Ouha, King of the Apes

by Félicien Champsaur

  Ouha, thus challenged, turned an irritated face to the oldster.

  “Who is the master here? What’s the use of my power, if I can’t do what I want? These humans have been imprudent in pursuing us this far, for I had the intention of going to them. This land is ours. If we allow them to do so, the white apes will drive us back into the western forests in future, after having decimated us, and perhaps a few of us will be unlucky enough to be imprisoned in iron cages. Believe me, we ought not to go to sleep in a shameful peace when enemies invade our homeland. I have been a prisoner of humans myself for a few days, and I know what I’m talking about. I’ve consulted you for form’s sake, my friends. My decision is made. I want to extend the limits of my empire all the way to the sea and expel the invaders.”

  The quadrumane’s gesture seemed to embrace the world. He continued: “I am the elect, the messenger, the representative of the gods. You owe me, by virtue of that title, a passive an absolute obedience. I shall fulfill my sacred mission, and I shall make orangutans the sovereign people.”

  They all bowed respectfully; some of them even prostrated themselves and came to lick his feet. Among the most servile was the reckless Harr. Belly-down at Ouha’s feet, he started ferreting through the hair in search of game, of which he made a meal when the hunt was fruitful. Ouha soon pushed him away, gently.

  “To satisfy your advice, I shall divide the attack. Harr and Kri-Kri, at the head of a hundred volunteers, will attack as they wish, but while drawing the Whites toward the forest, where Brray and Rhou-Ou will be waiting for them, also with a hundred combatants. The rest of the army and I will form a reserve, ready to assist either party in peril. Prepare yourselves. We’ll attack at sundown.”

  Ouha having spoken thus, in mime, the council withdrew and the chiefs busied themselves assembling their troops.

  XVII. Interlude, with Sapajous, Mandrills and Baboons12

  Between the mountainous group, the general quarters of the orangutans, and the camp of Europeans and Asians, there was a forest about ten miles in extent. Because it was on a more elevated plateau, that forest offered an appearance quite different from the one that the troop of orang-hunters had just come through, with so many difficulties.

  The trees with the most precious essences were here represented by mahogany-trees, ebony trees, parasol pines and, in the dampest part, bamboos. The harder soil had resisted the invasion of parasitic plants; only dense thickets of mastic-trees and plants resembling of thorny reeds opposed the march. The foliage was swarming with birds and monkeys.

  Among the latter, the genteel sapajous were particularly abundant, their mischievous faces and laughing eyes glimpsed in every tangle of branches. At time, they passed by in hundreds like a whirlwind, in a panic, frightened by a mandrill or a baboon, which, less alert, was threatening them from afar by grinding its teeth. Then, their fear having passed, their resumed their games and frolics.

  Since the valley, all the varieties of quadrumanes had been excited. The coming of the humans had disturbed all the inhabitants of this wilderness. So, keeping their distance, all of them watched, not missing a gesture of the intruders and trying to comprehend the motive for that biped invasion.

  They did not have to wait long to be informed, for the Malays, sent forth as scouts, did not return to the camp without having claimed a few victims intended to add some fresh meat to the routine culinary fare. But the insouciant sapajous continued leaping and capering, playing with one another or with rays of sunlight filtering through the branches.

  XVIII. Stories of Elephants...

  After a good night’s rest—the first since they had left Riddle-Temple—everyone had woken up feeling restored and in a good humor. From dawn onwards, animation reigned everywhere, everyone doing their best to repair the damage caused by the past days of marching, either to their boots, the straps of their luggage, or their torn garments. Mabel, already back from the river where she had gone to take a reparative bath, was standing on the threshold of her tent contemplating the picturesque scene.

  She had adopted a very simple costume, which showed off her youthful beauty and the grace of her figure better than elegant apparel: a short brown skirt from which her high-stockinged legs emerged, terminated by slender feet shod in brown leather. Her torso was molded by the folds of a pale brown linen jacket, gathered at the waist by a leather belt to which a revolver and cartridge-case were attached. Curls escaped from her white helmet, punctuating the impudent features of her face—energetic in spite of the delicacy of their lines—with gold.

