Our unfortunate mishap caused us considerable uneasiness. It was not so much on account of our personal safety, although of that we had ample cause to fear; but I worried lest my father or Uncle Naboth, suspecting we were captured, should send out a party to attempt to rescue us. From my present information I knew that would mean death to them all; only while in the ship fort, with ample supplies of guns and ammunition, could they successfully oppose these numerous and powerful Faytans.
At noon we were given ample rations of excellent food; fish, turtle and lobster forming the chief dishes. The drinking water, almost ice-cold from earthen jars, was the finest I ever tasted. Women waited upon us, but when I spoke to them in their native tongue they refused to answer.
After the meal the king came in, unannounced and alone. The youth walked with great dignity and his face was very sad. Sitting upon a bench beside us he said:
“You will tell me of the world beyond the sea, and I will listen. But first tell me your names, and what island you come from.”
We introduced ourselves and said we were Americans, but of course that meant nothing to him.
“I am Attero, the twentieth of that name who has ruled in Faytan,” said he proudly. Then he began to examine our clothing and to feel the texture of the cloth, asking us how it was made and of what use the various garments might be.
Joe is not much of a talker, so I spent several hours giving the king the most primitive sort of information, taking care to so explain our machinery and inventions as to set him wondering at our cleverness. He was more interested at first in “the weapon that stings” than in any other mechanical contrivance, and you may be sure I explained the death-dealing character of our guns in a most impressive manner.
“Your people are many, oh King,” said I; “but our rifles and revolvers have more stings in them than you have people, although our own numbers are so few.”
He pondered this a moment.
“I thought that might be so,” he returned. “That is a reason why I did not sooner send my people to capture you. My chief Medicine Man, Kuru, has been studying this matter, and Kuru has found that while the metal stings enter human flesh, and pass through it, they do not go far into the bark of the trees. For when my father and some of his people were stung, many other stings flew over their heads and reached the forest, where we found the marks they made. This is the first time such weapons have been used by invaders into Faytan. All others have had spears and arrows like our own. Also you are the only pale-skins who have come to Faytan.”
“The pale-skins have more wisdom than the dark-skins,” I asserted. “They have conquered all the known world. The reason Faytan has not yet been conquered by us is that until the storm drove us upon your coast we did not know such an island existed.”
He bowed gravely.
“That proves how wise my forefathers were in making our laws,” said he. “We have been left in peace because the restless pale-skins, who love to conquer what does not belong to them, did not know where to find Faytan. Had we permitted any to leave our shores alive you would then have heard of us. Also my forefathers declared that other nations would want our pearls, which have brought good luck to us for many years. Is that also true?”
“It is,” I replied frankly. “My people like all pretty things, and you must know that pearls are found not alone in Faytan, but in many other parts of the world.”
He seemed surprised.
“As many as we have?” he asked.
“Perhaps not. But pearls are not unknown to us. See,” and I showed him my watch fob, which was set with a large diamond surrounded by small pearls. He paid no attention to the diamond but examined the pearls carefully. Then he smiled.
“Have you seen any so small, so dull and colorless in my kingdom?” he asked.
“No, your Majesty.”
“Such trifles grow in small shellfish, which we do not open, but throw back into the sea to allow them to grow. Those which you have are dead. The life is gone from them. We know how to keep all our pearls alive by bathing them in the salt water,” he said. Then he asked, “What is on the other end of this yellow chain?”
I exhibited my watch and explained its use. He was greatly excited over this trinket, especially when I showed him the wheels and how to keep them going by winding. I thought it good policy to make him a present of the watch, which was a cheap affair, and he accepted it with evidences of joy and gave me in return a necklace of pearls worth a fortune.
When he left us he said:
“You must tell me more of your wonderful land and your wise people, for truly you are able to teach me much.”
He paused on his way out and came slowly back to us.
“Tell me how my people can be safe from your stings,” he begged.
“By keeping a long distance away from them,” I replied promptly.
“Is there no other way?”
“None, your Majesty.”
“My chief Medicine Man, Kuru, thought that if we made shields of bark, and carried them before us, the stings would not hurt.”
That explained the work we had seen the natives doing in the forest. But I hastened to assure King Attero that such shields were useless, as when they came near to our guns the bullets would go through them easily.
“Then,” said he, in a grieved tone, “many of my people will die, for they will make the attack to-morrow morning.”
“Can you not send swift messengers and stop them?” I asked anxiously “I will not do that,” he answered, “for it is not good to give one order to change another. But I will spend the night in beseeching the great Pearl God to protect my people from the pale-skins. Our god has never yet failed us.”
With that he left us and we saw no more of him until the following afternoon. When he entered our room then, the boy king was more cheerful of countenance and stepped more firmly and proudly than ever.
“The Pearl God told me not to fear, for all would be well with my people,” he announced.
I looked at him curiously. Could one so naturally intelligent really believe some mythical god had spoken to him? But it is not safe to question anyone’s religion. Ignoring the point, I asked:
“Have you heard news of the battle?”
