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diff --git a/26889-h/26889-h.htm b/26889-h/26889-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..11cf0dc --- /dev/null +++ b/26889-h/26889-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9741 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Pools of Silence, by H. de Vere Stacpoole. +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.2em;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + .caption {font-size:.8em;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + hr.tb {width: 35%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + hr.silver {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.4em;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pools of Silence, by H. de Vere Stacpoole + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Pools of Silence + +Author: H. de Vere Stacpoole + +Release Date: October 12, 2008 [EBook #26889] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POOLS OF SILENCE *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.8em; margin-top:1em;'>THE</p> +<p style=' font-size:2em; margin-bottom:3em;'>POOLS OF SILENCE</p> +<p>BY</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>H. de VERE STACPOOLE</span></p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>AUTHOR OF</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>“THE BLUE LAGOON,” “THE CRIMSON AZALEAS,”</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:6em;'>“GARRYOWEN,” ETC.</p> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-emb.png' alt='' title='' /><br /> +</div> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' margin-top:3em;'>NEW YORK</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>DUFFIELD & COMPANY</p> +<p style=' margin-bottom:2em;'>1910</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce' style=' font-size:0.8em;'> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Copyright, 1910, by</span></p> +<p>DUFFIELD & COMPANY</p> +<p style=' margin-bottom:4em;'>Published, July, 1910</p> +<p>THE TROW PRESS, NEW YORK</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>TABLE OF CONTENTS</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='500' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td align='center' colspan='2'><br />PART I</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:x-small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:x-small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Lecture Of Thenard’s</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_A_LECTURE_OF_THENARD_S'>3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Dr. Duthil</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_DR_DUTHIL'>11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Captain Berselius</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_CAPTAIN_BERSELIUS'>19</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Schaunard</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_SCHAUNARD'>30</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Marseilles</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_MARSEILLES'>42</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='center' colspan='2'><br />PART II</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Matadi</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_MATADI'>51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Yandjali</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_YANDJALI'>56</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Voice Of The Congo Forest</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_THE_VOICE_OF_THE_CONGO_FOREST'>64</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Big Game</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_BIG_GAME'>72</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>M’bassa</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_M_BASSA'>80</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Andreas Meeus</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_ANDREAS_MEEUS'>84</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Night at the Fort</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_NIGHT_AT_THE_FORT'>94</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='center' colspan='2'><br />PART III</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Pools of Silence</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_THE_POOLS_OF_SILENCE'>101</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Behind the Mask</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_BEHIND_THE_MASK'>110</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Punishment</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_THE_PUNISHMENT'>115</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Due South</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_DUE_SOUTH'>123</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Sun-washed Spaces</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_SUNWASHED_SPACES'>127</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Far Into Elephant Land</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_FAR_INTO_ELEPHANT_LAND'>130</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Great Herd</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX_THE_GREAT_HERD'>140</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Broken Camp</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XX_THE_BROKEN_CAMP'>152</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Feast of the Vultures</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXI_THE_FEAST_OF_THE_VULTURES'>159</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Lost Guide</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXII_THE_LOST_GUIDE'>164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Beyond the Skyline</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIII_BEYOND_THE_SKYLINE'>173</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Sentence of the Desert</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIV_THE_SENTENCE_OF_THE_DESERT'>181</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Toward the Sunset</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXV_TOWARD_THE_SUNSET'>187</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Fading Mist</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVI_THE_FADING_MIST'>192</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXVII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>I Am the Forest</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVII_I_AM_THE_FOREST'>200</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXVIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>God Sends a Guide</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVIII_GOD_SENDS_A_GUIDE'>204</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Vision of the Pools</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIX_THE_VISION_OF_THE_POOLS'>212</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='center' colspan='2'><br />PART IV</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Avenger</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXX_THE_AVENGER'>219</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXXI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Voice of the Forest by Night</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXXI_THE_VOICE_OF_THE_FOREST_BY_NIGHT'>230</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXXII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Moonlight on the Pools</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXXII_MOONLIGHT_ON_THE_POOLS'>236</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXXIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The River of Gold</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXXIII_THE_RIVER_OF_GOLD'>245</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXXIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Substitute</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXXIV_THE_SUBSTITUTE'>252</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXXV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Paris</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXXV_PARIS'>258</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXXVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Dreams</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXXVI_DREAMS'>266</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXXVII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Berselius Beholds His Other Self</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXXVII_BERSELIUS_BEHOLDS_HIS_OTHER_SELF'>273</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXXVIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Revolt of a Slave</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXXVIII_THE_REVOLT_OF_A_SLAVE'>280</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXXIX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Maxine</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXXIX_MAXINE'>283</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XL.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Pugin</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XL_PUGIN'>296</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XLI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Return of Captain Berselius</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XLI_THE_RETURN_OF_CAPTAIN_BERSELIUS'>304</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XLII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Amidst the Lilies</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XLII_AMIDST_THE_LILIES'>315</a></td> +</tr> +</table><hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>PART ONE</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_A_LECTURE_OF_THENARD_S' id='I_A_LECTURE_OF_THENARD_S'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>A LECTURE OF THENARD’S</h3> +</div> + +<p>The sun was setting over Paris, a blood-red and +violent-looking sun, like the face of a bully +staring in at the window of a vast chill room.</p> +<p>The bank of cloud above the west, corrugated by +the wind, seemed not unlike the lowermost slats of a +Venetian blind; one might have fancied that a great +finger had tilted them up whilst the red, callous, cruel +face took a last peep at the frost-bitten city, the frost-bound +country—Montmartre and its windows, winking +and bloodshot; Bercy and its barges; Notre Dame, where +icicles, large as carrots, hung from the lips of the gargoyles, +and the Seine clipping the <i>cité</i> and flowing to the +clean but distant sea.</p> +<p>It was the fourth of January and the last day of Félix +Thénard’s post-graduate course of lectures at the Beaujon +Hospital.</p> +<p>Post-graduate lectures are intended not for students, +using the word in its limited sense, but for fully fledged +men who wish for extra training in some special subject, +and Thénard, the famous neurologist of the Beaujon, +had a class which practically represented the whole continent +of Europe and half the world. Men from Vienna +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span> +and Madrid, Germany and Japan, London and New York, +crowded the benches of his lecture room. Even the +Republic of Liberia was represented by a large gentleman, +who seemed carved from solid night and polished with +palm oil.</p> +<p>Dr. Paul Quincy Adams, one of the representatives +of America at the lectures of Thénard, was just reaching +the entrance of the Beaujon as the last rays of sunset +were touching the heights of Montmartre and the +first lamps of Paris were springing alight.</p> +<p>He had walked all the way from his rooms in the +Rue Dijon, for omnibuses were slow and uncomfortable, +cabs were dear, and money was, just at present, +the most unpleasant thing that money can convert itself +into—an object.</p> +<p>Adams was six feet two, a Vermonter, an American +gentleman whose chest measurements were big, almost, +as his instincts were fine. He had fought his way up, +literally from the soil, putting in terms as seaside <i>café</i> +waiter to help to pay his college fees; putting aside everything +but honour in his grand struggle to freedom and +individual existence, and finishing his college career +with a travelling scholarship which brought him to Paris.</p> +<p>Individualism, the thing that lends something of +greatness to each American, but which does not tend to +the greatness of the nation, was the mainspring of this +big man whom Nature had undoubtedly designed with her +eye on the vast plains, virgin forests, and unfordable +rivers, and across whose shoulder one half divined the +invisible axe of the pioneer. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span></p> +<p>He was just twenty-three years of age, yet he looked +thirty: plain enough as far as features go, his face was a +face to remember in time of trouble. It was of the +American type that approximates to the Red Indian, +and you guessed the power that lay behind it by the set +of the cheek-bones, the breadth of the chin and the restfulness +of the eyes. Like the Red Indian, Paul Quincy +Adams was slow of speech. A silent man with his +tongue.</p> +<p>He entered the hospital and passed down a long corridor +to the cloakroom, where he left his overcoat and +from there, by another corridor, he found his way to the +swing-door of the lecture theatre. It wanted five minutes +to the hour. He peeped over the muffing of the glass; +the place was nearly full, so he went in and took his seat, +choosing one at the right hand end of the first row of the +stalls—students’ vernacular for the lowest row of the +theatre benches.</p> +<p>The theatre was lit with gas. It had whitewashed +walls bare as the walls of a barn; a permanent blackboard +faced the audience, and the air was suffocatingly +hot after the crisp, cold air of the streets. It would be +like this till about the middle of the lecture, when Alphonse +the porter would pull the rope of the skylight and ventilate +the place with an arctic blast.</p> +<p>This room, which had once been an anatomical theatre, +and always a lecture room, had known the erect form of +Lisfranc; the stooping shoulders of Majendie had cast +their shadow on its walls; Flourens had lectured here on +that subject of which he had so profound a knowledge—the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +brain; the echoes of this room had heard the foundations +of Medicine shift and change, the rank heresies +of yesterday voiced as the facts of to-day—and <i>vice versa</i>.</p> +<p>Adams, having opened his notebook and sharpened +his pencil, sat listening to the gas sizzling above his +head; then he turned for a moment and glanced at the +men behind him: the doctor from Vienna in a broadly +braided frock-coat with satin facings, betraying himself +to all men by the end of the clinical thermometer protruding +from his waistcoat pocket; the two Japanese gentlemen—brown, +incurious, and inscrutable—men from +another world, come to look on; the republican from +Liberia, and the rest. Then he turned his head, for the +door on the floor of the theatre had opened, giving entrance +to Thénard.</p> +<p>Thénard was a smallish man in a rather shabby frock-coat; +his beard was scant, pointed, and gray-tinged; he +had a depressed expression, the general air of a second-rate +tradesman on the verge of bankruptcy; and as he +entered and crossed to the <i>estrade</i> where the lecture +table stood and the glass of water, he shouted some words +vehemently and harshly to Alphonse, the theatre attendant, +who, it seemed, had forgotten to place the box of +coloured chalks on the table—the sacred chalks which the +lecturer used for colouring his diagrams on the blackboard.</p> +<p>One instantly took a dislike to this shabby-looking +<i>bourgeois</i>, with the harsh, irritable voice, but after awhile, +as the lecture went on, one forgot him. It was not the +profundity of the man’s knowledge, great though it was, +that impressed one; or the subtlety of his reasoning or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span> +the lucidity of his expression, but his earnestness, his +obvious disregard for everything earthly but Truth.</p> +<p>This was borne in on one by every expression of his +face, every gesture of his body, every word and every +tone and inflection of his voice.</p> +<p>This was the twelfth and last lecture of the course. +It was on the “Brain Conceived as a Machine Pure and +Simple.”</p> +<p>It was a cold and pitiless lecture, striking at the +root of poetry and romance, speaking of religions, not +religion, and utterly ignoring the idea which stands +poised like a white-winged Victory over all other ideas—the +Soul.</p> +<p>It was pitiless because it did these things, and it was +terrible because it was spoken by Thénard, for he was +just standing there, a little, oldish man, terribly convincing +in his simplicity, absolutely without prejudice, +as ready to acknowledge the soul and its attributes as to +refuse them, standing there twiddling his horsehair +watch-chain, and speaking from the profundity of his +knowledge with, at his elbow, a huge army of facts, +instances, and cases, not one of which did not support +his logical deductions.</p> +<p>I wish I could print his lecture in full. I can only +give some few sentences taken at haphazard from the +peroration.</p> +<p>“The fundamental basis of all morality can be expressed +by the words Left—or Right. ‘Shall I take +the path to the right, when my child is being threatened +with death by a pterodactyl, or shall I take the path to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +the left when a mastodon is threatening to put a foot on +my dinner?’</p> +<p>“The prehistoric man asking himself that question +in the dawn of time laid the foundation of the world’s +morality. Do we know how he answered it? Yes—undoubtedly +he saved his dinner.</p> +<p>“The prehistoric woman crouching in the ferns, +wakened from sleep by the cries of her child on the left +and the shouting of her man on the right, found herself +face to face with the question, ‘Shall I court self-destruction +in attempting to save <i>It</i>, or shall I seek safety +with <i>Him</i>?’ Do we know how she answered that question? +Undoubtedly she took the path to the left.</p> +<p>“The woman’s Right was the man’s Left, and she +took it not from any motive of goodness but just because +her child appealed to her as powerfully as his dinner +appealed to the man. And which was the nobler instinct? +In prehistoric times, gentlemen, they were both equally +noble, for the instinct of the man was as essential to the +fact that you and I are here gathered together in enlightened +Paris, as the instinct of the woman.</p> +<p>“Right or Left? That is still the essence of morals—all +the rest is embroidery. Whilst I am talking to +you now, service is being held at the Madeleine, the +Bourse is closed (looking at his watch), but other gaming +houses are opening. The <i>Café de Paris</i> is filling, the Little +Sisters of the Poor are visiting the sick.</p> +<p>“We feel keenly that some people are doing good and +some people are doing evil. We wonder at the origin +of it all, and the answer comes from the prehistoric forest. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span></p> +<p>“‘I am Determination. I can choose the Right or I can +choose the Left. Whilst dwelling in the man’s heart +my choice lies <i>that</i> way, in the woman’s heart <i>that</i> way.</p> +<p>“‘I am not religion, but between the man and the +woman I have created an essential antagonism of motive +which will be the basis of all future religions and +systems of ethics. I have already dimly demarcated +a line between ferocity and greed, and a thing which +has yet no name, but which will in future ages be +called Love.</p> +<p>“‘<i>I</i> am a constant quantity, but the dim plan I have +traced in the plastic brain will be used by the ever-building +years; spires and domes shall fret the skies, priests unroll +their scrolls of papyri, infinite developments of the simple +basic Right and Left laid down by me shall combine to +build a Pantheon of a million shrines to a million gods—who +are yet only three: the tramp of the mastodon, the +cry of the child in the pterodactyl’s grip, and myself, +who in future years shall be the only surviving god of the +three—Determination.’</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>“The Pineal Gland had no known function, so Descartes +declared it to be the seat of the soul. ‘There +is nothing in here. Let us put something in,’ and he +put in the idea of the soul. That was the old method.</p> +<p>“Morphology teaches us now that the Pineal Gland +is the last vestige of an eye which once belonged to a +reptile long extinct. That is the new method; the results +are not so pretty, but they are more exact.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span></div> +<p>“You have finished your post-graduate work, and +I suppose you are about to leave Paris like the others. +Have you any plans?”</p> +<p>The lecture was over, the audience was pouring out +of the theatre, and Adams was talking to Thénard, whom +he knew personally.</p> +<p>“Well, no,” said Adams. “None very fixed just at +present. Of course I shall practise in my own country, +but I can’t quite see the opening yet.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_DR_DUTHIL' id='II_DR_DUTHIL'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>DR. DUTHIL</h3> +</div> + +<p>Thénard, with his case-book and a bundle of +papers under his arm, stood for a moment in +thought. Then he suddenly raised his chin.</p> +<p>“How would you like to go on a big-game shooting +expedition to the Congo?”</p> +<p>“Ask a child would it like pie,” said the American, +speaking in English. Then, in French, “Immensely, +monsieur. Only it is impossible.”</p> +<p>“Why?”</p> +<p>“Money.”</p> +<p>“Ah, that’s just it,” said Thénard. “A patient +of mine, Captain Berselius, is starting on a big-game +shooting expedition to the Congo. He requires +a medical man to accompany him, and the salary +is two thousand francs a month and all things +found——”</p> +<p>Adams’s eyes lit up.</p> +<p>“Two thousand a month!”</p> +<p>“Yes; he is a very rich man. His wife is a +patient of mine. When I was visiting her yesterday +the Captain put the thing before me—in fact, +gave me <i>carte blanche</i> to choose for him. He requires +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +the services of a medical man—an Englishman if +possible——”</p> +<p>“But I’m an American,” said Adams.</p> +<p>“It is the same thing,” replied Thénard, with a +little laugh. “You are all big and strong and fond +of guns and danger.”</p> +<p>He had taken Adams by the arm and was leading +him down the passage toward the entrance hall of the +hospital.</p> +<p>“The primitive man is strong in you all, and that +is why you are so vital and important, you Anglo-Saxons, +Anglo-Celts, and Anglo-Teutons. Come in here.”</p> +<p>He opened the door of one of the house-surgeon’s +rooms.</p> +<p>A youngish looking man, with a straw-coloured beard, +was seated before the fire, with a cigarette between his lips.</p> +<p>He rose to greet Thénard, was introduced to Adams, +and, drawing an old couch a bit from the wall, he bade +his guests be seated.</p> +<p>The armchair he retained himself. One of the legs +was loose, and he was the only man in the Beaujon who +had the art of sitting on it without smashing it. This +he explained whilst offering cigarettes.</p> +<p>Thénard, like many another French professor, unofficially +was quite one with the students. He would snatch +a moment from his work to smoke a cigarette with them; +he would sometimes look in at their little parties. I +have seen him at a birthday party where the cakes and +ale, to say nothing of the cigarettes and the unpawned +banjo, were the direct products of a pawned microscope. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span> +I have seen him, I say, at a party like this, drinking a +health to the microscope as the giver of all the good things +on the table—he, the great Thénard, with an income of +fifteen to twenty thousand pounds a year, and a reputation +solid as the four massive text-books that stood to his +name.</p> +<p>“Duthil,” said Thénard, “I have secured, I believe, +a man for our friend Berselius.” He indicated Adams +with a half laugh, and Dr. Duthil, turning in his chair, +regarded anew the colossus from the States. The great, +large-hewn, cast-iron visaged Adams, beside whom +Thénard looked like a shrivelled monkey and Duthil like +a big baby with a beard.</p> +<p>“Good,” said Duthil.</p> +<p>“A better man than Bauchardy,” said Thénard.</p> +<p>“Much,” replied Duthil.</p> +<p>“Who, then, was Bauchardy?” asked Adams, amused +rather by the way in which the two others were discussing +him.</p> +<p>“Bauchardy?” said Duthil. “Why, he was the last +man Berselius killed.”</p> +<p>“Silence,” said Thénard, then turning to Adams, +“Berselius is a perfectly straight man. On these hunting +expeditions of his he invariably takes a doctor with +him; he is not a man who fears death in the least, but he +has had bitter experience of being without medical assistance, +so he takes a doctor. He pays well and is entirely +to be trusted to do the right thing, as far as money goes. +On that side the contract is all right. But there is another +side—the character of Berselius. A man, to be the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +companion of Captain Berselius, needs to be big and +strong in body and mind, or he would be crushed by the +hand of Captain Berselius. Yes, he is a terrible man in +a way—<i>un homme affreux</i>—a man of the tiger type—and +he is going to the country of the big baboons, where +there is the freedom of action that the soul of such a man +desires——”</p> +<p>“In fact,” said Adams, “he is a villain, this Captain +Berselius?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no,” said Thénard, “not in the least. Be quiet, +Duthil, you do not know the man as I do. I have studied +him; he is a Primitive——”</p> +<p>“An Apache,” said Duthil. “Come, dear master, +confess that from the moment you heard that this +Berselius was intent on another expedition, you determined +to throw a foreigner into the breach. ‘No +more French doctors, if possible,’ said you. Is not +that so?”</p> +<p>Thénard laughed the laugh of cynical confession, +buttoning his overcoat at the same time and preparing +to go.</p> +<p>“Well, there may be something in what you say, +Duthil. However, there the offer is—a sound one +financially. Yes. I must say I dread that two thousand +francs a month will prove a fatal attraction, and, if Mr. +Adams does not go, some weaker man will. Well, +I must be off.”</p> +<p>“One moment,” said Adams. “Will you give me +this man’s address? I don’t say I will take the post, +but I might at least go and see him.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span></p> +<p>“Certainly,” replied Thénard, and taking one of his +own cards from his pocket, he scribbled on the back of it—</p> +<div class='ce'> +<p>CAPTAIN ARMAND BERSELIUS</p> +<p>14 AVENUE MALAKOFF</p> +</div> + +<p>Then he went off to a consultation at the Hotel Bristol +on a Balkan prince, whose malady, hitherto expressed by +evil living, had suddenly taken an acute and terrible turn +and Adams found himself alone with Dr. Duthil.</p> +<p>“That is Thénard all over,” said Duthil. “He is +the high priest of modernism. He and all the rest of the +neurologists have divided up devilment into provinces, +and labelled each province with names all ending in <i>enia</i> +or <i>itis</i>. Berselius is a Primitive, it seems; this Balkan +prince is—I don’t know what they call him—sure to be +something Latin, which does not interfere in the least +with the fact that he ought to be boiled alive in an antiseptic +solution. Have another cigarette.”</p> +<p>“Do you know anything special against Captain +Berselius?” asked Adams, taking the cigarette.</p> +<p>“I have never even seen the man,” replied Duthil, +“but from what I have heard, he is a regular buccaneer of +the old type, who values human life not one hair. Bauchardy, +that last doctor he took with him, was a friend +of mine. Perhaps that is why I feel vicious about the +man, for he killed Bauchardy as sure as I didn’t.”</p> +<p>“Killed him?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></p> +<p>“Yes; with hardship and overwork.”</p> +<p>“Overwork?”</p> +<p>“<i>Mon Dieu</i>, yes. Dragged him through swamps after +his infernal monkeys and tigers, and Bauchardy died in +the hospital at Marseilles of spinal meningitis, brought +on by the hardships of the expedition—died as mad as +Berselius himself.”</p> +<p>“As mad as Berselius?”</p> +<p>“Yes; this infernal Berselius seemed to have infected +him with his own hunting fever, and Bauchardy—<i>mon +Dieu</i>, you should have seen him during his illness, +shooting imaginary elephants, and calling for Berselius.”</p> +<p>“What I want to get at is this,” said Adams. “Was +Bauchardy driven into these swamps you speak of, and +made to hunt against his will—treated cruelly, in fact—or +did Berselius take his own share of the hardships?”</p> +<p>“His own share! Why, from what I can understand, +he did all the hunting. A man of iron with the ferocity +of a tiger—a very devil, who made others follow him as +poor Bauchardy did, to his death——”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Adams, “this man interests me somehow, +and I intend to have a look at him.”</p> +<p>“The pay is good,” said Duthil, “but I have warned +you fully, if Thénard hasn’t. Good evening.”</p> +<p>The Rue Dijon, where Adams lived, was a good way +from the Beaujon. He made his way there on foot, studying +the proposition as he went.</p> +<p>The sporting nature of the proposal coming from the +sedate Thénard rather tickled him.