WHITE ANTS.
The storm had now burst in full fury, and fortunate it was that a
refuge had been found. The rain did not fall in separate drops as in
temperate zones, but descended like the waters of a cataract, in one
solid and compact mass, in a way that could only suggest the outpour of
some vast aerial basin containing the waters of an entire ocean.
Contrary, too, to the storms of higher latitudes, of which the duration
seems ordinarily to be in inverse ratio to their violence, these
African tempests, whatever their magnitude, often last for whole days,
furrowing the soil into deep ravines, changing plains to lakes and
brooks to torrents, and causing rivers to overflow and cover vast
districts with their inundations. It is hard to understand whence such
volumes of vapour and electric fluid can accumulate. The earth, upon
these occasions, might almost seem to be carried back to the remote
period which has been called "the diluvian age."
Happily, the walls of the ant-hill were very thick; no beaver-hut
formed of pounded earth could be more perfectly water-tight, and a
torrent might have passed over it without a particle of moisture making
its way through its substance.
As soon as the party had taken possession of the tenement, a lantern
was lighted, and they proceeded to examine the interior. The cone,
which was about twelve feet high inside, was eleven feet wide at the
base, gradually narrowing to a sugar-loaf top. The walls and partitions
between the tiers of cells were nowhere less than a foot thick
throughout.
These wonderful erections, the result of the combined labour of
innumerable insects, are by no means uncommon in the heart of Africa.
Smeathman, a Dutch traveller of the last century, has recorded how he
and four companions all at one time occupied the summit of one of them
in Loundé. Livingstone noticed some made of red clay, of which the
height varied from fifteen to twenty feet; and in Nyangwé, Cameron
several times mistook one of these colonies for a native camp pitched
upon the plain. He described some of these strange edifices as being
flanked with small spires, giving them the appearance of a
cathedral-dome.
The reddish clay of which the ant-hill was composed could leave no
doubt upon the mind of a naturalist that it had been formed by the
species known as "termes bellicosus;" had it been made of grey or black
alluvial soil, it might have been attributed to the "termes mordax" or
"termes atrox," formidable names that must awaken anything but pleasure
in the minds of all but enthusiast entomologists.
In the centre was an open space, surrounded by roomy compartments,
ranged one upon another, like the berths of a ship's cabin, and lined
with the millions of cells that had been occupied by the ants. This
central space was inadequate to hold the whole party that had now made
their hurried resort to it, but as each of the compartments was
sufficiently capacious to admit one person to occupy it in a sitting
posture, Mrs. Weldon, Jack, Nan, and Cousin Benedict were exalted to
the upper tier, Austin, Bat, and Actæon occupied the next story, whilst
Tom and Hercules, and Dick Sands himself remained below.
Dick soon found that the soil beneath his feet was beginning to get
damp, and insisted upon having some of the dry clay spread over it from
the base of the cone.
"It is a long time," he said, "since we have slept with a roof over our
heads; and I am anxious to make our refuge as secure as possible. It
may be that we shall have to stay here for a whole day or more; on the
first opportunity I shall go and explore; it may turn out that we are
near the stream we are seeking; and perhaps we shall have to build a
raft before we start again."
[Illustration: Cousin Benedict's curiosity was awakened.]
Under his direction, therefore, Hercules took his hatchet, and
proceeded to break down the lowest range of cells and to spread the
dry, brittle clay of which they were composed a good foot thick over
the damp floor, taking care not in any way to block up the aperture by
which the fresh air penetrated into the interior.
It was indeed fortunate that the termites had abandoned their home; had
it swarmed with its multitudes of voracious Neuroptera, the ant-hill
would have been utterly untenable for human beings. Cousin Benedict's
curiosity was awakened, and he was intensely interested in the question
of the evacuation, so that he proceeded at once to investigate, if he
could, whether the emigration had been recent or otherwise. He took the
lantern, and as the result of his scrutiny he soon discovered in a
recess what he described as the termites' "storehouse," or the place
where the indefatigable insects keep their provisions. It was a large
cavity, not far from the royal cell, which, together with the cells for
the reception of the young larvae, had been destroyed by Hercules in
the course of his flooring operations. Out of this receptacle Benedict
drew a considerable quantity of gum and vegetable juices, all in a
state so liquid as to demonstrate that they had been deposited there
quite recently.
