Delphi Collected Works of Edgar Rice Burroughs (Illustrated) (Series Four Book 26)

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

It was uninhabited, fertile and possessed a clear, sweet brook which had its source in a cold spring in the higher land at the island’s center. Here it was that the Ithaca came to anchor in a little harbor, while her crew under von Horn, and the Malay first mate, Bududreen, accompanied Professor Maxon in search of a suitable location for a permanent camp.

  The cook, a harmless old Chinaman, and Virginia were left in sole possession of the Ithaca.

  Two hours after the departure of the men into the jungle Virginia heard the fall of axes on timber and knew that the site of her future home had been chosen and the work of clearing begun. She sat musing on the strange freak which had prompted her father to bury them in this savage corner of the globe; and as she pondered there came a wistful expression to her eyes, and an unwonted sadness drooped the corners of her mouth.

  Of a sudden she realized how wide had become the gulf between them now. So imperceptibly had it grown since those three horrid days in Ithaca just prior to their departure for what was to have been but a few months’ cruise that she had not until now comprehended that the old relations of open, good-fellowship had gone, possibly forever.

  Had she needed proof of the truth of her sad discovery it had been enough to point to the single fact that her father had brought her here to this little island without making the slightest attempt to explain the nature of his expedition. She had gleaned enough from von Horn to understand that some important scientific experiments were to be undertaken; but what their nature she could not imagine, for she had not the slightest conception of the success that had crowned her father’s last experiment at Ithaca, although she had for years known of his keen interest in the subject.

  The girl became aware also of other subtle changes in her father. He had long since ceased to be the jovial, carefree companion who had shared with her her every girlish joy and sorrow and in whom she had confided both the trivial and momentous secrets of her childhood. He had become not exactly morose, but rather moody and absorbed, so that she had of late never found an opportunity for the cozy chats that had formerly meant so much to them both. There had been too, recently, a strange lack of consideration for herself that had wounded her more than she had imagined. Today there had been a glaring example of it in his having left her alone upon the boat without a single European companion — something that he would never have thought of doing a few months before.

  As she sat speculating on the strange change which had come over her father her eyes had wandered aimlessly along the harbor’s entrance; the low reef that protected it from the sea, and the point of land to the south, that projected far out into the strait like a gigantic index finger pointing toward the mainland, the foliage covered heights of which were just visible above the western horizon.

  Presently her attention was arrested by a tossing speck far out upon the rolling bosom of the strait. For some time the girl watched the object until at length it resolved itself into a boat moving head on toward the island. Later she saw that it was long and low, propelled by a single sail and many oars, and that it carried quite a company.

  Thinking it but a native trading boat, so many of which ply the southern seas, Virginia viewed its approach with but idle curiosity. When it had come to within half a mile of the anchorage of the Ithaca, and was about to enter the mouth of the harbor Sing Lee’s eyes chanced to fall upon it. On the instant the old Chinaman was electrified into sudden and astounding action.

  “Klick! Klick!” he cried, running toward Virginia. “Go b’low, klick.”

  “Why should I go below, Sing?” queried the girl, amazed by the demeanor of the cook.

  “Klick! Klick!” he urged grasping her by the arm — half leading, half dragging her toward the companion-way. “Plilates! Mlalay plilates — Dyak plilates.”

  “Pirates!” gasped Virginia. “Oh Sing, what can we do?”

  “You go b’low. Mebbyso Sing flighten ‘em. Shoot cannon. Bling help. Maxon come klick. Bling men. Chase’m ‘way,” explained the Chinaman. “But plilates see ’em pletty white girl,” he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head dubiously, “then old Sing no can flighten ’em ‘way.”

  The girl shuddered, and crouching close behind Sing hurried below. A moment later she heard the boom of the old brass six pounder which for many years had graced the Ithaca’s stern. In the bow Professor Maxon had mounted a modern machine gun, but this was quite beyond Sing’s simple gunnery. The Chinaman had not taken the time to sight the ancient weapon carefully, but a gleeful smile lit his wrinkled, yellow face as he saw the splash of the ball where it struck the water almost at the side of the prahu.