</p> +<p>“He wants to pit me against this Berselius,” said Adams +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +to himself, “same as if we were dogs. That’s the long +and short of it. Yes, I can understand his meaning in +part; he’s afraid if Berselius engages some week-kneed +individual, he’ll give the weak-kneed individual more +than he can take. He wants to stick a six-foot Yankee +in the breach, instead of a five-foot froggie, all absinthe and +cigarette ends. Well, he was frank, at all events. Hum, +I don’t like the proposition—and yet there’s something—there’s +something—there’s something about it I <i>do</i> +like. Then there’s the two thousand francs a month, and +not a penny out of pocket, and there’s the Congo, and +the guggly-wuggly alligators, and the great big hairy apes, +and the feel of a gun in one’s hand again. Oh, my!”</p> +<p>“All the same, it’s funny,” he went on, as he drew +near the Boulevard St. Michel. “When Thénard spoke +of Berselius there was something more than absence of +friendship in his tone. Can old man Thénard have a +down on this Berselius and does he in his heart of hearts +imagine that by allotting P. Quincy Adams to the post +of physician extraordinary to the expedition, he will get +even with the Captain? My friend, remember that hymn +the English Salvationists were yelling last Sunday outside +the American Presbyterian Church in the Rue de Berry—‘Christian, +walk carefully, danger is near.’ Not a bad +motto for Paris, and I will take it.”</p> +<p>He walked into the <i>Café d’Italie</i>, which, as everyone +knows, is next to Mouton’s, the pork shop, on the left-hand +side of the Boul’ Miche, as you go from the Seine; +called for a boc, and then plunged into a game of dominoes +with an art student in a magenta necktie, whom he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +had never met before, and whom, after the game, he would, +a million to one, never meet again.</p> +<p>That night, when he had blown out his candle, he +reviewed Thénard’s proposition in the dark. The more +he looked at it the more attraction it had for him, and—“Whatever +comes of it,” said he to himself, “I will go +and see this Captain Berselius to-morrow. The animal +seems worth the trouble of inspection.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_CAPTAIN_BERSELIUS' id='III_CAPTAIN_BERSELIUS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>CAPTAIN BERSELIUS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Next morning was chill and a white Seine mist +wrapped Paris in its folds. It clung to the trees +of the Avenue Champs Elysées, and it half veiled +the Avenue Malakoff as Adams’s <i>fiacre</i> turned into that +thoroughfare and drew up at No. 14, a house with +a carriage drive, a porter’s lodge, and wrought-iron gates.</p> +<p>The American paid off his cab, rang at the porter’s +lodge, was instantly admitted, and found himself in an +enormous courtyard domed in with glass. He noted +the orange and aloe trees growing in tubs of porcelain, +as the porter led him to the big double glass doors giving +entrance to the house.</p> +<p>“He’s got the money,” thought Adams, as the glass +swing-door was opened by a flunkey as magnificent as +a Lord Mayor’s footman, who took the visitor’s card and +the card of M. Thénard and presented them to a functionary +with a large pale face, who was seated at a table close +to the door.</p> +<p>This personage, who was as soberly dressed as an archbishop, +and had altogether a pontifical air, raised himself +to his feet and approached the visitor.</p> +<p>“Has monsieur an appointment——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span></p> +<p>“No,” said Adams. “I have come to see your master +on business. You can take him my card—yes, that +one—Dr. Adams, introduced by Dr. Thénard.”</p> +<p>The functionary seemed perplexed; the early hour, +the size of the visitor, his decided manner, all taken +together, were out of routine. Only for a moment he +hesitated, then leading the way across the warm and +flower-scented hall, he opened a door and said, “Will +monsieur take a seat?” Adams entered a big room, half +library, half museum; the door closed behind him, and +he found himself alone.</p> +<p>The four walls of the room showed a few books, but +were mostly covered with arms and trophies of the chase. +Japanese swords in solid ivory scabbards, swords of the +old Samurai so keen that a touch of the edge would +divide a suspended hair. Malay krisses, double-handed +Chinese execution swords; old pepper-pot revolvers, such +as may still be found on the African coast; knob-kerries, +assegais, steel-spiked balls swinging from whips of raw +hide; weapons wild and savage and primitive as those +with which Attila drove before him the hordes of the +Huns, and modern weapons of to-day and yesterday; the +big elephant gun which has been supplanted by the express +rifle; the deadly magazine rifle, the latest products of +Schaunard of the Rue de la Paix and Westley Richards +of London.</p> +<p>Adams forgot time as he stood examining these things; +then he turned his attention to the trophies, mounted by +Borchard of Berlin, that prince of taxidermists. Here +stood a great ape, six feet and over—<i>monstrum horrendum</i>—head flung back, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +mouth open, shouting aloud to the +imagination of the gazer in the language that was spoken +ere the earliest man lifted his face to the chill mystery of +the stars. In the right fist was clutched the branch +of a M’bina tree, ready lifted to dash your brains +out—the whole thing a miracle of the taxidermist’s +art. Here crawled an alligator on a slab of granitic +rock; an alligator—that is to say, the despair of the +taxidermist—for you can make nothing out of an alligator; +alive and not in motion he looks stuffed, stuffed, +he looks just the same. Hartbeest, reedbuck, the +maned and huge-eared roan antelope, gazelle, and bush-buck, +all were here, skull or mask, dominated by the +vast head of the wildebeest, with ponderous sickle-curved +horns.</p> +<p>Adams had half completed the tour of the walls when +the door of the library opened and Captain Berselius came +in. Tall, black-bearded and ferocious looking—that +was the description of man Adams was prepared to meet. +But Captain Berselius was a little man in a frock-coat, +rather worn, and slippers. He had evidently been in +<i>négligé</i> and, to meet the visitor, slipped into the frock-coat, +or possibly he was careless, taken up with abstractions, +dreams, business affairs, plans. He was rather +stout, with an oval, egg-shaped face; his beard, sparse +and pointed and tinged with gray, had originally been light +of hue; he had pale blue eyes, and he had a perpetual +smile.</p> +<p>It is to be understood by this that Captain Berselius’s +smile was, so to speak, hung on a hair-trigger; there was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +always a trace of it on his face round the lips, and in conversation +it became accentuated.</p> +<p>At first sight, during your first moments of meeting +with Captain Berselius, you would have said, “What +a happy-faced and jolly little man!”</p> +<p>Adams, completely taken aback by the apparition +before him, bowed.</p> +<p>“I have the pleasure of speaking to Dr. Adams, introduced +by Dr. Thénard?” said Captain Berselius, motioning +the visitor to a chair. “Pray take a seat, take a seat—yes——” +He took a seat opposite the American, +crossed his legs in a comfortable manner, caressed his +chin, and whilst chatting on general subjects stared full +at the newcomer, as though Adams had been a statue, +examining him, without the least insolence, but in that +thorough manner with which a purchaser examines the +horse he is about to buy or the physician of an insurance +company a proposer.</p> +<p>It was now that Adams felt he had to deal with no common +man in Captain Berselius.</p> +<p>Never before had he conversed with a person so calmly +authoritative, so perfectly at ease, and so commanding. +This little commonplace-looking, negligently dressed man, +talking easily in his armchair, made the spacious Adams +feel small and of little account in the world. Captain +Berselius filled all the space. He was <i>the</i> person in that +room; Adams, though he had personality enough, was +nowhere. And now he noticed that the perpetual smile +of the Captain had no relation to mirth or kindliness, it +was not worn as a mask, for Captain Berselius had no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +need for masks; it was a mysterious and unaccountable +thing that was there.</p> +<p>“You know M. Thénard intimately?” said Captain +Berselius, turning suddenly from some remarks he was +making on the United States.</p> +<p>“Oh, no,” said Adams. “I have attended his clinics; +beyond that——”</p> +<p>“Just so,” said the other. “Are you a good shot?”</p> +<p>“Fair, with the rifle.”</p> +<p>“You have had to do with big game?”</p> +<p>“I have shot bear.”</p> +<p>“These are some of my trophies,” said the Captain, +rising to his feet. He took his stand before the great ape +and contemplated it for a moment. “I shot him near +M’Bassa on the West Coast two years ago. The natives +at the village where we were camping said there was a big +monkey in a tree near by. They seemed very much +frightened, but they led me to the tree. He knew what +a gun was; he knew what a man was, too. He knew +that his hour of death had arrived, and he came roaring +out of the tree to meet me. But when he was on the +ground, with the muzzle of my Mannlicher two yards from +his head, all his rage vanished. He saw death, and to +shut out the sight he put his big hands before his face——”</p> +<p>“And you?”</p> +<p>“I shot him through the heart. This room does not +represent all my work. The billiard room and the hall +contain many of my trophies; they are interesting to me, +for each has a history. That tiger skin there in front of +the fireplace once covered a thing very much alive. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +was a full-sized brute, and I met him in a rice field near +Benares. I had not even time to raise my gun when he +charged. Then I was on my back and he was on top of +me. He had overshot the mark a bit—I was not even +scratched. I lay looking up at his whiskers; they seemed +thick as quills, and I counted them. I was dead to all +intents and purposes, so I felt no fear. That was the +lesson this gentleman taught me; it is as natural to be +dead as to be alive. I have never been afraid of +death since. Well, something must have distracted his +attention and frightened him, for he lifted himself, +passed over me like a cloud, and was gone. Well, +so much for the tiger. And now for business. Are +you prepared to act as medical attendant to my new +expedition?”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Adams, “I would like a little time to +consider——”</p> +<p>“Certainly,” said Captain Berselius, taking out his +watch. “I will give you five minutes, as a matter of form. +Thénard, in a note to me this morning, informs me he has +given you all details as to salary.”</p> +<p>“Yes, he gave me the details. As you give me so +short a time to make my decision about you, I suppose +you have already made your decision about me?”</p> +<p>“Absolutely,” said Berselius. “Two minutes have +passed. Why waste the other three? For you have +already made up your mind to come.”</p> +<p>Adams sat down in a chair for a moment, and in that +moment he did a great deal of thinking.</p> +<p>He had never met a man before at all like Berselius. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +He had never before come across a man with such a tremendous +personality. Berselius fascinated yet repelled +him. That there was evil in this man he felt, but he felt +also that there was good. Much evil and much good. +And beyond this he divined an animal ferocity latent—the +ferocity of a tiger—a cold and pitiless and utterly +divorced from reason ferociousness, the passion of a +primitive man, who had never known law except the +law of the axe wielded by the strongest. And yet there +was something in the man that he liked. He knew by +Berselius’s manner that if he did not take the offer now, he +would lose it. He reckoned with lightning swiftness that +the expedition would bring him in solid cash enough to +start in a small way in the States. He was as poor as Job, +as hungry for adventure as a schoolboy, and he only had +a moment to decide in.</p> +<p>“How many men are making up your party?” suddenly +asked Adams.</p> +<p>“You and I alone,” replied Berselius, putting his watch +in his pocket to indicate that the time was almost expired.</p> +<p>“I will come,” said Adams, and it seemed to him that +he said the words against his will.</p> +<p>Captain Berselius went to a writing table, took a sheet +of paper and wrote carefully and with consideration for the +space of some five minutes. Then he handed the paper +to Adams. “These are the things you want,” said he. +“I am an old campaigner in the wilds, so you will excuse +me for specifying them. Go for your outfit where you +will, but for your guns to Schaunard, for he is the best. +Order all accounts to be sent in to my secretary, M. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +Pinchon. He will settle them. Your salary you can +take how you will. If it is useful to you, I can give you a +cheque now on the Crédit Lyonnais, if you will state the +amount.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, thank you,” said Adams. “I have +quite sufficient money for my needs, and, if it is the same +to you, I would rather pay for my outfit myself.”</p> +<p>“As you please,” said Captain Berselius, quite indifferently. +“But Schaunard’s account and the account +for drugs and instruments you will please send to M. +Pinchon; they are part of the expedition. And now,” +looking at his watch, “will you do me the pleasure of +staying to <i>déjeuner</i>?”</p> +<p>Adams bowed.</p> +<p>“I will notify you to-night at your address the exact +date we start,” said Captain Berselius as he led +the way from the room. “It will be within a fortnight. +My yacht is lying at Marseilles, and will take +us to Matadi, which will be our base. She will be +faster than the mail-boats and very much more comfortable.”</p> +<p>They crossed the hall, Captain Berselius opened a door, +motioned his companion to enter, and Adams found +himself in a room, half morning room, half boudoir. A +bright log fire was burning, and on either side of the fireplace +two women—a girl of about eighteen and a woman +of thirty-five or so—were seated.</p> +<p>The elder woman, Madame Berselius, a Parisienne, +pale, stout, yet well-proportioned, with almond-shaped +eyes; full lips exquisitely cut in the form of the true cupid’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +bow; and with a face vigorous enough, but veiled by an +expression at once mulish, blindish, and indolent—was +a type.</p> +<p>The type of the poodle woman, the parasite. With the +insolent expression of a Japanese lady of rank, an insult +herself to the human race, you will see her everywhere in +the highest social ranks of society. At the Zoölogical +Gardens of Madrid on a Sunday, when the grandees +of Spain take their pleasure amidst the animals at Longchamps, +in Rotten Row, Washington Square, Unter den +Linden, wherever money is, growing like an evil fungus, +she flourishes.</p> +<p>Opposite Madame Berselius sat her daughter, Maxine.</p> +<p>Adams, after his first glance at the two women, saw +only Maxine.</p> +<p>Maxine had golden-brown hair, worn after the fashion +of Cléo de Mérode’s, gray eyes, and a wide mouth, with +pomegranate-red lips. Goethe’s dictum that the highest +beauty is unobtainable without something of disproportion +was exemplified in the case of Maxine Berselius. “Her +mouth is too wide,” said the women, who, knowing nothing +of the philosophy of art, hit upon the defect that was +Maxine’s main charm.</p> +<p>Berselius introduced Adams to his wife and daughter, +and scarcely had he done so than a servant, in the blue-and-gold +livery of the house, flung open the door and +announced that <i>déjeuner</i> was served.</p> +<p>Adams scarcely noticed the room into which they +passed; a room whose scheme of colour was that watery +green which we associate with the scenery of early spring, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +the call of the cuckoo, and the river echoes where the weir +foams and the willow droops.</p> +<p>The tapestry hanging upon the walls did not distract +from this scheme. Taken from some château of Provence, +and old almost as the story of Nicolete, it showed ladies +listening to shepherds who played on flutes, capering +lambs, daffodils blowing to the winds of early spring under +a sky gray and broken by rifts of blue.</p> +<p>Adams scarcely noticed the room, or the tapestry, or +the food placed before him; he was entirely absorbed +by two things, Maxine and Captain Berselius.</p> +<p>Berselius’s presence at the table evidently cast silence +and a cloak of restraint upon the women. You could +see that the servants who served him dreaded him to the +very tips of their fingers, and, though he was chatting +easily and in an almost paternal manner, his wife and +daughter had almost the air of children, nervous, and +on their very best behaviour. This was noticeable, +especially, in Madame Berselius. The beautiful, indolent, +arrogant face became a very humble face indeed +when she turned it on the man who was evidently, literally, +her lord and master. Maxine, though oppressed by the +presence, wore a different air; she seemed abstracted +and utterly unconscious of what a beautiful picture she +made against the old-world tapestry of spring.</p> +<p>Her eyes sometimes met the American’s. They scarcely +spoke to each other once during the meal, yet their eyes +met almost as frequently as though they had been conversing. +As a matter of fact, Adams was a new type of +man to her, and on that account interesting; very different +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +was this son of Anak, with the restful, forceful face, to the +curled and scented dandies of the Chaussée d’Antin, the +“captains with the little moustaches,” the frequenters +of the <i>foyer de Ballet</i>, the cigarette-dried mummies of +the Grand Club. It was like the view of a mountain to +a person who had only known hills.</p> +<p>Maxine, in her turn, was a new type of woman to +Adams. This perfect flower from the Parisian hot-house +was the rarest and most beautiful thing he had met in the +way of womanhood. She seemed to him a rose only just +unfolded, unconscious of its own freshness and beauty +as of the dew upon its petals, and saying to the world, by +the voice of its own loveliness, “Behold me!”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Captain Berselius, as he took leave of +his guest in the smoking room, “I will let you know +to-night the day and hour of our departure. All my +business in Paris will be settled this afternoon. You had +better come and see me the day before we start, so that +we can make our last arrangements. <i>Au revoir.</i>”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_SCHAUNARD' id='IV_SCHAUNARD'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>SCHAUNARD</h3> +</div> + +<p>The young man turned down the Avenue Malakoff, +after he had left Berselius’s house, in the direction +of the Avenue des Champs Elysées.</p> +<p>In twenty-four hours a complete change had taken +place in his life. His line of travel had taken a new +and most unexpected course; it was as though a train +on the North German had, suddenly, by some mysterious +arrangement of points and tracks, found itself on the +Paris-Lyons and Mediterranean Railway.</p> +<p>Yesterday afternoon the prospect before him, though +vague enough, was American. A practice in some big +central American town. It would be a hard fight, for +money was scanty, and in medicine, especially in the +States, advertisement counts for very much.</p> +<p>All that was changed now, and the hard, definite +prospect that had elbowed itself out of vagueness stood +before him: Africa, its palms and poisonous forests, the +Congo—Berselius.</p> +<p>Something else besides these things also stood before +him very definitely and almost casting them into shade. +Maxine.</p> +<p>Up to this, a woman had never stood before him as a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +possible part of his future, if we except Mary Eliza Summers, +the eleven-year-old daughter of old Abe Summers, +who kept the store in Dodgeville, Vermont, years ago—that +is to say, when Paul Quincy Adams was twelve, an +orchard-robbing hooligan, whose chief worry in life was +that, though he could thrash his eldest brother left-handed, +he was condemned by the law of entail to wear his old +pants.</p> +<p>When a man falls in love with a woman—really in +love—though the attainment of his desire be all but +impossible, he has reached the goal of life; no tide can +take him higher toward the Absolute. He has reached +life’s zenith, and never will he rise higher, even though +he live to wield a sceptre or rule armies.</p> +<p>Adams reached the Place de la Concorde on foot, +walking and taking his way mechanically, and utterly +unconscious of the passers-by.</p> +<p>He was studying in minute detail Maxine Berselius, +the pose of her head outlined against the tapestry, the +curves of her lips that could speak so well without speaking, +the little shell-like ears, the brown-gold coils of her +hair, her hands, her dress.</p> +<p>He was standing undetermined as to his route, and +whether he would cross over to the Rue St. Honoré or +turn toward the Seine, when someone gripped his arm +from behind, and, turning, he found himself face to face +with Dr. Stenhouse, an English physician who had set +up in Paris, practising in the Boulevard Haussmann and +flourishing exceedingly.</p> +<p>“Well, this is luck,” said Stenhouse. “I lost your +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +address, or I would have written, asking you to come +and see us. I remembered it was over on the other side +of the water somewhere, but where exactly I could not +remember. What are you doing with yourself?”</p> +<p>“Nothing, just at present.”</p> +<p>“Well, see here. I’m going to the Rue du Mont Thabor +to see a patient; walk along with me—it’s quite close, +just behind the Rue St. Honoré.”</p> +<p>They crossed the Place de la Concorde.</p> +<p>“You have finished your post-graduate work, I expect,” +said Stenhouse. “Are you going to practise in the +States?”</p> +<p>“Ultimately, I may,” replied Adams. “I have always +intended doing so; but I have to feel my way very cautiously, +for the money market is not in a particularly +flourishing state with me.”</p> +<p>“Good heavens!” said Stenhouse, “when is it with +a medical man, especially when he is just starting? I’ve +been through that. See here, why don’t you start in +Paris?”</p> +<p>“Paris?”</p> +<p>“Yes, this is the place to make money. You say you +are thinking of starting in some American city; well, let +me tell you, there are very few American cities so full of +rich Americans as Paris.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Adams, “the idea is not a bad one, but +just for the present I am fixed. I am going on a big-game +shooting expedition to the Congo.”</p> +<p>“As doctor?”</p> +<p>“Yes, and the salary is not bad—two thousand +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +francs a month and everything found, to say nothing +of the fun.”</p> +<p>“And the malaria?”</p> +<p>“Oh, one has to run risks.”</p> +<p>“Whom are you going with?”</p> +<p>“A man called Berselius.”</p> +<p>“Not Captain Berselius?” asked Stenhouse, stopping +dead.</p> +<p>“Yes, Captain Berselius, of No. 14 Avenue Malakoff. +I have just returned from having <i>déjeuner</i> with him.”</p> +<p>Stenhouse whistled. They were in the Rue du Mont +Thabor by this, in front of a small <i>café</i>.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Adams, “what’s wrong?”</p> +<p>“Everything,” replied the other. “This is the house +where my patient lives. Wait for me, for a moment, like +a good fellow. I shan’t detain you long, and then we can +finish our talk, for I have something to tell you.”</p> +<p>He darted into the <i>café</i> and Adams waited, watching +the passers-by and somewhat perturbed in mind. Stenhouse’s +manner impressed him uncomfortably, for, if +Captain Berselius had been the devil, the Englishman +could not have put more disfavour into his tone. And he +(Adams) had made a compact with Captain Berselius.</p> +<p>The Rue du Mont Thabor is a somewhat gloomy little +street, and it fitted Adams’s mood as he waited, watching +the passers-by and the small affairs of the little shops.</p> +<p>At the end of five minutes Stenhouse returned.</p> +<p>“Well?” said Adams.</p> +<p>“I have had no luncheon yet,” replied Stenhouse. “I +have been so rushed. Come with me to a little place +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +I know in the Rue St. Honoré, where I can get a cup of +tea and a bun. We will talk then.”</p> +<p>“Now,” said Stenhouse, when he was seated at a little +marble-topped table with the cup of tea and the bun +before him. “You say you have engaged yourself to go +to the Congo with Captain Berselius.”</p> +<p>“Yes. What do you know about him?”</p> +<p>“That’s just the difficulty. I can only say this, and +it’s between ourselves, the man’s name is a byword for +a brute and a devil.”</p> +<p>“That’s cheerful,” said Adams.</p> +<p>“Mind you,” said Stenhouse, “he is in the very best +society. I have met him at a reception at the Elysée. +He goes everywhere. He belongs to the best clubs; he’s +a <i>persona grata</i> at more courts than one, and an intimate +friend of King Leopold of Belgium. His immense wealth, +or part of it, comes from the rubber industry—motor +tires and so forth. And he’s mad after big game. That’s +his pleasure—killing. He’s a killer. That is the best +description of the man. The lust of blood is in him, and +the astounding thing, to my mind, is that he is not a +murderer. He has killed two men in duels, and they say +that it is a sight to see him fighting. Mind you, when I +say ‘murderer,’ I do not mean to imply that he is a man +who would murder for money. Give the devil his due. +I mean that he is quite beyond reason when aroused, and +if you were to hit Captain Berselius in the face he would +kill you as certain as I’ll get indigestion from that bun I +have just swallowed. The last doctor he took with him +to Africa died at Marseilles from the hardships he went +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +through—not at the hands of Berselius, for that would +have aroused inquiry, but simply from the hardships of +the expedition; but he gave frightful accounts to the +hospital authorities of the way this Berselius had treated +the natives. He drove that expedition right away from +Libreville, in the French Congo, to God knows where. +He had it under martial law the whole time, clubbing +and thrashing the niggers at the least offence, and +shooting with his own hand two of them who tried to +desert.”</p> +<p>“You must remember,” said Adams, taking up the +cudgels for Berselius and almost surprised himself at so +doing, “that an expedition like that, if it is not held together +by a firm hand, goes to pieces, and the result is disaster for +everyone. And you know what niggers are.”</p> +<p>“There you are,” laughed Stenhouse. “The man has +obsessed you already, and you’ll come back, if you go, like +Bauchardy, the man who died in the hospital at Marseilles, +cursing Berselius, yet so magnetized by the power of the +chap that you would be ready to follow him again if he +said ‘Come,’ and you had the legs to stand on. That +is how Bauchardy was.”</p> +<p>“The man, undoubtedly, has a great individuality,” +said Adams. “Passing him in the street one might take +him for a very ordinary person. Meeting him for the first +time, he looks all good nature; that smile——”</p> +<p>“Always,” said Stenhouse. “Beware of a man with +a perpetual smile on his face.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I know that, but this smile of Berselius’s is not +worn as a cloak. It seems quite natural to the man, yet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +somehow bad, as if it came from a profound and natural +cynicism directed against all things—including all +things good.”</p> +<p>“You have put it,” said Stenhouse, “in four words.”</p> +<p>“But, in spite of everything,” said Adams, “I believe +the man to have great good qualities: some instinct tells +me so.”</p> +<p>“My dear sir,” said Stenhouse, “did you ever meet a +bad man worth twopence at his trade who had not good +qualities? The bad man who is half good—so to speak—is +a much more dangerous villain than the barrier +bully without heart or soul. When hell makes a super-excellent +devil, the devil puts goodness in just as a baker +puts soda in his bread to make it rise. Look at Verlaine.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Adams, “I have promised Berselius, +and I will have to go. Besides, there are other +considerations.”</p> +<p>He was thinking of Maxine, and a smile lit up his face.</p> +<p>“You seem happy enough about it,” said Stenhouse, +rising to go. “Well, ‘he who will to Cupar maun to +Cupar.’ When do you start?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know yet, but I shall hear to-night.”</p> +<p>They passed out into the Rue St. Honoré, where they +parted.</p> +<p>“Good luck,” said Stenhouse, getting into a <i>fiacre</i>.</p> +<p>“Good-bye,” replied Adams, waving his hand.</p> +<p>Being in that quarter of the town, and having nothing +especial to do, he determined to go to Schaunard’s in the +Rue de la Paix, and see about his guns.