Virginia blushed again thinking of their sojourn in the jungle.
She awoke that morning with nerves still thrumming, electric with the echo of their many couplings. They had done things that even married Christians...
...they had been wanton—insatiable—and for a time after she had wished to stay, to disappear from the world that she knew would judge them harshly. True, Lilly depended upon her, but the girl would soon marry, and then what for Virginia? Would she be cast as an aging governess for the Quarries’ grandchildren?
Or would she remain as consort, and lie forever at her forest angel’s side?
Gazda said much through his open gaze. She knew he wanted her to stay, and yearned to lavish affection upon her, yet there was hesitation in him, as if he feared his strength could harm her.
She knew he had been cautious when they were together, gentle and generous.
Which encouraged her to think him civilized at heart—and who was she to judge?
At least he was a wild man. Virginia had yet to explain herself.
She blamed the jungle in part—though she did not consider their union a sin. Just the same, she felt compelled to honor it in the eyes of God, and she wondered briefly if Captain Seward could perform a marriage ceremony.
In the meantime, she pledged to keep their tryst a secret and honor it with chastity, to wait until they could embrace within the matrimonial state.
Besides, Virginia still had much to learn about the man, and she was certain that with Dr. Van Resen’s help she might discover his true history.
He certainly held himself like a prince...
...when he wasn’t grunting or hooting, or crawling around on hands and feet.
Gazda coughed to catch her attention and patted his chest with a free hand, as he continued at her side, swaying through the grass like a drunken sailor. She knew he would have preferred dropping to all fours, but had sweetly refrained to please her.
The man was a puzzle that would require time to solve. As their hours together had progressed, Gazda quickly came to understand her meaning, if not the phrases.
He preferred to speak his own language though he had picked up a few basic English words in regard to simple actions and things: go, tree, eat, vine, anything that came up. However, Virginia felt it would be a long time before he could be made to understand the true meaning of “marriage” and “matrimony.”
But what was the rush? She still needed time to consider her behavior during their many hours together. True, she was a 36-year-old woman, and able to make her own decisions, but few would understand how her moral fiber or Christian forbearance could have survived intact after what had occurred between her and Gazda.
Short of announcing their engagement, there was little she could do to lessen their sins, and after watching Gazda in the daylight, she had begun to question her feelings about him altogether.
He was a beautiful specimen of a man, and lordly in his air if not in manner, but that was no excuse for her to fall so utterly from grace.
Fear, relief, loneliness and comfort had weakened her resolve. Or had Phillip Holmes’ observation about her age made her second-guess her own appeal?
She was not a spinster, nor was she anyone’s doxy.
Now as they walked hand in hand away from the jungle and toward the little cabin and her people, she experienced a moment of regret.
Perhaps circumstance had made their union irresistible. Beneath the canopy their intimacy had been a natural, even pristine event.
Glancing again at Gazda’s powerful frame festooned with dagger, savage bracelets and loincloth she realized that everything about the wild man ran contrary to the notion of lawful marriage and society, even looking out of place against the rustic charms of this homely tree house.
She imagined the looks of her fellow castaways, and their shock if they knew what had occurred—was it not absurd and sordid?
Surely, this fellow had been marooned in the jungle too long and could never return to civilization, and if he should, how could she consider him a proper mate for herself?
She was governess for a wealthy Texas family of good history and breeding. What would people think? She remembered Gusher Quarrie’s mixed feelings about the upper classes, but he was a Christian also, and would find her behavior with her wild man...oh, Gusher could never know!
None of them could know!
Virginia dropped Gazda’s hand, halting in the grass, blushing as she clutched her sinking heart, ashamed that she could so unfairly judge this dear man who had risked everything to save her life.
Gazda stood by her, tilting his head to left and right, puzzled as he looked at the hand she had rejected.
Virginia had judged him by the very standards that she feared awaited her upon her return.
