Ouha, King of the Apes

by Félicien Champsaur

  To the north, in the opposite direction to the orangs’ city, he was separated from the surrounding massif by a precipice of great depth, at the bottom of which a torrent ran. On the far side of the torrent the mountains rose up in increasingly steep slopes. That explained the creation of the caves and the marvelous grotto from which he had emerged. Before a seismic convulsion had created that abyss, the waters, following the slopes of the mountainous massif had slowly hollowed out a subterranean bed, which had been cut by that precipice during an earthquake. The waters having a new exit and a more rapid slope, the caves had almost entirely dried out.

  Here, Mamnuth thought, is an architecture fashioned for us by divine hands. We have only to retrace our steps for all of us to come and install ourselves in the diamond grotto.

  The descent was more difficult than the climb. Nevertheless, Hubert, the woodcutters’ chief, rejoined his companions without any incident.

  Three hours later, Gorden and Mamnuth found Smith and Archibald again, and immediately made them party to their discovery.

  LV. A Revenant

  Toward nightfall, the hunters came back, laden with game.

  “We have enough food for four or five days,” said Gorden. “We have only to take up residence in the marvelous grotto, and, after having drawn up our plans, we can get to work. I believe that this time we’re sue of success—for thanks to these tunnels, unknown to the apes, we can be far away before they’ve detected us. If you agree, once we’ve eaten we’ll leave for our general quarters and spend the night there.”

  Apart from Smith and Archibald they were all very tired, but the idea of a night in proximity to and occasional contact with the bats was repugnant to them. The band divided up the provisions and, as the route was known, marched at a good pace.

  Thus, five hours later, the eight men emerged into the large cave, which the baptized, by common consent, Mabel Grotto. On that effort of imagination, they lay down on the sand and went to sleep, with the satisfaction of having made full use of the day.

  When they awoke, the sun was already high, for the reflections of its rays, slanting through the opening in the vault, illuminated the entire interior of the grotto. In the sunlight, the walls of the cavern glittered like a casket of precious stones—splendid gems—and all the colors of the prism were confused there in harmonious splendor. The stalactites hanging from the vault, were colored in all the shades of white, tinted with blue, green, pink and lilac, as if made of clusters of topaz. The sand, mingled with mica, sparkled in places like molten metal.

  After that breakfast of sunlight, and another more substantial, they all wanted to see the city of the apes and made the climb up to the belvedere. They came down again radiant; the campaign was definitely promising victory.

  “What can we do to alert my daughter?” asked Smith, turning to Gorden.

  “We’ll discuss that—but I think this cave has other surprises in store for us. Now that we know where the apes’ city is, I think we ought to continue the exploration toward the north-west. It will bring us nearer to our goal, and perhaps we’ll find a more practicable exit here. Firstly, wherever we go, we need to make reference-points in order not to get lost, and so that, when we get back here after rescuing Mabel, we can get away presto.”

  “Let’s get our bearings, then,” said Archibald, “and get under way immediately.”

  Eventually, the eight found a tunnel leading in the right direction, but it was cluttered with blocks of stone containing diamonds, which it was necessary to go around or climb over. After three hours of difficult progress, they came upon an insurmountable obstacle; the tunnel terminated in a broad, high cul-de-sac, the top of which was lost in the darkness.

  “It’s a useless route,” said Gorden. “We need to look elsewhere. It’s a pity, because I’m convinced that the tunnel continues higher up, but we’d need a ladder.”

  “Or a knotted rope,” said a voice falling from the ceiling.”

  “Eh?” said Archibald. “Who said that?”

  “Not me,” said his seven companions.

  “Of course—unless the rocks are capable of greeting you, gentlemen.”

  “I know that voice!” cried Harry Smith.

  “It’s Dr. Goldry’s voice,” Archibald concluded. “Where are you, old friend?”

  “Excelsior! Higher up, always higher up.”

  “You can’t come down?”

  “Not today—but I’ll find a way.”

  “What are you doing here, doctor? We thought you were dead.”

  “Now you know I’m not. Stupidly, I was taken prisoner by the orangutans.”

  “With Mabel?”

  “Mabel? Hmm…also a prisoner.”

  “You escaped?”

  “No, I’m at home here. But what about you? What are you doing here?”

  “We’ve come to rescue you—you and my daughter.”

  “That’s a kind thought—but there’s no urgency, for me or for my goddaughter.”

  “What do you mean? For you, all well and good—I know what an eccentric you are—but my daughter?”

  “I’m not joking. Mabel and I are on the eve of becoming naturalized orangutans. My friends, if you knew all the advantages of the beautiful simian life, you’d come to share what you call our captivity.”

  “Abraham, you’re lucky that I can hear you without being able to see you. I’d send you a specimen of civilization with my rifle.”

  Gorden intervened, incisively. “Let’s not waste time with useless words. Dr. Goldry, are you with us or against us?”

  “That requires reflection, my dear Mr. Gorden; first, I need to consult my goddaughter. For myself, I still have a great deal to do and learn here. I’m going home, gentlemen. I’ll give you a answer tomorrow, at the same time.”