</p> +<p>Schaunard personally superintends his own shop, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +which is the first gun-shop on the Continent of Europe. +Emperors visit him in person and he receives them as an +equal, though far superior to them in the science of sport. +An old man now, with a long white beard, he remembers +the fowling-pieces and rifles which he supplied to the +Emperor Maximilian before that unfortunate gentleman +started on his fatal expedition in search of a throne. He +is a mathematician as well as a maker of guns; his telescopic +sights and wind gauges are second to none in the +world, and his shop front in the Rue de la Paix exposes no +wares—it has just a wire blind, on which are blazoned +the arms of Russia, England, and Spain.</p> +<p>But, inside, the place is a joy to a rightly constituted +man. Behind glass cases the long processions of guns +and rifles, smooth, sleek, nut-brown and deadly, are a +sight for the eyes of a sportsman.</p> +<p>The duelling pistol is still a factor in Continental +life, and the cases containing them at Schaunard’s are +worth lingering over, for the modern duelling pistol is +a thing of beauty, very different from the murderous hair-trigger +machines of Count Considine—though just as +deadly.</p> +<p>To Schaunard, pottering amongst his wares, appeared +Adams.</p> +<p>The swing-door closed, shutting out the sound of the +Rue de la Paix, and the old gun-merchant came forward +through the silence of his shop to meet his visitor.</p> +<p>Adams explained his business. He had come to buy +some rifles for a big-game expedition. Captain Berselius +had recommended him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span></p> +<p>“Ah! Captain Berselius?” said Schaunard, and an +interested look came into his face. “True, he is a customer +of mine. As a matter of fact, his guns for his new +expedition are already boxed and directed for Marseilles. +Ah, yes—you require a complete outfit, I suppose?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Adams. “I am going with him.”</p> +<p>“Going with Captain Berselius as a friend?”</p> +<p>“No, as a doctor.”</p> +<p>“True, he generally takes a doctor with him,” said +Schaunard, running his fingers through his beard. “Have +you had much experience amidst big game, and can you +make out your own list of requirements, or shall I help +you with my advice?”</p> +<p>“I should be very glad of your advice. No, I have +not had much experience in big-game shooting. I have +shot bears, that’s all——”</p> +<p>“Armand!” cried Schaunard, and a pale-faced young +man came forward from the back part of the shop.</p> +<p>“Open me this case.”</p> +<p>Armand opened a case, and the deft hand of the old +man took down a double-barrelled cordite rifle, light-looking +and of exquisite workmanship.</p> +<p>“These are the guns we shoot elephants with nowadays,” +said Schaunard, handling the weapon lovingly. +“A child could carry it, and there is nothing living it will +not kill.” He laughed softly to himself, and then directed +Armand to bring forward an elephant gun of the old pattern. +In an instant the young man returned, staggering +under the weight of the immense rifle, shod with a heel +of india-rubber an inch thick. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span></p> +<p>Adams laughed, took the thing up with one hand, +and raised it to his shoulder as though it had been a +featherweight.</p> +<p>“Ah!” said he, “here’s a gun worth shooting with.”</p> +<p>Schaunard looked on with admiration at the giant +handling the gigantic gun.</p> +<p>“Oh, for you,” said he, “it’s all very well. <i>Ma foi</i>, +but you suit one another, you both are of another day.”</p> +<p>“God bless you,” said Adams, “you can pick me up +by the bushel in the States. I’m <i>small</i>. Say, how much +is this thing?”</p> +<p>“<i>That!</i>” cried Schaunard. “Why, what on earth +could you want with such an obsolete weapon as that?”</p> +<p>“Tell me—does this thing hit harder, gun for gun—not +weight for weight, mind you—but gun for gun—than +that double-barrel you are holding in your hands?”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes,” said Schaunard, “it hits harder, just as +a cannon would hit harder, but——”</p> +<p>“I’ll have her,” said Adams. “I’ve taken a fancy +to her. See here, Captain Berselius is paying for my +guns; they are his, part of the expedition—I want this +as my own, and I’ll pay you for her out of my own pocket. +How much is she?”</p> +<p>Schaunard, whose fifty years of trading had explained +to him the fact that when an American takes a whim into +his head it is best for all parties to let him have his own +way, ran his fingers through his beard.</p> +<p>“The thing has no price,” said he. “It is a curiosity. +But if you must have it—well, I will let you have it for two +hundred francs.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span></p> +<p>“Done,” said Adams. “Have you any cartridges?”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes,” replied Schaunard. “Heaps. That is +to say, I have the old cartridges, and I can have a couple +of hundred of them emptied and re-filled and percussioned. +Ah, well, monsieur, you must have your own +way. Armand, take the gun; have it attended to and +packed. And now that monsieur has his play-toy,” +finished the old man, with one of his silent little laughs, +“let us come to business.”</p> +<p>They did, and nearly an hour was spent whilst the +American chose a double hammerless-ejector cordite +rifle and a .256 sporting Mannlicher, for Schaunard was +a man who, when he took an interest in a customer, could +be very interesting.</p> +<p>When business was concluded Schaunard gave his +customer various tips as to the treatment of guns. “And +now,” said he, opening the door as Adams was taking his +departure, “I will give you one more piece of advice +about this expedition. It is a piece of private advice, +and I will trust you not to tell the Captain that I gave +it to you.”</p> +<p>“Yes. What is the advice?”</p> +<p>“Don’t go.”</p> +<p>Adams laughed as he turned on his heel, and Schaunard +laughed as he closed the door.</p> +<p>A passer-by might have imagined that the two men had +just exchanged a good joke.</p> +<p>Before Adams had taken three steps, the door of the +shop re-opened, and Schaunard’s voice called again.</p> +<p>“Monsieur.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span></p> +<p>“Yes?” said Adams, turning.</p> +<p>“You need not pay me for the gun till you come back.”</p> +<p>“Right,” said Adams, laughing. “I will call in and +pay you for it when I come back. <i>Au revoir.</i>”</p> +<p>“<i>Adieu.</i>”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_MARSEILLES' id='V_MARSEILLES'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>MARSEILLES</h3> +</div> + +<p>On the day of departure Berselius was entertained +at <i>déjeuner</i> by the Cerele Militaire. He brought +Adams with him as a guest.</p> +<p>Nearly all the sporting members of the great club +were present to speed the man who after Schillings was +reckoned on the Continent the most adventurous big-game +hunter in the world.</p> +<p>Despite what Stenhouse, Duthil, and Schaunard had +said, Adams by this time inclined to a half-liking for +Berselius; the man seemed so far from and unconscious +of the little things of the world, so destitute of pettiness, +that the half liking which always accompanies respect +could not but find a place in Adams’s mind.</p> +<p>Guest at a table surrounded by sixty of the wealthiest +and most powerful officers of a military nation, Berselius +did not forget his companion, but introduced him with +painstaking care to the chief men present, included him +in his speech of thanks, and made him feel that though +he was taking Berselius’s pay, he was his friend and on a +perfect social equality with him.</p> +<p>Adams felt this keenly. On qualifying first he had +obtained an appointment as travelling physician to an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +American, a prominent member of the New York smart +set, a man of twenty-two, a motorist, a yachtsman, clean +shaved as an actor and smug as a butler, one of those men +who make the great American nation so small in the eyes +of the world—the world that cannot see beyond the +servants’ hall antics of New York society to the great plains +where the Adamses hew the wood and draw the water, build +the cities and bridge the rivers, and lay the iron roads, +making rail-heads of the roar of the Atlantic and the +thunder of the Pacific.</p> +<p>This gentleman treated Adams as a paid attendant and +in such a manner that Adams one morning lifted him from +his bed by the slack of his silk pajamas and all but drowned +him in his own bath.</p> +<p>He could not but remember the incident as he sat +watching Berselius so calm, so courtly, so absolutely +destitute of mannerism, so incontestably the superior, +in some magnetic way, of all the other men who were +present.</p> +<p>Maxine and M. Pinchon, the secretary, were to accompany +them to Marseilles.</p> +<p>A cold, white Paris fog covered the city that night as +they drove to the station, and the fog detonators and +horns followed them as they glided out slowly from +beneath the great glass roof. Slowly at first, then more +swiftly over rumbling bridges and clicking point, more +swiftly still, breaking from the fog-banked Seine valley, +through snarling tunnel and chattering cutting, faster +now and freer, by long lines of poplar trees, mist-strewn, +and moonlit ponds and fields, spectral white +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +roads, little winking towns; and now, as if drawn by +the magnetic south, swaying to the rock-a-bye of speed, +aiming for the lights of Dijon far away south, to the +tune of the wheels, “seventy-miles-an-hour—seventy-miles-an-hour.”</p> +<p>Civilization, whatever else she has done, has written +one poem, the “Rapide.” True to herself, she makes +it pay a dividend, and prostitutes it to the service of +stockbrokers, society folk, and gamblers bound for +Monaco—but what a poem it is that we snore through +between a day in Paris and a day in Marseilles. A poem, +swiftly moving, musical with speed, a song built up of +songs, telling of Paris, its chill and winter fog, of the +winter fields, the poplar trees and mist; vineyards of the +Côte d’Or; Provence with the dawn upon it, Tarascon +blowing its morning bugle to the sun; the Rhone, and +the vineyards, and the olives, and the white, white roads; +ending at last in that triumphant blast of music, light and +colour, Marseilles.</p> +<p><i>La Joconde</i>, Berselius’s yacht, was berthed at the Messagerie +wharf, and after <i>déjeuner</i> at the Hotel Noailles, +they took their way there on foot.</p> +<p>Adams had never seen the south before as Marseilles +shows it. The vivid light and the black shadows, the +variegated crowd of the Canabier Prolongue had for him +an “Arabian Nights” fascination, but the wharves held +a deeper fascination still.</p> +<p>Marseilles draws its most subtle charm from far away +in the past. Beaked triremes have rubbed their girding +cables against the wharves of the old Phocée; the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +sunshine of a thousand years has left some trace of its gold, +a mirage in the air chilled by the mistral and perfumed +by the ocean.</p> +<p>At Marseilles took place the meeting between Mary +Magdalen and Laeta Acilia, so delightfully fabled by +Anatole France. The Count of Monte Cristo landed +here after he had discovered his treasure, and here Caderouse +after the infamy at “La Reservée” watched old Dantès +starving to death. Multitudes of ships, fabled and real, +have passed from the harbour to countries curious and +strange, but never one of them to a stranger country than +that to which <i>La Joconde</i> was to bear Berselius and his +companion.</p> +<p>Gay as Naples with colour, piercing the blue sky +with a thousand spars, fluttering the flags of all nations +to the wind, shot through with the sharp rattle of winch-chains, +and perfumed with garlic, vanilla, fumes of coal +tar, and the tang of the sea, the wharves of Marseilles lay +before the travellers, a great counter eternally vibrating +to the thunder of trade; bales of carpets from the Levant, +tons of cheeses from Holland, wood from Norway, copra, +rice, tobacco, corn, silks from China and Japan, cotton +from Lancashire; all pouring in to the tune of the winch-pauls, +the cry of the stevedores, and the bugles of Port +Saint Jean, shrill beneath the blue sky and triumphant +as the crowing of the Gallic cock.</p> +<p>Between the breaks in the shipping one could see the +sea-gulls fishing and the harbour flashing, here spangled +with coal tar, here whipped to deepest sapphire by the +mistral; the junk shops, grog shops, parrot shops, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +rope-walks, ships’ stores and factories lining the quays, each +lending a perfume, a voice, or a scrap of colour to the air +vibrating with light, vibrating with sound, shot through +with voices; hammer blows from the copper sheathers +in the dry docks, the rolling of drums from Port St. Nicholas, +the roaring of grain elevators, rattling of winch-chains, +trumpeting of ship sirens, mewing of gulls, the bells of +Notre Dame and the bells of St. Victor, all fused, orchestrated, +into one triumphant symphony beneath the clear +blue sky and the trade flags of the world.</p> +<p><i>La Joconde</i> was berthed beside a Messagerie boat which +they had to cross to reach her.</p> +<p>She was a palatial cruising yacht of twelve hundred +tons’ burden, built somewhat on the lines of Drexel’s +<i>La Margharita</i>, but with less width of funnel.</p> +<p>It was two o’clock in the afternoon when they went on +board; all the luggage had arrived, steam was up, the port +arrangements had been made, and Berselius determined +to start at once.</p> +<p>Maxine kissed him, then she turned to Adams.</p> +<p>“<i>Bon voyage.</i>”</p> +<p>“Good-bye,” said Adams.</p> +<p>He held her hand for a fraction of a second after his +grasp had relaxed.</p> +<p>Then she was standing on the deck of the Messagerie +boat, waving good-bye across the lane of blue water +widening between <i>La Joconde</i> and her berth mate.</p> +<p>At the harbour mouth, looking back across the blue +wind-swept water, he fancied he could still see her, a +microscopic speck in the great picture of terraced +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +Marseilles, with its windows, houses, flags, and domes +glittering and burning in the sun.</p> +<p>Then the swell of the Gulf of Lyons took <i>La Joconde</i> +as a nurse takes an infant and rocks it on her knee, and +France and civilization were slowly wrapped from sight +under the veils of distance.</p> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>PART TWO</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_MATADI' id='VI_MATADI'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>MATADI</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was evening. <i>La Joconde</i>, Berselius’s yacht, lay +moored at the wharf of Matadi; warpling against +the starboard plates, whimpering, wimpling, +here smooth as glass, here eddied and frosted, a sea of +golden light, a gliding mirror, went the Congo.</p> +<p>A faint, faint haze dulled the palms away on the other +side; from the wharf, where ships were loading up with +rubber, ivory, palm-oil, and bales of gum copal, the roar +and rattle of steam-winches went across the water, far away +across the glittering water, where the red flamingoes were +flying, to that other shore where the palm trees showed +their fringe of hot and hazy green.</p> +<p>The impression of heat which green, the coolest of +all colours, can produce, damp heat, heart-weakening +heat, that is the master impression produced by the +Congo on the mind of man. All the other impressions +are—to paraphrase Thénard—embroideries on this.</p> +<p>Yet how many other impressions there are! The +Congo is Africa in a frank mood. Africa, laying her hand +on her heart and speaking, or rather, whispering the truth.</p> +<p>This great river flooding from Stanley Pool and far +away beyond, draws with it, like a moving dream, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +pictures of the roaring rapids and the silent pools, the +swamps filled with darkness of vegetation and murderous +life; the unutterable loneliness of vast forests. The water +brook of the hartbeest and antelope, it brings with it their +quiet reflections, just as it brings the awful horn and the +pig-like face of the rhinoceros. What things have not +slaked their thirst in this quiet water flooding past +Matadi—and wallowed in it? Its faint perfume +hints at that.</p> +<p>On the deck of the yacht, under the double awning, +Berselius was seated, and, close to him, Adams. They +had arrived only yesterday, and to-morrow they were proceeding +by rail to Leopoldville, which was to be the real +base of the expedition, leaving <i>La Joconde</i> behind at +Matadi.</p> +<p>The yacht would return to France.</p> +<p>“What a lot of stuff they are loading on those ships,” +said Adams, turning in his chair as the roar and rattle of +the winch chains, that had ceased for a moment, flared +up again like a flame of sound. “What are the exports +here?”</p> +<p>“Gum copal—nuts—rubber—tusks—everything +you can get out of there,” answered Berselius, lazily +waving a hand to indicate the Congo basin.</p> +<p>Adams, leaning back in his deck chair, followed with +his eyes the sweep of Berselius’s hand, “over there”; +little did he dream of what those words held in their +magic.</p> +<p>Then Berselius went below.</p> +<p>The moon rose; lights speckled the misty wharf and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +a broad road of silver lay stretched across the moving +water to the other bank that, under the moonlight, lay +like a line of cotton-wool. It was the mist tangled by +and tangling the trees.</p> +<p>Adams paced the deck, smoking and occasionally +pausing to flip off his cigar-ash on the bulwark rail. He +was thinking of Maxine Berselius. She had come to +Marseilles to see them off, and——</p> +<p>Not a word had been exchanged between them that a +third person did not hear or might not have heard, yet +they had told each other the whole of that delightful story +in which the hero is I and the heroine You.</p> +<p>Adams on his side and Maxine on hers did not in the +least contemplate possibilities. A social river, wide as the +Congo, and flowing from as mysterious a source, lay between +them. Maxine was rich—so rich that the contrast of +her wealth with his own poverty shut the door for Adams +on the idea of marriage. He could not hope to take his +true place in the world for years, and he would not stoop +to take a woman’s money or assistance.</p> +<p>He was too big to go through a back door. No, he +would enter the social temple by walking between the +pillars of the portico, or smashing an entrance way through +the wall with his fist.</p> +<p>He was a type of the true American man, the individual +who trusts in himself; an unpleasant person very often, +but the most essentially male creation in Nature.</p> +<p>Though he could not contemplate Maxine as a wife, +he did as a woman. In a state of savagery he would have +carried her off in his arms; surrounded as he was by the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +trammels of civilization, he contented himself with imagining +her in that position.</p> +<p>It is quite possible that no other woman would ever +inspire the same passion in him. He knew this, yet he +did not grumble; for he was practical, and his practical +nature had a part in his wildest dreams.</p> +<p>Go to New York and look at the twenty-storied, +sky-scrapers built by the Adamses. They look like houses +out of a story by Dean Swift. The wildest dreams of +architecture. Yet they don’t fall down; they serve their +purpose, for the dreamers who built them were at bottom +practical men.</p> +<p>As he paced the deck, smoking and contemplating the +moonlit river, Maxine gave place in his mind to her +father.</p> +<p>Berselius up to this had shown himself in no unfavourable +light. Up to this he had been almost companionable.</p> +<p>Almost! They had dined together, paced the deck +together, discussed all sorts of subjects, yet not by the +fraction of an inch had he advanced in his knowledge +of the man. A wall of ice divided Berselius from his +fellow-men. Between him and them a great gulf was +fixed, a gulf narrow enough to speak across, but of an +impenetrable depth. Berselius was always so assured, +so impassively calm, so authoritative, his conversation so +penetrative, so lit by intuition and acquired knowledge, +that Adams sometimes in his company felt that elation +which comes to us when we find ourselves in the +presence of a supreme mind. At other times this +overpowering personality weighed upon him so much +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +that he would leave the saloon and pace the deck so +as to become himself again.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Next morning they left by rail for Leopoldville, where +they found waiting for them the <i>Leopold</i>, a shallow-draught +steamer of some two hundred tons.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_YANDJALI' id='VII_YANDJALI'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>YANDJALI</h3> +</div> + +<p>The <i>Leopold</i> was officered entirely by Belgians, and +it would have been almost impossible to find a +pleasanter set of men. Tilkins, the captain, +especially, won Adams’s regard. He was a huge man, +with a wife and family in Antwerp, and he was +eternally damning the Congo and wishing himself back +in Antwerp.</p> +<p>They transhipped to a smaller boat, the <i>Couronne</i>, +and one morning shortly after breakfast three strokes +on the steamer bell announced their approach to Yandjali.</p> +<p>Imagine a rough landing-stage, a handful of houses, +mostly mud-built, the funereal heat-green of palm and +banana, a flood of tropical sunshine lighting the little +wharf, crammed with bales of merchandise.</p> +<p>Such was Yandjali, and beyond Yandjali lay the +forest, and in front of Yandjali flowed the river, and +years ago <i>boom-boom</i> down the river’s shining surface, +from away up there where the great palms gave place to +reeds and water-grass, you might have heard the sound +of the hippopotami bellowing to the sun, a deep organ +note, unlike the sound emitted by any other creature +on earth. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +You do not hear it now. The great brutes have +long ago been driven away by man.</p> +<p>On the wharf to greet the steamer stood the District +Commissioner, Commander Verhaeren; behind him six +or seven half-naked, savage-looking blacks, each topped +with a red fez and armed with an Albini rifle, stood +gazing straight before them with wrinkled eyes at the +approaching boat.</p> +<p>Verhaeren and Berselius were seemingly old friends; +they shook hands and Berselius introduced Adams; +then the three left the wharf and walked up to the District +Commissioner’s house, a frame building surrounded +by palm trees and some distance from the mud huts of +the soldiers and porters.</p> +<p>The Yandjali of this story, not to be confounded with +Yandjali notorious in Congo history for its massacre, is +not in a rubber district, though on the fringe of one; +it is a game district and produces cassava. The Congo +State has parcelled out its territory. There are the +rubber districts, the gum copal districts, the food districts, +and the districts where ivory is obtained. In each of +these districts the natives are made to work and bring +in rubber, gum copal, food, or ivory, as a tax. The +District Commissioner, or <i>Chef de Poste</i>, in each district +draws up a schedule of what is required. Such +and such a village must produce and hand over so +many kilos of rubber, or copal, so much cassava, so +many tusks, etc.</p> +<p>Verhaeren was a stout, pale-faced man, with a jet-black +beard, a good-tempered looking man, with that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +strange, lazy, semi-Oriental look which the Belgian +face takes when the owner of it is fixed to a post, with +nothing to do but oversee trade, and when the post is +on the confines of civilization.</p> +<p>Away up country, lost in the dim, green, heat-laden +wilderness, you will find a different type of man; more +alert and nervy, a man who never smiles, a preoccupied +looking man who, ten years or five years ago, lost his +berth in an office for misconduct, or his commission in +the army. A <i>déclassé</i>. He is the man who really drives +the Congo machine, the last wheel in the engine, but the +most important; the man whose deeds are not to be +written.</p> +<p>Verhaeren’s living room in the frame house was furnished +with steamer deck chairs, a table and some shelves. +Pinned to the wall and curling up at the corners was a +page torn from <i>La Gaudriole</i>, the picture of a girl in tights; +on one of the shelves lay a stack of old newspapers, on +another a stack of official papers, reports from subordinates, +invoices, and those eternal “official letters,” with +which the Congo Government deluges its employees, +and whose everlasting purport is “Get more ivory, get +more rubber, get more copal.”</p> +<p>Verhaeren brought out some excellent cigars and a +bottle of Vanderhum, and the three men smoked and +talked. He had acted as Berselius’s agent for the expedition, +and had collected all the gun-bearers and porters +necessary, and a guide. It was Berselius’s intention +to strike a hundred miles west up river almost parallel +to the Congo, and then south into the heart of the elephant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +country. They talked of the expedition, but Verhaeren +showed little knowledge of the work and no +enthusiasm. The Belgians of the Congo have no feeling +for sport. They never hunt the game at their doors, +except for food.</p> +<p>When they had discussed matters, Verhaeren led +the way out for Berselius to inspect his arrangements.</p> +<p>The porters were called up. There were <i>forty</i> of them, +and Adams thought that he had never before seen such +a collection of depressed looking individuals; they were +muscular enough, but there was something in their faces, +their movements and their attitude, that told a tale of +spirits broken to servitude by terror.</p> +<p>The four gun-bearers and the headman were very +different. The headman was a Zappo Zap, a ferocious +looking nigger, fez-tipped, who could speak twenty words +of French, and who was nicknamed Félix. The gun-bearers +were recruited from the “soldiers” of the +state by special leave from headquarters.</p> +<p>Adams looked with astonishment at the immense +amount of luggage they were bringing. “Chop boxes,” +such as are used on the east coast, contained stores; +two big tents, a couple of “Roorkee” chairs, folding-beds +and tables, cork mattresses, cooking utensils, made up +the pile, to say nothing of the guns which had just been +taken from their cases.</p> +<p>“What did you bring this thing for?” asked Berselius, +pointing to Adams’s elephant gun, which the Zappo Zap +headman was just stripping from its covering.</p> +<p>“To shoot with,” said Adams, laughing. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span></p> +<p>Berselius looked at the big man handling the big gun, +and gave a short laugh.</p> +<p>“Well, bring it,” said he; “but I don’t envy your gun-bearers.”</p> +<p>But Félix, the headman, did not seem of the same +opinion. The enormous rifle evidently appealed to his +ferocious heart. It was a god-gun this, and no mistake, +and its lustre evidently spread to Adams, the owner of it.</p> +<p>Félix was a very big man, almost as big as Adams: +a member of the great cannibal fighting tribe of Zappo +Zaps, he had followed Verhaeren, who had once held a +post in the Bena Pianga country, to Yandjali; he had a +sort of attachment for Verhaeren, which showed that he +possessed some sort of heart. All the Zappo Zaps have +been enrolled by the Congo Government as “soldiers”; +they have a bad name and cause a lot of heart-searching +to the Brussels administration, for when they are used in +punitive expeditions to burn villages of recalcitrant +rubber-getters, they, to use a local expression, “<i>will</i> eat +when they have killed.” When they are used <i>en masse</i>, +the old cannibal instinct breaks out; when the killing is +over they go for the killed, furious as dogs over bones. +God help the man who would come between them and +their food!</p> +<p>Of these men Félix was a fine specimen. A nature +man, ever ready to slay, and cruel as Death. A man +from the beginning of the world.</p> +<p>If Félix had possessed a wife, he and she might have +stood for the man and woman mentioned by Thénard +in his lecture. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span></p> +<p>The basic man and woman in whose dim brains Determination +had begun to work, sketching the vague line on +either side of which lies the Right and Left of moral +action.</p> +<p>A true savage, never to be really civilized. For it is +the fate of the savage that he will never become one of us. +Do what you will and pray how you will, you will never +make up for the million years that have passed him by, +the million years during which the dim sketch which is +the basis of all ethics has lain in his brain undeveloped, +or developed only into a few fantastic and abortive God +shapes and devil shapes.</p> +<p>He will never become one of us. Extraordinary paradox—he +never can become a Leopold or a Félix Fuchs!</p> +<p>Berselius disbanded the porters with a wave of the +hand, and he and his companions began a round of the +station. Verhaeren, with a cigar in his mouth, led the way.