She hung her head. This man had saved her soul by ending her long, meaningless vigil. She had taken it up for pride and left herself barren and alone. Now come Gazda to replace her isolation with an honest and passionate love that had brought her to life in his arms!
The love she saw burning in his gaze was the sort she had only dreamt of—a love that could last forever.
Tears welled in her eyes as she reached out to take his hand.
“Oh Gazda,” she said, huskily. “Thank you.”
“Ginny cry?” he said sympathetically, dabbing at her tears with his fingertips.
She squeezed his hand with both of hers, and Gazda smiled a fearsome, toothy smile, and the governess trembled, rendered breathless by the naked desire that burned in his face.
He bowed deeply and pressed his full lips against the backs of her hands.
“Oh, Gazda, please,” she said breathlessly as the wild man rose to his full height. She reached up to gently nudge his muscular shoulder and chide him.
“You were born a gentleman, that I trust,” Virginia chuckled to herself imagining this lovely man in a tuxedo, with cummerbund and cape.
A voice echoed across the clearing and Gazda’s eyes shifted towards it—lit suddenly by a dangerous scarlet light. His upright stature bent some small degree further then, and with mighty shoulders spread and muscles rippling he continued with her toward Dr. Van Resen who stood below the tree house helping Mr. Quarrie down the ladder.
The door to the structure was closed.
A low, uncertain hoot came from the wild man, but Virginia caught his attention with a smile.
“They are friends, Gazda,” she said, gesturing to the two men, before her hand came up to her mouth. “Oh I cannot wait to see my dear Lilly. You must meet her! She’ll be thrilled to see one of us has found a man of her dreams!”
“How interesting...” Van Resen remarked, walking with Mr. Quarrie toward Virginia James who approached hand in hand with a tall, unknown savage. The rest of the party had remained in the yurt where Phillip Holmes had elected to stay and to “protect” the women.
“Good God—a white Indian!” Mr. Quarrie rasped beside him, face going red as he looked the stranger up and down. Both men had slipped their butcher knives away but remained on guard.
“I think not,” Van Resen said, grinning as he caught Miss James’ eye. The big savage loomed protectively at the woman’s side.
“This fellow can’t come around Mrs. Quarrie,” Mr. Quarrie said, clearing his throat. “Abby hasn’t the constitution for such casual undress.”
“Of course,” Van Resen answered as Miss James jogged the last few feet and jumped into Mr. Quarrie’s arms.
The scientist took that opportunity to greet her companion.
“I am Dr. Joseph Van Resen,” he said, throwing a hand out to the muscular giant.
He was startled when the great savage displayed a flashing white smile and reached out with fingertips to brush the offered palm.
“Gazda,” he said in a deep and even voice—patting his chest as he bent to snuffle at the scientist’s hand.
“Fascinating...” Van Resen said.
The wild man grunted reassuringly before d
ropping to all fours and creeping over to Mr. Quarrie where he quickly brushed the old fellow’s offered hand with his knuckles, and rose to embrace him warmly.
The strange man then settled down into a crouch and shifted back onto his haunches where he nosed the air and chewed the end of a long lock of hair.
“Forgive Gazda...” Miss James said. “He lives in the jungle.”
“Gazda!” Van Resen said, lifting his hand to sniff at it as he turned to the governess.
“He saved me,” Miss James said breathlessly. “A hideous ape carried me off, but Gazda came and killed it bare-handed.”
She moved to Van Resen and hugged him as Mr. Quarrie returned the wild man’s quizzical stare.
During their embrace, the scientist got a whiff of something interesting in the governess’ hair. She noticed his unusual action and stepped away self-consciously, smoothing her locks.
“Sorry. I caught a scent...” Van Resen said, glancing at Gazda and back at the governess who blushed. “...of the jungle.” He nodded slowly, smiling. “And trees.”
Gazda crept toward Van Resen, and crouching there reached out to feel the scientist’s pant leg.
“The material’s rather worn, I’m afraid,” Van Resen explained, but the wild man only nodded and pointed up at the yurt. “You say Gazda fought an ape?”