  “Abraham, wait!” shouted Smith—but the doctor had already disappeared, and the billionaire received no response.

  “We have everything to fear from that eccentric,” Harry Smith concluded. “I know him; he’d sacrifice my daughter for his beloved apes. It would certainly be better to by-pass him.”

  “That will be difficult now. Let’s go back and look elsewhere. That won’t prevent us from coming back tomorrow.”

  They withdrew, and we soon back in Mabel Grotto, the cathedral of diamonds.

  LVI. Gold! Gold! Gold!

  “While lunch is being prepared,” Archibald said to Gorden, “let’s take another look around. I can’t sit still.”

  “Me neither. Let’s go!”

  The rivals, the Englishman and the American, John Bull and Uncle Sam, left their companions to rest, exchanging comments on Goldry’s intervention.

  Having gone around several of the sumptuous colonnades that gave the cavern the appearance of a vast basilica, coarse but precious, and climbed rocks sticky with silicious trickles, Wilson called to Gorden: “Look at this, my dear chap!”

  He saw an enormous well, at the bottom of which were rocky masses half buried in the sand. Its edges, and a part of the wall overlooking it were shining in the light of the electric lamps like marble. Both men’s eyes followed the shiny surface. At the top, near the vault, was a gaping black hole. In a few places, there must once have been fissures in the polished wall, which over time, had been filled by the sediment carried by the waters; they formed brighter streaks in the brown rock, which, from certain luminous angles sparkled with a surprising glare. With the point of his knife, Gorden detached a piece of that substance.

  Having examined it attentively, he said: “Gold! It’s gold!”

  Archibald went pale. “Not a word about this find to our companions. Some of them would abandon the expedition, thinking of nothing but the discovery of the gold. I’ve seen comrades driven mad by the prospectors of the Klondike, abandoning everything—wife, children, family—to race after the sublime metal.”

  “For centuries,” said Gorden, “this was a waterfall carrying gold with the chalk. The richness of these veins tells us that there must be a con
siderable mass of gold powder at the bottom of this well.”

  “Yes, I believe so. When we’re rescued Mabel and she’s made her choice, it will be a compensation for the loser.”

  “I’m afraid that we might both be losers, and that Mabel will prefer an ape to either of us.”

  LVII. Where An Ape Has Been...

  Gorden sat down on a boulder and indicated another to his companion.

  “Let’s have a little chat.”

  “I’m listening,” said Archibald.

  “My dear chap, living and running dangers together brings men closer together, and, over and above amorous rivalries, can give birth to a serious friendship. I’ve had the opportunity to study you, and I’m sure of the honesty of our character. I don’t know whether I inspire the same confidence in you but, for my part, I declare that I have a quasi-fraternal affection for you.”

  Archibald held out his hand. “Friends,” he said, “in the face of and against anything.”

  Having returned the cordial handshake, Gorden continued. “Now I have the right and the duty to speak. I’m ten years older that you, my dear chap. In consequence, I’ve struggled against life and its passions; it was the chagrin of a failed love-affair that first led me to seek my fortune here, perhaps trying to forget. When hazard brought me into contact with Miss Smith, I was struck by a certain resemblance with the beloved I’d lost. With time and reflection, I’ve perceived that the resemblance was more fictitious than real. The truth is that Mabel was the first woman I saw after leaving England, and my imagination did the rest. The abduction of Miss Smith by Ouha brought a saner reasoning back to my mind and I perceived that I wasn’t in love with Miss Smith, but with the appearance of the woman I’d lost. Since then, I’ve followed the expedition like an amateur avid for new distractions; I’m no longer your competitor, and I renounce the conquest of that new Golden Fleece. Unless...”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless you renounce an alliance with Miss Smith yourself...”

  “I will always love Mabel, as long as I live.”

  “Good—very good; those words are worthy of you. But...”

  “But what?”

  “The ape...”

  “Ouha?” Archibald stammered.

  “The orangutan who was the first to possess the virgin billionairess, the American woman with the golden fleece.”

  “That’s horrible. I’ve thought about it many times; it terrifies my thoughts. Whatever the case might be, I’ll do my duty, and I won’t abandon Mabel to that horrible intimacy.”

  “I’m with you in that objective—and from now on, Archibald, you no longer have a rival, but a friend determined to do anything for the success of our project.”

  “Thank you, Brother. Now, I can face the future without dread.”

  “Alas, we’re both rational minds—exceptions, like the eccentric and marvelous Mabel—and the sufferings of so-called civilized men are too abundant; that’s why I’m afraid of the appeal of the natural life to certain souls overly desirous of new sensations.”

  “Whatever happens, we’ll both have gained a fraternal friendship. Now, let’s continue our research.”

  “Shall we go down into the well? It seems quite easy.”

  “Easy? No, but feasible. The best thing to do now is to follow the ancient path hollowed out by the waters. It must necessarily have an exit; thus far, we’ve been following these paths upstream; let’s go downstream now, especially if they head westwards.”

  LVIII. A Cataract of Gold

  The two men undertook the descent, rendered difficult primarily by the lack of light. The beams of the electric lamps did not extend very far. Finally, sliding and jumping from block to block, they reached the bottom. They found themselves in the middle of an immense arena of sand, with enormous rocky masses scattered here and there. They wandered around in search of an exit but without result.

