“I found the white girl, an Englishwoman, but she was not my wife...”
“Good heavens!” I said. “Where is she? Have you hidden her out there?”
“She’s still with the sultan of the tribe,” he said sourly. “I went to much trouble to rescue her, had to kill a dozen or so tribesmen getting to her, and a dozen on the way out. And then the woman told me she was perfectly happy with the sultan and would I please return her. I told her to find her own way back. I detest violence which can be avoided. If only she had told me beforehand.... Well, that’s all over.”
I did not comment. I thought it indiscreet to point out that the woman could not have told him how she felt until after he had fought his way in. And I doubted that she had an opportunity to voice her opposition on the way out.
“I drove the Germans this way because I expected that they would, like you, be picked up by the Zu-Vendis. Tomorrow night, all four of you prisoners are scheduled to be sacrificed on the temple altar. I got back an hour ago to get you two out.”
“That was cutting it close, wasn’t it?” Holmes said.
“You mean to leave Von Bork and Reich here?” I said. “To be slaughtered like sheep? And what about the woman, Nylepthah? What kind of life is that, being confined from birth to death in that house, being denied the love and companionship of a husband, forced to murder poor devils of captives?”
“Yes,” said Holmes. “Reich is a very decent fellow and should be treated like a prisoner of war. I wouldn’t mind at all if Von Bork were to die, but only he knows the location of the SB papers. The fate of Britain, of her allies, hangs on those papers. As for the woman, well, she is of good British stock and it seems a shame to leave her here in this squalidness.”
“So she can go to London and perhaps live in squalour there?” Greystoke said.
“I’ll see to it that that does not happen,” I said. “Your Grace, you can have back my fee if you take that woman along.”
Greystoke laughed softly and said, “I couldn’t refuse a man who loves love more than he loves money. And you can keep the fee.”
Twelve
At some time before dawn, Greystoke entered our hut. The Germans were also waiting for him, since we had told them what to expect if they did not leave with us. The duke gestured for silence, unnecessarily, I thought, and we followed him outside. The two guards, gagged and trussed-up, lay by the door. Near them stood Nylepthah, also gagged, her hands bound before her and a rope hobbling her. Her glorious body was concealed in a cloak. The duke removed the hobble, gestured at us, took the woman by the arm, and we walked silently through the village. Our immediate goal was the beach, where we intended to steal two boats. We would paddle to the foot of the cliff on top of which was the bamboo boom and ascend the ropes. Then we would cut the ropes so that we could not be followed. Greystoke had come down on the rope after disposing of the guards at the boom. He would climb back up the rope and then pull us up.
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 forth, 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.
&nb
sp; “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 Bork’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.”
The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: The Peerless Peer Page 8