  Sing realized that the boat might contain friendly natives, but he had cruised these waters too many years to take chances. Better kill a hundred friends, he thought, than be captured by a single pirate.

  At the shot the prahu slowed up, and a volley of musketry from her crew satisfied Sing that he had made no mistake in classifying her. Her fire fell short as did the ball from the small cannon mounted in her bow.

  Virginia was watching the prahu from one of the cabin ports. She saw the momentary hesitation and confusion which followed Sing’s first shot, and then to her dismay she saw the rowers bend to their oars again and the prahu move swiftly in the direction of the Ithaca.

  It was apparent that the pirates had perceived the almost defenseless condition of the schooner. In a few minutes they would be swarming the deck, for poor old Sing would be entirely helpless to repel them. If Dr. von Horn were only there, thought the distracted girl. With the machine gun alone he might keep them off.

  At the thought of the machine gun a sudden resolve gripped her. Why not man it herself? Von Horn had explained its mechanism to her in detail, and on one occasion had allowed her to operate it on the voyage from Singapore. With the thought came action. Running to the magazine she snatched up a feed-belt, and in another moment was on deck beside the astonished Sing.

  The pirates were skimming rapidly across the smooth waters of the harbor, answering Sing’s harmless shots with yells of derision and wild, savage war cries. There were, perhaps, fifty Dyaks and Malays — fierce, barbaric men; mostly naked to the waist, or with war-coats of brilliant colors. The savage headdress of the Dyaks, the long, narrow, decorated shields, the flashing blades of parang and kris sent a shudder through the girl, so close they seemed beneath the schooner’s side.

  “What do? What do?” cried Sing in consternation. “Go b’low. Klick!” But before he had finished his exhortation Virginia was racing toward the bow where the machine gun was mounted. Tearing the cover from it she swung the muzzle toward the pirate prahu, which by now was nearly within range above the vessel’s side — a moment more and she would be too close to use the weapon upon the pirates.

  Virginia was quick to perceive the necessity for haste, while the pirates at the same instant realized the menace of the new danger which confronted them. A score of muskets belched forth their missiles at the fearless girl behind the scant shield of the machine gun. Leaden pellets rained heavily upon her protection, or whizzed threateningly about her head — and then she got the gun into action.

  At the rate of fifty a minute, a stream of projectiles tore into the bow of the prahu when suddenly a richly garbed Malay in the stern rose to his feet waving a white cloth upon the point of his kris. It was the Rajah Muda Saffir — he had seen the girl’s face and at the sight of it the blood lust in his breast had been supplanted by another.

  At sight of the emblem of peace Virginia ceased firing. She saw the tall Malay issue a few commands, the oarsmen bent to their work, the prahu came about, making off toward the harbor’s entrance. At the same moment there was a shot from the shore followed by loud yelling, and the girl turned to see her father and von Horn pulling rapidly toward the Ithaca.

  CHAPTER 2

  THE HEAVY CHEST

  Virginia and Sing were compelled to narrate the adventure of the afternoon a dozen times. The Chinaman was at a loss to understand what had deterred the pirates a
t the very threshold of victory. Von Horn thought that they had seen the reinforcements embarking from the shore, but Sing explained that that was impossible since the Ithaca had been directly between them and the point at which the returning crew had entered the boats.

  Virginia was positive that her fusillade had frightened them into a hasty retreat, but again Sing discouraged any such idea when he pointed to the fact that another instant would have carried the prahu close to the Ithaca’s side and out of the machine gun’s radius of action.

  The old Chinaman was positive that the pirates had some ulterior motive for simulating defeat, and his long years of experience upon pirate infested waters gave weight to his opinion. The weak spot in his argument was his inability to suggest a reasonable motive. And so it was that for a long time they were left to futile conjecture as to the action that had saved them from a bloody encounter with these bloodthirsty sea wolves.

