In Search of Goliathus Hercules

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In Search of Goliathus Hercules Page 18

by Jennifer Angus


  Your faithful servant,

  Robin Sayers

  “Let me see it,” said Billy. He picked up the pages and began reading. Occasionally he snorted. “Can’t you make it a little more dramatic?”

  “If you don’t like it, then you write it!” retorted Robin.

  Just then Henri walked into the room. “What’s not to like?” asked Henri.

  “Speak of the devil! He’s risen from the dead!” Billy dropped to his knees in mock terror.

  “He says your death by poison dart tree is not dramatic enough,” said Robin.

  Billy smiled. “I was thinking a tiger attack or maybe cannibals might be good!”

  “I don’t care,” said Henri. “Just kill me off.”

  “Henri, this is ridiculous,” said Robin. She grabbed the letter from Billy, tore it in two, and then scrunched it up into a ball. “I will not lead others to believe you are dead! You’re going to want to be around when we bring Goliathus hercules back to London and savor the glory. Besides, your mother will be brokenhearted if she thinks you are dead. She’s already lost her husband. We’ll find another way to explain your appearance.”

  Henri looked down, sighed, and pulled off his cap so that his antennae stood up on his head and sniffed the air as if they had a mind of their own. “You’re right, but only because I don’t want to hurt my mother. Though how she can love me looking like this, I don’t know.”

  Maestro Antonio entered the room. “Henri looks fine,” he said. Robin and Billy raised their eyebrows.

  “I don’t want to cause alarm,” said Robin gently. “But Henri does not look fine, or at least not fine for a human being. Beyond an extra set of limbs, antennae, a greenish pallor, and enormous eyes, he’s, um, getting shorter. We used to be the same height, but now he only comes up to my shoulder. Also, his voice…it’s changing.”

  “All boys find their voice changes around his age,” responded Maestro Antonio.

  “I didn’t mean like that. He sounds a bit tinny, kind of hollow. And sometimes it’s hard to hear him.”

  Maestro Antonio looked at Henri and said a little too casually, “I hadn’t noticed.” Henri realized now that Tony was trying not to upset him or hurt his feelings.

  Maestro Antonio continued. “So we need to come up with some kind of explanation, do we? The solution is obvious, and I’m surprised that two people who grew up in the circus haven’t thought of it yet.” He turned to Robin and Billy, who both shrugged.

  “Makeup and costumes, of course!” declared the maestro. “A little powder will take care of the green tinge. Hats and wigs will hide the antennae. A proper-fitting suit will mask the, uh… additional appendages. As to Henri’s diminished stature and the timbre of his voice, we can put him in a wheelchair and explain that he has rickets.” He clasped his hands together and said, “So that’s settled. Frankly, we have more pressing issues. Let’s discuss our next attempt to capture Goliathus hercules. I’ll not have Agatha Black defeat us. And shall we go back to Kuala Selangor or venture into the jungle?”

  Maestro Antonio was right. The expedition must go on, but Henri was so shaken by his nearly catastrophic encounter with the pitcher plant that his confidence was shattered. His ever-increasing insect nature made him susceptible to dangers he would never have considered in his more human form. He wanted to be the leader of the expedition, not the weak link!

  He also couldn’t ignore the fact that his metamorphosis was speeding up. Maybe soon his friends wouldn’t have to come up with explanations for his appearance at all because he would be fully changed into an insect! Maybe the only excitement in his future would be an audition for the circus’s insect orchestra!

  He had to stop the process, but how? Was it possible to reverse it? Perhaps it was a new disease. It might take years before a solution or a cure could be found.

  Ever since they had left the jungle empty-handed, Henri’s mind had been consumed with these gloomy thoughts. They had not returned to Kuala Lumpur. Accompanied by only their guide, Mat, the party had instead gone northward to the Cameron Highlands. They were staying at the plantation of a British tea merchant they had met at the Golden Horse Palace in Kuala Lumpur.