</p> +<p>He opened the door of a go-down, and Adams in the +dim light, saw bale upon bale of stuff; gum copal it proved +to be, for Yandjali tapped a huge district where this stuff +is found, and which lies forty miles to the south. There +was also cassava in large quantities, and the place had a +heady smell, as if fermentation were going on amidst the +bales.</p> +<p>Verhaeren shut the door and led on till, rounding a +corner, a puff of hot air brought a stench which caused +Adams to choke and spit.</p> +<p>Verhaeren laughed.</p> +<p>It was the Hostage House that sent its poisonous +breath to meet them. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span></p> +<p>A native corporal and two soldiers stood at the palisade +which circled the Hostage House. The women and +children had just been driven back from the fields where +they had been digging and weeding, and they had been +served with their wretched dinners. They were eating +these scraps of food like animals, some in the sun amidst +the tufts of grass and mounds of ordure in the little yard, +some in the shadow of the house.</p> +<p>There were old, old women like shrivelled monkeys; +girls of twelve and fifteen, some almost comely; +middle-aged women, women about to become mothers, +and a woman who had become a mother during the past +night lying there in the shelter of the Hostage House. +There were little pot-bellied nigger children, tiny black +dots, who had to do their bit of work in the fields with +the others; and when the strangers appeared and looked +over the rail, these folk set up a crying and chattering, +and ran about distractedly, not knowing what new thing +was in store for them. They were the female folk and +children of a village, ten miles away south; they were +here as “hostages,” because the village had not produced +its full tale of cassava. They had been here over a month.</p> +<p>The soldiers laughed, and struck with the butts of +their rifles on the palisading, as if to increase the confusion. +Adams noticed that the young girls and women were of +all the terrified crowd seemingly the most terrified. He +did not know the reason; he could not even guess it. A +good man himself, and believing in a God in heaven, he +could not guess the truth. He knew nothing of the reason +of these women’s terror, and he looked with disgust +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +at the scene before him, not entirely comprehending. +Those creatures, so filthy, so animal-like, created in his +mind such abhorrence that he forgot to make allowances +for the fact that they were penned like swine, and +that perchance in their own native state, free in their own +villages, they might be cleaner and less revolting. He +could not hear the dismal cry of the “Congo niggers,” +who of all people on the earth are the most miserable, the +most abused, the most sorrow-stricken, the most dumb. +He did not know that he was looking at one of the filthy +acts in the great drama that a hundred years hence will +be read with horror by a more enlightened world.</p> +<p>They turned from the degrading sight and went back +to Verhaeren’s house for dinner.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_THE_VOICE_OF_THE_CONGO_FOREST' id='VIII_THE_VOICE_OF_THE_CONGO_FOREST'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>THE VOICE OF THE CONGO FOREST</h3> +</div> + +<p>Just after daybreak next morning the expedition +started.</p> +<p>Berselius, Adams, the gun-bearers and Félix +headed the line; a long way after came the porters and +their loads, shepherded by half a dozen soldiers of the +state specially hired for the business.</p> +<p>Before they had gone a mile on their route the sun +was blazing strongly, sharp bird-calls came from the +trees, and from the porters tramping under their loads +a hum like the hum of an awakened beehive. These +people will talk and chatter when the sun rises; club them, +or threaten them, or load them with burdens as much +as you please, the old instinct of the birds and beasts +remains.</p> +<p>At first the way led through cassava and manioc fields +and past clumps of palms; then, all at once, and like +plunging under a green veil or into the heart of a green +wave, they entered the forest.</p> +<p>The night chill was just leaving the forest, the great +green gloom, festooned with fantastic rope-like tendrils, +was drinking the sunlight with a million tongues; +you could hear the rustle and snap of branches straightening +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +themselves and sighing toward heaven after the +long, damp, chilly night. The tropical forest at daybreak +flings its arms up to the sun as if to embrace him, +and all the teeming life it holds gives tongue. Flights of +coloured and extraordinary birds rise like smoke wreaths +from the steaming leaves, and the drone of a million, +million insects from the sonorous depths comes like the +sound of life in ferment.</p> +<p>The river lay a few miles to their left, and faintly +from it, muffled by the trees, they could hear the shrill +whistling of the river steamboat. It was like the “good-bye” +of civilization.</p> +<p>The road they were pursuing through the forest was +just a dim track beaten down by the feet of the copal +and cassava gatherers bearing their loads to Yandjali. +Here and there the forest thinned out and a riot of +umbrella thorns, vicious, sword-like grass and tall, +dull purple flowers, like hollyhocks made a scrub that +choked the way and tangled the foot; then the trees +would thicken up, and with the green gloom of a +mighty wave the forest would fall upon the travellers +and swallow them up.</p> +<p>Adams, tramping beside Berselius, tried vainly to +analyze the extraordinary and new sensations to which +this place gave birth in him.</p> +<p>The forest had taken him. It seemed to him, on +entering it, that he had died to all the things he had +ever known. At Yandjali he had felt himself in a foreign +country, but still in touch with Europe and the past; +a mile deep in the forest and Yandjali itself, savage as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +it was, seemed part of the civilization and the life he had +left behind him.</p> +<p>The forests of the old world may be vast, but their trees +are familiar. One may lose one’s direction, but one can +never lose <i>oneself</i> amidst the friendly pines, the beeches, the +oaks, whose forms have been known to us from childhood.</p> +<p>But here, where the beard-moss hangs from unknown +trees, as we tramp through the sweltering sap-scented +gloom, we feel ourselves not in a forest but under a cover.</p> +<p>There is nothing of the perfume of the pine, nothing +of the breeze in the branches, nothing of the beauty of +the forest twilight here. We are in a great green room, +festooned with vines and tendrils and hung about with +leaves. Nothing is beautiful here, but everything is +curious. It is a curiosity shop, where one pays with +the sweat of one’s brow, with the languor of one’s body, +and the remembrance of one’s past, for the sight of an +orchid shaped like a bird, or a flower shaped like a jug, +or a bird whose flight is a flash of sapphire dust.</p> +<p>A great green room, where echo sounds of things +unknown.</p> +<p>You can see nothing but the foliage, and the tree boles +just around, yet the place is full of life and war and danger.</p> +<p>That crash followed by the shrieking of birds—you +cannot tell whether it is half a mile away or quite close, or +to the right, or to the left, or whether it is caused by a +branch torn from a tree by some huge hand, or a tree +a hundred years old felled at last by Time.</p> +<p>Time is the woodman of the Congo forests. Nobody +else could do the work, and he works in his own lazy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +fashion, leaving things to right themselves and find their +own salvation.</p> +<p>Just as there is eternal war to the death between the +beasts of this jungle, so there is war to the death between +the trees, the vines, and the weeds. A frightful battle +between the vegetable things is going on; we scarcely +recognize it, because the processes are so slow, but if +five years of the jungle could be photographed week by +week, and the whole series be run rapidly off on some +huge cinematograph machine, you would see a heaving +and rending struggle for existence, vegetation fed by the +roaring tropical rains rising like a giant and flinging +itself on the vegetation of yesterday; vines lengthening +like snakes, tree felling tree, and weed choking weed.</p> +<p>Even in the quietude of a moment, standing and +looking before one at the moss-bearded trees and the +python-like loops of the lianas, one can see the struggle +crystallized, just as in the still marble of the Laocoon one +sees the struggle of life with death.</p> +<p>In this place which covers an unthinkable area of +the earth, a vast population has dwelt since the beginning +of time. Think of it. Shut off from the world +which has progressed toward civilization, alone with +the beasts and the trees, they have lived here without a +guide and without a God. The instinct which teaches +the birds to build nests taught them to build huts; the +herd-instinct drove them into tribes.</p> +<p>Then, ages ago, before Christ was crucified, before +Moses was born, began the terrible and pathetic attempt +of a predamned people to raise their heads and walk +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +erect. The first lifting of purblind eyes destined never +to see even the face of Art.</p> +<p>Yet there was a germ of civilization amongst them. +They had villages and vague laws and art of a sort; +the ferocious tribes drew to one side, hunting beasts +and warring with each other, and the others, the milder +and kindlier tribes, led their own comparatively quiet +life; and Mohammed was born somewhere in the unknown +North, and they knew nothing of the fact till the Arab +slavers raided them, and robbed them of men and women +and children, just as boys rob an orchard.</p> +<p>But the birth of Christ and the foundation of Christendom +was the event which in far distant years was +destined to be this unhappy people’s last undoing.</p> +<p>They had known the beasts of the forests, the storms, +the rains, the Arab raiders, but Fate had reserved a new +thing for them to know. The Christians. Alas! that +one should have to say it, but here the fact is, that white +men, Christian men, have taken these people, have drawn +under the banner of Christianity and under Christian +pay all the warlike tribes, armed them, and set them as +task-masters over the humble and meek. And never +in the history of the world has such a state of servitude +been known as at present exists in the country of this +forlorn people.</p> +<p>They had been marching some three hours when, +from ahead came a sound as of some huge animal approaching. +Berselius half turned to his gun-bearer for his rifle, +but Félix reassured him.</p> +<p>“Cassava bearers,” said Félix. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span></p> +<p>It was, in fact, a crowd of natives; some thirty or +forty, bearing loads of Kwanga (cassava cakes) to Yandjali. +They were coming along the forest path in single +file, their burdens on their heads, and when the leaders +saw the white men they stopped dead. A great chattering +broke out. One could hear it going back all +along the unseen line, a rattlesnake of sound. Then +Félix called out to them; the gun-bearers and the +white men stood aside, and the cassava bearers, taking +heart, advanced.</p> +<p>They were heavily laden, for most of them had from +ten to twenty Kwanga on their heads, and besides this +burden—they were mostly women—several of them +had babies slung on their backs.</p> +<p>These people belonged to a village which lay within +Verhaeren’s district. The tax laid on this village was +three hundred cakes of cassava to be delivered at Yandjali +every eight days.</p> +<p>The people of this village were a lazy lot, and if you +have ever collected taxes in England, you can fancy the +trouble of making such people—savages living in a +tropical forest, who have no count of time and scarcely +an idea of numbers—pay up.</p> +<p>Especially when one takes into consideration the fact +that to produce three hundred cakes of cassava every +eight days, the whole village must work literally like a +beehive, the men gathering and the women grinding the +stuff from dawn till dark.</p> +<p>Only by the heaviest penalties could such a desirable +state of things be brought about, and the heavier +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +and sharper the punishments inflicted at any one time, +the easier was it for Verhaeren to work these people.</p> +<p>Adams watched the cassava bearers as they passed +at a trot. They went by like automatic figures, without +raising their eyes from the ground. There were some +old women amongst them who looked more like shrivelled +monkeys than human beings; extraordinary anatomical +specimens, whose muscles, working as they ran, were as +visible as though no skin covered them. There were +young women, young children, and women far advanced +in pregnancy; and they all went by like automatic figures, +clockwork marionettes.</p> +<p>It was a pitiable spectacle enough, these laden creatures, +mute looking as dumb beasts; but there was nothing +especially to shock the eye of the European, for it is the +long-prepared treason against this people, devised and +carried out by nature, that their black mask covers a +multitude of other people’s sins and their own untold +sufferings.</p> +<p>Had they been white, the despairing look, the sunken +eyes, the hundred signs that tell of suffering and slavery +would have been visible, would have appealed to the heart; +but the black mass could not express these things fully. +They were niggers, uglier looking and more depressed +looking than other niggers—that was all.</p> +<p>And so Adams passed on, without knowing what he +had seen and the only impression the sight made on his +mind was one of disgust.</p> +<p>One fact his professional eye noticed as the crowd +passed by. Four of the women had lost their left hands. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span></p> +<p>The hands had been amputated just above the wrist +in three cases, and one woman had suffered amputation +at the middle of the forearm.</p> +<p>He spoke of this to Berselius, who did not seem to hear +his remark.</p> +<p>At noon they halted for a three hours’ rest, and then +pushed on, camping for the night, after a twenty-five +miles’ journey, in a break of the forest.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_BIG_GAME' id='IX_BIG_GAME'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>BIG GAME</h3> +</div> + +<p>Just as going along the coast by Pondoland one +sees English park scenery running down to the +very sea edge, so the Congo has its surprises in +strips of country that might, as far as appearance goes, +have been cut out of Europe and planted here.</p> +<p>This glade which Félix had chosen for a camping +place was strewn with rough grass and studded here and +there with what at first sight seemed apple trees: they +were in reality thorns.</p> +<p>The camp was pitched and the fires lit on the edge +of the forest, and then Berselius proceeded to take tale +of his people and found one missing. One of the cook +boys had dropped behind and vanished. He had been +lame shortly after the start. The soldiers had not seen +him drop behind, but the porters had.</p> +<p>“How many miles away was it?” asked Berselius +of the collected porters.</p> +<p>“Nkoto, nkoto (Very many, very many),” the answer +came in a chorus, for a group of savages, if they have +the same idea in common, will all shout together in +response to an answer, like one man.</p> +<p>“Why had they not told?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span></p> +<p>“We did not know,” came the irrelevant answer in +chorus.</p> +<p>Berselius knew quite well that they had not told +simply from heedlessness and want of initiative. He would +have flogged the whole lot soundly, but he wanted them +fresh for the morrow’s work. Cutting down their rations +would but weaken them, and as for threatening to dock +their pay, such a threat has no effect on a savage.</p> +<p>“Look!” said Berselius.</p> +<p>He had just dismissed the porters with a reprimand +when his keen eye caught sight of something far up the +glade. It wanted an hour of sunset.</p> +<p>Adams, following the direction in which Berselius +was gazing, saw, a great distance off, to judge by the +diminishing size of the thorn trees, a form that made +his heart to leap in him.</p> +<p>Massive and motionless, a great creature stood humped +in the level light; the twin horns back-curving and silhouetted +against the sky told him at once what it was.</p> +<p>“Bull rhinoceros,” said Berselius. “Been lying up +in the thick stuff all day; come out to feed.” He made +a sign to Félix who, knowing exactly what was wanted, +dived into the tent and came back with a .400 cordite +rifle and Adams’s elephant gun.</p> +<p>“Come,” said Berselius, “the brute is evidently thinking. +They stay like that for an hour sometimes. If +we have any luck, we may get a shot sideways before he +moves. There’s not a breath of wind.”</p> +<p>They started, Félix following with the guns.</p> +<p>“I would not bother about him,” said Berselius, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +“only the meat will be useful, and it will be an experience +for you. You will take first shot, and, if he charges, aim +just behind the shoulder—that’s the spot for a rhino if +you can reach it; for other animals aim at the neck, no +matter what animal it is, or whether it is a lion or a +buck; the neck shot is the knock-out blow. I have seen +a lion shot through the heart travel fifty yards and +kill a man; had he been struck in the neck he would +have fallen in his tracks.”</p> +<p>“Cow,” said Félix from behind.</p> +<p>Out of the thick stuff on the edge of the forest another +form had broken. She was scarcely smaller than the +bull, but the horns were shorter; she was paler in colour, +too, and showed up not nearly so well. Then she vanished +into the thick stuff, but the bull remained standing, +immovable as though he were made of cast iron, and the +two awful horns, now more distinct, cut the background +like scimitars.</p> +<p>The rhinoceros, like the aboriginal native of the Congo, +has come straight down from pre-Adamite days almost +without change. He is half blind now; he can scarcely +see twenty yards, he is still moving in the night of the +ancient world, and the smell of a man excites the wildest +apprehension in his vestige of a mind. He scents you, +flings his heavy head from side to side, and then to all +appearances he charges you.</p> +<p>Nothing could appear more wicked, ferocious, and +full of deadly intent than this charge; yet, in reality, the +unfortunate brute is not seeking you at all, but running +away from you; for the rhino when running away always +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +runs in the direction from which the wind is blowing. +You are in that direction, else your scent could not reach +him; as your scent grows stronger and stronger, the more +alarmed does he become and the quicker he runs. Now +he sights you, or you fire. If you miss, God help you, +for he charges the flash with all his fright suddenly +changed to fury.</p> +<p>They had got within four hundred yards from the +brute when a faint puff of wind stirred the grass, and +instantly the rhino shifted his position.</p> +<p>“He’s got our scent,” said Berselius, taking the cordite +rifle from Félix, who handed his gun also to Adams. +“He’s got it strong. We will wait for him here.”</p> +<p>The rhino, after a few uneasy movements, began to +“run about.” One could see that the brute was ill at +ease; he went in a half-circle, and then, the wind increasing, +and bringing the scent strong, he headed straight +for Berselius and his companions, and charged.</p> +<p>The sound of him coming was like the sound of a great +drum beaten by a lunatic.</p> +<p>“Don’t fire till I give the word,” cried Berselius, +“and aim just behind the shoulder.”</p> +<p>Adams, who was to the left of the charging beast, +raised the rifle and looked down the sights. He knew +that if he missed, the brute would charge the flash and +be on him perhaps before he could give it the second +barrel.</p> +<p>It was exactly like standing before an advancing +express engine. An engine, moreover, that had the power +of leaving the metals to chase you should you not derail it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span></p> +<p>Would Berselius never speak! Berselius all the time +was glancing from the rhino to Adams.</p> +<p>“Fire!”</p> +<p>The ear-blasting report of the elephant gun echoed +from the forest, and the rhino, just as if he had been tripped +by an invisible wire fence, fell, tearing up the ground and +squealing like a pig.</p> +<p>“Good,” said Berselius.</p> +<p>Adams wiped the sweat from his forehead with the +back of his hand. He had never gone through a moment +of more deadly nerve tension.</p> +<p>He was moving toward his quarry, now stretched +stiff and stark, when he was arrested by Félix.</p> +<p>“Cow,” said Félix again.</p> +<p>The cow had broken cover at the report of the gun +and had got their wind.</p> +<p>Just as two automatic figures of the same make will, +when wound up, and touched off, perform the same +actions, the cow did exactly what the bull had done—ran +about in a fierce and distressed manner and then +charged right in the eye of the wind.</p> +<p>“Mine,” said Berselius, and he went forward twenty +paces to meet her.</p> +<p>Berselius, chilling and aloof to the point of mysteriousness, +had, since the very starting of the expedition, shown +little of his true character to his companion. What he +had shown up to this had not lowered Adams’s respect +for him.</p> +<p>Self-restraint seemed the mainspring of that commanding +force which this strange man exercised. His +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +reprimand to the porters for the loss of the boy, expressed +in a few quiet words, had sent them shivering to their +places, cowed and dumb. Animal instinct seemed to tell +them of a terrible animal which the self-restraint of that +quiet-looking little man, with the pointed beard, alone +prevented from breaking upon them.</p> +<p>Berselius had allowed the bull to approach to a little +over a hundred yards before letting Adams fire. He +had gauged the American’s nerve to a nicety and his +power of self-restraint, and he knew that beyond the +hundred-yard limit he dared not trust them; for no man +born of woman who has not had a good experience of +big game can stand up to a charging rhinoceros and +take certain aim when the hundred-yard limit has +been passed.</p> +<p>The thunderous drumming of the oncoming brute +echoed from the forest. Had its head been a feather-pillow +the impact of the three tons of solid flesh moving +behind it would have been certain death; but the +head was an instrument of destruction, devised when the +megatherium walked the world, and the long raking horn +would have ripped up an elephant as easily as a sharp +penknife rips up a rabbit.</p> +<p>Before this thing, and to the right of it, rifle in +hand, stood Berselius. He did not even lift the gun +to his shoulder till the hundred-yard limit was +passed, and then he hung on his aim so horribly that +Adams felt the sweat-drops running on his face like +ants, and even Félix swallowed like a man who is +trying to choke down something nauseous. It was a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +magnificent exhibition of daring and self-restraint and +cool assurance.</p> +<p>At twenty-five yards or a little under, the cordite rang +out. The brute seemed to trip, just as the other had done, +over some invisible taut-stretched wire, and skidding with +its own impetus, squealing, striking out and tearing up +the grass, it came right up to Berselius’s feet before stiffening +in death. Like the great automaton it was, it had +scented the human beings just as the bull had scented +them, “fussed” just as he had fussed, charged as he had +charged, and died as he had died.</p> +<p>And now from the camp rose a great outcry, “Nyama, +nyama! (Meat, meat!).” From the soldiers, from the +gun-bearers, from the porters it came. There were no +longer soldiers, or gun-bearers, or porters; every distinction +was forgotten; they were all savages, voicing +the eternal cry of the jungle, “Nyama, nyama! (Meat, +meat!).”</p> +<p>In the last rays of the sunset the two gigantic forms +lay stretched forever in death. They lay as they had +composed themselves after that long stiff stretch which +every animal takes before settling itself for eternal sleep; +and Adams stood looking at the great grinning masks +tipped with the murderous horns, whilst Berselius, with +his gun butt resting on his boot, stood watching with a +brooding eye as the porters and gun-bearers swarmed like +ants around the slain animals and proceeded, under his +direction, to cut them up. Then the meat was brought +into camp. The tails and the best parts of the carcasses, +including the kidneys, were reserved for the white men, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +and the rations from the rest of the meat were served +out; but a dozen porters who had been last in the line, +and who were accountable for letting the boy drop behind, +got nothing.</p> +<p>It was pitiable to see their faces. But they deserved +their punishment, notwithstanding the fact that in the +middle of the meat distribution the missing boy limped +into camp. He had a thorn half an inch long in his foot, +which Adams extracted. Then the camp went to bed.</p> +<p>Adams in his tent under the mosquito net slept soundly +and heard and knew nothing of the incidents of the night. +Berselius was also sleeping soundly when, at about one +o’clock in the morning, Félix aroused him.</p> +<p>One of the porters had been caught stealing some +of the meat left over from the distribution of the night +before.</p> +<p>The extraordinary thing was that he had fed well, +not being one of the proscribed. He had stolen from +pure greed.</p> +<p>He was an undersized man, a weakling, and likely +to break down and give trouble anyway. His crime +was great.</p> +<p>Berselius sent Félix to his tent for a Mauser pistol. +Then the body was flung into the forest where the +roaring, rasping cry of a leopard was splitting the dark.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_M_BASSA' id='X_M_BASSA'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>M’BASSA</h3> +</div> + +<p>Seven days’ march took them one hundred and +twenty miles east of Yandjali and into the heart +of the great rubber district of M’Bonga.</p> +<p>Twenty miles a day ought to have been covered on an +average, but they had delayed here and there to shoot, +and the extra porters, whose duty it was to carry the +trophies, were already in requisition.</p> +<p>It had been forest most of the way, but forest broken +by open spaces; they had crossed two great swards of +park-like country where the antelope herds moved like +clouds, marvellous natural preserves that might have +been English but for the tropic haze and heat and the +great n’sambya trees with their yellow bell-like blossoms, +the m’binas with their bursts of scarlet bloom, the tall +feather-palms, and the wild papaws of the adjoining +woods.</p> +<p>But in the last two days of the march the forest had +thickened and taken a more sombre note; nothing they +had come upon heretofore had been quite so wild as this, +so luxuriant and tropical. It was the haunt of the rubber +vine, that mysterious plant which requires a glass-house +atmosphere and a soil especially rich. The great rubber +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +forest of M’Bonga, thousands of square miles in extent, +is really composed of two forests joined by an isthmus +of woods. Dimly, it is shaped like an hourglass; south +of the constriction where the two forests join lies the +elephant country for which Berselius was making, and +Félix had led them so craftily and well, that they struck +into the rubber district only fifty miles from the +constriction.</p> +<p>In the forest, thirty miles from the elephant ground, +lies the Belgian fort M’Bassa. They were making for +this place now, which was to be the base from which +they would start on the great hunt.</p> +<p>The fort of M’Bassa is not used to-day as a fort, only +as a collecting-place for rubber. In the early days it +was a very necessary entrenchment for the Belgians, as +a tribe almost as warlike as the Zappo Zaps terrorized +the districts; but the people of this tribe have long been +brought under the blue flag with the white star. They +are now “soldiers,” and their savagery, like a keen tool, +has been turned to good account by the Government.</p> +<p>In the great forest of M’Bonga the rubber vines are not +equally distributed. Large areas occur in which they +are not found; only in the most desolate places do they +grow. You cannot tame and prune and bring the rubber +vine into subjection; it will have nothing to do with the +vineyard and the field; it chooses to grow alone.</p> +<p>Everything else comes to its harvest with a joyous face, +but the rubber vine, like a dark green snake, fearful of +death, has to be hunted for.</p> +<p>Even in the areas of the forest which it frequents, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +it is only to be found in patches, so the harvesters cannot +go in a body, as men do to the harvesting of the corn, or +the cotton, or the grape; they have to break up into small +parties and these again subdivide, leaving a single individual +here and there where the vines are thickest. He, +entirely alone, at the mercy of the evil spirits that are in +his imagination and the beasts that are in the forest, +makes a rude shelter out of boughs and leaves, and sets +to work making incisions in the vine and draining them +drop by drop of their viscous sap.