  On the route, in spite of the crushing fatigue and the ravines that had to be crossed, without paying much heed to the innumerable miseries of the journey, the biting insects and the suspected dangers, Mabel had joked, laughed at trivial incidents, with the hectic delight of an insouciant child amused by anything at all. Her gaiety cheered up the men. Those of the escort admired her respectfully and sought her veil with their eyes during those bad moments in which weariness weighs down the strongest and saps their energy.

  In spite of the apparent coldness that Mabel was accustomed to display to her pseudo-fiancé Wilson, and her mischievous teasing, aware of her power, the young woman appreciated Archibald’s real and positive qualities as much as his veritable affection. The intimacy of the journey often brought the three young people together, and Mabel, ever the coquette, tried to pay equal attention to Archibald and Gorden. The capricious young woman, after a few amiable remarks, for which Wilson was glad, gave a marvelous welcome to Gorden, whose mind, more alert than Archibald’s, found means of rendering the monotony of the much less fatiguing by means of a humorous and encouraging comment, or a compliment as agreeable as a flower.

  Often, an anecdote, a story of hunting or adventure, concluded with a gallant observation, and the American woman, not remaining indifferent, would reply with a genteel smile, which irritated Archibald and encouraged his rival.

  For a week, Mabel had been complaining. The fatiguing days of marching had become too monotonous for her taste. She wanted incidents—dangers, even. Thus, the emergence from the interminable virgin forest, always the same, was very welcome.

  The new landscapes contrasted advantageously with those of the preceding days—but Mabel did not regret them. Past fatigues rendered a little rest in a less brutal nature doubly agreeable. And now the Malay hunters were returning to the camp. Having taken their booty to the cooks, they headed toward the Americans’ tent.

  It was the first time that one had been set up there, and that was not the least attraction to the little sapajous, which dared to approach from tree to tree and bush to bush, almost to within arm’s reach of the travelers. One of them even dared to take a little mirror that Mabel held out to it, and the young woman was amused for some time by the surprise and grimaces of the graceful animal.

  In the meantime, To Wang had separated from his companions. He came over to Major Bennett, the only one apart from Silven Gorden who understood the Malay language.

  “Is there anything new?” asked the major.

  “Yes master; we’ve encountered the free men.”

  “Have you seen the prisoners?”

  “Yes, our sister Rava. She wanted to come to us, but the free men dragged her away with them.”

  “How many of them were there?”

  “A dozen.”

  “If they aren’t too numerous, things will work out of their own accord. Do you have a plan?”

  To Wang shrugged his shoulders. “First we need to know how many there are, and where their village is.”

  “What? What’s that you say? Their village?”

  “Yes. The free men make their shelters in the trees, and in groups, as we do on the ground. When we’ve identified the place, I’ll make my plan.”

  “And you think it’s in this forest?”

  “I know that we’ve seen Rava and twelve orangs. That’s all. I’ve come back to tell you and to find out whether we’re resuming the march tomorrow.”


  “Wait.”

  Having made his friends party to the Malay chief’s report and having received general assent, the major went back to To Wang.

  “You can continue your search. We’ll leave tomorrow at dawn.”

  The indefatigable hunter bowed and signaled to his men. They returned to the forest, drawing in their wake a whole swarm of curious little monkeys.

  On this occasion, the excursionists found themselves comfortably seated at dinner time before a copious and pleasantly varied meal.

  “Finally,” said Goldry, “we’re going to get to grips. I feel quite excited. Just as long as nothing unfortunate happens to my friend Ouha.”

  “Your big ape,” said Mabel, “merits a stern punishment, firstly for his past conduct, and also to make him more tractable in future.”

  “It wasn’t him who was most at fault. We were wrong to mock him.”

  “What a pity! Must one avoiding laughing, simply because one is the owner of one of these animals?”

