Chapter 16
In the Darkness of the Night
When Tarzan of the Apes realized that he was in the grip of the
great jaws of a crocodile he did not, as an ordinary man might have
done, give up all hope and resign himself to his fate.
Instead, he filled his lungs with air before the huge reptile
dragged him beneath the surface, and then, with all the might of
his great muscles, fought bitterly for freedom. But out of his
native element the ape-man was too greatly handicapped to do more
than excite the monster to greater speed as it dragged its prey
swiftly through the water.
Tarzan's lungs were bursting for a breath of pure fresh air. He
knew that he could survive but a moment more, and in the last
paroxysm of his suffering he did what he could to avenge his own
death.
His body trailed out beside the slimy carcass of his captor, and
into the tough armour the ape-man attempted to plunge his stone
knife as he was borne to the creature's horrid den.
His efforts but served to accelerate the speed of the crocodile, and
just as the ape-man realized that he had reached the limit of his
endurance he felt his body dragged to a muddy bed and his nostrils
rise above the water's surface. All about him was the blackness
of the pit--the silence of the grave.
For a moment Tarzan of the Apes lay gasping for breath upon the
slimy, evil-smelling bed to which the animal had borne him. Close
at his side he could feel the cold, hard plates of the creatures
coat rising and falling as though with spasmodic efforts to breathe.
For several minutes the two lay thus, and then a sudden convulsion
of the giant carcass at the man's side, a tremor, and a stiffening
brought Tarzan to his knees beside the crocodile. To his utter
amazement he found that the beast was dead. The slim knife had
found a vulnerable spot in the scaly armour.
Staggering to his feet, the ape-man groped about the reeking, oozy
den. He found that he was imprisoned in a subterranean chamber
amply large enough to have accommodated a dozen or more of the huge
animals such as the one that had dragged him thither.
He realized that he was in the creature's hidden nest far under the
bank of the stream, and that doubtless the only means of ingress
or egress lay through the submerged opening through which the
crocodile had brought him.
His first thought, of course, was of escape, but that he could make
his way to the surface of the river beyond and then to the shore
seemed highly improbable. There might be turns and windings in the
neck of the passage, or, most to be feared, he might meet another
of the slimy inhabitants of the retreat upon his journey outward.
Even should he reach the river in safety, there was still the danger
of his being again attacked before he could effect a safe landing.
Still there was no alternative, and, filling his lungs with the close
and reeking air of the chamber, Tarzan of the Apes dived into the
dark and watery hole which he could not see but had felt out and
found with his feet and legs.
The leg which had been held within the jaws of the crocodile was
badly lacerated, but the bone had not been broken, nor were the
muscles or tendons sufficiently injured to render it useless. It
gave him excruciating pain, that was all.
But Tarzan of the Apes was accustomed to pain, and gave it
no further thought when he found that the use of his legs was not
greatly impaired by the sharp teeth of the monster.
Rapidly he crawled and swam through the passage which inclined
downward and finally upward to open at last into the river bottom
but a few feet from the shore line. As the ape-man reached the
surface he saw the heads of two great crocodiles but a short distance
from him. They were making rapidly in his direction, and with a
superhuman effort the man struck out for the overhanging branches
of a near-by tree.
Nor was he a moment too soon, for scarcely had he drawn himself to
the safety of the limb than two gaping mouths snapped venomously
below him. For a few minutes Tarzan rested in the tree that had
proved the means of his salvation. His eyes scanned the river
as far down-stream as the tortuous channel would permit, but there
was no sign of the Russian or his dugout.
When he had rested and bound up his wounded leg he started on in
pursuit of the drifting canoe. He found himself upon the opposite
of the river to that at which he had entered the stream, but as his
quarry was upon the bosom of the water it made little difference
to the ape-man upon which side he took up the pursuit.
To his intense chagrin he soon found that his leg was more badly
injured than he had thought, and that its condition seriously
impeded his progress. It was only with the greatest difficulty
that he could proceed faster than a walk upon the ground, and in
the trees he discovered that it not only impeded his progress, but
rendered travelling distinctly dangerous.
From the old negress, Tambudza, Tarzan had gathered a suggestion
that now filled his mind with doubts and misgivings. When the old
woman had told him of the child's death she had also added that
the white woman, though grief-stricken, had confided to her that
the baby was not hers.
Tarzan could see no reason for believing that Jane could have found
it advisable to deny her identity or that of the child; the only
explanation that he could put upon the matter was that, after all,
the white woman who had accompanied his son and the Swede into the
jungle fastness of the interior had not been Jane at all.