"They have only just gone," he exclaimed, with an air of authority, as
if he imagined that some one was about to challenge his assertion.
"We are not going to dispute your word, Mr. Benedict," said Dick; "here
we are; we have taken their place, and shall be quite content for them
to keep out of the way, without caring when they went, or where they
have gone."
"But we must care," retorted Benedict testily; "why they have gone
concerns us a good deal; these juices make it evident, from the liquid
state in which we find them, that the ants were here this morning, they
have not only gone, but they have carried off their young larvae with
them; they have been sagacious enough to take warning of some impending
danger."
"Perhaps they heard that we were coming," said Hercules, laughing.
A look of withering scorn was the only answer that the entomologist
deigned to give.
"Yes, I say," repeated Hercules, "perhaps they heard that we were
coming."
"Pshaw!" said Benedict contemptuously; "do you imagine they would be
afraid of you? they would reduce your carcase to a skeleton in no time,
if they found it across their path."
"No doubt, if I were dead," replied Hercules, "they could pick my bones
pretty clean; but while I had the use of my limbs I think I could crush
them by thousands."
"Thousands!" ejaculated Benedict, with increasing warmth; "you think
you could demolish thousands; but what if they were hundreds of
thousands, millions, hundreds of millions? Alive as much as dead, I
tell you, they wouldn't be long in consuming every morsel of you."
During this brisk little discussion Dick Sands had been pondering over
what Benedict had said. There was no doubt that the amateur naturalist
was well acquainted with the habits of white ants, and if, as he
affirmed, the insects had instinctively quitted their abode on account
of some approaching danger, Dick asked himself whether it was safe or
prudent for his party to remain. But the fury of the storm was still so
great that all possibility of removing from the shelter seemed
precluded for the present, and, without inquiring farther into the
mystery, he merely said,
"Although the ants, Mr. Benedict, have left us their provisions, we
must not forget that we have brought our own. We will have our supper
now, and to-morrow, when the storm is over, we will see what is to be
done."
Fatigue had not taken away the appetite of the energetic travellers,
and they gladly set about the preparation of their meal. The
provisions, of which they had enough for another two days, had not been
injured by the rain. For some minutes the crunching of hard biscuit was
the only sound to be heard; Hercules, in particular, seemed to pound
away with his huge jaws as with a pair of millstones.
[Illustration: The naturalist now fairly mounted on a favourite hobby.]
Mrs. Weldon was the only one of the party who ate little; and that
little was only taken at Dick's earnest solicitation; he could not help
noticing, with much concern, that although Jack seemed to be
satisfactorily recovering, and, without sign of fever, was sleeping
calmly enough on a bed made up of clothes spread out in one of the
cells, yet his mother had lost much of her courage, and seemed
preoccupied and depressed.
Cousin Benedict did due honour to the simple evening repast; not on
account of its quantity or quality, but because it gave him an
opportunity of holding forth upon the subject of termites. He was much
vexed that he had been unable to discover a single specimen in the
deserted anthill with which he might illustrate his lecture, but
notwithstanding this deficiency he continued to talk, heedless whether
any one was listening.
"They are wonderful insects," he said; "they belong to the order of the
Neuroptera, which have the antennae longer than the head; their
mandibles are well-developed, and the inferior pair of wings is
generally as large as the superior. There are five families of them;
the Panorpide, the Myrmellonide, the Hemerobiide, the Termitine, and
the Perlide. I need hardly say that what we are now occupying is a
dwelling of the Termitine."
At this point Dick became all attention; he was anxious to ascertain
whether this discovery of white ants had aroused any suspicion in
Benedict's mind that they must be on African soil. The naturalist, now
fairly mounted on a favourite hobby, went on with his discourse.
"I am sorry not to have a specimen to show you, but these Termitine
have four joints in the tarsi, and strong horny mandibles. The family
includes, as genera, the Mantispa, the Raphidia, and the Termes, the
last commonly known as white ants, amongst which are 'Termes fatalis,
Termes lucifugans, Termes mordax,' and several others more or less
rare."
"And which of them built this ant-hill?" inquired Dick.