</p> +<p>Sometimes he sings over this monotonous work, and +in the long rains between the intervals of the shower-bath +roarings you can hear the ululations of these folk +through the drip of the leaves, and at night the spark-like +glimmer of their fires dots the reeking gloom.</p> +<p>These are the conditions of the rubber collector’s +task, and it is not a task that ever can be finished; year +in, year out, it never ceases.</p> +<p>These woods through which Félix led them were to +the woods near Yandjali what the music of Beethoven +is to the music of Mozart.</p> +<p>Immense and gloomy symphonies. The trees were +huge, and groaned beneath the weight of lianas cable-thick. +At times they had to burst their way through +the veils of leaves and vines, the porters losing themselves +and calling one to the other, and the head of the expedition +halting till the stragglers were collected; at times the +ground they trod on was like grease from the cast-down +fruit of the plantains that grew here enormous, and sodden, +and dismal, showering their fruit in such quantities +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +that the bush-pigs, devour as they might, could never +dispose of it all.</p> +<p>On some of the trees, like huge withered leaves, hung +bats, and from some of the trees the beard-moss hung +yards long, and of a spectral gray; the very weeds trodden +underfoot were sappy, and the smell of their squirting +juice mixed itself with the smell of decay.</p> +<p>It was not even ground, either; the whole forest would +dip down into an unseen valley; you felt yourself going +down hill, down, down, and then you knew you were at +the bottom of a sub-arboreal valley by the deeper stagnation +of the air. Open spaces, when they came, showed +little sky, and they were less open spaces than rooms in +the surrounding prison.</p> +<p>Félix was not leading them through the uttermost +depths of this place; he was following the vague indications +of a road by which the rubber from M’Bassa was +carted to the river.</p> +<p>They were travelling along a highway, in fact, and the +dimmest indication of a track where other men have been +before is a thing which robs the wilderness of much of +its terror.</p> +<p>The loneliness of the forest beyond track or way, in +those vast depths where the rubber collectors have to go +alone, I leave you to imagine.</p> +<p>At last, at noon, on the third day of their journey to +this place they struck rising ground where the trees fell +away till no trees were left, and the blue sky of heaven +lay above their heads, and before them on the highest +point of the rise, Fort M’Bassa burning in the sun.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XI_ANDREAS_MEEUS' id='XI_ANDREAS_MEEUS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>ANDREAS MEEUS</h3> +</div> + +<p>The Parthenon in all its glory could not have +looked more beautiful to the returning Greek than +this half-ruined fort in the eyes of Adams.</p> +<p>A thing built by the hands of white men and shone +on by the sun—what could be more acceptable to the +eye after the long, long tramp through the heart-breaking +forest!</p> +<p>The fort of M’Bassa was quite small; the surrounding +walls had gone to decay, but the “guest house” and the +office, and the great go-down where the rubber was +stored, were in good repair and well thatched.</p> +<p>Outside the walls were a number of wretched hovels +inhabited by the “soldiers” and their wives, and one +of these soldiers, a tall black, with the eternal red fez +on his head and a rifle slung on his back, was the first to +sight the coming expedition, and to notify its approach +with a yell that brought a dozen like him from the sun-baked +hovels and, a moment later from the office, a white +man in a pith helmet, who stood for a moment looking +across the half-ruined wall at the newcomers, and then +advanced to meet them.</p> +<p>He was a middle-sized man, with a melancholy face +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +that showed very white under the shadow of the helmet; +he was dressed in dingy white drill, and he had a cigarette +between his lips.</p> +<p>He looked like a man who had never in his life smiled, +yet his face was not an unpleasant face altogether, though +there was much in it to give the observer pause.</p> +<p>His voice was not an unpleasant voice, altogether, yet +there was that in it, as he greeted Berselius, which struck +Adams sharply and strangely; for the voice of Andreas +Meeus, <i>Chef de Poste</i> at M’Bassa, was the voice of a +man who for two years had been condemned to talk the +language of the natives. It had curious inflections, +hesitancies, and a dulness that expressed the condition +of a brain condemned for two years to think the thoughts +of the natives in their own language.</p> +<p>Just as the voice of a violin expresses the condition +of the violin, so does the voice of a man express the condition +of his mind. And that is the fact that will strike +you most if you travel in the wilds of the Congo State and +talk to the men of your own colour who are condemned +to live amongst the people.</p> +<p>One might have compared Meeus’s voice to the voice of +a violin—a violin that had been attacked by some strange +fungoid growth that had filled its interior and dulled +the sounding board.</p> +<p>He had been apprised a month before of the coming +of Berselius’s expedition, and one might imagine the servility +which this man would show to the all-powerful Berselius, +whose hunting expeditions were red-carpeted, who +was hail-fellow-well-met with Leopold, who, by lifting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +his finger, could cause Andreas Meeus to be dismissed +from his post, and by crooking his finger cause him to be +raised to a Commissionership.</p> +<p>Yet he showed no servility at all. He had left servility +behind him, just as he had left pride, just as he had left +ambition, patriotism, country, and that divine something +which blossoms into love of wife and child.</p> +<p>When he had shaken hands with Berselius and Adams, +he led the way into the fort, or rather into the enclosure +surrounded by the ruinous mud walls, an enclosure of +about a hundred yards square.</p> +<p>On the right of the quadrangle stood the go-down, +where the rubber and a small quantity of ivory was stored.</p> +<p>In the centre stood the misnamed guest house, a +large mud and wattle building, with a veranda gone +to decay.</p> +<p>The blinding sun shone on it all, showing up with its +fierce light the true and appalling desolation of the place. +There was not one thing in the enclosure upon which +the eye could rest with thankfulness.</p> +<p>Turning from the enclosure and looking across the +fort wall to the distance, one saw a world as far from +civilization as the world that Romulus looked at when he +gazed across the wall outlining the first dim sketch of +Rome.</p> +<p>To the north, forest; to the south, forest; to the east, +forest; and to the west, eternal and illimitable forest. +Blazing sun, everlasting haze that in the rainy season +would become mist and silence.</p> +<p>In the storms and under the rains the great rubber +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +forest of M’Bonga would roar like a reef-tormented sea, +but on a day like this, when, gazing from the high ground +of the fort, the eye travelled across the swelling domes +and heat-stricken valleys of foliage, the pale green of the +feather-palms, the sombre green of the n’sambyas, to the +haze that veiled all things beyond, on a day like this, +silence gazed at one Sphinx-like, and from the distance +of a million years. Silence that had brooded upon Africa +before Africa had a name, before Pharaoh was born, +before Thebes was built.</p> +<p>Meeus led the way into the guest house, which contained +only two rooms—rooms spacious enough, but +bare of everything except the ordinary necessities of life. +In the living room there was a table of white deal-like +wood and three or four chairs evidently made by natives +from a European design. A leopard skin, badly dried and +shrivelling at the edges, hung on one wall, presumably as +an ornament; on another wall some Congo bows and +arrows—bows with enormously thick strings and +arrows poisoned so skilfully that a scratch from one would +kill you, though they had been hanging there for many +years. They were trophies of the early days when Fort +M’Bassa was really a fort, and from those woods down +there clouds of soot-black devils, with filed teeth, raided +the place, only to be swept away by rifle fire.</p> +<p>There was no picture torn from an illustrated paper +adorning the place, as in Verhaeren’s abode, but on a +rudely constructed shelf there lay just the same stack of +“official letters,” some of these two years old, some of +last month, all dealing with trade. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span></p> +<p>Meeus brought out cigarettes and gin, but Berselius, +safe now at his base of operations, to make a little festival +of the occasion sent to the stores, which his porters had +deposited in the go-down, for a magnum of champagne. +It was Cliquot, and as Meeus felt the glow of the wine in +his veins, a flush came into his hollow cheeks and a brightness +into his dull eyes; forgotten things stirred again in +his memory, with the shadows of people he had known—the +glitter of lamplit streets in Brussels, the glare of the +<i>Café de Couronne</i>—all the past, such as it was, lay in +the wine.</p> +<p>Meeus was one of the “unfortunate men.” He had +held a small clerkship under the Belgian Government, +from which he had been dismissed through a fault of +his own.</p> +<p>This was five years ago. Up to his dismissal he had +led the peddling and sordid life that a small government +clerk on the Continent leads if he has nothing to save him +from himself and from his fellows: the dry rot of official +life had left him useless for anything but official life. A +sensualist in a small way, he enlarged his sphere on the +day of his dismissal, when he found himself cut off from +work and adrift in the world, with five hundred francs in +his pocket. In one glorious debauch, which lasted a week, +he spent the five hundred francs, and then he settled down +to live on a maiden aunt.</p> +<p>He called it looking for work.</p> +<p>She lasted for a year and nine months, and then +she died, and her annuity died with her. He felt her +loss deeply, for not only had her money helped to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +support him, but she was his only real friend, and he +had a heart in those days that seemed so far distant +from him now.</p> +<p>Then it was that Poverty took him by the hand and +explained patiently and with diagrams the hardness of +the world, the atrocious position of the <i>déclassé</i>, who has +never studied the art of roguery so as to make a living by +it, and the utter uselessness as friends of those good +fellows who sat in the <i>cafés</i> and walked the boulevards +and ogled the women.</p> +<p>He tramped the streets of Brussels, at first in seedy +clothes and at last in filth and horrible rags. A relative +came to his assistance with two hundred francs; he +bought himself clothes and made himself respectable, +but, in a fortnight, found himself relapsing again, sinking +like a swimmer whose momentary support has gone to +pieces.</p> +<p>Just as the waves were again about to close over his +benighted head, an acquaintance got him a post under +Government. Not under the Belgian but the Congo +Government.</p> +<p>Andreas Meeus was exactly the type of man this +Government required, and still requires, and still uses +and must continue to use as long as the infernal machine +which it has invented for the extraction of gold from +niggers continues to work. A man, that is to say, who +has eaten orange-peel picked up in the market-place; +a man who has worn out his friends—and his clothes. +A man without hope.</p> +<p>One would think for the work in hand they would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +choose the greatest blackguards possible: convicts convicted +of the worst crimes of violence. Not at all. These +men would be for one thing too intractable; for another +thing, too unstable, and for another thing (strange to say), +possessed of too much heart. The Congo Government +knows its work far too well for that. It does not take the +murderer or the violent criminal from the penitentiary +to do its work; it takes from the streets the man without +hope. The educated man who has fallen, the man who +can still think.</p> +<p>Meeus went to Africa just as a man goes to prison. +He hated the idea of going, but he had to go, or stay and +starve. He was stationed three months at Boma and +then he was moved to a post on the Upper Congo, a small +and easily worked post, where he found out the full conditions +of his new servitude.</p> +<p>This post had to do with what they call in the jargon +of the Congo administration, Forest Exploitation. Gum +copal and wax was the stuff he had to extract from the +people round about.</p> +<p>Here he found himself morally in the clutches of that +famous and infamous proclamation issued from Brussels +on the twentieth of June, 1892, by Secretary of State +Van Estvelde.</p> +<p>The Bonus Proclamation.</p> +<p>According to the terms of this proclamation, Meeus +found that besides his pay he could get a bonus on every +kilo of wax and copal he could extract from the natives, +and that the cheaper he could get the stuff the more his +bonus would be. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span></p> +<p>Thus, for every kilo of wax or copal screwed out of the +natives at a cost of five centimes or less, he received into +his pocket a bonus of fifteen centimes, that is to say the +bonus to Meeus was three times what the natives got; if +by any laxity or sense of justice, the cost of the wax or +copal rose to six centimes a kilo, Meeus only got ten centimes +bonus, and so on.</p> +<p>The cheaper he got the stuff the more he was paid +for it. And those were the terms on which he had to trade +with the natives.</p> +<p>Then there were the taxes. The natives had to bring +in huge quantities of wax and copal for nothing, just as +a tax owing to the State, a tax to the Government that +was plundering and exploiting them.</p> +<p>Meeus, who had a spice of the tradesman in him, fell +into this state of things as easily as a billiard ball falls +into a pocket when skilfully directed.</p> +<p>The unfortunate man was absolutely a billiard ball +in the hands of a professional player; the stroke of the +cue had been given in Belgium, he rolled to his appointed +post, fell into it, and was damned.</p> +<p>His fingers became crooked and a dull hunger for +money filled his soul. His success in working the niggers +was so great that he was moved to a more difficult post +at higher pay, and then right on to M’Bassa.</p> +<p>He was not naturally a cruel man. In his childhood +he had been fond of animals, but Matabiche, the god-devil +of the Congo, changed all that.</p> +<p>He saw nothing extortionate in his dealings, nothing +wrong in them. When things were going well, then all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +was well; but when the natives resisted his charges and +taxes, defrauding him of his bonus and lowering him +in the eyes of his superiors, then Meeus became terrible.</p> +<p>And he was absolute master.</p> +<p>Away here in the lonely fort, in the midst of the great +M’Bonga rubber forest that was now speechless as a +Sphinx, now roaring at him like a sea in torment; here +in the endless sunlight of the dry seasons and the endless +misery of the rains, Meeus driven in upon himself, had +time to think.</p> +<p>There is no prison so terrible as a limitless prison. +Far better for a man to inhabit a cell in Dartmoor than a +post in the desert of the forest. The walls are companionable +things, but there is no companionship in distance.</p> +<p>Meeus knew what it was to look over the walls of the +fort and watch another sun setting on another day, and +another darkness heralding another night. He knew +what it was to watch infinite freedom and to know it for +his captor and jailer. He knew what it was to wake +from his noonday siesta and see the same great awful +splash of sunlight striking the same old space of arid yard, +where the empty tomato tin lay by the rotten plantain +cast over by some nigger child. He knew what it was to +lie and hear the flies buzzing and wonder what tune of the +devil it was they were trying to imitate. He knew what +it was to think of death with the impotent craving of a +sick child for some impossible toy.</p> +<p>Look into your own life and see all the tiny things that +save you from <i>ennui</i> and devilment, and give you heart to +continue the journey from hour to hour in this world +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +where we live. Your morning paper, the new book from +the library you have just got to read, the pipe you hope +to smoke when you return from work, the very details +of your work; a hundred and one petty things that make +up the day of an ordinary man, breaking the monotony +and breaking the prospect before him into short views.</p> +<p>Meeus had none of these. Without literature or love, +without a woman to help him through, without a child +to care for or a dog to care for him, there at Fort M’Bassa +in the glaring sunshine he faced his fate and became +what he was.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII_NIGHT_AT_THE_FORT' id='XII_NIGHT_AT_THE_FORT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>NIGHT AT THE FORT</h3> +</div> + +<p>The night was hot and close and the paraffin lamp +in the guest house mixed its smell with the +tobacco smoke and with a faint, faint musky +odour that came from the night outside. Every now and +then a puff of hot wind blew through the open doorway, +hot and damp as though a great panther were breathing +into the room.</p> +<p>The nights in the forest were chill, but up here at Fort +M’Bassa they were stewing in a heat wave.</p> +<p>Adams, with his coat off, pipe in mouth, was leaning +back in a basket chair with his feet on a sugar box. +Berselius, in another easy chair, was smoking a cigar, +and Meeus, sitting with his elbows on the table, was talking +of trade and its troubles. There is an evil spirit in +rubber that gives a lot of trouble to those who deal with +it. The getting of it is bad enough, but the tricks of the +thing itself are worse. It is subject to all sorts of +influences, climatic and other, and tends to deteriorate on +its journey to the river and the coast of Europe.</p> +<p>It was marvellous to see the passion with which this +man spoke of this inanimate thing.</p> +<p>“And then, ivory,” said Meeus. “When I came here +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +first, hundred-pound tusks were common; when you reach +that district, M. le Capitaine, you will see for yourself, no +doubt, that the elephants have decreased. What comes in +now, even, is not of the same quality. Scrivelloes (small +tusks), defective tusks, for which one gets almost nothing +as a bonus. And with the decrease of the elephant comes +the increased subterfuge of the natives. ‘What are we to +do?’ they say. ‘We cannot make elephants.’ This is +the worst six months for ivory I have had, and then, on +top of this—for troubles always come together—I have +this bother I told you of with these people down there by +the Silent Pools.”</p> +<p>A village ten miles to the east had, during the last few +weeks, suspended rubber payments, gone arrear in taxes, +the villagers running off into the forest and hiding from +their hateful work.</p> +<p>“What caused the trouble?” asked Berselius.</p> +<p>“God knows,” replied Meeus. “It may blow over—it +may have blown over by this, for I have had no word +for two days; anyhow, to-morrow I will walk over and +see. If it hasn’t blown over, I will give the people very +clearly to understand that there will be trouble. I will +stay there for a few days and see what persuasion can do. +Would you like to come with me?”</p> +<p>“I don’t mind,” said Berselius. “A few days’ rest +will do the porters no harm. What do you say, Dr. +Adams?”</p> +<p>“I’m with you,” said Adams. “Anything better than +to stay back here alone. How do you find it here, M. +Meeus, when you are by yourself?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span></p> +<p>“Oh, one lives,” replied the <i>Chef de Poste</i>, looking +at the cigarette between his fingers with a dreamy expression, +and speaking as though he were addressing it. “One +lives.”</p> +<p>That, thought Adams, must be the worst part about +it. But he did not speak the words. He was a silent +man, slow of speech but ready with sympathy, and as he +lounged comfortably in his chair, smoking his pipe, his +pity for Meeus was profound. The man had been for +two years in this benighted solitude; two years without +seeing a white face, except on the rare occasion of a District +Commissioner’s visit.</p> +<p>He ought to have been mad by this, thought Adams; +and he was a judge, for he had studied madness and its +causes.</p> +<p>But Meeus was not mad in the least particular. He +was coldly sane. Lust had saved his reason, the lust +inspired by Matabiche.</p> +<p>Berselius’s cook brought in some coffee, and when they +had talked long enough about the Congo trade in its +various branches, they went out and smoked their pipes, +leaning or sitting on the low wall of the fort.</p> +<p>The first quarter of the moon, low in the sky and looking +like a boat-shaped Japanese lantern, lay above the forest. +The forest, spectral-pale and misty, lay beneath the moon; +the heat was sweltering, and Adams could not keep the +palms of his hands dry, rub them with his pocket +handkerchief or on his knees as much as he would.</p> +<p>This is the heat that makes a man feel limp as a wet +rag; the heat that liquefies morals and manners and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +temper and nerve force, so that they run with the sweat +from the pores. Drink will not “bite” in this heat, and +a stiff glass of brandy affects the head almost as little as +a glass of water.</p> +<p>“It is over there,” said Meeus, pointing to the southeast, +“that we are going to-morrow to interview those +beasts.”</p> +<p>Adams started at the intensity of loathing expressed +by Meeus in that sentence. He had spoken almost +angrily at rubber and tusks, but his languid, complaining +voice had held nothing like this before.</p> +<p>Those beasts! He hated them, and he would not +have been human had he not hated them. They were +his jailers in very truth, their work was his deliverance.</p> +<p>The revolt of this village would make him short of +rubber; probably it would bring a reprimand from his +superiors.</p> +<p>A great bat flitted by so close that the smell of it poisoned +the air, and from the forest, far away to the west, came the +ripping saw-like cry of a leopard on the prowl. Many +fierce things were hunting in the forest that night, but +nothing fiercer than Meeus, as he stood in the moonlight, +cigarette in mouth, staring across the misty forest in the +direction of the Silent Pools.</p> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>PART THREE</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIII_THE_POOLS_OF_SILENCE' id='XIII_THE_POOLS_OF_SILENCE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>THE POOLS OF SILENCE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Next morning Berselius ordered Félix to have the +tents taken from the go-down and enough stores +for two days. Tents and stores would be carried +by the “soldiers” of the fort, who were to accompany +them on the expedition.</p> +<p>Adams noticed with surprise the childlike interest +Meeus took in the belongings of Berselius; the green +rot-proof tents, the latest invention of Europe, seemed +to appeal to him especially; the Roorkee chairs, the +folding baths, the mosquito nets of the latest pattern, +the cooking utensils of pure aluminum, filled his +simple mind with astonishment. His mind during +his sojourn at Fort M’Bassa had, in fact, grown childlike +in this particular; nothing but little things appealed +to him.</p> +<p>Whilst the expedition was getting ready Adams strolled +about outside the fort walls. The black “soldiers,” +who were to accompany them, were seated in the sun near +their hovels, some of them cleaning their rifles, others +smoking; but for their rifles and fez caps they might, with +a view of Carthage in the distance, have been taken for +the black legionaries of Hamilcar, ferocious mercenaries +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +without country or God, fierce as the music of the leopard-skin +drums that led them to battle.</p> +<p>Turning, he walked round the west wall till he came +to the wall on the north, which was higher than the others. +Here, against the north wall, was a sheltered cover like +an immense sty, indescribably filthy and evil-smelling; +about thirty rings were fastened to the wall, and from +each ring depended a big rusty chain ending in a collar.</p> +<p>It was the Hostage House of Fort M’Bassa. It was +empty now, but nearly always full, and it stood there +like a horrible voiceless witness.</p> +<p>A great disgust filled the mind of Adams; disgust +of the niggers who had evidently lately inhabited this +place, and disgust of the Belgians who had herded them +there. He felt there was something very wrong in the +state of Congo. The Hostage House of Yandjali had +started the impression; Meeus in some subtle way had +deepened it; and now this.</p> +<p>But he fully recognized what difficult people to deal +with niggers are. He felt that all this was slavery under +a thin disguise, this so-called taxation and “trade,” but +it was not his affair.</p> +<p>All work is slavery more or less pleasant. The doctor +is the slave of his patients, the shopkeeper of his clients. +These niggers were, no doubt, slaves of the Belgians, +but they were not bought and sold; they had to work, it +is true, but all men have to work. Besides, Berselius +had told him that the Belgians had stopped the liquor +traffic and stopped the Arab raiders. There was good +and bad on the side of the Belgians, and the niggers +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +were niggers. So reasoned Adams, and with reason +enough, though from insufficient data.</p> +<p>At eight o’clock in the blazing sunshine, that even +then was oppressive, the expedition started. The white +men leading, Félix coming immediately behind, and +eleven of the soldiers, bearing the tents and stores for +two days, following after.</p> +<p>They plunged into the forest, taking a dim track, +which was the rubber track from the village of the Silent +Pools and from half a dozen other villages to the west. +The ground here was different from the ground they had +traversed in coming to the fort. This was boggy; here +and there the foot sank with a sough into the pulp of +morass and rotten leaves; the lianas were thinner and more +snaky, the greenery, if possible, greener, and the air close +and moist as the air of a steam-bath.</p> +<p>The forest of M’Bonga has great tracts of this boggy, +pestiferous land, dreadful sloughs of despond caverned +with foliage, and by some curse the rubber vines entrench +themselves with these. The naked rubber collectors, +shivering over their fires, are attacked by the rheumatism +and dysentery and fever that lie in these swamps; diseases +almost merciful, for the aches and pains they cause draw +the mind away from the wild beasts and devils and +phantoms that haunt the imagination of the rubber +slaves.</p> +<p>It took them three hours to do the ten miles, and then +at last the forest cleared away and fairyland appeared.</p> +<p>Here in the very depths of the hopeless jungle, as if +laid out and forgotten by some ancient god, lie the Silent +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +Pools of Matabayo and the park-like lands that hold them. +Like a beautiful song in some tragic and gloomy opera, +a regret of the God who created the hopeless forest, +sheltered by the great n’sambya trees, they lie; pools of +shadowy and tranquil water, broken by reflections of +branches and mirroring speargrass ten feet high and fanlike +fern fronds.</p> +<p>All was motionless and silent as a stereoscopic picture; +the rocketing palms bursting into sprays of emerald +green, the n’sambyas with their trumpet-like yellow blossoms, +the fern fronds reduplicating themselves in the +water’s glass, all and each lent their motionless beauty +to the completion of the perfect picture.</p> +<p>In the old days, long ago, before the land was exploited +and the forest turned into a hunting ground for rubber, +the lovely head of the oryx would push aside the long green +blades of the speargrass; then, bending her lips to the +lips of the oryx gazing up at her from the water, she would +drink, shattering the reflection into a thousand ripples. +The water-buck came here in herds from the elephant +country away south, beyond the hour-glass-like constriction +which divided the great forest, and the tiny dik-dik, +smallest of all antelopes, came also to take its sip. But +all that is past. The rifle and the trap, at the instigation of +the devouring Government that eats rubber and antelope, +ivory and palm-oil, cassava and copal, has thinned out the +herds and driven them away. The “soldier” must be +fed. Even the humble bush pig of the forest knows +that fact.