The Adventure of the Peerless Peer

by Philip José Farmer

  Our plans died in the bud. As we approached the beach, we saw torches flaring on the water. Presently, as we watched from behind a hut, we saw fishermen paddling in with their catch of night-caught fish. Someone stirred in the hut beside which we crouched, and before we could get away, a woman, yawning and stretching came out. She must have been waiting for her fisherman husband. Whatever the case, she surprised us.

  The duke moved swiftly, but too late, toward her. She screamed loudly, and though she quit almost immediately, she had aroused the village.

  There is no need to go into detail about the long and exhausting run we made through the village, while the people poured out, and up the slopes toward the faraway pass in the precipices. Greystoke smote right and left and before him, and men and women went down like the Philistines before Samson. We were armed with the short swords he had stolen from the armory and so were of some aid to him. But by the time we had left the village and reached the fields, Holmes and I were breathing very hard.

  "You two help the woman along between you," the duke commanded the Germans. Before we could protest, though what good it would have done if we had I don't know, we were picked up, one under each arm, and carried off. Burdened though he was, Greystoke ran faster than the three behind him. The ground, only about a foot away from my face since I was dangling like a rag doll in his arm, reeled by. After about a mile, the duke stopped and released us. He did this by simply dropping us. My face hit the dirt at the same time my knees did. I was somewhat pained, but I thought it indiscreet to complain. Holmes, however, displayed a knowledge of swear words which would have delighted a dock worker. Greystoke ignored him, urging us to push on. Far behind us we could see the torches of our pursuers and hear their clamour.

  By dawn the Zu-Vendis had gotten closer.

  All of us, except for the indefatigable duke, were tiring swiftly. The pass was only half a mile away, and once we were through that, the duke said, we would be safe. The savages behind us, though, were beginning to shoot their arrows at us.

  "We can't get through the pass anyway!" I said between gasps to Holmes. "We have no equipment to keep the bees off us! If the arrows don't kill us, the bee-stings will !"

  Ahead of us, where the hills suddenly moved in and formed the entrance to the path, a vast buzzing filled the air. Fifty thousand tiny, but deadly insects swirled in a thick cloud as they prepared to voyage to the sea of flowers which held the precious nectar.

  We stopped to catch our breath and consider the situation.

  "We can't go back and we can't go ahead!" I said. "What shall we do?"

  "I still live !" the duke cried. This, I thought, was an admirable motto, but it was of no help at all to us. Greystoke, however, was a practical man. He pointed at the nearby hill, at the base of which was the white clay used by the Zu-Vendis to make their fine pots and dishes.

  "Coat yourselves with that!" he said. "It should be somewhat of a shield!" And he hastened to take his own advice.

  I hesitated. The duke had stripped off his loincloth and had jumped into the stream which ran nearby. Then he had scooped out with his hands a quantity of clay, had mixed it with water, and was smearing it over him everywhere. Holmes was removing his clothing before going into the stream. The Germans were getting ready to do likewise, while the beautiful Nylepthah stood abandoned. I did the only thing a gentleman could do. I went to her and removed her cloak, under which she wore nothing. I told her in my halting Zu-Vendis that I was ready to sacrifice myself for her. Though the bees, alarmed, were now moving in a great cloud toward us, I would make sure that I smeared the clay all over her before I took care of myself.

  Nylepthah said, "I know an easier way to escape the bees. Let me run back to the village."

  "Poor deluded girl!" I said. "You do not know what is best for you! Trust me, and I will see you safely to England, the home of your ancestors. And then . . . "

  I did not get a chance to promise to marry her. Holmes and the Germans cried out, causing me to look up just in time to see Greystoke falling unconscious to the ground. An arrow had hit him in the head, and though it had struck a glancing blow, it had knocked him out and made a large nasty wound.

  I thought we were indeed lost. Behind us was the howling horde of savages, their arrows and spears and axes flying through the air at us. Ahead was a swarm of giant bees, a cloud so dense that I could barely see the hills behind them. The buzzing was deafening. The one man who was strong enough and jungle-wise enough to pull us through was out of action for the time being. And if the bees attacked soon, which they would do, he would be in that state permanently. So would all of us.