  For a week the men were busy constructing the new camp, but never again was Virginia left without a sufficient guard for her protection. Von Horn was always needed at the work, for to him had fallen the entire direction of matters of importance that were at all of a practical nature. Professor Maxon wished to watch the building of the houses and the stockade, that he might offer such suggestions as he thought necessary, and again the girl noticed her father’s comparative indifference to her welfare.

  She had been shocked at his apathy at the time of the pirate attack, and chagrined that it should have been necessary for von Horn to have insisted upon a proper guard being left with her thereafter.

  The nearer the approach of the time when he might enter again upon those experiments which had now been neglected for the better part of a year the more self absorbed and moody became the professor. At times he was scarcely civil to those about him, and never now did he have a pleasant word or a caress for the daughter who had been his whole life but a few short months before.

  It often seemed to Virginia when she caught her father’s eyes upon her that there was a gleam of dislike in them, as though he would have been glad to have been rid of her that she might not in any way embarrass or interfere with his work.

  The camp was at last completed, and on a Saturday afternoon all the heavier articles from the ship had been transported to it. On the following Monday the balance of the goods was to be sent on shore and the party were to transfer their residence to their new quarters.

  Late Sunday afternoon a small native boat was seen rounding the point at the harbor’s southern extremity, and after a few minutes it drew alongside the Ithaca. There were but three men in it — two Dyaks and a Malay. The latter was a tall, well built man of middle age, of a sullen and degraded countenance. His garmenture was that of the ordinary Malay boatman, but there was that in his mien and his attitude toward his companions which belied his lowly habiliments.

  In answer to von Horn’s hail the man asked if he might come aboard and trade; but once on the deck it developed that he had brought nothing wherewith to trade. He seemed not the slightest disconcerted by this discovery, stating that he would bring such articles as they wished when he had learned what their requirements were.

  The ubiquitous Sing was on hand during the interview, but from his expressionless face none might guess what was passing through the tortuous channels of his Oriental mind. The Malay had been aboard nearly half an hour talking with von Horn when the mate, Bududreen, came on deck, and it was Sing alone who noted the quickly concealed flash of recognition which passed between the two Malays.

  The Chinaman also saw the gleam that shot into the visitor’s eye as Virginia emerged from the cabin, but by no word or voluntary outward sign did the man indicate that he had even noticed her. Shortly afterward he left, promising to return with provisions the following day. But it was to be months before they again saw him.

  That evening as Sing was serving Virginia’s supper he asked her if she had recognized their visitor of the afternoon.

  “Why no, Sing,” she replied, “I never saw him before.”

  “Sh!” admonished the celestial. “No talkee so strong, wallee have ear all same labbit.”

  “What do you mean, Sing?” asked the girl in a low voice. “How perfectly weird and mysterious you are. Why you make the cold chills run up my spine,” she ended, laughing. But Sing did not return her smile as was his custom.

  “You no lememba tallee Lajah stand up wavee lite clothee in plilate boat, ah?” he urged.

  “Oh, Sing,” she cried, “I do indeed! But unless you had reminded me I should never have thought to connect him with our visitor of today — they do look very much alike, don’t they?”

  “Lookeelike! Ugh, they all samee one man. Sing know. You lookee out, Linee,” which was the closest that Sing had ever been able to come to pronouncing Virginia.

  “Why should I look out? He doesn’t want me,” said the girl, laughingly.

  “Don’t you bee too damee sure ‘bout lat, Linee,” was Sing’s inelegant but convincing reply, as he turned toward his galley.

  The following morning the party, with the exception of three Malays who were left to guard the Ithaca, set out for the new camp. The journey was up the bed of the small stream which emptied into the harbor, so that although fifteen men had passed back and forth through the jungle from the beach to the camp every day for two weeks, there was no sign that human foot had ever crossed the narrow strip of sand that lay between the dense foliage and the harbor.

  The gravel bottom of the rivulet made fairly good walking, and as Virginia was borne in a litter between two powerful lascars it was not even necessary that she wet her feet in the ascent of the stream to the camp. The distance was short, the center of the camp being but a mile from the harbor, and less than half a mile from the opposite shore of the island which was but two miles at its greatest breadth, and two and a quarter at its greatest length.

