Silence ensued. But after the lapse of half an hour Nell again sat up on the bedding and in her wide-open eyes could be seen terrible fright.
“Stas!”
“What is it, dear?”
“Why,” she asked in a broken voice, “do Gebhr and Chamis walk around the tree and peer at me?”
To Stas in an instant it seemed as if thousands of ants were crawling over him.
“What are you saying, Nell?” he said. “There is nobody here. That is Kali walking around the tree.”
But she, staring at the dark opening, cried with chattering teeth:
“And the Bedouins too! Why did you kill them?”
Stas clasped her with his arms and pressed her to his bosom.
“You know why! Don’t look there! Don’t think of that! That happened long ago!”
“To-day! to-day!”
“No, Nell, long ago.”
In fact it was long ago, but it had returned like a wave beaten back from the shore and again filled with terror the thoughts of the sick child.
All words of reassurance appeared in vain. Nell’s eyes widened more and more. Her heart palpitated so violently that it seemed that it would burst at any moment. She began to throw herself about like a fish taken out of the water, and this continued almost until morning. Only towards the morning was her strength exhausted and her head dropped upon the bedding.
“I am weak, weak,” she repeated. “Stas, I am flying somewhere down below.”
After which she closed her eyes.
Stas at first became terribly alarmed for he thought that she had died. But this was only the end of the first paroxysm of the dreadful African fever, termed deadly, two attacks of which strong and healthy people can resist, but the third no one thus far had been able to withstand. Travelers had often related this in Port Said in Mr. Rawlinson’s home, and yet more frequently Catholic missionaries returning to Europe, whom Pan Tarkowski received hospitably. The second attack comes after a few days or a fortnight, while if the third does not come within two weeks it is not fatal as it is reckoned as the first in the recurrence of the sickness. Stas knew that the only medicine which could break or keep off the attack was quinine in big doses, but now he did not have an atom of it.
For the time being, however, seeing that Nell was breathing, he became somewhat calm and began to pray for her. But in the meantime the sun leaped from beyond the rocks of the ravine and it was day. The elephant already demanded his breakfast and from the direction of the overflow which the river made resounded the cries of aquatic birds. Desiring to kill a brace of guinea-fowl for broth for Nell, the boy took his gun and strolled along the river towards a clump of shrubs on which these birds usually perched for the night. But he felt the effect of lack of sleep so much and his thoughts were so occupied with the little girl’s illness that a whole flock of guinea-fowl passed close by him in a trot, one after another, bound for the watering place, and he did not observe them at all. This happened also because he was continually praying. He thought of the slaying of Gebhr, Chamis, and the Bedouins, and lifting his eyes upwards he said with a voice choking with tears:
“I did this for Nell, oh Lord, for Nell! For I could not free her otherwise; but if it is a sin, punish me, but let her regain her health.”
On the way he met Kali, who had gone to see whether the wicked Mzimu ate the meat offered to him the previous night. The young negro, loving the little “bibi,” prayed also for her, but he prayed in an entirely different fashion. He particularly told the wicked Mzimu that if the “bibi” recovered her health he would bring him a piece of meat every day, but if she died, though he feared him and though he might afterwards perish, he would first so flay his hide that the wicked Mzimu would remember it for ages. He felt greatly encouraged when the meat deposited the previous night disappeared. It might indeed have been carried away by some jackal, but the Mzimu might assume the shape of a jackal.
Kali informed Stas of this propitious incident; the latter, however, stared at him as if he did not understand him at all and went on further. Passing a clump of shrubs in which he did not find any guinea-fowl, he drew nearer the river. Its banks were overgrown with tall trees from which were suspended like long stockings the nests of titmice, beautiful little yellow birds with black wings, and also wasps’ nests resembling big roses, but colored like gray blotting-paper. In one place the river formed an expansion a few score paces wide, overgrown in part by papyrus. On this expansion aquatic birds always swarmed. There were storks just like our European storks, and storks with thick bills ending with a hook, and birds black as velvet, with legs red as blood, and flamingoes and ibises, and white spoon-bills with bills like spoons, and cranes with crowns on their heads, and a multitude of curlews, variegated and gray as mice, flying quickly back and forth as if they were tiny sylvan sprites on long, thin, snipe-like legs.