</p> +<p>It was four years since Berselius had hunted in this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +country, and even in that short time he found enormous +change. But he could not grumble. He was a shareholder +in the company, and in twenty industries depending +on it.</p> +<p>Close up to the forest, where the m’bina trees showed +their balls of scarlet blossom, lay the village they had come +to reason with. There were twenty-five or more low huts +of wattle and mud, roofed with leaves and grass. No one +was visible but an old woman, naked, all but for a slight +covering about the loins. She was on all fours, grinding +something between two stones, and as she sighted the party +she looked backward over her shoulder at them like a +frightened cat.</p> +<p>She cried out in a chattering voice, and from the huts +six others, naked as herself, came, stared at the whites, +and then, as if driven by the same impulse, and just like +rabbits, darted into the forest.</p> +<p>But Meeus had counted on this, and had detached +seven of his men to crawl round and post themselves +at the back of the huts amidst the trees.</p> +<p>A great hullaballoo broke out, and almost immediately +the soldiers appeared, driving the seven villagers before +them with their rifle-butts.</p> +<p>They were not hurting them, just pushing them along, +for this was, up to the present, not a punitive expedition +but a fatherly visitation to point out the evils of laziness +and insubordination, and to get, if possible, these poor +wretches to communicate with the disaffected ones and +make them return to their work.</p> +<p>Adams nearly laughed outright at the faces of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +villagers; black countenances drawn into all the contortions +of fright, but the contortions of their bodies were +more laughable still, as they came forward like naughty +children, driven by the soldiers, putting their hands out +behind to evade the prods of the gun-butts.</p> +<p>Berselius had ordered the tents to be raised on the +sunlit grass, for the edge of the forest, though shady, +was infested by clouds of tiny black midges—midges +whose bite was as bad, almost, as the bite of a mosquito.</p> +<p>Meeus spoke to the people in their own tongue, telling +them not to be afraid, and when the tents were erected +he and Berselius and Adams, sitting in the shelter of the +biggest tent, faced the seven villagers, all drawn up in a +row and backed by the eleven soldiers in their red fez caps.</p> +<p>The villagers, backed by the soldiers and fronted by +Meeus, formed a picture which was the whole Congo +administration in a nutshell. In a sentence, underscored +by the line of blood-red fezzes.</p> +<p>These seven undersized, downtrodden, hideously +frightened creatures, with eyeballs rolling and the marks +of old chain scars on their necks, were the representatives +of all the humble and meek tribes of the Congo, +the people who for thousands of years had lived a lowly +life, humble as the coneys of Scripture; people who had +cultivated the art of agriculture and had carried civilization +as far as their weak hands would carry it in that +benighted land. Literally the salt of that dark earth. +Very poor salt, it is true, but the best they could make +of themselves.</p> +<p>These eleven red-tipped devils, gun-butting the others +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +to make them stand erect and keep in line, were the +representatives of the warlike tribes who for thousands +of years had preyed on each other and made the land a +hell. Cannibals most of them, ferocious all of them, +heartless to a man.</p> +<p>Meeus was the white man who, urged by the black +lust of money, had armed and drilled and brought under +good pay all the warlike tribes of the Congo State and +set them as task-masters over the humble tribes.</p> +<p>By extension, Berselius and Adams were the nations +of Europe looking on, one fully knowing, the other not +quite comprehending the tragedy enacted before their +eyes.</p> +<p>I am not fond of parallels, but as these people have +ranged themselves thus before my eyes, I cannot help +pointing out the full meaning of the picture. A picture +which is photographically true.</p> +<p>There was a little pot-bellied boy amongst the villagers, +the old woman of the grindstone was holding him by the +hand; he, of all the crowd, did not look in the least frightened. +His eyeballs rolled, but they rolled in wonder.</p> +<p>The tent seemed to take his fancy immensely; then +the big Adams struck his taste, and he examined him +from tip to toe.</p> +<p>Adams, greatly taken with the blackamoor, puffed out +his cheeks, closed one eye, and instantly, as if at the blow +of a hatchet, the black face split, disclosing two white +rows of teeth, and then hid itself, rubbing a snub nose +against the old woman’s thigh.</p> +<p>But a rolling white eyeball reappeared in a moment, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +only to vanish again as Adams, this time, sucked in his +cheeks and worked his nose, making, under his sun hat, +a picture to delight and terrify the heart of any child.</p> +<p>All this was quite unobserved by the rest, and all this +time Meeus gravely and slowly was talking to the villagers +in a quiet voice. They were to send one of their +number into the forest to find the defaulters and urge +them to return. Then all would be well. That was the +gist of his discourse; and the wavering line of niggers +rolled their eyes and answered, “We hear, we hear,” all +together and like one person speaking, and they were +nearly tumbling down with fright, for they knew that all +would not be well, and that what the awful white man +with the pale, grave face said to them was lies, lies, lies—all +lies.</p> +<p>Besides the old woman and the child there were two +young girls, an old man, a boy of fifteen or so, with only +one foot, and a pregnant woman very near her time.</p> +<p>Adams had almost forgotten the nigger child when +a white eyeball gazing at him from between the old +woman’s legs recalled its existence.</p> +<p>He thought he had never seen a jollier animal of the +human tribe than that. The creature was so absolutely +human and full of fun that it was difficult to believe it +the progeny of these downtrodden, frightened looking +folk. And the strange thing was, it had all the tricks of +an English or American child.</p> +<p>The hiding and peeping business, the ready laugh followed +by bashfulness and self-effacement, the old unalterable +impudence, which is not least amidst the <i>prima +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +mobilia</i> of the childish mind. In another moment, +he felt, the thing would forget its respect and return +his grimaces, so he ignored it and fixed his attention on +Meeus and the trembling wretches he was addressing.</p> +<p>When the lecture was over they were dismissed, and +the boy with the amputated foot was sent off to the forest +to find the delinquents and bring them back. Till sunrise +on the following day was the term given him.</p> +<p>If the others did not begin to return by that time there +would be trouble.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIV_BEHIND_THE_MASK' id='XIV_BEHIND_THE_MASK'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>BEHIND THE MASK</h3> +</div> + +<p>The Silent Pools and the woods around were the +haunts of innumerable birds. Rose-coloured +flamingoes and gorgeous ducks, birds arrayed +in all the jewellery of the tropics, birds not much bigger +than dragon-flies, and birds that looked like flying beetles.</p> +<p>When they had dined, Adams, leaving the others to +smoke and take their siesta, went off by the water’s edge +on a tour of the pools. They were three in number; +sheets of water blue and tranquil and well-named, for +surely in all the world nowhere else could such perfect +peace be found. Perhaps it was the shelter of the +forest protecting these windless sheets of water; perhaps +it was the nature of the foliage, so triumphantly +alive yet so motionless; perhaps beyond these some +more recondite reason influenced the mind and stirred +the imagination. Who knows? The spirit of the scene +was there. The spirit of deep and unalterable peace. +The peace of shadowy lagoons, the peace of the cedar +groves where the sheltering trees shaded the loveliness +of Merope, the peace of the heart which passes all understanding +and which men have named the Peace of God.</p> +<p>It was the first time since leaving Yandjali that Adams +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +had found himself alone and out of sight of his companions. +He breathed deeply, as if breathing in the air of freedom, +and as he strode along, tramping through the long +grass, his mind, whilst losing no detail of the scene around +him, was travelling far away, even to Paris, and beyond.</p> +<p>Suddenly, twenty yards ahead, bounding and beautiful +in its freedom and grace, a small antelope passed with +the swiftness of an arrow; after it, almost touching it, +came another form, yellow and fierce and flashing through +the grass and vanishing, like the antelope, amidst the +high grasses on the edge of the pool.</p> +<p>The antelope had rushed to the water for protection, +and the leopard had followed, carried forward by its +impetus and ferocity, for Adams could hear its splash +following the splash of the quarry; then a roar split +the silence, echoed from the trees, and sent innumerable +birds fluttering and crying from the edge of the forest +and the edge of the pool.</p> +<p>Adams burst through the long speargrass to see what +was happening, and, standing on the boggy margin, holding +the grasses aside, gazed.</p> +<p>The antelope had vanished as if it had never been, and +a few yards from the shore, in the midst of a lather of +water that seemed beaten up with a great swizzle-stick, +the leopard’s head, mouth open, roaring, horrified his +eyes for a moment and then was jerked under the surface.</p> +<p>The water closed, eddied, and became still, and Silence +resumed her sway over the Silent Pools.</p> +<p>Something beneath the water had devoured the antelope; +something beneath the water had dragged the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +leopard to its doom, and swish! a huge flail tore the speargrass +to ribbons and sent Adams flying backward with +the wind of its passage.</p> +<p>Another foot and the crocodile’s tail would have swept +him to the fate of the antelope and leopard.</p> +<p>The place was alive with ferocity and horror, and it +seemed to Adams that the Silent Pools had suddenly +slipped the mask of silence and beauty and shown to him +the face of hideous death.</p> +<p>He wiped the sweat from his brow. He was unarmed, +and it seemed that a man, to walk in safety through this +Garden of Eden, ought to be armed to the teeth. He +turned back to the camp, walking slowly and seeing +nothing of the beauties around him, nothing but the +picture of the leopard’s face, the paws frantically beating +the water, and a more horrible picture still, the water +resuming its calmness and its peace.</p> +<p>When he reached the camp, he found Berselius and +Meeus absent. After their siesta they had gone for a +stroll by the water’s edge in the opposite direction to that +which he had taken. The soldiers were on duty, keeping +a watchful eye on the villagers; all were seated, the villagers +in front of their huts and the soldiers in the shade, +with their rifles handy; all, that is to say, except the nigger +child, who was trotting about here and there, and who +seemed quite destitute of fear or concern.</p> +<p>When this creature saw the gigantic Adams who +looked even more gigantic in his white drill clothes, it +laughed and ran away, with hands outspread and head +half slewed round. Then it hid behind a tree. There is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +nothing more charming than the flight of a child when it +wishes to be pursued. It is the instinct of women and +children to run away, so as to lead you on, and it is the +instinct of a rightly constituted man to follow. Adams +came toward the tree, and the villagers seated before +their huts and the soldiers seated in the shade all turned +their heads like automata to watch.</p> +<p>“Hi there, you ink-bottle!” cried Adams. “Hullo +there, you black dogaroo! Out you come, Uncle Remus!” +Then he whistled.</p> +<p>He stood still, knowing that to approach closer would +drive the dogaroo to flight or to tree climbing.</p> +<p>There was nothing visible but two small black hands +clutching the tree bole; then the gollywog face, absolutely +split in two with a grin, appeared and vanished.</p> +<p>Adams sat down.</p> +<p>The old, old village woman who was, in fact, the child’s +grandmother, had been looking on nervously, but when +the big man sat down she knew he was only playing +with the child, and she called out something in the native, +evidently meant to reassure it. But she might have +saved her breath, for the black bundle behind the tree +suddenly left cover and stood with hands folded, looking +at the seated man.</p> +<p>He drew his watch from his pocket and held it up. It +approached. He whistled, and it approached nearer. +Two yards away it stopped dead.</p> +<p>“Tick-tick,” said Adams, holding up the watch.</p> +<p>“Papeete N’quong,” replied the other, or words to +that effect. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span></p> +<p>It spoke in a hoarse, crowing voice not at all unpleasant. +If you listen to English children playing in the street +you will often hear this croaking sort of voice, like the +voice of a young rook.</p> +<p>Papeete struck Adams as a good name for the animal +and, calling him by it, he held out the watch as a bait.</p> +<p>The lured one approached closer, held out a black +claw, and next moment was seized by the foot.</p> +<p>It rolled on the ground like a dog, laughing and kicking, +and Adams tickled it; and the grim soldiers laughed, +showing their sharp white teeth, and the old grandmother +beat her hands together, palm to palm, as +if pleased, and the other villagers looked on without the +ghost of an expression on their black faces.</p> +<p>Then he jumped it on its feet and sent it back to its +people with a slap on its behind, and returned to his tent +to smoke till Berselius and Meeus returned.</p> +<p>But he had worked his own undoing, for, till they +broke camp, Papeete haunted him like a buzz-fly, peeping +at him, sometimes from under the tent, trotting after him +like a dog, watching him from a distance, till he began to +think of “haunts” and “sendings” and spooks.</p> +<p>When Berselius and his companion returned, the three +men sat and smoked till supper time.</p> +<p>At dark the villagers were driven into their huts and at +the door of each hut lay a sentry.</p> +<p>A big fire was lit, and by its light two more sentries +kept watch over the others and their prisoners. Then the +moon rose, spreading silver over the silence of the pools +and the limitless foliage of the forest.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XV_THE_PUNISHMENT' id='XV_THE_PUNISHMENT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>THE PUNISHMENT</h3> +</div> + +<p>The sun rose, bringing with it a breeze. Above the +stir and bustle of the birds you could hear the +gentle wind in the tree-tops like the sound of +a sea on a low-tide beach.</p> +<p>The camp was still in gloom, but the whole arc of sky +above the pools was thrilled and filled with living light. +Sapphire blue, dazzling and pale, but deep with infinite +distance, it had an intrinsic brilliancy as though filled +with sunbeams brayed to dust.</p> +<p>The palm tops had caught the morning splendour +and then, rapidly, as though the armies of light were +moving to imperious trumpet-calls, charging with golden +spears, legion on legion, a hurricane of brightness, Day +broke upon the pools.</p> +<p>We call it Day, but what is it, this splendour that comes +from nowhere, and vanishes to nowhere, that strikes our +lives rhythmically like the golden wing of a vast and flying +bird, bearing us along with it in the wind of its flight?</p> +<p>The rotation of the earth? But in the desert, on +the sea, in the spaces of the forest you will see in the dawn +a vision divorced from time, a recurring glance of a beauty +that is eternal, a ray as if from the bright world toward +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +which the great bird Time is flying, caught and reflected +to our eyes by every lift of the wing.</p> +<p>The dawn had not brought the truants back from the +forest.</p> +<p>This point Meeus carefully verified. Even the boy +who had been sent to communicate with them had not +returned.</p> +<p>“No news?” said Berselius, as he stepped from his tent-door +and glanced around him.</p> +<p>“None,” replied Meeus.</p> +<p>Adams now appeared, and the servants who had been +preparing breakfast laid it on the grass. The smell of +coffee filled the air; nothing could be more pleasant than +this out-of-doors breakfast in the bright and lovely morning, +the air fresh with the breeze and the voices of birds.</p> +<p>The villagers were all seated in a group, huddled together +at the extreme left of the row of huts. They were no +longer free, but tied together ankle to ankle by strips of +<i>n’goji</i>. Only Papeete was at liberty, but he kept at a +distance. He was seated near the old woman, and he +was exploring the interior of an empty tomato tin flung +away by the cook.</p> +<p>“I will give them two hours more,” said Meeus, as he +sipped his coffee.</p> +<p>“And then?” said Adams.</p> +<p>Meeus was about to reply when he caught a glance +from Berselius.</p> +<p>“Then,” he said, “I will knock those mud houses of +theirs to pieces. They require a lesson.”</p> +<p>“Poor devils!” said Adams. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span></p> +<p>Meeus during the meal did not display a trace of +irritation. From his appearance one might have judged +that the niggers had returned to their work, and that +everything was going well. At times he appeared absent-minded, +and at times he wore a gloomy but triumphant +look, as though some business which had unpleasant +memories attached to it had at last been settled to his +satisfaction.</p> +<p>After breakfast he drew Berselius aside, and the two +men walked away in the direction of the pools, leaving +Adams to smoke his pipe in the shade of the tent.</p> +<p>They came back in about half an hour, and Berselius, +after speaking a few words to Félix, turned to +Adams.</p> +<p>“I must ask you to return to Fort M’Bassa and get +everything in readiness for our departure. Félix will +accompany you. I will follow in a couple of hours with +M. Meeus. I am afraid we will have to pull these people’s +houses down. It’s a painful duty, but it has to be performed. +You will save yourself the sight of it.”</p> +<p>“Thanks,” said Adams. Not for a good deal of money +would he have remained to see those wretched hovels +knocked to pieces. He could perceive plainly enough +that the thing had to be done. Conciliation had been +tried, and it was of no avail. He was quite on the side +of Meeus; indeed, he had admired the self-restraint of +this very much tried <i>Chef de Poste</i>. Not a hard word, +not a blow, scarcely a threat had been used. The people +had been spoken to in a fatherly manner, a messenger +had been sent to the truants, and the messenger had joined +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +them. At all events he had not returned. Then, certainly, +pull their houses down. But he did not wish to +see the sight. He had nothing to do with the affair, so +filling and lighting another pipe, and leaving all his belongings +to be brought on by Berselius, he turned with Félix +and, saying good-bye to his companions, started.</p> +<p>They had nearly reached the edge of the forest when +shouts from behind caused Adams to turn his head.</p> +<p>The soldiers were shouting to Papeete to come back.</p> +<p>The thing had trotted after Adams like a black dog. +It was within a few yards of him.</p> +<p>“Go back,” shouted Adams.</p> +<p>“Tick-tick,” replied Papeete. It was the only English +the creature knew.</p> +<p>It stood frying in the sun, grinning and glistening, till +Adams, with an assumption of ferocity, made for it, then +back it went, and Adams, laughing, plunged under the +veil of leaves.</p> +<p>Berselius, seated at his tent door, looked at his watch. +Meeus, seated beside Berselius, was smoking cigarettes.</p> +<p>“Give him an hour,” said Berselius. “He will be far +away enough by that. Besides, the wind is blowing from +there.”</p> +<p>“True,” said Meeus. “An hour.” And he continued +to smoke. But his hand was shaking, and he was biting +the cigarette, and his lips were dry so that he had to be +continually licking them.</p> +<p>Berselius was quite calm, but his face was pale, and +he seemed contemplating something at a distance.</p> +<p>When half an hour had passed, Meeus rose suddenly to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span> +his feet and began to walk about, up and down, in front of +the tent, up and down, up and down, as a man walks +when he is in distress of mind.</p> +<p>The black soldiers also seemed uneasy, and the villagers +huddled closer together like sheep. Papeete alone +seemed undisturbed. He was playing now with the old +tomato tin, out of which he had scraped and licked every +vestige of the contents.</p> +<p>Suddenly Meeus began crying out to the soldiers in a +hard, sharp voice like the yelping of a dog.</p> +<p>The time was up, and the soldiers knew. They ranged +up, chattering and laughing, and all at once, as if produced +from nowhere, two rhinoceros hide whips appeared +in the hands of two of the tallest of the blacks. +Rhinoceros hide is more than an inch thick; it is clear and +almost translucent when properly prepared. In the form +of a whip it is less an instrument of punishment than a +weapon. These whips were not the smoothly prepared +whips used for light punishment; they had angles that +cut like sword edges. One wonders what those sentimental +people would say—those sentimental people who +cry out if a burly ruffian is ordered twenty strokes with the +cat—could they see a hundred <i>chicotte</i> administered +with a whip that is flexible as india-rubber, hard as steel.</p> +<p>Two soldiers at the yelping orders of Meeus cut the old +woman apart from her fellows and flung her on the ground.</p> +<p>The two soldiers armed with whips came to her, and +she did not speak a word, nor cry out, but lay grinning at +the sun.</p> +<p>Papeete, seeing his old grandmother treated like this, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +dropped his tomato tin and screamed, till a soldier put a +foot on his chest and held him down.</p> +<p>“Two hundred <i>chicotte</i>,” cried Meeus, and like the echo +of his words came the first dull, coughing blow.</p> +<p>The villagers shrieked and cried altogether at each +blow, but the victim, after the shriek which followed the +first blow, was dumb.</p> +<p>Free as a top which is being whipped by a boy, she +gyrated, making frantic efforts to escape, and like boys +whipping a top, the two soldiers with their whips pursued +her, blow following blow.</p> +<p>A semicircle of blood on the ground marked her gyrations. +Once she almost gained her feet, but a blow in the +face sent her down again. She put her hands to her poor +face, and the rhinoceros whips caught her on the hands, +breaking them. She flung herself on her back and they +beat her on the stomach, cutting through the walls of the +abdomen till the intestines protruded. She flung herself +on her face and they cut into her back with the whips +till her ribs were bare and the fat bulged through the +long slashes in the skin.</p> +<p>Verily it was a beating to the bitter end, and Meeus, +pale, dripping with sweat, his eyes dilated to a rim, ran +about laughing, shouting—</p> +<p><i>“Two hundred chicotte. Two hundred chicotte.”</i></p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>He cried the words like a parrot, not knowing what he +said.</p> +<p>And Berselius?</p> +<p>Berselius, also dripping with sweat, his eyes also dilated +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +to a rim, tottering like a drunken man, gazed, drinking, +drinking the sight in.</p> +<p>Down, away down in the heart of man there is a trapdoor. +Beyond the instincts of murder and assassination, +beyond the instincts that make a Count Cajus or a Marquis +de Sade, it lies, and it leads directly into the last and +nethermost depths of hell, where sits in eternal damnation +Eccelin de Romano.</p> +<p>Cruelty for cruelty’s sake: the mad pleasure of watching +suffering in its most odious form: that is the passion +which hides demon-like beneath this door, and that was +the passion that held Berselius now in its grip.</p> +<p>He had drunk of all things, this man, but never of such +a potent draught as this demon held now to his lips—and +not for the first time. The draught would have been +nothing but for the bitterness of it, the horror of it, the +mad delight of knowing the fiendishness of it, and drinking, +drinking, drinking, till reason, self-respect, and soul, were +overthrown.</p> +<p>The thing that had been a black woman and, now, +seemed like nothing earthly except a bundle of red rags, +gave up the miserable soul it contained and, stiffening +in the clutches of tetanus, became a hoop.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>What happened then to the remaining villagers could +be heard echoing for miles through the forest in the shrieks +and wails of the tortured ones.</p> +<p>One cannot write of unnamable things, unprintable +deeds. The screams lasted till noon.</p> +<p>At one o’clock the punitive expedition had departed, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +leaving the Silent Pools to their silence. The houses of +the village had been destroyed and trampled out. The +sward lay covered with shapeless remains, and scarcely +had the last of the expedition departed, staggering and +half drunk with the delirium of their deeds, than from the +blue above, like a stone, dropped a vulture.</p> +<p>A vulture drops like a stone, with wings closed till it +reaches within a few yards of the ground; then it spreads +its wings and, with wide-opened talons, lights on its prey.</p> +<p>Then, a marabout with fore-slanting legs and domed-out +wings, came sailing silently down to the feast, and +another vulture, and yet another.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVI_DUE_SOUTH' id='XVI_DUE_SOUTH'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>DUE SOUTH</h3> +</div> + +<p>When Berselius and Meeus returned to Fort +M’Bassa Adams, who met them, came to the +conclusion that Berselius had been drinking. +The man’s face looked stiff and bloated, just as a man’s +face looks after a terrible debauch. Meeus looked cold +and hard and old, but his eyes were bright and he was +seemingly quite himself.</p> +<p>“To-morrow I shall start,” said Berselius. “Not +to-day. I am tired and wish to sleep.” He went off +to the room where his bed was, and cast himself on it and +fell instantly into a deep and dreamless sleep.</p> +<p>The innocent may wonder how such a man would +dare to sleep—dare to enter that dark country so close +to the frontier of death. But what should the innocent +know of a Berselius, who was yet a living man and walked +the earth but a few years ago, and whose prototype is +alive to-day. Alive and powerful and lustful, great in +mind, body, and estate.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Before sunrise next morning the expedition was marshalled +in the courtyard for the start.</p> +<p>A great fire burned in the space just before the house, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +and by its light the stores and tents were taken from the +go-down. The red light of the fire lit up the black +glistening skins of the porters as they loaded themselves +with the chop boxes and tents and guns; lit up the red +fez caps of the onlooking “soldiers,” their glittering +white teeth, their white eyeballs, and the barrels of their +rifles.</p> +<p>Beyond and below the fort the forest stretched in the +living starlight like an infinite white sea. The tree-tops +were roofed with a faint mist, no breath of wind disturbed +it, and in contrast to the deathly stillness of all that dead-white +world the sky, filled with leaping stars, seemed alive +and vocal.</p> +<p>It was chill up here just before dawn. Hence the fire. +Food had been served out to the porters, and they ate it +whilst getting things ready and loading up. Berselius +and his companions were breakfasting in the guest house +and the light of the paraffin lamp lay on the veranda +yellow as topaz in contrast with the red light of the fire +in the yard.</p> +<p>Everything was ready for the start. They were waiting +now for the sun.</p> +<p>Then, away to the east, as though a vague azure wind +had blown up under the canopy of darkness, the sky, +right down to the roof of the forest, became translucent +and filled with distance.</p> +<p>A reef of cloud like a vermilion pencil-line materialized +itself, became a rose-red feather tipped with dazzling +gold, and dissolved as if washed away by the rising sea +of light. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span></p> +<p>A great bustle spread through the courtyard. The +remaining stores were loaded up, and under the direction +of Félix, the porters formed in a long line, their loads on +their heads.</p> +<p>As the expedition left the compound it was already +day. The edge of the sun had leaped over the edge of +the forest, the world was filled with light, and the sky was +a sparkling blue.