  The house was perched atop a hill with a panoramic view of rolling acres of tea bushes. Above the heat and whine of the mosquitoes in the jungle below, the climate made it the perfect place to rest and nurse their weary bodies and exhausted minds. And in Henri’s case, a broken heart because he had found no sign of his father.

  It was hard to keep up hope. There was absolutely no reason to believe his father was alive. Maybe he had simply walked into the jungle one day and never walked out again. Was it misadventure? The jungle was a wild and unforgiving place that could easily envelope and consume a man. Or had he simply chosen to abandon his family without explanation?

  Henri looked up to see that Mat had entered the room. “Ah, are you making plans?” he asked the explorers brightly. Far from being disappointed over the failure to capture Goliathus hercules, Mat was jubilant that they had made contact and lived to tell about it. Unlike the others, he showed no concern over Henri’s appearance. To Mat, serving the living embodiment of the legendary hero Serangga-orang was an honor. Now he turned to Henri.

  “Serangga-orang, you look very serious. I know you will think of a way to defeat the evil one and capture Goliathus hercules,” he said.

  Henri couldn’t help but smile back at Mat. Serangga-orang, half man and half insect! The jungle was his domain, and he was master of it. With wit and agility, he defeated his foes and came to the rescue of the weak and the lost. Suddenly Henri realized how much he’d given in to self-pity. It was time to snap out of it! He had to balance his two natures and live up to the name of Serangg-orang.

  Henri’s Great Aunt Georgie would have described Mat as the type of person who saw the glass as half full rather than half empty. Henri laughed to himself as he remembered her expressions, things like “You can’t judge a book by its cover” and “A picture is worth a thousand words.” Just then another came to mind—a bit of advice she had written to him in a letter he had received just before the jungle expedition. At the time, he hadn’t really understood it, but now he did. He turned to the group.

  “My Great Aunt Georgie told me, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ That’s what we’re going to do.”

  “But, Henri, we have tried to do that,” said Robin. “As soon as we discovered Mrs. Black was following us, we tried to pursue her rather than the other way around.”

  “That was true until we reached the jungle. We should never have gone in without knowing exactly where she was. For the time being, we need to go after Agatha Black first, and then Goliathus hercules!”

  Of course that was easier said than done. Still, everyone was pleased to see Henri’s mood brighten. Whether he realized it or not, they all considered him their leader.

  “But there’s something else. We haven’t been keeping our friends close either,” said Henri.

  “What do you mean, Henri?” asked Billy.

  “I mean that we have a million or more allies that we have not called upon,” said Henri “and the time has come to ask for their help!”

  Armed Forces

  They had a plan. Now came the preparations to carry it off. The expedition would continue onward to the vast, uncharted central jungle region. Mat left the very next morning, heading south toward the remote village of Kuala Tembeling where he would hire guides, porters, and cooks. This was the gateway to the uncharted jungle. Billy went with him for since he’d learned about the poison dart tree, he wanted to find out more about how they could use the plants and trees of the forest to aid their quest. Or, as Billy muttered under his breath, to “do away with the old hag.” By accompanying Mat, Billy would have ample opportunity to learn as much as he could from him, and also, perhaps, some secrets from the tribal people of the jungle.

  As for Henri, he, Robin, and the maestro were in charge of building and coordi
nating the insect army. “Do you think I’ll have any trouble convincing them to join us? It’s not their battle, after all,” asked Henri.

  “I would think a simple recitation of Agatha Black’s numerous crimes should convince them that she’s an enemy to the entire insect world!” replied Antonio.

  They needn’t have worried. Just as it had happened in America, news of Henri’s heroics freeing the crickets of Tashkent had spread like wildfire. He had only to introduce himself, and the insects readily agreed to help.

  His success emboldened Henri. “In the past I haven’t had luck speaking to creatures with more than six legs, but we could add a lot to our arsenal if we could recruit them. Many of them are venomous. I suggest we speak to insects that share the same environment as centipedes and millipedes. Maybe they’re bilingual?”