“Yes. Many of my warriors have been killed, and your ship has not yet been captured. But they are still fighting.”
I heard this report with pleasure, and Joe shouted: “Hooray!”
The king did not seem annoyed.
“If we do not succeed to-day, we will to-morrow,” he prophesied, with cool assurance. “For to-morrow I shall go to the battle myself, and carry with me our greatest Chieftain, known as the Crooked One.”
“May we go, also?” I inquired, eagerly.
He considered the request thoughtfully. Then he replied:
“It would seem best to drown you both this evening, before I leave for the fight. The Crooked One has advised that, and his wisdom is great. But I wish to be taught more of your knowledge, so I will let you live until my return.”
“But why must we stay here?” I asked.
“Would you assist me in defeating your people, if I took you with me?”
“No,” said I.
He took my hand and touched it lightly to his breast.
“What I like in the pale-skins,” he said, “is the truth-tongue. You do not try to deceive me. That is why I have let you live to teach me. From a lying teacher I would gain but little knowledge.”
I have said before that this boy was remarkably intelligent for a savage. There was also a nobility in his nature that was admirable and noteworthy. I am no more truthful than the average American, but it was not easy to try to deceive one of so simple and frank a character. From the first I had thought it the best policy to be honest with him. Had the pale-skins always been honest in their dealings with the dark-skinned races many national tragedies would have been averted.
We passed several hours in conversation, Joe taking a part in the talk, now and t
hen, but leaving most of it to me. Finally the king withdrew, saying he would not see us again until after his return from the “war.”
It was getting dark and we were thinking of going to bed on our benches — which were plentifully supplied with soft blankets — when a sound of slow and dragging footsteps along the corridor aroused us. A light flickered across the doorway and was followed by a native bearing a torch of rottenwood.
At once I knew who it was. The shrewd, withered features, iron-gray locks and penetrating glance; the humpbacked frame, long arms and spindle legs could belong to none but the “Crooked One,” of whom the king had spoken. I wondered if he came with his Majesty’s permission, for he shielded the torch with a portion of an ample robe that partially covered his misshapen body and peered at us silently a while before addressing us.
Then he said, speaking in a low, soft voice:
“Strangers, I am here to assist you. Our mighty King, the wise Attero, has accepted you as his friends; but that will not save you from the death which the law decrees.”
He paused impressively, and I asked:
“What will save us, then?”
“Perhaps nothing at all,” he returned, evasively. “But I am the King’s adviser, even as I was his father’s adviser, and I command all the warriors of Faytan. If King Attero listens to anyone, he will listen to me.”
“And you will try to save us?”
“If you will do what I am about to ask.”
I reflected.
“There seems no way to evade the law,” said I. “The law is as old as Faytan, I am told, and demands the death of every stranger landing upon your shores. The King has himself informed us that he is powerless to evade the law, even if he desired to.”
The Crooked One smiled sardonically.
“Who makes the laws of Faytan?” he demanded.
“The King’s forefathers made this law, it seems,” I returned.
“True. Only the King can make a law in Faytan. And — only the King can unmake it.”
I sprang to my feet, inspired by a new hope. Of course the king had power to abrogate the present law! Why had I not thought of this before? It was an absurd law. The king was our friend.
The Crooked One, having spoken so impressively, was now regarding us with marked attention. The look enabled me to recover my composure quickly.
“Well, then?” said I.
He sat down upon a bench, looking more crooked than ever.
“I am Chief of the Warriors of Faytan,” he repeated. “I have fought many invaders, and all are dead. For it is true that until now none has been able to resist the number and power of the Faytans I have led. Your own people cannot resist them for long; yet they are more terrible in a fight than any we have ever met. There are perhaps as many persons in your ship as I have fingers and toes; there are more Faytans than the hairs of my head. In time, in spite of your stinging weapons, which the King says are called guns, we shall surely capture you all. But if there is much fighting many of my warriors will have died before we conquer and destroy the pale-skins. I do not wish to have my warriors die. Why is it necessary? So I have come to you, the King’s teachers, to say this: Teach me, also. Teach me how to capture your people, and in return I will ask the King to make a new law and cancel the old one, so that you two will be permitted to remain in Faytan as long as you live, not only safe from harm, but honored by the King and all his people.”
“Chief,” I returned, amused but angry, “we could not be honored by anyone if we proved ourselves dishonorable. Will any of your warriors betray you, or your King, to save their own lives? I do not think they would. Nor will we be less noble than the Faytans. But I will give you this answer: We could not betray our people if we would; for there is no way you or your warriors can avoid death if you fight with the pale-skins. Had you made them your friends they would have gone away and left you in peace. But if you foolishly continue to make war upon them, you and your island are lost forever, for no human power can save you.”
“A man is but a man,” he returned, “whether his skin be pale or brown. You have powerful weapons, but you are few in numbers. If you could kill half my warriors the other half would finally conquer you.”