  Holmes shouted at me, "Never mind taking advantage of that woman, Watson! Come here, quickly, and help me!"

  "This is no time to indulge in jealousy, Holmes," I muttered, but nevertheless I obeyed him. "No, Watson," Holmes said, "I'll put on the clay! You daub on me that excellent black dirt there along the banks of the stream! Put it on in stripes, thus, white and black alternating!"

  "Have you gone mad, Holmes?" I said.

  "There's no time to talk," said Holmes. "The bees are almost upon us! Oh, they are deadly, deadly, Watson! Quick, the mud!"

  Within a minute, striped like a zebra, Holmes stood before me. He ran to the pile of clothes and took from the pocket of his jacket the large magnifying glass that had been his faithful companion all these years. And then he did something that caused me to cry out in utter despair. He ran directly toward the deadly buzzing cloud.

  I shouted after him as I ran to drag him away from his futile and senseless act. It was too late to get him away from the swiftly advancing insects. I knew that, just as I knew that I would die horribly with him. Nevertheless, I would be with him. We had been comrades too many years for me to even contemplate for a second abandoning him.

  He turned when he heard my voice and shouted, "Go back, Watson! Go back! Get the others to one side! Drag Greystoke out of their path! I know what I'm doing! Get away! I command you, Watson!"

  The conditioning of our many years of association turned me and sent me back to the group. I'd obeyed his orders too long to refuse them now. But I was weeping, convinced that he was out of his mind, or, if he did have a plan, it would fail. I got Reich to help me drag the senseless and heavily bleeding Greystoke half into the stream, and I ordered Von Bork and Nylepthah to lie down in the stream. The clay coating, I was convinced, was not an adequate protection. We could submerge ourselves when the bees passed over us. The stream was only inches deep, but perhaps the water flowing over our bodies would discourage the insects.

  Lying in the stream, holding Greystoke's head up to keep him from drowning, I watched Holmes.

  He had indeed gone crazy. He was dancing around and around, stopping now and then to bend over and wiggle his buttocks in a most undignified manner. Then he would hold up the magnifying glass so that the sunlight flashed through it at the Zu-Vendis. These, by the way, had halted to stare open-mouthed at Holmes.

  "Whatever are you doing?" I shouted.

  He shook his head angrily at me to indicate that I should keep quiet. At that moment I became aware that he was himself making a loud buzzing sound. It was almost submerged in the louder noise of the swarm, but I was near enough to hear it faintly.

  Again and again Holmes whirled, danced, stopped, pointing his wriggling buttocks at the Zu-Vendis savages and letting the sun pass through the magnifying glass at a certain angle. His actions seemed to puzzle not only the humans but the bees. The swarm had stopped its forward movement and it was hanging in the air, seemingly pointed at Holmes.

  Suddenly, as Holmes completed his obscene dance for the seventh time, the swarm flew forward. I cried out, expecting to see him covered with the huge black-and-white-striped horrors. But the mass split in two, leaving him an island in their midst. And then they were all gone, and the Zu-Vendis were running, away screaming, their bodies black and fuzzy with a covering of bees. Some of them dropped in their flight, rolling back and fo
rth, screaming, batting at the insects, and then becoming still and silent.

  I ran to Holmes, crying, "How did you do it?"

  "Do you remember your scepticism when I told you that I had made an astounding discovery? One that will enshrine my name among the greats in the hall of science?"

  "You don't mean . . . ?"

  He nodded. "Yes, bees do have a language, even African bees. It is actually a system of signals, not a true language. Bees who have discovered a new source of honey return to the hive and there perform a dance which indicates clearly the direction of and the distance at which the honey lies. I have also discovered that the bee communicates the advent of an enemy to the swarm. It was this dance which I performed, and the swarm attacked the indicated enemy, the Zu-Vendis. The dance movements are intricate, and certain polarisations of light play a necessary part in the message. These I simulated with my magnifying glass. But come, Watson, let us get our clothes on and be off before the swarm returns! I do not think I can pull that trick again. We do not want to be the game afoot."

