Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  From torture and fever his mind began to get confused. Ante-mortem visions and delusions of hearing crowded upon him. He heard distinctly the voices of the Sudânese and Bedouins yelling “Yalla! Yalla!” at the speeding camels. He saw Idris and Gebhr. The Mahdi smiled at him with his thick lips, asking: “Do you want to drink at the spring of truth?” — Afterwards the lion gazed at him from the rock; later Linde gave him a gallipot of quinine and said: “Hurry, hurry, for the little one will die.” And in the end he beheld only the pale, very dear little face and two little hands stretched out towards him.

  Suddenly he trembled and consciousness returned to him for a moment, for hard by murmured the quiet whisper of Nell, resembling a moan:

  “Stas — water!”

  And she, like Kali previously, looked to him only for help.

  But as twelve hours before he had given her the last drop, he now started up suddenly, and exclaimed in a voice in which vibrated an outburst of pain, despair, and affliction:

  “Oh, Nell, I only pretended that I was drinking! For three days I have had nothing in my mouth!”

  And clasping his head with both hands he ran away in order not to look at her sufferings. He rushed blindly among tufts of grass and heather until he fell upon one of the tufts. He was unarmed. A leopard, lion, or even a big hyena would find in him an easy prey. But only Saba came running to him. Having smelt at him on all sides, he again began to howl, as if summoning aid for him.

  Nobody, however, hurried with aid. Only from above, the moon, quiet and indifferent, looked on him. For a long time the boy lay like dead. He was revived only by a cooler breath of wind, which unexpectedly blew from the east. Stas sat up and after a while attempted to rise to return to Nell.

  The cooler wind blew a second time. Saba ceased howling and, turning towards the east, began to dilate his nostrils. Suddenly he barked once or twice a short, broken bass and dashed ahead. For some time he could not be heard, but soon his barking again resounded. Stas rose and, staggering on his numb legs, began to look after him. Long journeys, long stays in the jungle, the necessity of holding all his senses in continual restraint, and continual dangers had taught the boy to pay careful heed to everything which was taking place about him. So, notwithstanding the tortures he felt at that moment, notwithstanding his half-conscious mind, through instinct and habit he watched the behavior of the dog. And Saba, after the lapse of a certain time, again appeared near him, but was somewhat strangely agitated and uneasy. A few times he raised his eyes at Stas, ran around, again rushed ahead, scenting and barking in the heather; again he came back and finally, seizing the boy’s clothes, began to pull him in a direction opposite to the camp.

  Stas completely recovered his senses.

  “What is this?” he thought. “Either the dog’s mind, from thirst, is disordered or he has scented water. But no! If water was near he would have run to it to drink and would have wet jaws. If it was far away, he would not have scented it — water has no smell. He is not pulling me to antelopes, for he did not want to eat during the evening. Nor to beasts of prey. Well, what is it?”

  And suddenly his heart began to beat in his bosom yet more strongly.

  “Perhaps the wind brought him the odor of men? — Perhaps — in the distance there is some negro village? — Perhaps one of the kites has flown as far — Oh, merciful Christ! Oh, Christ!—”

  And under the influence of a gleam of hope he regained his strength and began to run towards the camp, notwithstanding the obstinacy of the dog, who incessantly barred his way. In the camp Nell’s form loomed white before him and her weak voice reached him: after a while he stumbled over Kali lying on the ground, but he paid no heed to anything. Reaching the pack in which the sky-rockets were, he tore it open and drew out one of them. With trembling hands he tied it to a bamboo stick, planted it in a crack in the ground, struck a match and lit the string of the tube hanging at the bottom.

  After a while a red snake flew upwards with a sputter and a sizzle. Stas seized a bamboo pole with both hands in order not to fall and fixed his eyes on the distance. His pulse and his temples beat like sledge hammers; his lips moved in fervent prayer. His last breath, and in it his whole soul, he sent to God.

  One minute passed, another, a third, and a fourth. Nothing! Nothing! The boy’s hand dropped, his head bowed to the ground, and immense grief flooded his tortured breast.

  “In vain! In vain!” he whispered. “I will go and sit beside Nell and we will die together.”

  At this moment far, far away on the silvery background of the moonlit night, a fiery ribbon suddenly soared upward and scattered into golden stars, which fell slowly, like great tears, upon the earth.

  “Succor!” Stas shouted.

  And immediately these people, who were half-dead a short time before, dashed pell-mell in a race across tufts of shrubs and grass. After the first sky-rocket, a second and third appeared. After that the breeze brought a report as though of tapping, in which it was easy to divine distant shots. Stas ordered all the Remingtons to be fired, and from that time the colloquy of rifles was not interrupted at all and became more and more distinct. The boy, sitting on a horse, which also as though by a miracle recovered its strength, and keeping Nell before him, dashed across the plain towards the saving sounds. Beside him rushed Saba and after him trumpeted the gigantic King. The two camps were separated by a space of a few miles, but as from both sides they drew to each other simultaneously, the whole trip did not last long. Soon the rifle shots could not only be heard but seen. Yet one last sky-rocket flew out in the air not farther than a few hundred paces. After that numerous lights glistened. The slight elevation of the ground hid them for a while, but when Stas passed it he found himself almost in front of a row of negroes holding in their hands burning torches.