Stas killed two large ducks, beautiful, cinnamon colored, and treading upon dead butterflies, of which thousands strewed the bank, he first looked around carefully to see whether there were any crocodiles in the shallows, after which he waded into the water and lifted his quarry. The shots had dispersed the birds; there remained only two marabous, standing between ten and twenty paces away and plunged in reverie. They were like two old men with bald heads pressed between the shoulders. They did not move at all. The boy gazed for a while at the loathsome fleshy pouches hanging from their breasts, and afterwards, observing that the wasps were beginning to circle around him more and more frequently, he returned to the camping place.
Nell still slept; so handing the ducks to Mea, he flung himself upon a saddle-cloth and fell into a sound sleep. They did not wake until the afternoon — he first and Nell later. The little girl felt somewhat stronger and the strong broth revived her strength still more; she rose and left the tree, desiring to look at the King and at the sun.
But only now in the daylight could be seen what havoc that one night’s fever had wrought in her. Her complexion was yellow and transparent; her lips were black; there were circles furrowed under her eyes, and her face was as though it had aged. Even the pupils of her eyes appeared paler than usual. It appeared also, despite her assurances to Stas that she felt quite strong and notwithstanding the large cup of broth which she drank immediately after awakening, that she could barely reach the ravine unaided. Stas thought with despair of the second attack and that he had neither medicine nor any remedy by which he could prevent it.
In the meantime the rain poured a dozen or more times a day, increasing the humidity of the air.
X
Days of suspense, heavy and full of fear, began. The second attack did not come until a week after and was not so strong as the first, but after it Nell felt still weaker. She wasted and grew so thin that she no longer was a little girl, but the shadow of a little girl. The flame of her life flickered so faintly that it appeared sufficient to blow at it to extinguish it. Stas understood that death did not have to wait for a third attack to take her and he expected it any day or any hour.
He himself became emaciated and black, for misfortune exceeded his strength and his reason. So, gazing on her waxen countenance, he said to himself each day: “For this I guarded her like the eye in the head; in order to bury her here in the jungle.” And he did not understand why it should be so. At times he reproached himself that he had not guarded her enough, that he had not been sufficiently kind to her, and at such moments such sorrow seized his heart that he wanted to gnaw his own fingers. Clearly there was too much of woe.
And Nell now slept almost continuously and it may be that this kept her alive. Stas woke her a few times a day to give her nourishment. Then, as often as it did not rain, she begged him to carry her into the open air for now she could not stand on her own feet. It happened, moreover, that she fell asleep in his arms. She knew now that she was very sick and might at any moment die. In moments of greater animation she spoke of this to Stas, and always with tears, for she feared death.
Once she said:
“I shall not now return to papa, but tell him that I was very, very sorry — and beg him to come to me.”
“You will return,” Stas answered.
And he could not say anything more as he wanted to wail.
And Nell continued in a scarcely audible, dreamy voice:
“And papa will come and you will come sometime, will you not?”
At this thought a smile brightened the little wan face, but after a while she said in a still lower tone:
“But I am so sorry!”
Saying this she rested her little head upon his shoulder and began to weep. He mastered his pain, pressed her to his bosom, and replied with animation:
“Nell, I will not return without you — and I do not at all know what I would do in this world without you.”
Silence followed, during which Nell again fell asleep.
Stas carried her to the tree, but he had barely gone outside when from the summit of the promontory Kali came running and waving his hands; he began to shout, with an agitated and frightened face:
“Great master! Great master!”
“What do you want?” Stas asked.
And the negro, stretching out his hand and pointing to the south, said:
“Smoke!”
Stas shaded his eyes with his palm and straining his sight in the direction indicated really saw in the ruddy luster of the sun, which now stood low, a streak of smoke rising far in the jungle, amid the top of two still more distant hills which were quite high.