“Yes. After the beast disarmed him, too! It was incredible,” Miss James said, absently reaching out to stroke Gazda’s thick locks before she snatched her hand away, blushing. “Gazda fought the monstrous thing until they closed face to face, and being weaponless, what could he do but tear the creature’s head off...” Virginia saw the distaste on her friends’ faces. “It wasn’t as savage as that sounds...brutish, I admit, but...the ape that kidnapped me was a disfigured demon—a horror! There was no other recourse for poor Gazda...”
“Poor Gazda?” Van Resen noted, with eyebrows raised.
“He is a fit looking fellow,” Mr. Quarrie said, appraising the man.
“Impossible. Even had he kept his knife, sir.” The scientist turned. “No man is a match for an ape.”
“Gazda was fearless.” Miss James pressed her sleeve against her nose as tears started.
“Is he a wrestler?” Mr. Quarrie said, eyeing the man. “He’s got the look.”
“Never!” Van Resen stamped his foot. “An ape has the strength of ten or more.”
“Please don’t make me think of that monster!” Miss James believed the scientist was scolding her. Tears burst from her eyes as she fell into Van Resen’s arms.
“There, there, Miss James,” the scientist said, patting her back as she wept. “You’re safe now.”
Gazda had risen up to tower over them where he set a great hand on the governess’ shoulder.
“Ginny cry,” he said, shaking his head sadly.
“Ah!” Van Resen laughed as the wild man shifted his hand and gently pulled his whiskers.
Gazda frowned, looked up at the yurt, and pointed again, making repetitive barking sounds.
“Is this your home, Gazda?” the scientist asked, stroking Miss James’ hair as she wept.
The wild man pulled the scientist’s goatee again.
“Did you build it, man?” Mr. Quarrie asked, looking up at the strange fellow.
“He’s no carpenter, and has more the look of a landlord about him,” the scientist said, watching as Gazda took a couple swaggering steps toward the yurt before he half-turned with one hand gesturing to it.
“If it is your home, I apologize that we have made ourselves guests,” Van Resen added.
“I think he’s lost like we are,” Miss James whimpered, pulling away to wipe her eyes.
The wild man hooted his concern, quickly closing the gap and embracing her and the scientist, cooing softly, saying: “There—there, Miss James...”
“He even used my accent,” the scientist observed, as Gazda stepped back to regard Van Resen over Miss James’ shoulder. He stared at the scientist’s whiskers, absently playing with a medallion that hung around his neck.
Van Resen shifted the governess to Mr. Quarrie’s arms. He held his eyeglasses out to take advantage of their magnifying properties and moved toward the wild man, stopping a mere six inches from the steel pendant.
“Another part of the puzzle,” Miss James sighed.
“The mark—is familiar—but I must hold it still...” Van Resen lifted his hand and barely touched the medallion before the wild man jumped out of reach.
A low growl rumbled from Gazda’s chest.
The scientist watched him, rubbing the sudden chill out of his fingertips.
“But I cannot place it,” Van Resen said, running a shrewd eye over the big man, before his eyes returned to the medallion. “Forgive me, Gazda...”
The wild man shook his head vigorously, but advanced no farther.
“Where is Lilly?” Miss James asked suddenly, glancing up at the yurt. “The captain and the others?”
Van Resen noticed the jungle giant’s shoulders slump at mention of Lilly’s name and his dark eyes shifted to the yurt.
“Lilly is resting with Abby,” Mr. Quarrie answered. “The captain and Jacob are out looking for you.”
The scientist frowned, watching the wild man wince at utterance of the girl’s name.
“For me? Have they not returned?” Miss James paled as Phillip Holmes briefly thrust his head out the cabin door.
“The captain and Jacob are still out there,” Van Resen said. His finger came up to rub the side of his eyeglasses as he watched Gazda.