  At the head of the row were two Europeans, in English helmets and with rifles in their hands.

  With one glance of the eye Stas recognized them as being Captain Glenn and Doctor Clary.

  XXV

  The object of the Captain Glenn and Doctor Clary expedition was not at all to find Stas and Nell. It was a large and abundantly equipped government expedition despatched to explore the eastern and northern slopes of the gigantic mountain Kilima-Njaro, as well as the little-known vast regions lying north of that mountain. The captain as well as the doctor knew indeed about the abduction of the children from Medinet el-Fayûm, as intelligence of it was published in the English and Arabian papers, but they thought that both were dead or were groaning in slavery under the Mahdi, from whom thus far not a European had been rescued. Clary, whose sister married Rawlinson in Bombay and who was very much charmed by little Nell during the trip to Cairo, felt keenly her loss. But with Glenn, he mourned also for the brave boy. Several times they sent despatches from Mombasa to Mr. Rawlinson asking whether the children were found, and not until the last unfavorable reply, which came a considerable time before the starting of the caravan, did they finally lose all hope.

  And it never even occurred to them that the children imprisoned in distant Khartûm could appear in that locality. Often, however, they conversed about them in the evening after finishing their daily labors, for the doctor could by no means forget the beautiful little girl.

  In the meantime the expedition advanced farther and farther. After a long stay on the eastern slope of Kilima-Njaro, after exploring the upper courses of the Sabak and Tany rivers, as well as Kenia Mountain, the captain and doctor turned in a northerly direction, and after crossing the marshy Guasso-Nijiro they entered upon a vast plain, uninhabited and frequented by countless herds of antelopes. After three months of travel the men were entitled to a long rest, so Captain Glenn, discovering a small lake of wholesome brown water, ordered tents to be pitched near it and announced a ten days’ stop.

  During the stop the white men were occupied with hunting and arranging their geographical and scientific notes, and the negroes devoted themselves to idleness, which is always so sweet to them. Now it happened
one day that Doctor Clary, shortly after he arose, when approaching the shore, observed between ten and twenty natives of Zanzibar, belonging to the caravan, gazing with upturned faces at the top of a high tree and repeating in a circle:

  “Ndege? Akuna ndege? Ndege?” (A bird? Not a bird? A bird?)

  The doctor was short-sighted, so he sent to his tent for a field-glass; afterwards he looked through it at the object pointed out by the negroes and great astonishment was reflected upon his countenance.

  “Ask the captain to come here,” he said.

  Before the negroes reached him the captain appeared in front of the tent, for he was starting on an antelope-hunt.

  “Look, Glenn,” the doctor said, pointing with his hand upwards.

  The captain, in turn, turned his face upwards, shaded his eyes with his hand, and was astonished no less than the doctor.

  “A kite,” he exclaimed.

  “Yes, but the negroes do not fly kites. So where did it come from?”

  “Perhaps some kind of white settlement is located in the vicinity or some kind of mission.”

  “For three days the wind has blown from the west, or from a region unknown and in all probability as uninhabited as this jungle. You know that here there are no settlements or missions.”

  “This is really curious.”

  “We had better get that kite.”

  “It is necessary. Perhaps we may ascertain where it came from.”

  The captain gave the order. The tree was a few tens of yards high, but the negroes climbed at once to the top, removed carefully the imprisoned kite, and handed it to the doctor who, glancing at it, said:

  “There is some kind of inscription on it. We’ll see.” And blinking with his eyes he began to read.

  Suddenly his face changed, his hands trembled.

  “Glenn,” he said, “take this, read it, and assure me that I did not get a sunstroke and that I am in my sound mind.”

  The captain took the bamboo frame to which a sheet was fastened and read as follows:

  “Nelly Rawlinson and Stanislas Tarkowski, sent from Khartûm to Fashoda and conducted from Fashoda east from the Nile, escaped from the dervishes. After long months’ travel they arrived at a lake lying south of Abyssinia. They are going to the ocean. They beg for speedy help.”

  At the side of the sheet they found the following addition written in smaller letters:

  “This kite, the 54th in order, was flown from the mountains surrounding a lake unknown to geography. Whoever finds it should notify the Directory of the Canal at Port Said or Captain Glenn in Mombasa.

  Stanislas Tarkowski.”

  When the captain’s voice died away, the two friends gazed at each other in silence.

  “What is this?” Doctor Clary finally asked.

  “I do not believe my own eyes!” the captain answered.

  “This, of course, is no illusion.”

  “No.”

  “It is plainly written, ‘Nelly Rawlinson and Stanislas Tarkowski.’”

  “Most plainly.”

  “And they may be somewhere in this region.”

  “God rescued them, so it is probable.”

  “Thank Him for that,” exclaimed the doctor fervently. “But where shall we seek them?”

  “Is there no more on the kite?”

  “There are a few other words but in the place torn by the bough. It is hard to read them.”