Kali trembled all over, for he well remembered his horrible slavery with the dervishes; he was certain that this was their camping place. To Stas, also, it seemed that this could not be any one else than Smain, and at first he too became terribly frightened. Only this was wanting! Besides Nell’s fatal disease, the dervishes! And again slavery, and again a return to Fashoda or to Khartûm, under the hand of the Mahdi or the lash of Abdullahi. If they caught them Nell would die at once, while he would remain a slave the rest of the days of his life; and if he did escape of what use was liberty to him without Nell? How could he look into the eyes of his father or Mr. Rawlinson, if the dervishes after her death should fling her to the hyenas. He himself would not even be able to say where her grave was.
Such thoughts flitted through his head like lightning. Suddenly he felt an insurmountable desire to look at Nell, and directed his steps towards the tree. On the way he instructed Kali to extinguish the fire and not to dare to light it during the night, after which he entered the tree.
Nell was not sleeping and felt better. She at once communicated this news to Stas. Saba lay close to her and warmed her with his huge body, while she stroked his head lightly, smiling when he caught with his jaws the subtile dust of the decayed wood floating in the streak of light which the last rays of the setting sun formed in the tree. She apparently was in a better frame of mind, as after a while she addressed Stas with quite a lively mien.
“And perhaps I may not die.”
“You surely will not die,” Stas replied; “since after the second attack you feel stronger, the third will not come at all.”
But she began to blink with her eyelids as if she were meditating over something and said:
“If I had bitter powders like that which made me feel so well after the night with the lions — do you remember? — then I would not think the least bit of dying not even so much!”
And she indicated upon her little finger just how little in that case she would be prepared to die.
“Ah!” Stas declared, “I do not know what I would not give for a pinch of quinine.”
And he thought that if he had enough of it, he would at once treat Nell with two powders, even, and then he would wrap her in plaids, seat her before him on a horse, and start immediately in a direction opposite to the one in which the camp of the dervishes was located.
In the meantime the sun set and the jungle was suddenly plunged in darkness.
The little girl chattered yet for half an hour, after which she fell asleep and Stas meditated further about the dervishes and quinine. His distressed but resourceful mind began to labor and form plans, each one bolder and more audacious than the other. First he began to ponder over whether that smoke in the southern direction necessarily came from Smain’s camp. It might indeed be dervishes, but it also might be Arabs from the ocean coast, who made great expeditions into the interior for ivory and slaves. These had nothing in common with the dervishes who injured their trade. The smoke might also be from a camp of Abyssinians or from some negro village at the foot-hills which the slave hunters had not yet reached. Would it not be proper for him to satisfy himself upon this point?
The Arabs from Zanzibar, from the vicinity of Bagamoyo, from Witu and from Mombasa, and in general from the territory bordering on the ocean, were people who continuously came in contact with white men; so who knows whether for a great reward they would not conduct them to the nearest port? Stas knew perfectly well that he could promise such a reward and that they would believe his promise. There occurred to him another idea which touched him to the depth. In Khartûm he saw that many of the dervishes, particularly those from Nubia, suffered fever almost as badly as the white people and that they cured themselves with quinine which they stole from the Europeans, and if it were hidden by renegade Greeks or Copts they purchased it for its weight in gold. So it might be expected that the Arabs from the coast would be certain to have it.
“I shall go,” Stas said to himself, “I shall go, for Nell.”
And pondering more and more strongly upon the situation he, in the end, came to the conclusion that even if that was Smain’s division, it was incumbent for him to go. He recollected that on account of the complete rupture of relations between Egypt and the Sudân, Smain in all probability knew nothing about their abduction from Fayûm.