The more he gave thought to the problem, the more firmly convinced
he became that his son was dead and his wife still safe in London, and
in ignorance of the terrible fate that had overtaken her first-born.
After all, then, his interpretation of Rokoff's sinister taunt
had been erroneous, and he had been bearing the burden of a double
apprehension needlessly--at least so thought the ape-man. From
this belief he garnered some slight surcease from the numbing grief
that the death of his little son had thrust upon him.
And such a death! Even the savage beast that was the real Tarzan,
inured to the sufferings and horrors of the grim jungle, shuddered
as he contemplated the hideous fate that had overtaken the innocent
child.
As he made his way painfully towards the coast, he let his mind
dwell so constantly upon the frightful crimes which the Russian
had perpetrated against his loved ones that the great scar upon his
forehead stood out almost continuously in the vivid scarlet that
marked the man's most relentless and bestial moods of rage. At
times he startled even himself and sent the lesser creatures of
the wild jungle scampering to their hiding places as involuntary
roars and growls rumbled from his throat.
Could he but lay his hand upon the Russian!
Twice upon the way to the coast bellicose natives ran threateningly
from their villages to bar his further progress, but when the awful
cry of the bull-ape thundered upon their affrighted ears, and the
great white giant charged bellowing upon them, they had turned and
fled into the bush, nor ventured thence until he had safely passed.
Though his progress seemed tantalizingly slow to the ape-man whose
idea of speed had been gained by such standards as the lesser apes
attain, he made, as a matter of fact, almost as rapid progress as
the drifting canoe that bore Rokoff on ahead of him, so that he
came to the bay and within sight of the ocean just after darkness
had fallen upon the same day that Jane Clayton and the Russian
ended their flights from the interior.
The darkness lowered so heavily upon the black river and the
encircling jungle that Tarzan, even with eyes accustomed to much
use after dark, could make out nothing a few yards from him. His
idea was to search the shore that night for signs of the Russian
and the woman who he was certain must have preceded Rokoff down the
Ugambi. That the Kincaid or other ship lay at anchor but a hundred
yards from him he did not dream, for no light showed on board the
steamer.
Even as he commenced his search his attention was suddenly attracted
by a noise that he had not at first perceived--the stealthy dip
of paddles in the water some distance from the shore, and about
opposite the point at which he stood. Motionless as a statue he
stood listening to the faint sound.
Presently it ceased, to be followed by a shuffling noise that
the ape-man's trained ears could interpret as resulting from but
a single cause--the scraping of leather-shod feet upon the rounds
of a ship's monkey-ladder. And yet, as far as he could see, there
was no ship there--nor might there be one within a thousand miles.
As he stood thus, peering out into the darkness of the cloud-enshrouded
night, there came to him from across the water, like a slap in the
face, so sudden and unexpected was it, the sharp staccato of an
exchange of shots and then the scream of a woman.
Wounded though he was, and with the memory of his recent horrible
experience still strong upon him, Tarzan of the Apes did not hesitate
as the notes of that frightened cry rose shrill and piercing upon
the still night air. With a bound he cleared the intervening
bush--there was a splash as the water closed about him--and then,
with powerful strokes, he swam out into the impenetrable night
with no guide save the memory of an illusive cry, and for company
the hideous denizens of an equatorial river.
The boat that had attracted Jane's attention as she stood guard
upon the deck of the Kincaid had been perceived by Rokoff upon one
bank and Mugambi and the horde upon the other. The cries of the
Russian had brought the dugout first to him, and then, after a
conference, it had been turned toward the Kincaid, but before ever
it covered half the distance between the shore and the steamer a
rifle had spoken from the latter's deck and one of the sailors in
the bow of the canoe had crumpled and fallen into the water.
After that they went more slowly, and presently, when Jane's rifle
had found another member of the party, the canoe withdrew to the
shore, where it lay as long as daylight lasted.
The savage, snarling pack upon the opposite shore had been directed in
their pursuit by the black warrior, Mugambi, chief of the Wagambi.
Only he knew which might be foe and which friend of their lost
master.
Could they have reached either the canoe or the Kincaid they would
have made short work of any whom they found there, but the gulf
of black water intervening shut them off from farther advance as
effectually as though it had been the broad ocean that separated
them from their prey.
Mugambi knew something of the occurrences which had led up to the
landing of Tarzan upon Jungle Island and the pursuit of the whites
up the Ugambi. He knew that his savage master sought his wife and
child who had been stolen by the wicked white man whom they had
followed far into the interior and now back to the sea.