  Both leaned their heads over the sheet and only after a long time were they able to decipher:

  “The rainy season passed long ago.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That the boy lost the computation of time.”

  “And in this manner he endeavored to indicate the date, therefore this kite may have been sent up not very long ago.”

  “If that is so, they may not be very far from here.”

  The feverish, broken conversation lasted for a while, after which both began to scrutinize the document and discuss every word inscribed upon it. The thing appeared, however, so improbable that if it were not for the fact that this occurred in a region in which there were no Europeans at all — about three hundred and seventy-five miles from the nearest coast — the doctor and the captain would have assumed that it was an ill-timed joke, which had been perpetrated by some European children who had read the newspapers describing the abduction, or by wards of missions. But it was difficult not to believe their eyes; they had the kite in hand and the little rubbed inscriptions were plainly in black before them.

  Nevertheless, there were many things which they could not comprehend. Where did the children get the paper for the kite? If it had been furnished to them by a caravan, then they would have joined it and would not have appealed for help. For what reason did the boy not attempt to fly with his little companion to Abyssinia? Why did the dervishes send them east of the Nile into an unknown region? In what manner did they succeed in escaping from the hands of the guards? Where did they hide? By what miracle through long months of journey did they not die from starvation, or become the prey of wild animals? Why were they not killed by savages? To all these questions there was no reply.

  “I do not understand it, I do not understand it,” repeated Doctor Clary; “this is perhaps a miracle of God.”

  “Undoubtedly,” the captain answered.

  After which he added:

  “But that boy! For that, of course, was his work.”

  “And he did not abandon the little one. May the blessings of God flow upon his head!”

  “Stanley — even Stanley would not have survived three days under these circumstances.”

  “And nevertheless they live.”

  “But appeal for help. The stop is ended. We start at once.”

  And so it happened. On the road both friends scrutinized the document continually in the conviction that they might obtain from it an inkling of the direction in which it was necessary for them to go with help. But directions were lacking. The captain led the caravan in a zigzag way, hoping that he might chance upon some trace, some extinct fire, or a tree with a sign carved on the bark. In this manner they advanced for a few days. Unfortunately they entered afterwards upon a plain, entirely treeless, covered with high heather and tufts of dried grass. Uneasiness began to possess both friends. How easy it was to miss each other in that immeasurable expanse, even with a whole caravan; and how much more so two children, who, as they imagined, crept like two little worms somewhere amid heather higher than themselves! Another day passed. Neither fires at night nor tin boxes, with notes in them, fastened on the tufts helped them any. The captain and the doctor at times began to lose hope of ever succeeding in finding the children and, particularly, of finding them alive.

  They sought for them zealously, however, during the following days. The patrols, which Glenn sent right and left, finally reported to him that farther on began a desert entirely waterless; so when they accidentally discovered cool water in a cleft it was necessary to halt in order to replenish their supplies for the further journey.

  The cleft was rather a fissure, a score of yards deep and comparatively narrow. At its bottom flowed a warm spring, seething like boiling water, for it was saturated with carbonic acid. Nevertheless, it appeared that the water, after cooling, was good and wholesome. The spring was so abundant that the three hundred men of the caravan could not exhaust it. On the contrary the more water they drew from it the more it flowed, and filled the fissure higher.

  “Perhaps sometime,” Doctor Clary said, “this place will be a resort for the health-seeker, but at present this water is inaccessible for animals because the walls of the fissure are too steep.”

  “Could the children chance upon a similar spring?”

  “I do not know. It may be that more of them can be found in this locality. But if not, then without water they must perish.”

  Night fell. Fires were lit. Nevertheless, a boma was not erected, for there was nothing to build one with. After the evening refreshments, the doct
or and the captain sat upon folding chairs, and lighting their pipes, began to converse of that which lay most upon their hearts.

  “Not a trace,” declared Clary.

  “It had occurred to me,” Glenn replied, “to send ten of our men to the ocean coast with a despatch that there is news of the children. But I am glad that I did not do that, as the men would perish on the way, and, even if they reached the coast, why should we awaken vain hopes?”

  “And revive the pain—”

  The doctor removed the white helmet from his head and wiped his perspiring forehead.

  “Listen,” he said; “if we should return to that lake and order the men to hew down trees and at night light a gigantic bonfire, perhaps the children might descry it.”

  “If they were near we would find them anyway, and if they are far off the rolling ground would hide the fire. Here the plain is seemingly level, but in reality is in knobs, wavy as the ocean. Besides, by retreating we would definitely lose the possibility of finding even traces of them.”

  “Speak candidly. You have no hope?”

  “My dear sir, we are grown-up, strong, and resourceful men, and think of what would become of us if we two were here alone, even with weapons — but without supplies and men—”

  “Yes! alas — yes! I picture to myself the two children going in such a night across the desert.”

  “Hunger, thirst, and wild animals.”

  “And nevertheless the boy writes that under such conditions they proceeded for long months.”

  “There is also something in that which passes my comprehension.”

  For a long time could be heard amid the stillness only the sizzling of the tobacco in the pipes. The doctor gazed into the depth of the night, after which he said in a subdued voice: