While he was thus occupied, the old man recovered from his fit. For a time he sat watching the boy; then he staggered to his feet and went to the galley from which he presently returned with food which he threw upon the deck beside the little waif. The boy looked up gratefully, but the terrible scowl upon the old man’s vicious face froze the smile upon his lips.
Immediately after he had eaten, the boy’s education was commenced. The old man was a deaf mute. The boy had no memory of speech. Under these conditions the process of instruction was laborious, but the frightful disposition of the cruel teacher spurred the pupil on to his best efforts that he might escape the terrible beatings that were his almost hourly lot during the strenuous days of his education.
About all that was required of him was to fish for food for themselves and the lion, cook the meals for himself and the old man, and keep the ship’s lights trimmed and burning by night. He soon discovered that his master, the lion, and himself were the only tenants of the drifting derelict.
He never, even to himself, questioned the strange conditions of his life. Except for his brief experiences in the ocean and later in the life boat, he knew no other existence. Insofar as he was aware the deck of the steamer was the universe, and they three the beginning and the end of life.
When he had come aboard, the lion’s cage had been a mass of filth; but presently the boy, prompted by a strange liking for cleanliness, had cleaned it out. Thereafter; daily, he reached far in with a broom, and flushed the cage with pails of sea water. The lion was strangely indifferent to his close proximity, though when the old man came near the beast flew into the most frightful rages.
It was not long before the youth discovered the cause of the beast’s hatred for the man. The second day of his presence aboard the ship he saw the old fellow creeping stealthily toward the cage with a sharp pointed iron bar in his hands. He crawled upon all fours and upon his hideous features was set an expression of bestial cunning.
The lion saw him at about the same time that the boy did, and with the sight the animal crouched, snarling and moaning, upon the floor of his cage. He lashed his strong tail against the planking, bared his mighty teeth, and as the man came closer backed into the farthermost corner of his prison.
Evidently the thing was but a repetition of previous similar occurrences. It seemed a sort of weird and brutal game that the two were playing — the repulsive and hideous old man mewing and mouthing at the great beast that lashed itself into a frenzy of impotent rage in the far comer of its cage.
Slowly the old man approached. At last he was close to the rusting bars, and then with a maniacal screech he lunged at the lion with his sharp pointed weapon. Screaming and roaring with pain and rage the beast leaped for the tantalizing bar. Between his giant teeth he seized it, but the old man clung tenaciously to his end and each time that the lion loosed his hold to give a fresh roar of anger the tormentor was permitted to prod him once again with the sharp point. The brutal scene endured until the old man became exhausted, and then, mumbling and laughing to himself, he slunk away to hide his weapon in his cabin.
When he had gone the boy approached the cage where the lion lay rumbling out his rage and licking his wounds. The beast was gaunt and mangy from confinement and improper food; but notwithstanding that and its youth it was already a formidable engine of destruction, yet the youth came quite close to it as fearlessly as though it had been a puppy; and extending his hand into the cage stroked its head, purring to it much after the fashion that the lion himself purred when contented.
The boy was sorry for the suffering animal, since he knew by experience the pain that the old man could inflict, as he himself had already twice brought down upon himself the vicious assaults of the ancient defective although he had been but little more than a day upon the derelict.
The lion permitted the child to caress him, and at last his grumbling ceased. His great tongue licked the hand of his little friend and he hugged close to the bars of his cage to be closer to the boy.
Thus the old man found them when he came on deck later. The sight seemed to arouse his rage once more; and with vicious cuffs and kicks he drove the youth away from the cage, setting him to fishing over the side.
Thus the days ran — long, monotonous days that trailed on into weeks and months, and still the same round of vicious abuse for the lad and the lion. The same hopeless, endless eternity of hate and fear for the hideous old man — the vicious old moron who hovered constantly over them, taking his only pleasure — his fiendish, brutal pleasure — in the sufferings of the two helpless creatures in his power.
But neither the lion nor the boy knew aught else, other than the few moments of quiet they occasionally found in one another’s company when the told man chanced to be below. And with the passing days the boy grew in stature and in strength, and the lion grew, too, toward the early maturity that was soon to transform him into a mighty, black-maned beauty.
And the old man, his fits of epilepsy more frequent, grew still more cruel and fiendish. And the day of reckoning approached.
CHAPTER 3
Once again a man and a boy walked through the gardens of the palace; and when they approached, sentries snapped to attention and presented arms; but outside the great gates no smiling crowds waited to wave and cheer, and there were many more soldiers at the gates than there ever had been before. The man was tense, his steps jerky; his eyes shifted constantly from side to side, apprehensively; his brows were furrowed by an habitual frown. The boy at his side was sullen, his bearing arrogant.
“How much longer do I have to stay cooped up here like a prisoner?” he demanded. “I want to go for a drive. I want to go to the lodge for a week- end.”
“You would never reach the lodge, you little fool,” snapped the man. “You would be dead before you reached the city limits.”
“Are you not king now?” challenged the boy.
“Yes, I am king; but what of it?” demanded the man.