Fatma could not have had an understanding with him; therefore that abduction was her individual scheme, executed with the aid of Chamis, son of Chadigi, together with Idris, Gebhr, and the two Bedouins. Now these men did not concern Smain for the simple reason that among them he knew only Chamis, and the others he never saw in his life. He was concerned only about his own children and Fatma. But he might long for them now, and might be glad to return to them, particularly if in the service of the Mahdi he apparently did not meet with great fortune, since instead of commanding powerful troops or governing some vast region he was compelled to catch slaves the Lord knew where — far beyond Fashoda. “I will say to him,” Stas thought, “that if you will lead us to any seaport on the Indian Ocean and return with us to Egypt, the government will pardon all your offenses; you will rejoin Fatma and the children, and besides, Mr. Rawlinson will make you rich; if not you will never again see your children and Fatma in your life.”
And he was certain that Smain would consider well before he rejected such an arrangement.
Of course this was not altogether safe; it might even prove disastrous, but it might become a plank of rescue from that African whirlpool. Stas in the end began to wonder why the possibility of meeting with Smain should have frightened him at first and, as he was anxious for quick relief for Nell, he determined to go, even that night.
It was easier, however, to say than to do it; it is one thing to sit at night in the jungle near a good fire behind a thorny zareba, and another to set forth amid darkness, in high grass, in which at such a time the lion, panther, and leopard, not to speak of hyenas and jackals, are seeking their prey. The boy, however, recollected the words of the young negro at the time when he went during the night to search for Saba and, having returned, said to him, “Kali feared but Kali went.” And he repeated to himself, “I shall fear, but I will go.”
He waited, however, until the moon rose, as the night was extraordinarily dark, and only when the jungle was silvered by her luster did he call Kali and say:
“Kali, take Saba into the tree, close the entrance with thorns, and guard the little lady with Mea as the eye in your head, while I go and see what kind of pe
ople are in that camp.”
“Great master, take Kali with you and the rifle which kills bad animals. Kali does not want to stay.”
“You shall stay!” Stas said firmly. “And I forbid you to go with me.”
After which he became silent, but presently said in a somewhat hollow voice:
“Kali, you are faithful and prudent, so I am confident that you will do what I tell you. If I should not return and the little lady should die, you will leave her in the tree, but around the tree you will build a high zareba and on the bark you will carve a great sign like this.”
And taking two bamboos, he formed them into a cross, after which he continued thus:
“If, however, I do not return and the ‘bibi’ does not die you shall honor her and serve her faithfully, and afterwards you shall conduct her to your people, and tell the Wahima warriors that they should go continually to the east until they reach the great sea. There you will find white men who will give you many rifles, much powder, beads, and wire, and as much cloth as you are able to carry. Do you understand?”
And the young negro threw himself on his knees, embraced Stas’ limbs, and began to repeat mournfully:
“Bwana kubwa! You will return! You will return!”
Stas was deeply touched by the black boy’s devotion, so he leaned over him, placed his hand on his head, and said:
“Go into the tree, Kali — and may God bless you!”
Remaining alone, he deliberated for a while whether to take the donkey with him. This was the safer course, for lions in Africa as well as the tigers in India, in case they meet a man riding a horse or donkey, always charge at the animal and not at the man. But he propounded to himself the question, who in such case will carry Nell’s tent and on what will she herself ride? After this observation he rejected at once the idea of taking the donkey and set off on foot in the jungle.
The moon already rose higher in the heavens; it was therefore considerably lighter. Nevertheless, the difficulties began as soon as the boy plunged into the grass, which grew so high that a man on horseback could easily be concealed in it. Even in the daytime one could not see a step ahead in it, and what of the night, when the moon illuminated only the heights, and below everything was steeped in a deep shade? Under such conditions it was easy to stray and walk around in a circle instead of moving forward. Stas, nevertheless, was cheered by the thought that in the first place the camp, towards which he went, was at most three or four English miles distant from the promontory, and again that it appeared between the tops of two lofty hills; therefore, by keeping the hills in sight, one could not stray. But the grass, mimosa, and acacias veiled everything. Fortunately every few score of paces there stood white-ant hillocks, sometimes between ten and twenty feet high. Stas carefully placed the rifle at the bottom of each hillock; afterwards climbed to the top, and descrying the hills blackly outlined on the background of the sky, descended and proceeded farther.
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 640