“What will we do to find them?” Miss James asked. She had also noticed Gazda’s growing discomfort and had gone over, grasping his hand to draw him to his full height.
The wild man stared into Miss James’ eyes. The lines of worry on his face flattened out, and his expression grew confident, even eager.
He made a quiet panting sound as Miss James returned his gaze, and soon she nodded in unison with the wild man.
“Ginny’s friends are missing,” she said flatly.
The wild man hooted his understanding, and then he made a repetitive, barking sound—pointing at the jungle that ringed them around.
“What’s he saying?” Mr. Quarrie asked, fascinated by the non-verbal communication.
Van Resen moved closer, leaning in to study the scar that ran along the wild man’s hairline.
Gazda gripped Miss James’ shoulders gently, and made a coughing bark before he slapped his own chest, and pointed at the jungle saying: “Gazda gets Ginny friends!”
“By God...” Mr. Quarrie roared. “He’s an American!”
“Can you help, Gazda?” Miss James asked, stroking his powerful bicep.
The wild man showed his sharp teeth in a reassuring smile. He rose up onto his toes and then squatted low to slap the ground with both palms before leaping up again to stand in place—the very picture of masculine perfection and nobility.
He gently took Miss James soft hand and led her away from the others.
The governess hesitated, but the strength of the will behind those eyes had captured her heart, and he drew her blushing some distance into the grass where throwing caution to the wind she moved into his embrace.
Some yards away, they stood and the wild man lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. There was something in his expression then, some doubt, as he looked at the others and the yurt.
“Gazda help. Ginny stay,” he said, finally.
“Do not worry,” Virginia said reassuringly. “I will wait for you always.”
Gazda sprinted east until he reached the closest tree where he leapt into its branches. In a blink, he’d scrambled through the foliage out of sight.
The other castaways had followed his action. Both men had observed the gallant leave-taking, but only Van Resen’s face showed dismay.
“More of a monkey than an American,” Mr. Quarrie observed, lifting his arms to mimic Gazda’s actions in the trees.
“More of an ape,” Van Re
sen observed quietly as Miss James returned to them. “He did not harm you?”
“No... Gazda is a good and decent man who has overcome great challenges to survive here,” the governess insisted, blushing. “But I know he would be at home in London...”
“That city has been home to other wild men...” Van Resen agreed quietly.
“Poor Lilly!” Virginia cried, deaf to Van Resen’s cynicism, pushing past him to peer up at the cabin.
“She was deathly ill,” the scientist said, reaching out to grip the woman’s shoulders.
“How can I forgive myself?” Miss James said, pushing past.
Van Resen watched the governess climb the ladder, but his eyes were drawn back to the trees.
“I thought Lilly looked better.” Mr. Quarrie hung his head sullenly and muttered, “Her color has returned.”
“True—without care or treatment,” the scientist said, suddenly moving briskly toward the yurt. “Puzzling, like that medallion, which puts me in mind of the Cossack’s journal...”
CHAPTER 23 – Hunter and Huntress
Gazda paused in his sprint through the canopy to light upon the angled limb of a khaya tree and catch his breath before he continued the hunt for Ginny’s friends. His breathing slowed, but his heart still pounded from traveling the jungle at speed while the sun was high and its effect was upon him.
His pulse raced anew at the thought of the night apes in his lair.
He felt no violation from these strangers; rather it was the unfamiliar interaction that had caused his consternation and discomfort. Their persistent upright stance, especially among the night ape males, was disturbing and now he understood how he had upset the blackbacks of Goro’s tribe by using the posture himself.
It was apparent that the invading males had not intended it as a threat, but his anxious response had been ingrained from life among the apes. Additionally, his own attempts at the erect position looked shaky and affected by comparison, and so he’d felt more comfortable crouching in their company.
Gazda was out of his depth around them—to have so many night apes communicating with him and among themselves. Their alien words fell upon his ears and caused his mind to whirl with troubling images even when he was not being addressed.
Dracula of the Apes 3 Page 18