  So they decided to look in one of the nearby mining caves. They brought along the hearing-aid machine. Unlike Henri, whose ability to speak insect came from sheer instinct, Robin seemed to have a talent for picking up foreign languages quickly. While she agreed that recruiting beyond the six-legged world was a good idea, the thought of sitting in a cave with some of the ugliest and most terrifyingly poisonous creatures known to humans was unappealing. However, for the good of the expedition, she quelled her fears.

  They entered the cave with lamps ablaze. They didn’t have to go far before they encountered a large dung beetle on the cave floor. They set up the hearing-aid machine so that Robin and Maestro Antonio could tune in to both sides of the conversation. Henri introduced himself, Robin, and Maestro Antonio.

  “Henri Bell, come to my cave?” the beetle said. “Well, if I had known, I would have tidied up a bit. Shame on me! But it is an honor, sir, to meet you.”

  “We were wondering if you are conversant with some of the other creatures that live in this cave, such as millipedes, centipedes, spiders, and perhaps scorpions.” Henri said.

  “Oh, well, of course. We’ve all grown up here in the neighborhood. Folks just flip-flop between the languages. Not a problem.”

  “Could you be our tutor in this other language?” Henri asked the dung beetle. “Of course, we would pay you. How about a selection of your favorite foods?”

  “Uh, Henri, you do know what she eats?” Robin whispered.

  “We’ll worry about that later, Robin,” whispered Maestro Antonio hastily.

  “Well, that’s a very nice offer,” said the beetle. “I’ve never taught before, but I’m willing to give it a try.”

  “Great!” said Henri. “Robin will be your first student.”

  “Thank you,” said Robin, turning to the beetle. “I’m…really looking forward to the lessons,” she said with a little shudder, but the beetle seemed not to notice.

  For the next week, Robin attended her lessons each day. It turned out that insect and millipede language had similarities like those between French and Spanish—languages in the same family. Robin also overcame her fears of the cave inhabitants. In fact, she was becoming a bit of a celebrity, as more and more creatures came to have a look at her. They were shocked that she had only two legs and assumed that she must have been in a horrible accident to be so severely handicapped. Eventually she was able to persuade the multi-legged creatures to stand in solidarity with their six-legged friends against Agatha Black.

  While Robin continued her lessons, Henri and Maestro Antonio made forays out into the countryside to recruit the insect army. The only insect types they hadn’t asked to join were butterflies and moths as neither Henri nor Maestro Antonio could think what use they could possibly be in battle.

  But just two nights before the trip to the jungle, Henri, the maestro, and Robin were discussing plans when they heard a light tapping on the window of the plantation house parlor. They looked up to see a flurry of moths beating their wings and bodies against the window. Henri opened it, and a soft white cloud of hundreds of moths sailed into the room. From somewhere in the cloud came a voice. “Henri Bell?”

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “I’m Art. This is my family,” said the moth who had been designated as their spokesman.

  The cloud sailed around the room, moving from lamp to lamp, drawn to the bright light.

  “Be careful!” said Henri. “You shouldn’t get too close!”

  “Yes, yes, I know. It’s these youngsters. Come away from there! Darn fools. We’ll be fine. We’ve faced greater dangers tonight.”

  “What greater dangers?” asked Henri.

  “Bats! But we outsmarted them!” replied Art.

  “Really?” said Henri, now very much interested. “I would love to hear about that.”

  “Oh!” Clearly Art was flattered that Henri asked. “Anyway, word’s been going around the forest that you’re recruiting an insect army, but you haven’t come and asked us to join!” He sounded a little hurt. “I told them let’s go and volunteer our services.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” said Henri. “But first, what’s this about outsmarting bats?”

  “Oh yes. Just an average night. We easily outmaneuvered them. Some fancy flying, a couple of rolls, a few quick drops, and a little trickery too.”

  “Trickery?”

  “We tossed them back a few clicks!”

  “Tossed them back a few clicks?’ What do you mean?” Henri asked.

  Robin and Maestro Antonio could only hear Henri’s side of the conversation without the hearing-aid machine, but Robin quickly picked up the gist of the conversation.

