The Red Derelict

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

  A DARK PLACE OF THE EARTH.

  Wagram awoke, feeling strangely strong and well, considering all he hadgone through. Moreover, he felt hungry. The stuff that had beenadministered to him must have worked wonders, for to it he attributedhis sudden cure. He must have slept more than the whole round of theclock, for now there was no mistaking the feeling of early morning.

  He rose and looked outside. The sun had not yet risen, and there was afreshness in the atmosphere not to be missed even in the most torridclimate just at the hour of dawn. He stepped forth and looked around.The town seemed wrapped in slumber, and now he was able to take insomething like its extent. There seemed no end to the palmetto huts,not only filling a large open space but straggling into the surroundingfoliage--the whole not devoid of a certain picturesqueness, but utterly,unqualifiedly, savage. A shadow fell between himself and the now risingsun.

  He turned, to behold a tall, evil-looking barbarian armed with aformidable axe. In him he thought to recognise one of the two who hadvisited him the day before, and now he strove to convey by signs that hewanted water for a wash. Clearly he was understood, for the otherlifted up his voice in a harsh guttural shout. Immediately thereappeared a woman, an ugly, brutal-looking creature, whose countenancebore no more human an expression than that of the male. She, inobedience to an order, withdrew, soon to reappear with a big calabashbowl of cloudy water. Into this he gratefully plunged his head, andmanaged to indulge in a fairly invigorating splash; the while the pairstood watching him with wooden indifference. Then he made signs thatfood would be acceptable. These, too, were understood, for presently abig platter of cooked grain was brought. This he attacked with anavidity surprising even to himself; and, while thus engaged, more andmore collected, standing round, eyeing him with the same indifference,the while exchanging a few remarks among themselves, whose burden, couldhe have understood, would have utterly put to flight his new-bornappetite there and then. But he did not, and as the said appetite beganto experience satiety he found himself taking in with considerableinterest the outward characteristics of his hosts or captors, orwhatever they might be.

  But the result was not encouraging; in fact, it was depressing. Allwere much of the same type as the first he had seen--large, finespecimens physically, but in type of countenance bestial. Young or old,male or female, there was not a single pleasing countenance among thelot. They were utter animals, and evil-looking animals at that.

  The hut he had occupied had, in common with the others, a sort ofextended porch or verandah running all round. Seated in the shade ofthis he fell to ruminating over his position. The savages soon grewtired of watching him, and dispersed. Yet others who happened to passall glanced at him with a stare of curiosity. First of all, where washe, and how soon could he effect a return to civilisation? That hewould be able to do this hope now began to tell him. After all, thesepeople, though unprepossessing, had treated him with a certain roughhospitality. No doubt a promise of substantial reward would induce someof them to guide him to some post inhabited by his fellow-countrymen, orat any rate by Europeans. But how was he to convey such promise totheir intelligence? You can make signs that you want food or drink, butwhen it comes to effecting a negotiation of that sort, why, the mattertakes on a totally different aspect. Where was he? He assumed that hehad been cast ashore somewhere on the west coast of Africa; but, then,that was a sufficiently vague, not to say wide, limitation. Again, washe on the mainland or on an island--and in any case, how far from thesea? He had absolutely no idea at all as to the time which had beenconsumed in bringing him hither, or even whether he had been taken offthe submerged hulk by these natives in their canoes, or whether thederelict had actually gone ashore with him, and they had found himthere.

  With the thought of the negotiations he put a hand into an inner pocketin search of his notecase. It was not there. Hurriedly, eagerly hesearched his other pockets--with like results. It was gone, and with itall means of purchasing anything, for it had contained his stock ofready money for the voyage, and something beyond; in fact, aconsiderable sum in bank notes. It could not have got lost in thewater, for he remembered placing it in a thoroughly secure inner pocket;and this had been nearly the extent of his preparation when it becameknown they would have to take to the boats. Clearly he had beenrelieved of it since, and during his unconsciousness, and yet--and yet--what attraction could bank notes--mere slips of uncoloured paper--havefor these savages, who seemed to have not the slightest glimmering ofcivilisation among the lot? With gold it might have been different.However, it was gone, and the consciousness of this was unpleasant, fora penniless man is akin to an unarmed man--helpless--and, however remotefrom civilisation he may be, the lack of the power of the purse countsfor something.

  Slowly, wearily, the heat of the day passed, and night drew down oncemore. To the captive--or guest, whichever he might be--the day was oneof intense and depressing monotony. The natives were no morecommunicative than before; certainly no more friendly. He would havegiven a great deal for one companion in adversity--no matter whom--eventhe lowest sample of the forecastle or stoke-hole of the _Baleka_. Hewould likewise have given a great deal to have been among the castawayswhich constituted her boatloads; yet here he was, in comparative safety,on dry land, while they even now might be suffering the last extremitiesof starvation and thirst. Night drew down, but brought with it norestfulness; instead it brought forth innumerable cockroaches of largesize, which scurried around and over him in the darkness; for, ofcourse, there was no means of lighting the interior of the hut, short ofmaking a fire, and for this it was too hot already.