“If I were king, I should go where I pleased, if I had to take the whole army with me. I should have the dogs shot down, if they tried to stop me - what they need is a lesson.”
“They had one last Friday,” said the man. “That is one of the reasons we had better stay out of the city for a while.”
“It was not very much of a lesson,” sneered the boy; “the soldiers killed only seven of them. When I am king, I shall kill them all if they don’t behave.”
“You may be king much sooner than you expect,” said the man.
“Why?” demanded the boy.
“Because I listened to poor advice. I hope you will not do the same. Times have changed. Peoples have discovered that they can get what they demand. They demanded a constitutional government with a figurehead king. I didn’t give it to them.”
* * * * *
Three men sat at a table at a sidewalk cafe. One of them might have been a college professor, one a workingman, and the third, from his military bearing, a soldier. Other diners sat near them, and people were constantly passing close to their table on the sidewalk. They spoke in ordinary conversational tones that anyone listening might have overheard. They did not look nor act like conspirators, yet they were plotting to overthrow a dynasty, to assassinate a king and his son. In the order that I have described them they were Andresy, Bulvik, and Carlyn — A, B, and C — names that will serve our purpose as well as any other, since all names in this story must be fictional. The openness of their plotting bespoke their contempt for the forces of the government, their certainty that the people were with them.
“I think it was Sarnya,” said Bulvik. “Otto was the only other one who knew, and he certainly wouldn’t have warned the king.”
“What proof have you that the king was warned?” asked Andresy.
“He had promised Michael to take him with him that morning when he drove,” replied Bulvik. “Michael had asked to drive in the park. We got this direct from one of our agents in the palace; then at the last minute, when the
boy was all ready to go, the king refused to take him. Jagst went to the carriage with the old man, and was evidently trying to dissuade him from going. Jagst looked worried. And then what? Why, after it happened Jagst and the boy disappeared. Can’t you see that they must have known? Somebody had to tell them. It must have been Sarnya.”
“Why should he tell them?” demanded Carlyn. “He was only a captain in the guard under the old king; now he is General Count Sarnya, Chief of Staff.”
“Then who could it have been?” demanded Bulvik.
Andresy shook his head. “What is done, is done,” he said. “We must profit by our experience. We must not trust any of them. Meyer trusted them and he is dead, and we have a worse king than we had before. Where is our fine new constitution now? We have it all to do over again.”
“And it is going to be far more difficult now that Sarnya is Chief of Staff,” said Carlyn. “He has the army behind him solidly, for he is as popular with the rank and file as he has always been with the officers. Furthermore, he has persuaded Otto to increase the pay right down the line.”
“And the people pay,” growled Bulvik.
“If Sarnya were eliminated,” suggested Andresy, “we might get some place. He has the brains and the courage. Otto has neither.”
“I’d kill ’em all,” said Bulvik, “Sarnya, Otto, and his nasty little brat, Ferdinand — all of ‘em.”
Andresy shook his head. “We cannot do that,” he said: “we must continue to have a king. If Meyer had lived, it might have been different. He was the only man that all the factions might have been depended upon to rally round. If Sarnya were out of the way, we could control Otto. He’s so scared now, since the Good Friday Massacre, that he doesn’t dare leave the palace grounds. He’d give us anything we asked if we’d guarantee him safety.”
“I will kill Sarnya,” said Bulvik. “I swear it!”
* * * * *
“Lessons, lessons, lessons!” grumbled Ferdinand. “I am sick of lessons.”
“Well, perhaps you need a rest,” said the tutor. “We can go out into the gardens and you can play.”
“Play with whom? You?” sneered Ferdinand.
“No, Ferdinand. There is the gardener’s son. He is a nice boy.”
“I do not play with scum,” said Ferdinand.
“Michael used to play with him,” replied the tutor.
“I am not Michael.”
“I realize that.”
“And when you address me, remember that I am Highness.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Now get out. I’m going into the gardens. I want to be alone.”
“‘But, Your Highness, you should not go alone,” objected the tutor. “His Majesty has given strict orders.”
“Shut up and get out!” shouted the prince.
“But, Your Maj—” Ferdinand picked up an inkwell and hurled it at the tutor’s head.
“Get out and stay out!” he screamed.
* * * * *
“What is it, Carruthers?” asked the king.
“I wish to be relieved,” said Carruthers. “I am going back to England.”
“Well, what’s the trouble? You’re the third one in a month. Aren’t you being paid enough?”
“He just threw an inkwell at my head, Sir,” said the tutor.
“Oh, tut, tut, Carruthers; you must remember he’s a very high-strung lad. You must remember, too, that he is crown prince and that some day he will be king — he has certain prerogatives.”
“He may exercise them on someone else, Sir. I am leaving.”
* * * * *
There was a bench in the garden that was partially concealed by shrubbery. However, one could see out into the garden from it although almost concealed oneself.