  “Henri, I think I understand. I’ve been researching bats and they navigate by something called echolocation. A bat makes a series of calls or clicks, and then based on the returning echoes, it’s able to judge the distance to its prey.”

  Turning to the moths, Robin said in insect language, “When you click, you’re mimicking their sounds. It confuses them, doesn’t it? They think they’re hearing their own echo bouncing off another object.”

  “Oh!” said Art. “She speaks insect too. Yes, you’re right,” said Art. “That’s exactly what we do. The bats get disoriented, and then they just give up the chase in frustration. It works most of the time.”

  Henri smiled at Robin. “He says you’re right.” Turning back to the moth, he said excitedly, “Art, I would like to accept your offer and have your family join our army.”

  The moths all beat their wings in delight. With that, the last and perhaps most valuable member of the force was selected for battle. Simple confusion of the enemy might work just as well—or better—than threat and brute force.

  Embracing Serangga-Orang

  Mat and Billy sat under a primitive lean-to on the outskirts of Kuala Tembeling, waiting for the arrival of Henri, Robin, and Maestro Antonio. As soon as they saw them, Mat and Billy jumped up and came running forward.

  “Stop! Don’t come any farther,” said Mat.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Maestro Antonio, looking worried.

  “Nothing, nothing,” said Billy. “Everything is good. We just need to get Henri, I mean Serangga-orang, ready for his big entrance into the village.”

  “Don’t call me that,” said Henri. “What do you mean by my big entrance?”

  Mat and Billy looked at each other, and then Mat said, “The people here are very superstitious, very old fashioned. I tried to explain that you are making a scientific expedition to find Goliathus hercules, but they don’t understand.”

  “Mat, are you trying to tell us you haven’t been able to hire any men?” asked Maestro Antonio.

  “No, no! I just had to explain it so they understand better.”

  “So he told them Henri is Serangga-orang, and that it is an opportunity for the young men of the village to prove they are brave and strong by joining him on the expedition,” said Billy. “Now we have more than enough men! Everyone wants to come along and work with a living legend!”

  “Legend! Henri is not Serangga-orang,” retorted Robin.

  “How do you know?” said Mat. “Henri is half man an
d half insect. He is brave. He was meant to be in the jungle.”

  Mat had a point, thought Henri. Much of the story of Serangga-orang fit him. Certainly he had the physical qualities, and he did feel at home in the jungle. He liked the heat and dampness. And he could speak to insects. He could hear them and understand them. Brave? Well, he wasn’t so sure about that part.

  “So right now everyone in the village is waiting for Serangga-orang, is that right?” Henri asked.

  “Yes!” Mat beamed.

  “Henri, we need you to look the part,” said Billy.

  Sighing resignedly, Henri nodded. They had him remove his hat and shirt. His antennae sniffed the air. “I know you’re not used to using your extra limbs, but no need to hesitate anymore,” said Billy.

  As they walked through the village gate, Mat called out something in Malay. People poked their heads out of their small wooden houses, and when they saw Henri, they came running. Soon a big crowd surrounded them, and the party came to a standstill.

  “You should say something,” whispered Mat. “I will translate.”

  “Ah…Thank you very much for this friendly welcome to your village.” Henri began. “I am overwhelmed by your generosity.”

  “Say something about the expedition,” prompted Mat.

  “In a few days’ time, we will enter the jungle to search and, I hope, capture Goliathus hercules, one of the most fearsome creatures of the forest. I, um, Serangga-orang, hope that many of the strong, brave men I see before me will join me on this quest. Thank you very much.”

  Mat gave a lengthy translation, which was followed by a round of applause and cheers. As they were led to the headman’s house, Henri whispered to Mat, “I know you weren’t translating exactly what I said.”

  Mat looked down. “Sorry. I just changed it a little bit. I said that those who join us would prove to everyone that they are brave and strong. I also said that you know that the forest spirits, the river spirits, and all the ancestor spirits will be pleased, and we will make many offerings to them.”

 

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