  At the camp Virginia found that a neat clearing had been made upon a little tableland, a palisade built about it, and divided into three parts; the most northerly of which contained a small house for herself and her father, another for von Horn, and a common cooking and eating house over which Sing was to preside.

  The enclosure at the far end of the palisade was for the Malay and lascar crew and there also were quarters for Bududreen and the Malay second mate. The center enclosure contained Professor Maxon’s workshop. This compartment of the enclosure Virginia was not invited to inspect, but as members of the crew carried in the two great chests which the professor had left upon the Ithaca until the last moment, Virginia caught a glimpse of the two buildings that had been erected within this central space — a small, square house which was quite evidently her father’s laboratory, and a long, low thatched shed divided into several compartments, each containing a rude bunk. She wondered for whom they could be intended. Quarters for all the party had already been arranged for elsewhere, nor, thought she, would her father wish to house any in such close proximity to his workshop, where he would desire absolute quiet and freedom from interruption. The discovery perplexed her not a little, but so changed were her relations with her father that she would not question him upon this or any other subject.

  As the two chests were being carried into the central campong, Sing, who was standing near Virginia, called her attention to the fact that Bududreen was one of those who staggered beneath the weight of the heavier burden.

  “Bludleen, him mate. Why workee alsame lascar boy? Eh?” But Virginia could give no reason.

  “I am afraid you don’t like Bududreen, Sing,” she said. “Has he ever harmed you in any way?”

  “Him? No, him no hurt Sing. Sing poor,” with which more or less enigmatical rejoinder the Chinaman returned to his work. But he muttered much to himself the balance of the day, for Sing knew that a chest that strained four men in the carrying could contain but one thing, and he knew that Bududreen was as wise in such matters as he.

  For a couple of months the life of the little hidden camp went on peaceful
ly and without exciting incident. The Malay and lascar crew divided their time between watch duty on board the Ithaca, policing the camp, and cultivating a little patch of clearing just south of their own campong.

  There was a small bay on the island’s east coast, only a quarter of a mile from camp, in which oysters were found, and one of the Ithaca’s boats was brought around to this side of the island for fishing. Bududreen often accompanied these expeditions, and on several occasions the lynx-eyed Sing had seen him returning to camp long after the others had retired for the night.

  Professor Maxon scarcely ever left the central enclosure. For days and nights at a time Virginia never saw him, his meals being passed in to him by Sing through a small trap door that had been cut in the partition wall of the “court of mystery” as von Horn had christened the section of the camp devoted to the professor’s experimentations.

  Von Horn himself was often with his employer, as he enjoyed the latter’s complete confidence, and owing to his early medical training was well fitted to act as a competent assistant; but he was often barred from the workshop, and at such times was much with Virginia.

  The two took long walks through the untouched jungle, exploring their little island, and never failing to find some new and wonderful proof of Nature’s creative power among its flora and fauna.

  “What a marvellous thing is creation,” exclaimed Virginia as she and von Horn paused one day to admire a tropical bird of unusually brilliant plumage. “How insignificant is man’s greatest achievement beside the least of Nature’s works.”

  “And yet,” replied von Horn, “man shall find Nature’s secret some day. What a glorious accomplishment for him who first succeeds. Can you imagine a more glorious consummation of a man’s life work — your father’s, for example?”

  The girl looked at von Horn closely.

  “Dr. von Horn,” she said, “pride has restrained me from asking what was evidently intended that I should not know. For years my father has been interested in an endeavor to solve the mystery of life — that he would ever attempt to utilize the secret should he have been so fortunate as to discover it had never occurred to me. I mean that he should try to usurp the functions of the Creator I could never have believed, but my knowledge of him, coupled with what you have said, and the extreme lengths to which he has gone to maintain absolute secrecy for his present experiments can only lead to one inference; and that, that his present work, if successful, would have results that would not be countenanced by civilized society or government. Am I right?”