  With the dawn of day he arose--unrested and unrefreshed. His physicalwants were cared for, but all efforts to make the people about himunderstand his anxiety to return to those of his own colour, and hiswillingness to pay, and pay liberally, for those who should beinstrumental in thus returning him, were futile. They could not orwould not understand. Utterly weary of sitting still he made up hismind, unless actively opposed, to seek some diversion in a littleexploration around on his own account.

  He was not opposed, somewhat to his own surprise, and set forth. Hepassed through the town openly, and making no attempt at concealment.The inhabitants looked up to stare at him as he went by, then went onwith what they were doing, this, in most cases, being nothing. Thus hereached the solitude of the surrounding forest.

  This was not thick. Clusters of undergrowth here and there, but for themost part it was open below. Strange trees of a species unknown to himafforded an intermittent shade, and here and there an open space,growing tall grass nearly his own height, had to be crossed. He movedcarefully, always keeping the sun on one shoulder, always being carefulto note any peculiarity of bough or stem, for he had no mind to losehimself. Then suddenly the whole aspect of the vegetation changed.

  Only a ridge had effected the sharp demarcation of this change, a lowridge surmounted by a few rocks, yet affording no extent of view oneither hand. But here in front the vegetation was thick and profuse,and in parts tangled. Cool and shady, however, and altogether invitingit looked, and Wagram made up his mind to penetrate it, though not toany great depth.

  With his wandering a sense of freedom seemed to return to him. It was arelief at any rate to get a change from that gruesome, depressing,savage town, with its repulsive and scowling inhabitants. Here at anyrate he was alone with Nature--and there was a certain soothingsolemnity in the thought. Then for the first time he noticed an utterabsence of life. Nothing moved; no insects flew humming by; no birdspiped. Turn his glance which way he would no movement met or distractedit. He was in a dead forest to all intents and purposes, as far as itsaccompaniment of animal or bird or even insect life was concerned. Itbegan to look a little eerie.

  Still, with many a glance back, to make sure of being able to retracehis steps at will, he moved on. Some irresistible influence seemed tobe drawing him on, and with every step a co
nsciousness came upon him ofthat. Moreover, it seemed that he was no longer alone. Could it bethat he was being followed--watched--that the freedom with which he hadbeen allowed to come hence was no freedom at all, but that spying eyeshad been upon him all the time, that stealthy steps had dogged his own?And yet, looking back, there was no sign of anything living, let aloneanything human, and, stranger still, the sense of a haunting presencewas in front rather than behind--a presence drawing him on.

  A wave of recoil swept over his being, and he would have returned; yet,strong-minded and of a robust faith as he was, such return under suchcircumstances, it seemed to Wagram, would be nothing less than aconcession to the promptings of a vague superstition wholly contrary tohis nature and his creed. He had been ill, he reminded himself, and hisvitality lowered, otherwise no such foolish imaginings could have heldhis mind for one single instant. To be scared of a place because it wassilent, and in broad daylight, or at any other time for that matter--why, the thing was too absurd. He resumed his way.

  And yet it was not altogether broad daylight either, for now with everyfew yards the overhanging trees became thicker and thicker, and allbeneath lay shrouded in a semi-gloom that was anything but the broadlight of day. An overpowering scent of strange tropical plants filledthe air--fragrant, yet not altogether, for it seemed charged with asense of earthiness and decay; and ever above, around, the same deadnessof silence, the same weightiness of oppression, as though he were moreand more getting outside the world.

  He had gone far enough; it was time to turn back. Instinctively hesought his watch, then remembered that it had stopped during his longimmersion. Curiously enough, the savages had refrained from robbing himof it, although a glittering bauble should have been far more likely toappeal to their cupidity than a mere collection of apparently uselessand utterly unattractive bits of paper. He was about to turn back,accordingly, when something in front attracted and held his gaze.

  Two straight rocks about twice his own height stood close together,forming, as it were, a gate--a door, rather--for spanning the aperturethus formed was a beam, and from it dangled a row of human skulls.Facing outward they faced him, and seemed to take on a forced andpainful grin, as though still wearing the expression of an agoniseddeath. Motionless they hung--some touching each other, some apart,looking ghastly enough in the drear silence of the forest. Wagramglanced at them with some disgust but no great awe. This, he decided,was the entrance to some shrine of devil-worship, and he would haveturned away, rather contemptuous than impressed, but a motive, notaltogether one of curiosity, moved him to enter that grim portal.