  We got the duke to his feet and half-carried him to the pass. Though he recovered consciousness, he seemed to have reverted to a totally savage state. He did not attack us but he regarded us suspiciously and made threatening growls if we got too close. We were at a loss to explain this frightening change in him. The frightening part came not so much from any danger he represented as from the dangers he was supposed to save us from. We had depended upon him to guide us and to feed and protect us on the way back. Without him even the incomparable Holmes was lost.

  Fortunately, the duke recovered the next day and provided the explanation himself.

  "For some reason I seem to be prone to receiving blows on the head," he said. "I have a thick skull, but every once in a while I get such a blow that even its walls cannot withstand the force. Sometimes, say about one out of three times, a complete amnesia results. I then revert to the state in which I was before I encountered white people. I am once again the uncivilised apeman; I have no memory of anything that occurred before I was twenty years old. This state may last for only a day, as you have seen, or it may persist for months."

  "I would venture to say," Holmes said, "that this readiness to forget your contact with civilised peoples indicates an unconscious desire to avoid them. You are happiest when in the jungle and with no obligations. Hence your unconscious seizes upon every opportunity, such as a blow on the head, to go back to the happy primal time."

  "Perhaps you are right," the duke said.

  "Now that my wife is dead, I would like to forget civilisation even exists. But I must see my country through this war first."

  It took less than a month for us to get to Nairobi. Greystoke took excellent care of us, even though he was impatient to get back into action against the Germans. During the journey I had ample time to teach Nylepthah English and to get well acquainted with her. Before we reached the Lake Victoria railhead I had proposed to her and been accepted. I will never forget that night. The moon was bright, and a hyena was laughing nearby.

  The day before we reached the railhead, Greystoke went up a tree to check out the territory. A branch broke under his feet, and he landed on his head. When he regained consciousness, he was again the apeman. We could not come near him without his baring his teeth and growling menacingly. And that night he disappeared.

  Holmes was very downcast by this. "What if he never gets over his amnesia, Watson? Then we will be cheated out of our fees."

  "My dear Holmes," I said, somewhat coolly, "we never earned the fee in the first place. Actually, we were allowing ourselves to be bribed by the duke to keep silent."

  "You never did understand the subtle interplay of economics and ethics," Holmes replied.

  "There goes Von Bork," I said, glad to change the subject. I pointed to the fellow, who was sprinting across the veldt as if a lion were after him.

  "He is mad if he thinks he can make his way alone to German East Africa," Holmes said. "But we must go after him! He has on him the formula for the SB."

  "Where?" I asked for the hundredth time.

  "We have stripped him a dozen times and gone over every inch of his clothes and his skin. We have looked into his mouth and up . . . "

  At that moment I observed Von Bork turn his head to the right to look at a rhinoceros which had come around a tall termite hill. The next moment, he had run the left side of his head and body into an acacia tree with such force that he bounced back several feet. He did not get up, which was just as well. The rhinoceros was looking for him and would have detected any movement by Von Bork, After prancing around and sniffing the air in several directions, the weak-eyed beast trotted off. Holmes and I hastened to Von Bork before he got his senses back and ran off once more.

  "I believe I now know where the formula is," Holmes said.

  "And how could you know that?" I said, for the thousandth time since I had first met him.

  "I will bet my fee against yours that I can show you the formula within the next two minutes," he said, but I did not reply.

  He kneeled down beside the German, who was lying on his back, his mouth and his eyes open. His pulse, however, beat strongly.

  Holmes placed the tips of his thumbs under Von Bark's left eye. I stared aghast as the eye popped out.

  "It's glass, Watson," Holmes said. "I had suspected that for some time, but I saw no reason to verify my suspicions until he was in a British prison. I was certain that his vision was limited to his right side when I saw him run into that tree. Even with his head turned away he would have seen it if his left eye had been effective."