</p> +<p>What a scene that was! The limitless sea of snow-white +mist rippled over by the sea of light, the mist +billowed and spiralled by the dawn wind, great palm tops +bursting through the haze, glittering effulgent with dew, +birds breaking to the sky in coloured flocks, snow, and +light, and the green of tremendous vegetation, and over +all, new-built and beautiful, the blue, tranquil dome of sky.</p> +<p>It was song materialized in colour and form, the song +of the primeval forests breaking from the mists of chaos, +tremendous, triumphant, joyous, finding day at last, and +greeting him with the glory of the palms, with the +rustle of the n’sambyas tossing their golden bugles +to the light, the drip and sigh of the euphorbia trees, the +broad-leaved plantains and the thousand others whose +forms hold the gloom of the forest in the mesh of their +leaves.</p> +<p>“I have awakened, O God! I have awakened. Behold +me, O Lord! I am Thine!”</p> +<p>Thus to the splendour of the sun and led by the trumpet +of the wind sang the forest. A hundred million trees lent +their voices to the song. A hundred million trees—acacia +and palm, m’bina and cottonwood, thorn and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +mimosa; in gloom, in shine, in valley and on rise, mist-strewn +and sun-stricken, all bending under the deep sweet +billows of the wind.</p> +<p>At the edge of the forest Berselius and Adams took +leave of Meeus. Neither Berselius nor Meeus showed +any sign of the past day. They had “slept it off.” As +for Adams, he knew nothing, except that the villagers had +been punished and their houses destroyed.</p> +<p>The way lay due south. They were now treading +that isthmus of woods which connects the two great forests +which, united thus, make the forest of M’Bonga. The +trees in this vast connecting wood are different from the +trees in the main forests. You find here enormous acacias, +monkey-bread trees, raphia palms and baobabs; less +gloom, and fewer creeping and hanging plants.</p> +<p>Berselius, as a rule, brought with him a taxidermist, +but this expedition was purely for sport. The tusks +of whatever elephants were slain would be brought back, +but no skins; unless, indeed, they were fortunate enough +to find some rare or unknown species.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVII_SUNWASHED_SPACES' id='XVII_SUNWASHED_SPACES'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>SUN-WASHED SPACES</h3> +</div> + +<p>A two days’ march brought them clear of the +woods and into a broken country, vast, sunstrewn +and silent; a beautiful desolation where the +tall grass waved in the wind, and ridge and hollow, plain +and mimosa tree, led the eye beyond, and beyond, to +everlasting space.</p> +<p>Standing here alone, and listening, the only sound +from all that great sunlit country was the sound of the +wind in the grasses near by.</p> +<p>Truly this place was at the very back of the world, the +hinterland of the primeval forests. Strike eastward far +enough and you would sight the snow-capped crest of +Kilimanjaro, King of African mountains, sitting snow-crowned +above the vast territory to which he has given +his name, and which stretches from Lake Eyasi to the +Pare Mountains. The hunters of Kilimanjaro, which +once was the home of elephants, have thinned the herds +and driven them to wander. Elephants that a hundred +years ago, even fifty years ago, were almost fearless of +man, have altered their habits from the bitter lessons they +have received, and now are only to be found in the most +inaccessible places. Should they cling to more inhabited +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +districts, they come out of the sheltered places only by +night. A man may spend years in an elephant district +without once seeing an elephant. Driven by the necessity +of food and the fear of man, the great herds wander in +their wonderful and mysterious journeys for hundreds and +hundreds of miles. Never lying down, sleeping as they +stand, always on guard, dim of sight yet keen of smell, +they pass where there are trees, feeding as they go, stripping +branches of leaves. Alarmed, or seeking a new feeding +place, a herd moves in the rainy season, when +the ground is soft, with the silence and swiftness of +a cloud shadow; in the dry season when the ground is +hard, the sound of them stampeding is like the drums of +an army.</p> +<p>“Elephants,” said Berselius, pointing to some bundles +of dried stuff lying near a vangueria bush. “That stuff is +a bundle of bowstring hemp. They chew it and drop it. +Oh, that has been dropped a long time ago; see, there you +have elephants again.”</p> +<p>A tree standing alone showed half its bark ripped off, +tusked off by some old bull elephant, and above the tusk +marks, some fifteen feet up, could be seen the rubbing +mark where great shoulders had scratched themselves.</p> +<p>As they marched, making due south, Berselius in that +cold manner which never left him, and which made comradeship +with the man impossible and reduced companionship +to the thinnest bond, talked to Adams about the +game they were after, telling in a few graphic sentences +and not without feeling the wonderful story of the moving +herds, to whom distance is nothing, to whom mountains +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +are nothing, to whom the thickest jungle is nothing. The +poem of the children of the mammoth who have walked +the earth with the mastodon, who have stripped the trees +wherein dwelt arboreal man, who have wandered under +the stars and suns of a million years, seen rivers change +their courses and hills arise where plains had been, and +yet remain, far strewn and thinned out, it is true, but +living still. At noon they halted and the tents were pitched +for a four hours’ rest.</p> +<p>Adams, whilst dinner was preparing, walked away +by himself till the camp was hidden by a ridge, then he +stood and looked around him.</p> +<p>Alone, like this, the spirit of the scene appeared before +him: the sun, and wind, and sky; the vast, vast spaces +of waving grass, broken by the beds of dried-up streams, +strewn here and there with mimosas and thorns, here dim +with the growth of vangueria bushes, here sharp and +gray-green with cactus; this giant land, infinite, sunlit, +and silent, spoke to him in a new language.</p> +<p>It seemed to Adams that he had never known freedom +before.</p> +<p>A shadow swept by him on the grass. He looked +up and watched the great bird that had cast the shadow +sailing away on the wind, dwindling to a point, and vanishing +in the dazzling blue.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVIII_FAR_INTO_ELEPHANT_LAND' id='XVIII_FAR_INTO_ELEPHANT_LAND'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<h3>FAR INTO ELEPHANT LAND</h3> +</div> + +<p>They sighted a small herd of giraffe two days +later, but so far off as to be beyond pursuit; +but before evening, just as they were about to +camp by some pools, they came across rhino.</p> +<p>Berselius’s quick eye spotted the beasts, a bull and a +cow. They were in the open, under shelter of some thick +grass; the bull was half sitting up, and his head and horn +in the evening light might have been taken for the stump of +a broken tree. The cow was not visible at first, but almost +immediately after they sighted the bull, she heaved herself +up and stood a silhouette against the sky.</p> +<p>The wind was blowing from the beasts, so it was quite +possible to get close up to them. The meat would be +useful, so Berselius and his companion started, with +Félix carrying the guns.</p> +<p>As they drew close Adams noticed that the back of +the great cow seemed alive and in motion. Half a dozen +rhinoceros birds, in fact, were upon it, and almost immediately, +sighting the hunters, they rose chattering and +fluttering in the air.</p> +<p>These birds are the guardians of the half-blind rhinoceros. +They live on the parasites that infest his skin. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +It is a partnership. The birds warn the rhinoceros of +danger, and he, vicariously, feeds the birds. Scarcely +had the birds given warning than the bull heaved himself +up. Berselius’s rifle rang out, but the light was uncertain, +and the brute wounded, but not mortally, charged forward +took a half circle, swung his head from side to side in +search of his assailant, and sighted the cow. Instantly, +horn down and squealing, he charged her. She met +him horn to horn, and the smash could be heard at the +camp where the porters and the soldiers stood gazing +open-mouthed at the battle between the two great brutes +charging each other in the low evening light, fighting with +the ferocity of tigers and the agility of cats.</p> +<p>Adams, close up as he was, had a better view, and +unless he had seen with his own eyes, he could not have +believed that two animals so heavy and unwieldy +could display such nimbleness and such quickness of +ferocity.</p> +<p>It was the wickedest sight, and it was brought to an +end at last by the rifle of Berselius.</p> +<p>Curiously enough, neither brute had injured the other +very much. The horns which, had they been of ivory, +must have been shivered, were intact, for the horn of a +rhinoceros is flexible; it is built up of a conglomeration +of hairs, and though, perhaps, the most unbreakable thing +in the universe, it bends up to a certain point just as a +rapier does.</p> +<p>Next morning, two hours after daybreak, Félix, who +was scouting just ahead of the column, came running +back with news he had struck elephant spoor. Every +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +tooth in his head told the tale. Not only spoor, but the +spoor of a vast herd cutting right across the line of march.</p> +<p>Berselius came forward to examine, and Adams came +with him.</p> +<p>The dry ground and wire grass was not the best medium +for taking the track of the beasts, but to the experienced +eyes of Berselius and the Zappo Zap everything was clear. +A herd of elephant had passed not long ago, and they +were undisturbed and unsuspicious. When elephants +are suspicious they march in lines, single file, one stepping +in the tracks of another. This herd was spread wide and +going easy of mind, but at what pace it would be impossible +to say.</p> +<p>The long boat-shaped back feet of the bulls leave a +print unmistakable in the rainy season when the ground +is soft, but still discernible to the trained eye in the dry +season. Félix declared that there were at least twenty +bulls in the herd, and some of huge size.</p> +<p>“How long is it since they passed here?” asked +Berselius.</p> +<p>Félix held up the fingers of one hand. From certain +indications he came to the conclusion they had passed late +in the night, three hours or so before daybreak. They +numbered forty or fifty, leaving aside the calves that might +be with them. He delivered these opinions, speaking in +the native, and Berselius instantly gave the order, “Left +wheel!” to the crowd of porters; and at the word the +long column turned at right angles to the line of march +and struck due west, treading the track of the herd.</p> +<p>Nothing is more exciting than this following in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +track of a mammoth army whose tactics you cannot foresee. +This herd might be simply moving a few miles in +search of a new feeding ground, or it might be making one +of those great sweeping marches covering hundreds of +miles that the mysterious elephant people make at the +dictates of their mysterious instinct. It might be moving +at a gentle pace, or swifter than a man could run. A +mile on the new route they came on a broken tree, +a great tree broken down as if by a storm; the fractures +were quite recent. The elephant folk had done this. +They came across another tree whose sides, facing north +and south, had been clearly barked, and the pieces of the +bark, farther on, that had been chewed and flung away.</p> +<p>With one stroke of a tusk passing a tree, and without +stopping, an elephant will tear off a strip of bark; and +it was curious to see how the bark of this tree to east and +west was intact. The moving herd had not stopped. +Just in passing, an elephant on either side of the tree had +taken his slice of bark, chewed it and flung it away. +There were also small trees trodden down mercilessly +under foot. Thus the great track of the herd lay +before the hunters, but not a sign in all the sunlit, silent +country before them of the herd itself.</p> +<p>It was Berselius’s aim to crowd up his men as quickly +as a forced march could do it, camp and then pursue the +herd with a few swift followers, the barest possible amount +of stores and one tent.</p> +<p>The calabashes and the water bottles had been filled +at the last halt, but it was desirable to find water for the +evening’s camping place. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span></p> +<p>It was now that Berselius showed his capacity as a +driver and his own enormous store of energy.</p> +<p>He took the tail of the column, and woe to the porters +who lagged behind! Félix was with him, and Adams, who +was heading the column, could hear the shouts of the +Zappo Zap. The men with their loads went at a quick +walk, sometimes breaking into a trot, urged forward by +the gun-butt of Félix.</p> +<p>The heat was sweltering, but there was no rest. On, on, +on, ever on through a country that changed not at all; +the same breaks and ridges, the same limitless plains of +waving grass, the same scant trees, the same heat-shaken +horizon toward which the elephant road led straight, +unwavering, endless.</p> +<p>The brain reeled with the heat and the dazzle, but +the column halted not nor stayed. The energy of Berselius +drove it forward as the energy of steam drives an engine. +His voice, his very presence, put life into flagging legs +and sight into dazzled eyes. He spared neither himself +nor others; the game was ahead, the spoor was hot, and +the panther in his soul drove him forward.</p> +<p>Toward noon they halted for two hours where some +bushes spread their shade. The porters lay down on their +bellies, with arms outspread, having taken a draught of +water and a bite of food; they lay in absolute and profound +slumber. Adams, nearly as exhausted, lay on his +back. Even Félix showed signs of the journey, but +Berselius sat right back into the bushes, with his knees +drawn up and, with eyes fixed on the eastern distance, +brooded. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></p> +<p>He was always like this on a great hunt, when the game +was near. Silent and brooding, and morose to the point +of savagery.</p> +<p>One might almost have fancied that in far distant days +this man had been a tiger, and that the tiger still lived +slumbering in his soul, triumphant over death, driving +him forth at intervals from civilization to wander in the +wild places of the earth and slay.</p> +<p>Two hours past noon they resumed their journey: on, +on, on, treading the elephant track which still went due +east straight as an arrow to the blue horizon. The frightful +tiredness they had felt before the noonday halt had +passed, giving place to a dull, dreamy feeling, such as +comes after taking opium. The column marched mechanically +and without thought, knowing only two things, the +feel of the hard ground and grass beneath their feet, and +the smiting of the sun on their backs.</p> +<p>Thus the galley slaves of old laboured at their oars and +the builders of the pyramids beneath their loads, all +moving like one man. But here was no tune of flutes +to set the pace, or monotonous song to help the lifting; +only the voice of Berselius like a whip-lash, and the gun-butt +of Félix drumming on the ribs of laggards.</p> +<p>A light, hot wind was blowing in their faces. Adams, +still at the head of the column, had suffered severely during +the morning march, and the re-start after the noon +rest was painful to him as a beating; but the reserve forces +of a powerful constitution that had never been tampered +with were now coming into play, and, after a time, he felt +little discomfort. His body, like a wound-up mechanism, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +did all the work; his mind became divorced from it; he +experienced a curious exaltation, like that which comes +from drink, only finer far and more ethereal. The column +seemed marching far swifter than it was marching in +reality, the vast sunlit land seemed vaster even than it +was; the wind-blown grass, the far distant trees, the +circling skyline, all spoke of freedom unknown to man: +the freedom of the herd they were pursuing; the freedom +of the bird flying overhead; the freedom of the wind blowing +in the grass; the freedom of the limitless, endless, +sunlit country. Meridians of silence, and light, and +plains, and trees, and mountains, and forests. Parallels +of virgin land.</p> +<p>He was feeling what the bird knows and feels when it +beats up the mountains or glides down the vales of air; +what the elephant herd knows and feels when it moves +over mountains and across plains; what the antelopes +know when distance calls them.</p> +<p>A shout from Félix, and the Zappo Zap came running +up the line; his head was flung up and he was sniffing the +air. Then, walking beside Adams, he stared ahead right +away over the country before them to the far skyline.</p> +<p>“Elephant smell,” he replied, when Adams asked him +what was the matter; then, turning, he shouted some +words in the native back to Berselius, and tramped on +beside Adams, his nose raised to the wind, of which each +puff brought the scent stronger.</p> +<p>Adams could smell nothing, but the savage could tell +that right ahead there were elephants; close up, too, yet +not a sign of them could be seen. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span></p> +<p>This puzzled him, and what puzzles a savage frightens +him.</p> +<p>His nose told him that here were elephants in sight of +his eyes; his eyes told him that there were none.</p> +<p>All at once the column came to a dead halt. Porters +flung down their loads and cried out in fright. Even +Berselius stood stock-still in astonishment.</p> +<p>From the air, blown on the wind from no visible source, +came the shrill trumpeting of an elephant.</p> +<p>There, in broad daylight, close up to them, the sound +came with the shock of the supernatural. Nothing stirred +in all the land but the grass bending to the wind. There +was not even a bird in the air; yet close to them an elephant +was trumpeting shrilly and fiercely as elephants trumpet +when they charge.</p> +<p>Again came the sound, and once again, but this time it +broke lamentably to a complaint that died away to silence.</p> +<p>Instantly the Zappo Zap came to himself. He knew +that sound. An elephant was dying somewhere near by, +caught in a trap possibly. He rushed down the line, gun-butting +the porters back to their places, shouting to +Berselius, helping loads up on the heads of the men +who had dropped them, so that in a minute the column +was in motion again and going swiftly to make up for +lost time.</p> +<p>Five minutes brought them to a slight rise in the ground, +beyond which, deep-cut, rock-strewn and skeleton-dry, +lay the bed of a river.</p> +<p>In the rains this would be scarcely fordable, but now +not even a trickle of water could be seen. On the floor +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +of this river-bed, like a huge dark rock, lay the body of +an elephant.</p> +<p>An African elephant is the biggest creature on earth, +far bigger than his Indian cousin, and far more formidable +looking. Adams could scarcely believe that the thing +before him was the body of an animal, as he contrasted +its size with Félix, who had raced down the slope and was +examining the carcass.</p> +<p>“Dead!” cried Félix, and the porters, taking heart, +descended, but not without groaning and lamentations, +for it is well-known to the natives that whoever comes +across an elephant lying down must die, speedily and by +violent means; and this elephant was lying down in very +truth, his tusks humbly lowered to the ground, his great +ears motionless, just as death had left him.</p> +<p>It was a bull and surely, from his size, the father of the +herd. Berselius considered the beast to be of great age. +One tusk was decayed badly and the other was chipped +and broken, and on the skin of the side were several of +those circular sores one almost always finds on the body +of a rhinoceros, “dundos,” as the natives call them; old +scars and wounds told their tale of old battles and the +wanderings of many years.</p> +<p>It might have been eighty or a hundred years since +the creature had first seen the light and started on its +wonderful journey over mountains and plains through +jungle and forest, lying down maybe only twenty times in +all those years, wandering hither and thither, and knowing +not that every step of its journey was a step closer +to here. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span></p> +<p>Just this little piece of ground on which it lay had been +plotted out for it a hundred years ago, and it had come to +it by a million mazy paths, but not less surely than had it +followed the leading of a faultlessly directed arrow.</p> +<p>The herd had left it here to die. Berselius, examining +the body closely, could find no wound. He concluded +that it had come to its end just as old men come to their +end at last—the mechanism had failed, hindered, perhaps, +by some internal disease, and it had lain down to +wait for death.</p> +<p>The tusks were not worth taking, and the party pursued +its way up the eastern bank of the river, where the +herd had also evidently pursued its way, and then on, on, +across the country due east, in the track they had followed +since morning.</p> +<p>As they left the river-bed a tiny dot in the sky above, +which they had not noticed, enlarged, and like a stone +from the blue fell a vulture. It lit on the carcass; then +came a kite slanting down to the feast, and then from the +blue, like stones dropped from the careless hand of a +giant, vulture after vulture.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIX_THE_GREAT_HERD' id='XIX_THE_GREAT_HERD'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<h3>THE GREAT HERD</h3> +</div> + +<p>Félix kept his place beside Adams at the head +of the column. The black seemed morose, and +at the same time, excited.</p> +<p>Two things had disturbed him: the bad luck of meeting +a lying-down elephant and the fact that a giraffe +was with the herd. He had spotted giraffe spoor in the +river-bed where the ground was sandy and showed up +the impression well.</p> +<p>Now, the giraffe has the keen eyesight of a bird, and +when he throws in his lot with the elephant folk who, +though half-blind, have the keen scent of hounds, the +combination is bad for the hunter.</p> +<p>An hour before sundown they struck some pools beside +which grew a tree, the biggest they had yet come +across, and here Berselius gave the order, halt and camp.</p> +<p>To half of the porters it was an order to fall down +flat, their loads beside them, their arms outspread absolutely +broken with the weariness of the march, broken, +and speechless, and motionless, and plunged into such a +depth of slumber that had you kicked them they would +not have moved.</p> +<p>Berselius, himself, was nearly exhausted. He sat with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +his back against the tree and gave his orders in a languid +voice, and it was very curious to see the tents going up, +wielded by men who seemed working in their sleep, +slowly and with fumbling fingers, tripping over each other, +pausing, hesitating, yet working all the same, and all in +the still level light of evening that lent unreality to the +scene.</p> +<p>Luck was against Berselius. It was quite within the +bounds of probability that the herd might have halted +here by the water for the night; but they had not. They +had drunk here, for the pool was all trodden up and still +muddy, and then gone on.</p> +<p>They were evidently making one of their great marches, +and it was probable now that they would never be caught +up with. Under these circumstances, Berselius determined +to halt for the night.</p> +<p>Some small trees and bushes were cut to make a camp +fire, and when they had finished supper Berselius, still +with his back to the tree, sat talking to Adams by the +light of the crackling branches.</p> +<p>He did not seem in the least put out with his failure.</p> +<p>“The rains will be on us in a week or two,” said he. +“Then you will see elephants all over this place. They +lie up in the inaccessible places in the dry season, but +when the wet weather comes the herds spread over the +plains. Not such herds as the one we have been following—it +is rarely one comes across one like that. +However, to-morrow we may have better luck with them. +Félix tells me that forty miles beyond there, where they +have gone, there are a lot of trees. They may stop and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +feed, and if they do, we will have them. To-morrow +I shall start light. Leave the main camp here. You +and I and Félix, and four of the best of those men, and +the smallest tent, enough stores for three or four days. +Yes, to-morrow——” The man dozed off, sleep-stricken, +the pipe between his teeth.</p> +<p>“To-morrow!” Portentous word!</p> +<p>They retired to their tents. Two sentries were posted +to keep the fire going and to keep watch. The porters +lay about, looking just like men who had fallen in battle, +and after awhile the sentries, having piled the fire with +wood, sat down, and the moon rose, flooding the whole +wide land with light.</p> +<p>She had scarcely lifted her own diameter above the +horizon when the sentries, flat on their backs, with arms +extended, were sleeping as soundly as the others. Brilliant +almost as daylight, still and peaceful as death, +the light of the great moon flooded the land, paling the +stars and casting the shadows of the tents across the +sleepers, and the wind, which was now blowing from the +west, shook the twigs of the tree, like skeleton fingers, +over the flicker of the red burning camp-fire.</p> +<p>Now, the great herd of elephants had been making, +as Berselius imagined possible, for the forest that lay +forty miles to the east.</p> +<p>They had reached it before sundown, and had begun +to feed, stripping branches of their leaves, the enormous +trunks reaching up like snakes and whirling the +leaves Catherine-wheellike down enormous throats; the +purring and grumbling of their cavernous bellies, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span> +rubbing of rough shoulders against the bark, the stamping +of feet crushing the undergrowth, resounded in echoes +amongst the trees. The big bull giraffe that had cast +its lot in with the herd was busy, too, tearing and snapping +down twigs and leaves, feeding like the others, who +were all feeding like one, even to the eighteen-month-old +calves busy at the teats of their enormous dams.</p> +<p>The sunlight, level and low, struck the wonderful +picture. Half the herd were in the wood, and you could +see the tree branches bending and shaking to the reaching +trunks. Half the herd were grazing on the wood’s +edge, the giraffe amidst them, its clouded body burning +in the sunset against the green of the trees.</p> +<p>The wind was blowing steadily along the edge of the +wood and against a band of hunters of the Congo State, +blacks armed with rifles, who were worming their way +along from tree bole to tree bole, till within shooting distance +of the bull elephant nearest to them.</p> +<p>The creatures feeding knew nothing of their danger +till three shots, that sounded like one, rang out, and the +bull, struck in the neck, the shoulder, and between the +ear and eye, fell, literally all of a heap, as though some +giant’s scimitar had swept its legs away from under it.</p> +<p>At this moment the sun’s lower edge had just touched +the horizon. The whole visible herd on the edge of the +wood, at the sound of the shots and the crash of the falling +bull, wheeled, trumpeted wildly, and with trunks +swung up, ears spread wide, swept away toward the +sunset, following the track by which they had come; +whilst, bursting from the woods, leaf-strewn, with green +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +branches tangled in their tusks, furious and mad with +fright, came the remainder, following in the same track, +sweeping after the others, and filling the air with the +thunder of their stampede.</p> +<p>Shot after shot rang out, but not an elephant was +touched, and in two great clouds, which coalesced, the +broken herd with the sound of a storm passed away +along the road they had come by, the night closing on +them as the sun vanished from the sky.</p> +<p>Berselius had not reckoned on this. No man can +reckon on what the wilderness will do. The oldest +hunter is the man who knows most surely the dramatic +surprises of the hunt, but the oldest hunter would never +have taken this into his calculations.</p> +<p>Here, back along the road they had travelled all day, +was coming, not a peacefully moving herd, but a storm +of elephants. Elephants who had been disturbed in +feeding, shot at, and shot after, filled with the dull fury +that dwells in an elephant’s brain for days, and with the +instinct for safety that would carry them perhaps a hundred +miles before dawn.</p> +<p>And right in the track of this terrible army of destruction +lay the sleeping camp, the camp fire smouldering +and fluttering its flames on the wind.</p> +<p>And the wind had shifted!