The Last of the “Kincaid”
Shortly after the break of day Tarzan was on deck noting the condition
of the weather. The wind had abated. The sky was cloudless. Every
condition seemed ideal for the commencement of the return voyage to
Jungle Island, where the beasts were to be left. And then—home!
The ape-man aroused the mate and gave instructions that the Kincaid
sail at the earliest possible moment. The remaining members of the
crew, safe in Lord Greystoke’s assurance that they would not be
prosecuted for their share in the villainies of the two Russians,
hastened with cheerful alacrity to their several duties.
The beasts, liberated from the confinement of the hold, wandered about
the deck, not a little to the discomfiture of the crew in whose minds
there remained a still vivid picture of the savagery of the beasts in
conflict with those who had gone to their deaths beneath the fangs and
talons which even now seemed itching for the soft flesh of further
prey.
Beneath the watchful eyes of Tarzan and Mugambi, however, Sheeta and
the apes of Akut curbed their desires, so that the men worked about the
deck amongst them in far greater security than they imagined.
At last the Kincaid slipped down the Ugambi and ran out upon the
shimmering waters of the Atlantic. Tarzan and Jane Clayton watched the
verdure-clad shore-line receding in the ship’s wake, and for once the
ape-man left his native soil without one single pang of regret.
No ship that sailed the seven seas could have borne him away from
Africa to resume his search for his lost boy with half the speed that
the Englishman would have desired, and the slow-moving Kincaid seemed
scarce to move at all to the impatient mind of the bereaved father.
Yet the vessel made progress even when she seemed to be standing still,
and presently the low hills of Jungle Island became distinctly visible
upon the western horizon ahead.
In the cabin of Alexander Paulvitch the thing within the black box
ticked, ticked, ticked, with apparently unending monotony; but yet,
second by second, a little arm which protruded from the periphery of
one of its wheels came nearer and nearer to another little arm which
projected from the hand which Paulvitch had set at a certain point upon
the dial beside the clockwork. When those two arms touched one another
the ticking of the mechanism would cease—for ever.
Jane and Tarzan stood upon the bridge looking out toward Jungle Island.
The men were forward, also watching the land grow upward out of the
ocean. The beasts had sought the shade of the galley, where they were
curled up in sleep. All was quiet and peace upon the ship, and upon the
waters.
Suddenly, without warning, the cabin roof shot up into the air, a cloud
of dense smoke puffed far above the Kincaid, there was a terrific
explosion which shook the vessel from stem to stern.
Instantly pandemonium broke loose upon the deck. The apes of Akut,
terrified by the sound, ran hither and thither, snarling and growling.
Sheeta leaped here and there, screaming out his startled terror in
hideous cries that sent the ice of fear straight to the hearts of the
Kincaid’s crew.
Mugambi, too, was trembling. Only Tarzan of the Apes and his wife
retained their composure. Scarce had the debris settled than the
ape-man was among the beasts, quieting their fears, talking to them in
low, pacific tones, stroking their shaggy bodies, and assuring them, as
only he could, that the immediate danger was over.
An examination of the wreckage showed that their greatest danger, now,
lay in fire, for the flames were licking hungrily at the splintered
wood of the wrecked cabin, and had already found a foothold upon the
lower deck through a great jagged hole which the explosion had opened.
By a miracle no member of the ship’s company had been injured by the
blast, the origin of which remained for ever a total mystery to all but
one—the sailor who knew that Paulvitch had been aboard the Kincaid and
in his cabin the previous night. He guessed the truth; but discretion
sealed his lips. It would, doubtless, fare none too well for the man
who had permitted the arch enemy of them all aboard the ship in the
watches of the night, where later he might set an infernal machine to
blow them all to kingdom come. No, the man decided that he would keep
this knowledge to himself.
As the flames gained headway it became apparent to Tarzan that whatever
had caused the explosion had scattered some highly inflammable
substance upon the surrounding woodwork, for the water which they
poured in from the pump seemed rather to spread than to extinguish the
blaze.
Fifteen minutes after the explosion great, black clouds of smoke were
rising from the hold of the doomed vessel. The flames had reached the
engine-room, and the ship no longer moved toward the shore. Her fate
was as certain as though the waters had already closed above her
charred and smoking remains.
“It is useless to remain aboard her longer,” remarked the ape-man to
the mate. “There is no telling but there may be other explosions, and
as we cannot hope to save her, the safest thing which we can do is to
take to the boats without further loss of time and make land.”
Nor was there other alternative. Only the sailors could bring away any
belongings, for the fire, which had not yet reached the forecastle, had
consumed all in the vicinity of the cabin which the explosion had not
destroyed.
Two boats were lowered, and as there was no sea the landing was made
with infinite ease. Eager and anxious, the beasts of Tarzan sniffed the
familiar air of their native island as the small boats drew in toward
the beach, and scarce had their keels grated upon the sand than Sheeta
and the apes of Akut were over the bows and racing swiftly toward the
jungle. A half-sad smile curved the lips of the ape-man as he watched
them go.
“Good-bye, my friends,” he murmured. “You have been good and faithful
allies, and I shall miss you.”
“They will return, will they not, dear?” asked Jane Clayton, at his
side.
“They may and they may not,” replied the ape-man. “They have been ill
at ease since they were forced to accept so many human beings into
their confidence. Mugambi and I alone affected them less, for he and I
are, at best, but half human. You, however, and the members of the crew
are far too civilized for my beasts—it is you whom they are fleeing.
Doubtless they feel that they cannot trust themselves in the close
vicinity of so much perfectly good food without the danger that they
may help themselves to a mouthful some time by mistake.”
Jane laughed. “I think they are just trying to escape you,” she
retorted. “You are always making them stop something which they see no
reason why they should not do. Like little children they are doubtless
delighted at this opportunity to flee from the zone of parental
discipline. If they come back, though, I hope they won’t come by
night.”
“Or come hungry, eh?” laughed Tarzan.
For two hours after landing the little party stood watching the burning
ship which they had abandoned. Then there came faintly to them from
across the water the sound of a second explosion. The Kincaid settled
rapidly almost immediately thereafter, and sank within a few minutes.
The cause of the second explosion was less a mystery than that of the
first, the mate attributing it to the bursting of the boilers when the
flames had finally reached them; but what had caused the first
explosion was a subject of considerable speculation among the stranded
company.