This was a favorite place of Ferdinand’s when he went into the garden alone to sulk, as he was doing today. He thought that his lot was a very hard one, and so he felt quite sorry for himself. He wished that he were king, notwithstanding the fact that only through the death of his father could he become king.
Presently his rather handsome, sullen face lighted as something in the garden attracted his attention. It was a girl of about his own age. She was gathering flowers and humming a little tune. She was a very pretty little girl.
“Come here!” commanded Ferdinand.
The girl looked up and around, startled. She could see no one.
“Come here,” repeated Ferdinand.
“Where?” asked the girl. “I do not see you.” “Over here under the magnolia tree,” directed Ferdinand.
The girl came timidly toward him, and when she saw him she curtsied.
“Come closer,” he directed, and when she stood in front of him, “What is your name?”
“Hilda.”
“What are you doing in the palace grounds?” demanded the prince.
“My father is employed here.” “He is an official of the palace?” asked Ferdinand. “He is a noble?” “Oh, no; he is chief gardener.” Ferdinand grimaced. “Nevertheless, you are very pretty,” he said. “Do you know who I am?” “Yes, Your Highness.”
“I would not have guessed it from your manner of addressing me,” he said, with a trace of sarcasm.
“I do not understand,” she said. “Did I do something wrong?”
“People usually say ‘Highness’ when they reply to my questions,” he said.
She started to giggle, but caught herself. “We always called Michael ‘Mike’,” she said, “but then he was crown prince for so long that he probably got used to it.”
Ferdinand flushed. “Well,” he said, “when we’re alone you may call me Ferdinand.”
“Thank you, Highness,” she said.
“Sit down,” said Ferdinand, moving over on the bench to make room for her. “Do you know you are very pretty?”
“Yes, Highness,” she replied.
“I am very lonely,” he said. “Talk to me.” “Let me go and get Hans,” she suggested. “We can play hide-and-go-seek.” “Who is Hans?” he asked suspiciously.
“My brother.”
“Oh,” said Ferdinand. “No,” he added after a moment’s thought. “I may play with you but not with your brother.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because you are a girl. It is all right for a prince or a king to play with a girl of the lower classes but not with boys.”
“Why?” she demanded.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but one is always hearing of kings and princes having girl friends whose parents are very low indeed.”
For half an hour Ferdinand was almost happy and almost human; then Hilda said that she must go.
“You will come into the garden again tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yes, Ferdinand.”
“And every day at this time.” “If I can,” she promised.
* * * * *
The next day a man came to Martin de Groot, the head gardener, and applied for a position as laborer.
He had excellent credentials. They were forged, but Martin de Groot did not know that; so he put him to work, being short-handed because two of his men had been on the streets on Good Friday and been killed by the soldiers. The new man’s name was Bulvik.
CHAPTER 4
Months rolled into years, and still the drifting derelict pursued her tortuous and erratic course at the behest of current, wind, and tide. That she ever was reported is doubtful, as few ships sighted her that might have guessed that anything was wrong aboard her; and she was no particular menace to navigation as her lights burned brightly by night, and by day only the practiced eye of an attentive mariner could have noted any strangeness about her.
When a ship was sighted whose course might bring it close to the derelict the old man would have the boy light a smudge in the fire box in the boiler room. The passing stranger seeing black smoke issuing from the single funnel, and the ship’s nose in the wind, would assume that she had hove to for some minor repairs.
On the
few occasions that ships had spoken or desired to board her, the deaf mute had run a smallpox flag to the mast head; thus effectually checking the curiosity and enthusiasm of the strangers.
After each such encounter, if the ships had stood close enough to have read the steamer’s name upon her stern, the old fellow would laboriously paint it out and rechristen her. At other times he had the boy repaint the hull above the water line — so that the ship was sometimes grey, sometimes black, and again white, while the upper works varied from red to yellow.
Thus, in a way, the derelict usually looked quite spick and span, and, as a consignment of paint had been a part of her cargo at the time of her abandonment, in this respect at least it seemed little likely that she would ever give outward evidence to passing ships that she was a helpless, unmanned vessel.
The boy had never wondered why a ship should be thus aimlessly floating as he had found her with only an old man and a lion aboard her, for remembering nothing of his past existence he assumed without question that this was the only form and manner of life. When he had seen the first ship that approached them after he had become a member of the derelict’s strange company, he had been filled with excitement since then it was that he realized that there were other creatures and other ships upon the face of the watery universe that was all he knew; but even then he believed that there could be naught aboard the stranger but old men and lions and boys.
During the years that came and went the old man taught the youth a sort of rude jargon composed of signs and the manual speech of deaf mutes — enough so that he could impart his instructions to his poor little slave. Knowing no spoken language, nor any difference in mentality between himself and the lion, the youth labored diligently to devise a similar system wherewith he and the great cat might converse. In this, of course, he failed; yet there was unquestionably a kind of thought transference, if you will, between the lad and the lion that as the years passed became little short of uncanny, so quickly did each grasp the wishes and intentions of the other.
Delphi Collected Works of Edgar Rice Burroughs (Illustrated) (Series Four Book 26) Page 484