  “Let’s go back to our departure-point,” said Gorden, “and try not to go astray in all this rocky rubble.”

  They followed their footprints in the sand backwards, along the wall—which, fortunately, was free on that side.

  “Let’s check my hypothesis,” said Gorden. “It won’t delay us for long.”

  Indeed, at the foot of the ancient cataract, the falling waters had thrown a mass of sand sideways around their point of their fall, and along the wall, its depth was less than a meter. Hurling the friable soil to the right and he left, the Englishman rapidly laid bare a thick layer of gold powder, mingled with tiny nuggets.

  Amazed and wonderstruck, the two men looked at one another anxiously.

  “There’s a colossal fortune here,” said Gorden. “We’ll come back.”

  Having shoveled the sand back over the gold powder and nuggets, they went along the wall of the ancient cataract for about three hundred paces; then, the chaos of sand and rocks resumed.

  “We can see here,” Archibald said, “what would become of Niagara Falls if, by virtue of some seismic phenomenon, the St. Lawrence was deflected from its course and the cataracts and whirlpools dried out.”

  “In nature, my dear chap, everything happens, comes to an end and recommences.”

  LIX. Mabel! Mabel! Mabel!

  In every good girl,

  Even the most genteel...

  “Shall we go on, Gorden?”

  “Let’s. I have an intuition that we’re going to find more tunnels, for at the bottom of that huge waterfall, among the frightful eddies and undertows of those masses of water, all the soft parts of the mountain must have been eaten away and mined. Many tunnels like those we’ve already come through must have been filled in by subsidence, but we have proof that some remain—and...”

  “Look, there...” Archibald gestured toward a vast dark cave partly masked by an enormous rock. “Before we go into it, let’s get our bearings, for if the excavation doesn’t lead in the right direction, there’s no point in going into it.” He consulted his compass. “Due, North, Gorden, my friend—it’s no good to us.”

  As they were going past the entrance, without going in, Gorden paused.

  “Archibald, can you smell something?”

  “Yes. One might think it were the odor of wood-smoke.”

  “Perhaps it’s our fire, whose smoke, by virtue of some bizarre air-current, is emerging from here.”

  “Shall we try to find out how?”

  They agreed to do so. After a thousand paces, the tunnel turned sharply to the west; at the same time, the odor of smoke became increasingly evident.

  Suddenly, Gorden gripped his companion’s arm. “Listen!” he whispered.

  They both stopped, and picked up their ears.

  “A mandolin!” said Archibald. “Well! What does that signify? If I were on my own, I’d think I was going mad.”

  “Let’s go on, taking every precaution. Try not to sneeze in the chimney-flue.”

  They went on as slowly as possible, without making any noise; the chords became louder and louder.

  Suddenly, a clear and delightful voice rose up, intoning a Yankee song.

  In every good girl,

  Even the most genteel

  There’s always something wicked.

  The two men had difficulty suppressing a cry.

  “Mabel! That’s Mabel’s voice!”

  Another twenty paces, and stop! The tunnel was obstructed by a huge boulder that had fallen from the vault and blocked the corridor completely. Only at the top near the vault was there still a narrow passage, through which the smoke of a fire and the sound of the prisoner’s voice were coming.

  “Lend me your shoulders,” said Gorden.

  Archibald understood. He was the taller of the two. He set his back against the rock, after having put down his weapons. Gorden clambered up on the Wilson’s shoulders; from there, by stretching as far as possible, he was able to catch hold of a sharp rocky ledge. He pulled himself up by the strength of his wrists, adjusted his equilibrium, gripped the rim with his elbow and g
ot his head and shoulders into the gap. Once he was on top he observed that there was room to stand up, and did. The block on which he was standing having once formed part of the vault, there was a large hole there, in which twenty men could easily have stood.

  After a few moments, his eyes having grown accustomed to the darkness—for he had prudently refrained from switching on his torch—he made out a ray of light ahead of him, at floor level. Gorden lay down on the uneven ground, and crawled toward the light, in the direction from which the smoke and music were coming.

  The narrowness of the fissure only allowed him to see a part of the inferior cavern, but what he could see was not without interest. Directly facing him, squatting in the Oriental fashion, was the gigantic Ouha, drinking a fuming liquid. Beside him, on a tray of large green leaves, was a heap of fruits. A little way behind him was Dilou, seated on the ground, and behind her, standing up, was the Malay woman, Rava.

  Mabel, undoubtedly positioned against the wall, was invisible for the moment. She was singing a new song when a new individual appeared in view: a female orangutan who, kettle in hand, was refilling the drinking-vessels. The song concluded in the midst of general applause.

  Gorden judged that the audience must be numerous. The clapping of hands was mingled with the resounding blows of the fists with which the orangs struck their breasts, which resounded like gongs. Suddenly, the mandolin traversed Gorden’s line of sight with lightning rapidity, while his attention was caught by another individual whom he had not noticed until then. It was a chimpanzee who, seated to the left of Ouha, the monarch, had caught the flying mandolin in mid-air.