“That remains to be proven,” I said.
He arose from the bench and paced up and down, the light of the torch making him appear like some huge goblin.
“So you would sacrifice your own lives to save your friends?” he asked.
“Willingly, if it is necessary.”
“And are they as loyal to you?”
“Any one of them would die to save us,” I asserted proudly.
He laughed at this; a low, cackling laugh that was not pleasant to hear.
“Then they must be allowed to do so,” he said, and picking up the torch left the room without another word or even a parting glance in our direction.
“I don’t like that,” growled Joe. “He’s up to some deviltry, I’m sure.”
“The same thing has occurred to me,” I replied. “Let us remember his words. He will allow our friends to die to save our lives. It’s a trick of some sort, Joe. The Crooked One is far more dangerous than the King himself.”
“What can he do?” inquired my friend.
“I don’t know; but that clever old head has conceived some shrewd idea, or I’m greatly mistaken. We must be on our guard, Joe. I wish we had some way of warning our people.”
“Might send them a wireless,” said Joe, grinning.
“Well, let’s go to bed and forget it,” I suggested. “Nothing can happen before morning, anyhow.”
CHAPTER 13
LIVING SHIELDS
But in this declaration I was wrong. Something happened within the hour — a summons to attend the king. We had gone to bed but had not fallen asleep when the messenger came, so in a few moments we were ready to follow the captain of the guard to the throne room.
His Majesty was ready for the field. He bore a short spear with rows of pearls set in the shaft, and over his shoulder was slung a bow and sheaf of arrows. In his belt was the native two-edged tomahawk, and the young fellow looked fit to render a good account of himself, had he been going to fight savages like himself.
Beside the king stood the Crooked One, who bore no arms at all. We afterward learned that this famous chieftain, contrary to the custom of these islanders, never fought in person but contented himself planning the battle and directing his men. In this he was unconsciously imitating the great generals of the civilized world.
“Come,” said Attero. “We are ready for the journey.”
“Oh! are we to go along?” I asked in surprise.
“Yes,” said he, and marched out into the square. We followed. It was pitch dark, but a group of men outside bore torches. Several litters had been provided, similar to the “stretchers” we carry wounded men on. The king took possession of one of these, the Crooked One of another. A third and fourth were for the use of Joe and myself. As soon as I had reclined upon the litter four men started away with it, going on a jog trot, and I found it by no means uncomfortable.
It was a queer procession. Half a dozen runners carried torches ahead of us to light the way. The king’s litter came first; then the chieftain’s, followed by mine and Joe’s. More torchbearers closed the line. And so we proceeded at a rapid pace over hill and dale through the black night to the opposite end of the island.
As we came to the further edge of the forest, dawn broke. It was a gray, dismal day and I thought the sky threatened rain.
A great assemblage of warriors met us and welcomed the king and the Crooked One with evident satisfaction. I stood by and listened while several leaders made their reports. It seemed the fighting had been constant the day before, and time and again the natives had been repulsed with heavy loss. The “stinging things” went straight through the bark shields, which the wise Kuru had recommended, and they had therefore been abandoned. Between the forest and the ship the plain was strewn with dead and woun
ded Faytans, and their friends could only go under cover of darkness to reclaim their bodies, as whenever they showed themselves a hail of bullets greeted them.
I was very proud to learn that my friends were doing such excellent work. Against their rapid-fire guns the poor natives with their primitive weapons had no show whatever. Yet the simple creatures had persisted in sacrificing themselves uselessly.
The Crooked One listened calmly to the reports. Then he asked:
“Have any of the invaders left the ship?”
Not any, they told him, since the two who were prisoners had flown away through the air.
“Very good,” said he. “To-day, my warriors, we will capture all the pale-skins.”
I was curious to learn how he would do it; but breakfast seemed the first thing on the programme, and of this meal Joe and I were given an ample share.
Afterwards the king walked aside with his chieftain while they conferred together privately, speaking in low tones. The natives, stolid and calm, obeying implicitly — and indifferent to life or death — awaited their pleasure in silence. Then Joe and I were led to the edge of the forest and permitted to step out into the open and observe the ship. There was no sign of life on board at first, and rather anxiously I pulled out my handkerchief and waved it to and fro, regardless of the Faytans just behind me. Joe imitated my example and after a moment a flag was run up on the mainmast and ducked once or twice to show we had been recognized.
To find only that short distance separating us from our friends was distinctly aggravating and I was almost tempted to cut and run for the ship and chance a spear thrust between my shoulders. Turning my head to see how near the natives were I found the Crooked One grinning with much satisfaction, and saw him exchange a triumphant glance with the youthful king.
This nettled me, for I at once suspected we had been playing into the hands of our enemies and for some reason had been placed where we were in order that our friends on the ship might recognize us. A moment later the chieftain gave a signal and we were seized by strong natives and our hands bound firmly behind our backs.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 725