  He rotated the glass eye between thumb and finger while examining it through the magnifying glass. "Aha!" he exclaimed and then, handing the eye and glass to me, said, "See for yourself, Watson."

  "Why," I said, "what I had thought were massive haemorrhages due to eye injury are tiny red lines of chemical formulae on the surface of the glass — if it is glass, and not some special material prepared to receive inscriptions."

  "Very good, Watson," Holmes said. "Undoubtedly, Von Bork did not merely receive an injury to the eye in that motor-car crash of which I heard rumours. He lost it, but the wily fellow had it replaced with an artificial eye which had more uses than — ahem — met the eye.

  "After stealing the SB formula, he inscribed the surface of this false organ with the symbols. These, except through a magnifier, look like the results of dissipation or of an accident. He must have been laughing at us when we examined him so thoroughly, but he will laugh no more."

  He took the eye back and pocketed it. "Well, Watson, let us rouse him from whatever dreams he is indulging in and get him into the proper hands. This time he shall pay the penalty for espionage."

  Two months later we were back in England.

  We travelled by water, despite the danger of U-boats, since Holmes had sworn never again to get into an aircraft of any type. He was in a bad humour throughout the voyage. He was certain that Greystoke, even if he recovered his memory, would not send the promised cheques.

  He turned the glass eye over to Mycroft, who sent it on to his superiors. That was the last we ever heard of it, and since the SB was never used, I surmise that the War Office decided that it would be too horrible a weapon. I was happy about this, since it just did not seem British to wage germ warfare. I have often wondered, though, what would have happened if Von Bork's mission had been successful. Would the Kaiser have countenanced SB as a weapon against his English cousins?

  There were still three years of war to get through. I found lodgings for my wife and myself, and, despite the terrible conditions, the air raids, the food and material shortages, the dismaying reports from the front, we managed to be happy. In 1917 Nylepthah did what none of my previous wives had ever done. She presented me with a son. I was delirious with joy, even though I had to endure much joshing from my colleagues about fatherhood at my age. I did not inform Holmes of the baby. I dreaded his sarcastic remarks.

&n
bsp; On November 11, 1919, however, a year after the news that turned the entire Allied world into a carnival of happiness, though a brief one, I received a wire.

  "Bringing a bottle and cigars to celebrate the good tidings. Holmes."

  I naturally assumed that he referred to the anniversary of the Armistice. My surprise was indeed great when he showed up not only with the bottle of Scotch and a box of Havanas but a bundle of new clothes and toys for the baby and a box of chocolates for Nylepthah. The latter was a rarity at this time and must have cost Holmes some time and money to obtain.

  "Tut, tut, my dear fellow," he said when I tried to express my thanks. "I've known for some time that you were the proud father. I have always intended to show up and tender my respects to the aged, but still energetic, father and to the beautiful Mrs. Watson. Never mind waking the infant up to show him to me, Watson. All babies look alike, and 1 will take your word for it that he is beautiful."

  "You are certainly jovial," I said. "I do not ever remember seeing you more so."

  "With good reason, Watson, with good reason!"

  He dipped his hand into his pocket and brought out a cheque.

  I looked at it and almost staggered. It was made out to me for the sum of thirty thousand pounds.

  "I had given up on Greystoke," he said. "I heard that he was missing, lost somewhere in deepest Africa, probably dead. It seems, however, that he had found his wife was alive after all, and he was tracking her into the jungles of the Belgian Congo. He found her but was taken prisoner by some rather peculiar tribe. Eventually, his adopted son, you know, the Lt. Drummond who was to fly us to Marseilles, went after him and rescued his parents. And so, my dear fellow, one of the first things the duke did was to send the cheques! Both in my care, of course!"

  "I can certainly use it," I said. "This will enable me to retire instead of working until I am eighty."

  I poured two drinks for us and we toasted our good fortune. Holmes sat back in the chair, puffing upon the excellent Havana and watching Mrs. Watson bustle about her housework.