  Once within he gazed around with an increased curiosity. He was in anoval space barely a hundred yards in length. The centre was open, andconstituted an amphitheatre, the sides sloping steeply upward, and grownwith thick bush. Above this he could see a rough but strong stockade,and surrounding it, disposed at intervals, were more human skulls. Hecrossed the open space to the farther end of the enclosure cautiously,but there was nothing in the shape of an altar of sacrifice or anyimplement of death or destruction. At the farther end was a large flatstone, flush with the ground. That might be worth examining.

  And now curiosity began to awaken vividly within him. This place wasobviously a temple--a court, rather--used for the heathenish andidolatrous rites of this tribe--whatever it might be. He bent over thestone. It was rudely hewn into something of an oblong, and was coveredwith a dark and greasy coating which might have been dried blood. Yes;it looked like that, and he straightened himself up again, nauseated bythe idea.

  And then something like a deep, soft sigh fell upon his ears. It camefrom right in front, and seemed within scarce a yard of him. He lookedup, startled, then resisted an impulse to turn and flee. Before him thebush, thick and green, was as an impenetrable wall. Could the soundhave proceeded thence? He started again. In the dim recesses formed bythe interlacing fronds two eyes were staring at him--two large beadyeyes--not shining, but dull and black, and yet more full, morepenetrating, than if they had glared.

  Every instinct of self-preservation moved him to fall back. The sameinstinct moved him to keep his own eyes fixed upon that dull,penetrating, fiend-like stare as he did so. What on earth was thething? he asked himself. A reptile? No; for the eyes were larger thanthose of the largest serpent known to zoology. Human? No; not thateither. He was conscious of a ghastly chilling of the blood within himas he met that horrible stare fixed upon him within the mysteriousdarkness of the bush screen. He was conscious of something more--thathis first instinct of retreat had left him, and was now succeeded by animpulse that compelled him forward, that constrained him to look closerinto those awful eyes; and then that same soft, heavy sigh was repeated.

  He moved a step forward. One foot was on the flat stone. In a momentthe other would have followed it--drawn, impelled by an irresistibleforce--when a strange humming noise behind him--low, but growing louderand louder--made him pause. Someone was approaching, and that by theway he had come. A quick instinct warned him that it would not be wellto be found here prying into what was doubtless some sacred if ghastlytemple of mystery held in awe by a race of devil-worshippers. The spellwas broken. Withdrawing his one foot from the stone he looked back,then quickly took cover within the thick bush that lined the slopes ofthe amphitheatre.

  His conjecture proved correct. Hardly was he in hiding than a manappeared, entering through the same opening which had admitted himself--a tall, black man, yet not altogether wearing the same appearance asthose among whom his own lot seemed cast. The new arrival scarceglanced from left to right, and, still humming his strange, weird croon,advanced straight to the stone even as he himself had done. Then hehalted.

  In his place of concealment Wagram was no more than a dozen yards fromthe new-comer, whose every movement and every expression he coulddistinguish. The man was unarmed, and nearly naked--a fine, well-built,stalwart savage. He seemed to be gazing before him in expectationmingled with disappointment. Then to the hidden watcher's ears cameagain that soft, weird sigh.

  He in the open heard it too, for a change came over his face andbearing. Uttering a deep-breathed "Ah!" he straightened himself up,then bent forward, and seemed gazing upon exactly the place where thosedreadful eyes had appeared. Then his behaviour was strange. Once morehe rose erect, and withdrew his foot from the stone, and passed oneblack hand over his own eyes, as though to shut out those others. Thenhe moved unsteadily to right and to left, and half turned away--but no.It seemed that some compelling force was upon him too, precludingretreat. Back he would come to the centre again and peer forward, thenbreak away as before. This was repeated several times; then, all atonce, he stood motionless. His foot was again raised and placed on thestone, his gaze again bent in eager fascination upon that which laybeyond--then the other foot followed. One step forward--then two--andthen--

  Something darted forward with lightning-like glance from the bushscreen--something long and steel-like and gleaming. It transfixed thedazed savage as he stood, then withdrew almost before the heavy thud ofhis body sounded on the hard stone surface. There it lay, the limbstwitching in muscular spasms. A final shudder and all was still, exceptthe drip, drip of the life-blood falling upon the surface of the stone.

  The spectator's own blood froze within him as he looked. The sight wasghastly and horrifying enough in any case, but looked at in the light ofhis own circumstances it was doubly so; added to which he now knew thefate from which he himself had escaped. As he took his way out of thishell-pit of horror and cruelty, taking care to keep well within theshelter of the bushes until he should gain the gruesome door by which hehad entered, he was wondering what hideous rite of devil-worship he hadjust witnessed, and recalled with a shudder the weird fascination thathad well-nigh compelled him to stand in the other's place.

  "The dark places of the earth are full of cruelty," he recalled as hehurried through the sombre gloom of the silent forest--a hundred timesmore sombre now
--and the air itself seemed weighed down with a scent ofblood. In very truth he was in one of "the dark places of the earth."How, and when, would he find deliverance therefrom?