice, which
became frantic hysteria as he saw the white giant dive fearlessly into
the forbidding waters of the tropical river.
With steady, powerful strokes the ape-man forged out into the stream
toward the drifting dugout. Now Rokoff seized one of the paddles lying
in the bottom of the craft, and, with terrorwide eyes still glued upon
the living death that pursued him, struck out madly in an effort to
augment the speed of the unwieldy canoe.
And from the opposite bank a sinister ripple, unseen by either man,
moved steadily toward the half-naked swimmer.
Tarzan had reached the stern of the craft at last. One hand upstretched
grasped the gunwale. Rokoff sat frozen with fear, unable to move a hand
or foot, his eyes riveted upon the face of his Nemesis.
Then a sudden commotion in the water behind the swimmer caught his
attention. He saw the ripple, and he knew what caused it.
At the same instant Tarzan felt mighty jaws close upon his right leg.
He tried to struggle free and raise himself over the side of the boat.
His efforts would have succeeded had not this unexpected interruption
galvanized the malign brain of the Russian into instant action with its
sudden promise of deliverance and revenge.
Like a venomous snake the man leaped toward the stern of the boat, and
with a single swift blow struck Tarzan across the head with the heavy
paddle. The ape-man’s fingers slipped from their hold upon the gunwale.
There was a short struggle at the surface, and then a swirl of waters,
a little eddy, and a burst of bubbles soon smoothed out by the flowing
current marked for the instant the spot where Tarzan of the Apes, Lord
of the Jungle, disappeared from the sight of men beneath the gloomy
waters of the dark and forbidding Ugambi.
Weak from terror, Rokoff sank shuddering into the bottom of the dugout.
For a moment he could not realize the good fortune that had befallen
him—all that he could see was the figure of a silent, struggling white
man disappearing beneath the surface of the river to unthinkable death
in the slimy mud of the bottom.
Slowly all that it meant to him filtered into the mind of the Russian,
and then a cruel smile of relief and triumph touched his lips; but it
was short-lived, for just as he was congratulating himself that he was
now comparatively safe to proceed upon his way to the coast unmolested,
a mighty pandemonium rose from the river-bank close by.
As his eyes sought the authors of the frightful sound he saw standing
upon the shore, glaring at him with hate-filled eyes, a devil-faced
panther surrounded by the hideous apes of Akut, and in the forefront of
them a giant black warrior who shook his fist at him, threatening him
with terrible death.
The nightmare of that flight down the Ugambi with the hideous horde
racing after him by day and by night, now abreast of him, now lost in
the mazes of the jungle far behind for hours and once for a whole day,
only to reappear again upon his trail grim, relentless, and terrible,
reduced the Russian from a strong and robust man to an emaciated,
white-haired, fear-gibbering thing before ever the bay and the ocean
broke upon his hopeless vision.
Past populous villages he had fled. Time and again warriors had put out
in their canoes to intercept him, but each time the hideous horde had
swept into view to send the terrified natives shrieking back to the
shore to lose themselves in the jungle.
Nowhere in his flight had he seen aught of Jane Clayton. Not once had
his eyes rested upon her since that moment at the river’s brim his hand
had closed upon the rope attached to the bow of her dugout and he had
believed her safely in his power again, only to be thwarted an instant
later as the girl snatched up a heavy express rifle from the bottom of
the craft and levelled it full at his breast.
Quickly he had dropped the rope then and seen her float away beyond his
reach, but a moment later he had been racing up-stream toward a little
tributary in the mouth of which was hidden the canoe in which he and
his party had come thus far upon their journey in pursuit of the girl
and Anderssen.
What had become of her?
There seemed little doubt in the Russian’s mind, however, but that she
had been captured by warriors from one of the several villages she
would have been compelled to pass on her way down to the sea. Well, he
was at least rid of most of his human enemies.
But at that he would gladly have had them all back in the land of the
living could he thus have been freed from the menace of the frightful
creatures who pursued him with awful relentlessness, screaming and
growling at him every time they came within sight of him. The one that
filled him with the greatest terror was the panther—the flaming-eyed,
devil-faced panther whose grinning jaws gaped wide at him by day, and
whose fiery orbs gleamed wickedly out across the water from the
Cimmerian blackness of the jungle nights.
The sight of the mouth of the Ugambi filled Rokoff with renewed hope,
for there, upon the yellow waters of the bay, floated the Kincaid at
anchor. He had sent the little steamer away to coal while he had gone
up the river, leaving Paulvitch in charge of her, and he could have
cried aloud in his relief as he saw that she had returned in time to
save him.
Frantically he alternately paddled furiously toward her and rose to his
feet waving his paddle and crying aloud in an attempt to attract the
attention of those on board. But loud as he screamed his cries awakened
no answering challenge from the deck of the silent craft.
Upon the shore behind him a hurried backward glance revealed the
presence of the snarling pack. Even now, he thought, these manlike
devils might yet find a way to reach him even upon the deck of the
steamer unless there were those there to repel them with firearms.
What could have happened to those he had left upon the Kincaid? Where
was Paulvitch? Could it be that the vessel was deserted, and that,
after all, he was doomed to be overtaken by the terrible fate that he
had been flying from through all these hideous days and nights? He
shivered as might one upon whose brow death has already laid his clammy
finger.
Yet he did not cease to paddle frantically toward the steamer, and at
last, after what seemed an eternity, the bow of the dugout bumped
against the timbers of the Kincaid. Over the ship’s side hung a
monkey-ladder, but as the Russian grasped it to ascend to the deck he
heard a warning challenge from above, and, looking up, gazed into the
cold, relentless muzzle of a rifle.