  “Animals!” snorted the doctor. “That’s what you think? Personally, I respect Ouha, my contemporary, like an ancestor.”

  “You might think that, but don’t say it,” said Silven Gorden. “For myself, I confess that I’ve never seen these great apes without experiencing a kind of malaise. There are truly too many similarities between them and humans for one not to be strongly impressed—especially, you know, when they’re mortally wounded. I saw one of them that had been shot by one of my friends; I watched him die. He looked at us with such a reproachful expression that Paddy MacFerdan swore that he would never shoot at an orang again.”

  “What are you doing here then?” asked Archibald, ironically.

  “I told you when we set off—to protect Miss Smith if any danger threatens.”

  Archibald was about to reply, but Mabel got in ahead of him. “Thank you,” she said, dryly, “but I’m capable of looking after myself.”

  “I know that you not only have the beauty of Diana, the divine huntress, but also her intrepidity. There are, however, unexpected dangers for which the support of a second might be useful, and I wouldn’t be ashamed, in case of peril, to appeal to your courage.”

  Mabel smiled. “You can count on me.”

  “Well,” said the major, “we’re in a region where it’s necessary not to rely on any aid. There are situations where temerity becomes folly. Look, I’ll tell you the story of one of my youthful adventures; I declare without shame that I was afraid. It was at the time of the Dutch campaign in Borneo. I was serving as a lieutenant under Colonel Werspick.

  “For three days we had been crawling, as we’ve just done in the forest, with the differenced that we had to clear a path ourselves. So, when we halted, we fell like dead weights into a veritably brutish sleep. Then, one morning, I was woken up with a start by a frightful clamor. Around me there was a terrible chaos of broken branches, cries of agony, gunshots—and amid that noise I heard, for the first time, the trumpeting of furious elephants. Fortunately, an enormous tree-trunk provided me with a shelter between its massive roots, into which I hastened to disappear. And this is what had happened...

  “As morning approached, a family of elephants had wandered into our camp: a male, a female and a calf, which was already a good size. Among the sentinels was a Scottish volunteer. I can still remember him—his name was George Barnard, and I liked him a lot because we were the only ones, apart from the colonel, who spoke English. So, poor George was on guard when the elephants arrived. Until then, he’d only seen them in zoos. As the animals were heading for the camp he was afraid for him comrades and he fired at the male, which was in the lead.

  “The animal, wounded, became furious, as did his companion and the child. Then there was absolute carnage. The men, surprised in their sleep and woken up, like me, in that tumult, fled in all directions. The colonel, with an astonishing presence of mind, tried to rally the lads and get them to cover behind a mass of rocks that provided a measure of shelter for our camp. He succeeded in assembling the majority of them in a sort of cul-de-sac, whose entrance was too narrow for the elephant to get through. That only took a few minutes, but fifteen cadavers, horribly trampled, were already lying here and there, mingled with objects of all sorts that served the needs of the campaign.

  “Eventually, not seeing any more enemies, the elephants calmed down and went back into the forest. Then I came out of my retreat and set off in quest of my comrades. The first cadaver I encountered was that of poor George, literally flattened like a pancake. I fell to my knees beside him and dissolved in tears. I stayed there like that for a long moment, as if unconscious.

  “Warm breath on my face brought me round. A gigantic elephant was swinging its trunk in front of me. It was then that I was afraid—an atrocious fear that turned me to stone.

  “The elephant looked at me, its eyes sparkling with anger. Was it the one that had been wounded, which had returned to its victim? Or was it a new arrival? I thought that it was more likely to be a new one, for it seemed to understand what had happened, but didn’t have bloody feet. Eventually, it took another step. Its eyes and trunk inspected the Scotsman’s cadaver; then it looked at me.

  “Then, with a supreme effort, I raised my joined hands toward it, and my face, steaming with tears. It looked at me for a long time, then turned its back and slowly went back into the forest. Then I fell on George’s cadaver, and fainted—my God yes, just like a little girl.