"The bellicosi!" replied Benedict, pronouncing the name with as much
pride as if he were eulogizing the Macedonians or some warlike nation
of antiquity. "Bellicosi," he continued, "are to be found of every
size. There is as much difference between the largest and the smallest
of them as there is between Hercules and a dwarf; the workers are about
one-fifth of an inch long; the soldiers, or fighting-ants, are half an
inch; whilst the males and females measure four fifths of an inch.
There is another curious species, called 'sirafoos,' which are about
half an inch long, and have pincers instead of mandibles, and heads
larger than their bodies, like sharks. In fact, if sharks and sirafoos
were placed in competition, I should be inclined to back the sharks."
"And where are these sirafoos most generally to be found?" said Dick
cautiously.
"In Africa, in the southern and central provinces. Africa may truly be
termed the land of ants. Livingstone, in the notes brought home by
Stanley, describes a battle which he was fortunate enough to witness
between an army of black ants and an army of red. The black ants, or
drivers, which are what the natives call sirafoos, got the best of it;
and the red ants, or 'tchoongoos,' after a very resolute defence, were
obliged to retire defeated, carrying their eggs and young ones with
them. Livingstone avows that he never saw the warlike instinct so
strongly developed as in these sirafoos; the stoutest man, the largest
animal, a lion or an elephant, quails before the grip of their
mandibles: no obstacle impedes their progress; no tree is too lofty for
them to scale, and they contrive to cross wide streams by forming their
own bodies into a kind of suspension bridge. Equally amazing are their
numbers; Du Chaillu, another African traveller, relates how it took
more than twelve hours for a column of ants to file pass him, without a
moment's pause in their march. These numbers, however cease to be so
surprising when it is explained that their fecundity is such that a
single female of the termites bellicosi has been estimated to produce
as many as sixty thousand eggs a day. These Neuroptera furnish the
natives with a favourite food, grilled ants being considered a great
delicacy."
"Have you ever tasted them?" asked Hercules, with a grin.
"Never," answered the naturalist; "but I am in hopes I shall have a
chance of doing so very soon."
"Surely you don't imagine yourself in Africa!" said Tom suddenly.
"Africa! no; why should I?" replied Benedict; "but, as I have already
seen a tzetsy in America, I do not despair of having the satisfaction
of discovering white ants there too. You do not know the sensation I
shall make in Europe when I publish my folio volume and its
illustrations."
It was evident that no inkling of the truth had yet entered poor
Benedict's brain, and it seemed likely that it would require
demonstration far more striking than any natural phenomena to undeceive
the minds of such of the party as were not already in possession of the
fatal secret.
Although it was nine o'clock, Cousin Benedict went on talking
incessantly, regardless of the fact that one by one his audience were
falling to sleep in their separate cells. Dick Sands did not sleep, but
neither did he interrupt the entomologist by farther questions;
Hercules kept up his attention longer than the rest, but at length he
too succumbed to weariness, and his eyes and ears were closed to all
external sights and sounds.
But endurance has limits, and at last Cousin Benedict, having worn
himself out, clambered up to the topmost cell of the cone, which he had
chosen for his dormitory, and fell into a peaceful slumber.
The lantern had been already extinguished. All was darkness and silence
within, whilst the storm without still raged with a violence that gave
no sign of abatement.
Dick Sands himself was the only one of the party who was not partaking
in the repose that was so indispensable to them all; but he could not
sleep; his every thought was absorbed in the responsibility that rested
on him to rescue those under his charge from the dangers that
threatened them. Again and again he recalled every incident that had
occurred since the loss of Captain Hull and his crew; he remembered the
occasion when he had stood with his pistol pointed at Negoro's head;
why, oh why, had his hand faltered then? why had he not at that moment
hurled the miserable wretch overboard, and thus relieved himself and
his partners in trouble from the catastrophe that had since befallen
them? Peril was still staring them in the face, and his sole drop of
consolation in the bitter cup of despondency was that Mrs. Weldon was
still ignorant of their real situation.
At that moment, just in the fever of his agony, he felt a light breath
upon his forehead; a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and a gentle
voice murmured in his ear,--
"My poor boy, I know everything. God will help us! His will be done!"
[Illustration: "My poor boy, I know everything."]