After Jane Clayton, with rifle levelled at the breast of Rokoff, had
succeeded in holding him off until the dugout in which she had taken
refuge had drifted out upon the bosom of the Ugambi beyond the man’s
reach, she had lost no time in paddling to the swiftest sweep of the
channel, nor did she for long days and weary nights cease to hold her
craft to the most rapidly moving part of the river, except when during
the hottest hours of the day she had been wont to drift as the current
would take her, lying prone in the bottom of the canoe, her face
sheltered from the sun with a great palm leaf.
Thus only did she gain rest upon the voyage; at other times she
continually sought to augment the movement of the craft by wielding the
heavy paddle.
Rokoff, on the other hand, had used little or no intelligence in his
flight along the Ugambi, so that more often than not his craft had
drifted in the slow-going eddies, for he habitually hugged the bank
farthest from that along which the hideous horde pursued and menaced
him.
Thus it was that, though he had put out upon the river but a short time
subsequent to the girl, yet she had reached the bay fully two hours
ahead of him. When she had first seen the anchored ship upon the quiet
water, Jane Clayton’s heart had beat fast with hope and thanksgiving,
but as she drew closer to the craft and saw that it was the Kincaid,
her pleasure gave place to the gravest misgivings.
It was too late, however, to turn back, for the current that carried
her toward the ship was much too strong for her muscles. She could not
have forced the heavy dugout up-stream against it, and all that was
left her was to attempt either to make the shore without being seen by
those upon the deck of the Kincaid, or to throw herself upon their
mercy—otherwise she must be swept out to sea.
She knew that the shore held little hope of life for her, as she had no
knowledge of the location of the friendly Mosula village to which
Anderssen had taken her through the darkness of the night of their
escape from the Kincaid.
With Rokoff away from the steamer it might be possible that by offering
those in charge a large reward they could be induced to carry her to
the nearest civilized port. It was worth risking—if she could make the
steamer at all.
The current was bearing her swiftly down the river, and she found that
only by dint of the utmost exertion could she direct the awkward craft
toward the vicinity of the Kincaid. Having reached the decision to
board the steamer, she now looked to it for aid, but to her surprise
the decks appeared to be empty and she saw no sign of life aboard the
ship.
The dugout was drawing closer and closer to the bow of the vessel, and
yet no hail came over the side from any lookout aboard. In a moment
more, Jane realized, she would be swept beyond the steamer, and then,
unless they lowered a boat to rescue her, she would be carried far out
to sea by the current and the swift ebb tide that was running.
The young woman called loudly for assistance, but there was no reply
other than the shrill scream of some savage beast upon the
jungle-shrouded shore. Frantically Jane wielded the paddle in an effort
to carry her craft close alongside the steamer.
For a moment it seemed that she should miss her goal by but a few feet,
but at the last moment the canoe swung close beneath the steamer’s bow
and Jane barely managed to grasp the anchor chain.
Heroically she clung to the heavy iron links, almost dragged from the
canoe by the strain of the current upon her craft. Beyond her she saw a
monkey-ladder dangling over the steamer’s side. To release her hold
upon the chain and chance clambering to the ladder as her canoe was
swept beneath it seemed beyond the pale of possibility, yet to remain
clinging to the anchor chain appeared equally as futile.
Finally her glance chanced to fall upon the rope in the bow of the
dugout, and, making one end of this fast to the chain, she succeeded in
drifting the canoe slowly down until it lay directly beneath the
ladder. A moment later, her rifle slung about her shoulders, she had
clambered safely to the deserted deck.
Her first task was to explore the ship, and this she did, her rifle
ready for instant use should she meet with any human menace aboard the
Kincaid. She was not long in discovering the cause of the apparently
deserted condition of the steamer, for in the forecastle she found the
sailors, who had evidently been left to guard the ship, deep in drunken
slumber.
With a shudder of disgust she clambered above, and to the best of her
ability closed and made fast the hatch above the heads of the sleeping
guard. Next she sought the galley and food, and, having appeased her
hunger, she took her place on deck, determined that none should board
the Kincaid without first having agreed to her demands.
For an hour or so nothing appeared upon the surface of the river to
cause her alarm, but then, about a bend up-stream, she saw a canoe
appear in which sat a single figure. It had not proceeded far in her
direction before she recognized the occupant as Rokoff, and when the
fellow attempted to board he found a rifle staring him in the face.
When the Russian discovered who it was that repelled his advance he
became furious, cursing and threatening in a most horrible manner; but,
finding that these tactics failed to frighten or move the girl, he at
last fell to pleading and promising.
Jane had but a single reply for his every proposition, and that was
that nothing would ever persuade her to permit Rokoff upon the same
vessel with her. That she would put her threats into action and shoot
him should he persist in his endeavour to board the ship he was
convinced.
So, as there was no other alternative, the great coward dropped back
into his dugout and, at imminent risk of being swept to sea, finally
succeeded in making the shore far down the bay and upon the opposite
side from that on which the horde of beasts stood snarling and roaring.
Jane Clayton knew that the fellow could not alone and unaided bring his
heavy craft back up-stream to the Kincaid, and so she had no further
fear of an attack by him. The hideous crew upon the shore she thought
she recognized as the same that had passed her in the jungle far up the
Ugambi several days before, for it seemed quite beyond reason that
there should be more than one such a strangely assorted pack; but what
had brought them down-stream to the mouth of the river she could not
imagine.
Toward the day’s close the girl was suddenly alarmed by the shouting of
the Russian from the opposite bank of the stream, and a moment later,
following the direction of his gaze, she was terrified to see a ship’s
boat approaching from up-stream, in which, she felt assured, there
could be only members of the Kincaid’s missing crew—only heartless
ruffians and enemies.