  “Result: we continued our journey through the forest, but with half our weapons and ammunition, our food and tools destroyed, and our cooking-pots in pieces. Fortunately, the crate containing the quinine had escaped the disaster. It’s thanks to that stimulant that we reached our goal, and were lucky enough to win a victory...

  “Thus far, we haven’t encountered any elephants, and I wouldn’t wish that an you.”

  XIX. …And Tigers

  “Do you think,” asked Dr. Abraham Goldry, “that if the sentinel hadn’t attacked them, those elephants would have attacked you?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t believe so. Even I the wild state, elephants aren’t cruel, and you can see that they aren’t insensitive to pity. So I only kill one of those animals when it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “Good! We already have one eccentric who wants to spare the apes. Now the major is recusing himself with regard to elephants. So we only have tigers to put on the list.”

  “Oh, no pity for them!” said Gorden.

  “Aha!” said Mabel. “There’s an exclamation that seems to indicate another story. Go on, Gorden, get on with it. Besides, it’s the custom among hunters—and mine too, I hope—to bring back from that kind of campaign not merely a tiger-skin but a fine terror, like the major’s.”

  “Don’t make such wishes, Miss Smith! They bring bad luck.”

  “Bah! Are you superstitious?”

  “My dear child, we’re in Malaysia, the land of a thousand gods, genies, devils and whatnot. How can you expect anyone not to be a little afraid of the unknown?”

  Mabel Smith cut him off with a burst of laughter. “The tiger, Gorden, the tiger!”

  “Since you desire it, so be it. It was a few months after my arrival on the island. Not yet being very familiar with the hundred-hectare concession that had been sold to me after the death of the original owner, I had undertaken a methodical inspection, in order to get the best possible return out of it.

  “My property was traversed by a narrow but very deep gorge, at the bottom of which was a small stream. One morning, I set off to follow the watercourse, with the aim of discovering whether it was crossable in certain places, or whether it was necessary to establish a few rope-bridges. I was mounted on a superb chestnut mare, mild and docile. She was going at a good trot, whinnying joyfully in the morning breeze.

  “Suddenly, I felt a violent impact behind me, and my mare stopped so suddenly and unexpectedly that I was thrown over her head and fell into the gorge. Instinctively, I clung on to the brushwood, which dea
dened my tumble. Nevertheless, I arrived at the bottom quite quickly and took a header into the steam—which at the point where I fell, was some five or six feet deep. I hauled myself out, with a great deal of difficulty, and immediately began to climb up the other slope—for the roars I heard overhead were scant encouragement to go that way.

  “I took nearly an hour to climb up the other side of the steep gorge, having to go back down several times to search for a more accessible spot. Finally, I set foot on the rim. On the other side, two superb tigers, accompanied by two cubs, were making a meal of the cadaver of my unfortunate mare. Fortunately, the tiger, when it pounced on me, had missed its mark, for its head had struck me in the back when it leapt on to the rump of my horse.

  “I had no weapons, and I was obliged to watch the wild beasts’ feast, without being able to intervene…and since that day, I’ve sworn a war to the death, with no mercy, against those felines. As soon as a tiger is signaled to me, I don’t quit until I’ve killed it. I’m on to my sixteenth.”

  “I’ll catch you up!” Mabel exclaimed. “I’ve only been on the island a few months and I’ve killed two of them.”

  “You’re destined, Miss Smith, to claim numerous victims,” said the ever-gallant Englishman, “and it’s not those you kill who’ll have the most to regret.”

  “You’re on the lookout for madrigals as I am for tigers. Well, what if we were to go hunting in the plain? Perhaps we’ll be lucky enough to encounter an interesting animal. Your two stories have given me an appetite for destruction.”

  “At your orders,” said Archibald—who, having no cynegetic exploit to relate, was dreaming of accomplishing a few.

  “Then,” said Mabel, joyfully, “I propose an exploration of those little woods that precede the forest.”