He believed also that this same man had killed the great white
giant whom he had come to respect and love as he had never loved
the greatest chiefs of his own people. And so in the wild breast
of Mugambi burned an iron resolve to win to the side of the wicked
one and wreak vengeance upon him for the murder of the ape-man.
But when he saw the canoe come down the river and take in Rokoff,
when he saw it make for the Kincaid, he realized that only by
possessing himself of a canoe could he hope to transport the beasts
of the pack within striking distance of the enemy.
So it happened that even before Jane Clayton fired the first shot
into Rokoff's canoe the beasts of Tarzan had disappeared into the
jungle.
After the Russian and his party, which consisted of Paulvitch and
the several men he had left upon the Kincaid to attend to the matter
of coaling, had retreated before her fire, Jane realized that it
would be but a temporary respite from their attentions which she
had gained, and with the conviction came a determination to make
a bold and final stroke for freedom from the menacing threat of
Rokoff's evil purpose.
With this idea in view she opened negotiations with the two sailors
she had imprisoned in the forecastle, and having forced their consent
to her plans, upon pain of death should they attempt disloyalty,
she released them just as darkness closed about the ship.
With ready revolver to compel obedience, she let them up one by
one, searching them carefully for concealed weapons as they stood
with hands elevated above their heads. Once satisfied that they
were unarmed, she set them to work cutting the cable which held the
Kincaid to her anchorage, for her bold plan was nothing less than
to set the steamer adrift and float with her out into the open
sea, there to trust to the mercy of the elements, which she was
confident would be no more merciless than Nikolas Rokoff should he
again capture her.
There was, too, the chance that the Kincaid might be sighted by
some passing ship, and as she was well stocked with provisions and
water--the men had assured her of this fact--and as the season of
storm was well over, she had every reason to hope for the eventual
success of her plan.
The night was deeply overcast, heavy clouds riding low above the
jungle and the water--only to the west, where the broad ocean spread
beyond the river's mouth, was there a suggestion of lessening gloom.
It was a perfect night for the purposes of the work in hand.
Her enemies could not see the activity aboard the ship nor mark
her course as the swift current bore her outward into the ocean.
Before daylight broke the ebb-tide would have carried the Kincaid
well into the Benguela current which flows northward along the
coast of Africa, and, as a south wind was prevailing, Jane hoped
to be out of sight of the mouth of the Ugambi before Rokoff could
become aware of the departure of the steamer.
Standing over the labouring seamen, the young woman breathed a sigh
of relief as the last strand of the cable parted and she knew that
the vessel was on its way out of the maw of the savage Ugambi.
With her two prisoners still beneath the coercing influence of
her rifle, she ordered them upon deck with the intention of again
imprisoning them in the forecastle; but at length she permitted
herself to be influenced by their promises of loyalty and the
arguments which they put forth that they could be of service to
her, and permitted them to remain above.
For a few minutes the Kincaid drifted rapidly with the current, and
then, with a grinding jar, she stopped in midstream. The ship had
run upon a low-lying bar that splits the channel about a quarter
of a mile from the sea.
For a moment she hung there, and then, swinging round until her
bow pointed toward the shore, she broke adrift once more.
At the same instant, just as Jane Clayton was congratulating herself
that the ship was once more free, there fell upon her ears from a
point up the river about where the Kincaid had been anchored the
rattle of musketry and a woman's scream--shrill, piercing, fear-laden.
The sailors heard the shots with certain conviction that they
announced the coming of their employer, and as they had no relish
for the plan that would consign them to the deck of a drifting
derelict, they whispered together a hurried plan to overcome the
young woman and hail Rokoff and their companions to their rescue.
It seemed that fate would play into their hands, for with the reports
of the guns Jane Clayton's attention had been distracted from her
unwilling assistants, and instead of keeping one eye upon them as
she had intended doing, she ran to the bow of the Kincaid to peer
through the darkness toward the source of the disturbance upon the
river's bosom.
Seeing that she was off her guard, the two sailors crept stealthily
upon her from behind.
The scraping upon the deck of the shoes of one of them startled
the girl to a sudden appreciation of her danger, but the warning
had come too late.
As she turned, both men leaped upon her and bore her to the deck,
and as she went down beneath them she saw, outlined against the
lesser gloom of the ocean, the figure of another man clamber over
the side of the Kincaid.
After all her pains her heroic struggle for freedom had failed.
With a stifled sob she gave up the unequal battle.