</p> +<p>With the dark, as though the scene had been skilfully +prepared by some infernal dramatist, just as the cover of +night shut down tight and sealed, and suddenly, like a +box-lid that had been upheld by the last rays of the setting +sun, just as the great stars burst out above as if at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +the touch of an electric button, the wind shifted right +round and blew due east.</p> +<p>This change of wind would dull the sound of the oncoming +host to the people at the camp; at the same time it +would bring the scent of the human beings to the elephants.</p> +<p>The effect of this might be to make them swerve away +from the line they were taking, but it would be impossible +to tell for certain. The only sure thing was, that +if they continued in their course till within eyeshot of the +camp fire, they would charge it and destroy everything +round about it in their fury.</p> +<p>A camp fire to an angry elephant is the equivalent +of a red rag to a bull.</p> +<p>Thus the dramatic element of uncertainty was introduced +into the tragedy unfolding on the plains, and the +great stars seemed to leap like expectant hearts of fire +till the moon broke over the horizon, casting the flying +shadows of the great beasts before them.</p> +<p>The first furious stampede had settled into a rapid +trot, to a sound like the sound of a hundred muffled drums +beating a rataplan.</p> +<p>Instinct told the herd that immediate danger was +past, also that for safety they would have to cover an +immense space of country; so they settled to the pace +most suitable for the journey. And what a pace it was, +and what a sight!</p> +<p>Drifting across the country before the great white +moon, fantastic beasts and more fantastic shadows, +in three divisions line ahead, with the lanes of moonlight +ruled between each line; calves by the cows, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +bulls in the van, they went, keeping to the scent of the +track they had come by as unswervingly as a train keeps +to the metals.</p> +<p>The giraffe was still with them. He and his shadow, +gliding with compass-like strides a hundred yards away +from the southward column; and just as the scent of the +camp came to his mammoth friends, the sight of the camp +fire, like a red spark, struck his keen eyes.</p> +<p>With a rasping note of warning he swerved to the south.</p> +<p>Now was the critical moment. Everything lay with the +decision of the bulls leading the van, who, with trunks +flung up and crooked forward, were holding the scent +as a man holds a line. They had only a moment of time, +but he who knows the elephant folk knows well the rapidity +with which their minds can reason, and from their action +it would seem that the arbiters of Berselius’s fate reasoned +thus: “The enemy were behind; they are now in front. +So be it. Let us charge.”</p> +<p>And they charged, with a blast of trumpeting that +shook the sky; with trunks flung up and forward-driving +tusks, ears spread like great sails, and a sound like the +thunder of artillery, they charged the scent, the body of +the herd following the leaders, as the body of a battering-ram +follows the head.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Adams, when he had flung himself down in his tent, +fell asleep instantly. This sleep, which was profound +and dreamless, lasted but half an hour, and was succeeded +by a slumber in which, as in a darkened room where a +magic-lantern is being operated, vivid and fantastic pictures +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +arose before him. He was on the march with the +column through a country infinite as is space; the road +they were taking, like the road to the tombs of the Chinese +kings, was lined on either side with animals done in stone. +At first these were tigers, and then, as though some +veil of illusion had been withdrawn, he discovered them +to be creatures far larger and more cruel, remorseless, +and fearful than tigers; they were elephants—great +stone elephants that had been standing there under the +sun from everlasting, and they dwindled in perspective +from giants to pigmies and from pigmies to grains of +sand, for they were the guardians of a road whose end +was infinity.</p> +<p>Then these vanished, but the elephant country under +the burning sun remained. There was nothing to be +seen but the sun-washed spaces of wind-blown grass, +and broken ground, and scattered trees, till across the +sky in long procession, one following the other, passed +shadow elephants. Shadows each thrice the height of the +highest mountain, and these things called forth in the +mind of the sleeper such a horror and depth of dread that +he started awake with the sweat running down his face.</p> +<p>Sleep was shattered, and in the excitement and nerve-tension +of over-tiredness he lay tossing on his back. The +long march of the day before, in which men had matched +themselves against moving mountains, the obsession of +the things they had been pursuing, had combined to +shatter sleep.</p> +<p>He came out in the open for a breath of air.</p> +<p>The camp was plunged in slumber. The two sentries +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +ordered by Berselius to keep watch and to feed the fire +lay like the others, with arms outspread; the fire was burning +low, as though drowned out by the flood of moonlight, +and Adams was on the point of going to the pile of +fuel for some sticks to feed it, when he saw a sight which +was one of the strangest, perhaps, that he would ever see.</p> +<p>The sentry lying on the right of the fire sat up, rose to +his feet, went to the wood pile, took an armful of fuel +and flung it on the embers.</p> +<p>The fire roared up and crackled, and the sleep-walker, +who had performed this act with wide-staring eyes that +saw nothing, returned to his place and lay down.</p> +<p>It was as if the order of Berselius still rang in his ears +and the vision of Berselius still dominated his mind.</p> +<p>Adams, thinking of this strange thing, stood with +the wind fanning his face, looking over the country to +the west, the country they had traversed that day in tribulation +under the burning sun. There was nothing to +tell now of the weary march, the pursuit of phantoms, +the long, long miles of labour; all was peaceful and coldly +beautiful, moonlit and silent.</p> +<p>He was about to return to his tent when a faint sound +struck his ear. A faint, booming sound, just like that +which troubles us when the eardrum vibrates on its own +account from exhaustion or the effect of drugs.</p> +<p>He stopped his ears and the sound ceased.</p> +<p>Then he knew that the sound was a real sound borne +on the air.</p> +<p>He thought it was coming to him on the wind, which +was now blowing steadily in his face, and he strained +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +his eyes to see the cause; but he saw nothing. There +was no cloud in the sky or storm on the horizon, yet the +sound was increasing. Boom, boom, becoming deeper +and more sonorous, now like the long roll of muffled drums, +now like the sea bursting in the sea-caves of a distant +coast, or the drums of the cyclone when they beat the +charge for the rushing winds. But the heart-searching +feature of this strange booming in the night was a rhythm, +a pulsation that spoke of life. This was no dull shifting +of matter, as in an earthquake, or of air as in a storm; +this sound was alive.</p> +<p>Adams sprang to the tent where Berselius was sleeping, +and dragged him out by the arm, crying, “Listen!”</p> +<p>He would have cried, “See!” but the words withered +on his lips at the sight which was now before him as he +faced east.</p> +<p>An acre of rollicking and tossing blackness storming +straight for the camp across the plain under the thunder +that was filling the night. A thing inconceivable +and paralyzing, till the iron grip of Berselius seized his +arm, driving him against the tree, and the voice of Berselius +cried, “Elephants.”</p> +<p>In a moment Adams was in the lower branches of the +great tree, and scarcely had he gained his position +than the sky split with the trumpeting of the charge and, +as a man dying sees his whole life with one glance, he saw +the whole camp of awakened sleepers fly like wind-blown +leaves from before the oncoming storm, leaving only two +figures remaining, the figures of Berselius and Félix.</p> +<p>The Zappo Zap had gone apart from the camp to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +sleep. He had drugged himself by smoking hemp, and +he was lying half a hundred yards away, face down on +the ground, dead to everything in earth and heaven.</p> +<p>Berselius had spied him.</p> +<p>What Adams saw then was, perhaps, the most heroic +act ever recorded of man. The soul-shattering terror of +the advancing storm, the thunder and the trumpeting that +never ceased, had no effect on the iron heart of Berselius.</p> +<p>He made the instantaneous calculation that it was +just possible to kick the man awake (for sound has no +effect on the hemp-drugged one) and get him to the tree +and a chance of safety. And he made the attempt.</p> +<p>And he would have succeeded but that he fell.</p> +<p>The root of a dead tree, whose trunk had long vanished, +caught his foot when he had made half the distance, +and brought him down flat on his face.</p> +<p>It was as though God had said, “Not so.”</p> +<p>Adams, in an agony, sweat pouring from him, watched +Berselius rise to his feet. He rose slowly as if with +deliberation, and then he stood fronting the oncoming +storm. Whether he was dazed, or whether he knew that +he had miscalculated his chances, who knows? But there +he stood, as if disdaining to fly, face fronting the enemy. +And it seemed to the watcher that the figure of that man +was the figure of a god, till the storm closed on him, and +seized and swung aloft by a trunk, he was flung away like +a stone from a catapult somewhere into the night.</p> +<p>Just as a man clings to a mast in a hurricane, deaf, +blind, all his life and energy in his arms, Adams clung +to the tree bole above the branch upon which he was. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></p> +<p>The storm below, the smashing of great bodies against +the tree, the trumpeting whose prolonged scream never +ceased—all were nothing. His mind was cast out—he +had flung it away just as the elephant had flung Berselius +away. To him the universe was the tree to which +he was clinging, just that part which his arms encircled.</p> +<p>The herd had attacked in three columns, keeping the +very same formation as they had kept from the start. +The northern column, consisting of cows with their calves, +drove on as if to safety, the others, cows and bulls—the +cows even more ferocious than the bulls—attacked +the camps, the tents, and the fire. They stamped and +trod the fire out, smashing tent poles and chop boxes, +stores and cooking utensils, tusking one another in the +tight-packed <i>mêlée</i>, and the scream of the trumpeting +never ceased.</p> +<p>Then they drove on.</p> +<p>The porters, all except two, had, unhappily for themselves, +fled in a body to the west, and now mixed with +the trumpeting and thunder could be heard the screams +of men trodden under foot or tusked to pieces. These +sounds ceased, and the trumpeting died away, and nothing +could be distinguished but the dull boom, boom of +the herd sweeping away west, growing fainter and fainter, +and dying away in the night.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XX_THE_BROKEN_CAMP' id='XX_THE_BROKEN_CAMP'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<h3>THE BROKEN CAMP</h3> +</div> + +<p>The whole thing had scarcely lasted twenty minutes. +During the storming and trumpeting, Adams, +clinging to the tree, had felt neither terror nor +interest. His mind was cast out, all but a vestige of it; +this remnant of mind recognized that it was lying in the +open palm of Death, and it was not afraid. Not only +that, but it felt lazily triumphant. It is only the reasoning +mind that fears death, the mind that can still say to +itself, “What will come after?” The intuitive mind, +which does not reason, has no fear.</p> +<p>Had not the herd been so closely packed and so furious, +Adams would have been smelt out, plucked from the tree +and stamped to pieces without any manner of doubt. +But the elephants, jammed together, tusking each other, +and rooting the camp to pieces, had passed on, not knowing +that they had left a living man behind them.</p> +<p>As the sound of the storm died away, he came to his +senses as a man comes to his senses after the inhalation +of ether, and the first thing that was borne in upon him +was the fact that he was clinging to a tree, and that he +could not let go. His arms encircled the rough bark +like bands of iron; they had divorced themselves from his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +will power, they held him there despite himself, not from +muscular rigidity or spasm, but just because they refused +to let go. They were doing the business of clinging to +safety on their own account, and he had to <i>think himself +free</i>. There was no use in ordering them to release him, +he had to reason with them. Then, little by little, they +(fingers first) returned to discipline, and he slipped down +and came to earth, literally, for his knees gave under him +and he fell.</p> +<p>He was a very brave man and a very strong man, +but now, just released from Death, now that all danger +was over, he was very much afraid. He had seen and +heard Life: Life whipped to fury, screaming and in +maelstrom action, Life in its loudest and most appalling +phase, and he felt as a man might feel to whom the gods +had shown a near view of that tempest of fire we call +the sun.</p> +<p>He sat up and looked around him on the pitiable ruins +of the camp on which a tornado could not have wrought +more destruction. Something lay glittering in the moonlight +close to him. He picked it up. It was his shaving-glass, +the most fragile thing in all their belongings, yet +unbroken. Tent-poles had been smashed to matchwood, +cooking utensils trodden flat, guns broken to pieces; +yet this thing, useless and fragile, had been carefully +preserved, watched over by some god of its own.</p> +<p>He was dropping it from his fingers when a cry from +behind him made him turn his head.</p> +<p>A dark figure was approaching in the moonlight.</p> +<p>It was the Zappo Zap. The man whom Berselius, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +with splendid heroism, had tried to save. Like the +looking-glass, and protected, perhaps, by some god of +his own, the columns of destruction had passed him by. +The column of cows with their calves had passed him +on the other side. Old hunters say that elephants +will not trouble with a dead man, and Félix, though +awakened by the shaking of the earth, had lain like a +dead man as the storm swept by.</p> +<p>He was very much alive, now, and seemingly unconcerned +as he came toward Adams, stood beside him, +and looked around.</p> +<p>“All gone dam,” said Félix. And volumes would +not have expressed the situation more graphically. Then +the savage, having contemplated the scene for a moment, +rushed forward to a heap of stuff—broken boxes and +what not—dragged something from it and gave a shout.</p> +<p>It was the big elephant rifle, with its cartridge-bag +attached. The stock was split, but the thing was practically +intact. Félix waved it over his head and laughed +and whooped.</p> +<p>“Gun!” yelled Félix.</p> +<p>Adams beckoned to him, and he came like a black devil +in the moonlight—a black devil with filed teeth and +flashing eyeballs—and Adams pointed to the tree and +motioned him to leave the gun there and follow him. +Félix obeyed, and Adams started in the direction in which +he had seen Berselius flung.</p> +<p>It was not far to walk, and they had not far to search. +A hundred yards took them to a break in the ground, +and there in the moonlight, with arms extended, lay the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +body of the once powerful Berselius, the man who had +driven them like sheep, the man whose will was law. +The man of wealth and genius, great as Lucifer in evil, yet +in courage and heroism tremendous. God-man or devil-man, +or a combination of both, but great, incontestably +great and compelling.</p> +<p>Adams knelt down beside the body, and the Zappo +Zap stood by with incurious eyes looking on.</p> +<p>Berselius was not dead. He was breathing; breathing +deeply and stertorously, as men breathe in apoplexy +or after sunstroke or ruinous injury to the brain. Adams +tore open the collar of the hunting shirt; then he examined +the limbs.</p> +<p>Berselius, flung like a stone from a catapult, had, +unfortunately for himself, not broken a limb. That +might have saved him. His head was the injured part, +and Adams, running his fingers through the hair, matted +with blood, came on the mischief. The right parietal +bone was dented very slightly for a space nearly as broad +as a penny. The skin was broken, but the bone itself, +though depressed slightly, was not destroyed. The inner +table of the skull no doubt was splintered, hence the +brain mischief.</p> +<p>There was only one thing to be done—trephine. +And that as swiftly as possible.</p> +<p>Everything needful was in the instrument-case, but +had it escaped destruction?</p> +<p>He raised Berselius by the shoulders. Félix took +the feet, and between them they carried the body to the +tree, where they laid it down. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span></p> +<p>Before starting to hunt for the instruments, Adams +bled Berselius with his penknife. The effect was almost +instantaneous. The breathing became less stertorous and +laboured. Then he started to search hither and thither +for the precious mahogany case which held the amputating +knives, the tourniquets and the trephine. The Zappo +Zap was no use, as he did not know anything about the +stores, and had never even seen the instrument case, +so Adams had to conduct the search alone, in a hurry, +and over half an acre of ground. The case had almost +to a certainty been smashed to pieces; still, there was a +chance that the trephine had escaped injury. He remembered +the shaving-glass, and how it had been miraculously +preserved, and started to work. He came across a flat +oblong disc of tin; it had been a box of sardines, it was +now flattened out as though by a rolling mill. He came +across a bottle of brandy sticking jauntily up from a hole +in the ground, as if saying, “Have a drink.” It was +intact. He knocked the head off and, accepting the +dumb invitation, put it back where he had found it, +and went on.</p> +<p>He came across long strips of the green rot-proof +stuff the tents had been made of. They looked as though +they had been torn up like this for rib-roller bandages, +for they were just of that width. He came across half a +mosquito-net; the other half was sailing away north, +streaming from the tusk of a bull in which it was tangled, +and giving him, no doubt, a sufficiently bizarre appearance +under the quiet light of the moon and stars.</p> +<p>There were several chop boxes of stores intact; and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +a cigar box without a crack in it, and also without a cigar. +It looked as though it had been carefully opened, emptied, +and laid down. There was no end to the surprises of this +search: things brayed to pieces as if with a pestle and +mortar, things easily smashable untouched.</p> +<p>He had been searching for two hours when he found +the trephine. It lay near the brass lock of the amputating +case, attached to which there were some pieces of mahogany +from the case itself.</p> +<p>A trephine is just like a corkscrew, only in place of +the screw you have a cup of steel. This steel cup has a +serrated edge: it is, in fact, a small circular saw. Applying +the saw edge to the bone, and working the handle +with half turns of the wrist, you can remove a disc from +the outer table of the skull just as a cook stamps cakes +out of a sheet of dough with a “cutter.”</p> +<p>Adams looked at the thing in his hands; the cup of +chilled steel, thin as paper and brittle as glass, had been +smashed to pieces, presumably; at all events, it was not +there.</p> +<p>He flung the handle and the shaft away and came back +to the tree beneath which the body of Berselius was +lying. Berselius, still senseless, was breathing deeply +and slowly, and Adams, having cut away the hair of the +scalp round the wound with his penknife, went to the +pool for water to bathe the wound; but the pool was +trodden up into slush, and hours must elapse before the +mud would settle. He remembered the bottle of brandy, +fetched it, washed the wound with brandy, and with +his handkerchief torn into three pieces bound it up. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span></p> +<p>There was nothing more to be done; and he sat down +with his back to the tree to wait for dawn.</p> +<p>The bitterness of the thing was in his heart, the bitterness +of being there with hands willing and able to help, +yet helpless. A surgeon is as useless without his instruments +as the cold, lifeless instruments are without a hand +to guide them. It is not his fault that his hands are tied, +but if he is a man of any feeling, that does not lessen the +anguish of the situation.</p> +<p>Adams, listening to the breathing of the man he could +not save, sat watching the moonlit desert where the grass +waved in the wind. Félix, lying on his belly, had resumed +his slumbers, and beside the sleeping savage lay the thing +he worshipped more than his god, the big elephant rifle, +across the stock of which his naked arm was flung.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXI_THE_FEAST_OF_THE_VULTURES' id='XXI_THE_FEAST_OF_THE_VULTURES'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<h3>THE FEAST OF THE VULTURES</h3> +</div> + +<p>Adams, who had fallen asleep, was awakened by a +whoop from Félix.</p> +<p>It was full, blazing day, and the Zappo Zap, +standing erect just as he had sprung from sleep, was staring +with wrinkled eyes straight out across the land. Two +black figures were approaching. They were the two porters +who had fled westward, and who, with Félix, were +all that remained of Berselius’s savage train of followers. +The rest were over there——</p> +<p>Over there to the west, where vultures and marabouts +and kites were holding a clamorous meeting; over there, +where the ground was black with birds.</p> +<p>The two wretches approaching the camping place +rolled their eyes in terror, glancing over there. They +had run for miles and hidden themselves in a donga. +They had heard the tragedy from afar, the storming and +trumpeting, and the shrieks of men being destroyed, +torn to pieces, trampled to pulp; they had heard the thunder +of the vanishing herd, and they had listened to the +awful silence that followed, lying on their faces, clinging +to the breast of their old, cold, cruel Mother Earth. With +day, like homing pigeons, they had returned to the camp. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span></p> +<p>“Hi yi!” yelled Félix, and a response came like the +cry of a seagull. They were shivering as dogs shiver +when ill or frightened; their teeth were chattering, and +they had a curious gray, dusky look; the very oil of their +skins seemed to have dried up, and old chain scars on +their necks and ankles showed white and leprous-looking +in the bright morning sunshine.</p> +<p>But Adams had no time to attend to them. Having +glanced in their direction, he turned to Berselius, bent +over him, and started back in surprise.</p> +<p>Berselius’s eyes were open; he was breathing regularly +and slowly, and he looked like a man who, just awakened +from sleep, was yet too lazy to move.</p> +<p>Adams touched him upon the shoulder, and Berselius, +raising his right hand, drew it over his face as if to chase +away sleep. Then his head dropped, and he lay looking +up at the sky. Then he yawned twice, deeply, and turning +his head on his left shoulder looked about him lazily, +his eyes resting here and there: on the two porters who +were sitting, with knees drawn up, eating some food which +Félix had given them; on the broken camp furniture +and the heaps of raffle left by the catastrophe of the +night before; on the skyline where the grass waved against +the morning blue.</p> +<p>Adams heaved a sigh of relief. The man had only +been stunned. None of the vital centres of the brain +had been injured. Some injury there must be, but the +main springs of life were intact. There was no paralysis, +for now the sick man was raising his left hand, and, +moving about as a person moves in bed to get a more +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +comfortable position, he raised both knees and then, +turning over on his right side, straightened them out again. +Now, by the movements of a sick person you can tell +pretty nearly the condition of his brain.</p> +<p>All the movements of this sick man were normal; +they indicated great tiredness, nothing more. The shock +and the loss of blood might account for that. Adams +the night before had made a pillow from his own coat for +the stricken one’s head; he was bending now to rearrange +it, but he desisted. Berselius was asleep.</p> +<p>Adams remained on his knees for a moment contemplating +his patient with deep satisfaction. Then he rose +to his feet. Some shelter must be improvised to protect +the sleeping man from the sun, but in the raffle around +there did not seem enough tent cloth to make even an +umbrella.</p> +<p>Calling Félix and the two porters to follow him, he +started off, searching amidst the <i>débris</i> here and there, +setting the porters to work to collect the remains of the +stores and to bring them back to the tree, hunting in vain +for what he wanted, till Félix, just as they reached the +northern limit of destruction, pointed to where the birds +were still busy, clamorous and gorging.</p> +<p>“What is it?” asked Adams.</p> +<p>“Tent,” replied Félix.</p> +<p>To the left of where the birds were, and close to them, +lay a mound of something showing dark amidst the grass. +It was a tent, or a large part of one of the tents; tangled, +perhaps, in a tusk, it had been brought here and cast, just +as a storm might have brought and cast it. Even at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +this distance the air was tainted with the odour of the +birds and their prey, but the thing had to be fetched, +and Adams was not the man to exhibit qualms before +a savage.</p> +<p>“Come,” said he, and they started.</p> +<p>The birds saw them coming, and some flew away; +others, trying to fly away, rose in the air heavily and +fluttering a hundred yards sank and scattered about in +the grass, looking like great vermin; a few remained +waddling here and there, either too impudent for flight +or too greatly gorged.</p> +<p>Truly it had been a great killing, and the ground was +ripped as if by ploughs. Over a hundred square yards +lay blistering beneath the sun, red and blue and black; +and the torment of it pierced the silence like a shout, +though not a movement was there, save the movement of +the bald-headed vulture as he waddled, or the flapping of +a rag of skin to the breeze.</p> +<p>They seized on the tent, the Zappo Zap laughing and +with teeth glinting in the sun. It was the smallest tent, +ripped here and there, but otherwise sound; the mosquito +net inside was intact and rolled up like a ball, but the +pole was broken in two.</p> +<p>As they carried it between them, they had to pass near +a man. He was very dead, that man; a great foot had +trodden on his face, and it was flattened out, looking like +a great black flat-fish in which a child, for fun, had +punched holes for eyes and mouth and nose; it was curling +up at the edges under the sun’s rays, becoming +converted into a cup. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span></p> +<p>“B’selius,” said Félix, with a laugh, indicating this +thing as they passed it.</p> +<p>Adams had his hands full, or he would have struck +the brute to the ground. He contented himself with +driving the tent pole into the small of his back to urge +him forward. From that moment he conceived a hatred +for Félix such as few men have felt, for it was not a hatred +against a man, or even a brute, but a black automatic +figure with filed teeth, a thing with the brain and heart +of an alligator, yet fashioned after God’s own image.</p> +<p>A hatred for Félix, and a pity for Berselius.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXII_THE_LOST_GUIDE' id='XXII_THE_LOST_GUIDE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<h3>THE LOST GUIDE</h3> +</div> + +<p>They improvised a shelter against the tree with the +tent cloth over the sleeping man, and then Adams +set Félix to work splicing and mending the tent +pole. The two porters, who had stuffed themselves with +food, were looking better and a shade more human; +the glossy look was coming back to their skins and the +fright was leaving their faces. He set them to work, +piling the recovered stores in the bit of shade cast by the +tree and the improvised tent, and as they did so he took +toll of the stuff.</p> +<p>He judged that there was enough provisions to take +them back along the road they had come by. The hunt +was ended. Even should Berselius recover fully in a +couple of days, Adams determined to insist on a return. +But he did not expect any resistance.</p> +<p>It was a long, long, wearisome day. The great far-stretching +land, voiceless except just over there where +birds were still busy and would be busy till all was gone; +the cloudless sky, and the shifting shadow of the +tree; these were the best company he had. The blacks +were not companions. The two porters seemed less +human than dogs, and Félix poisoned his sight. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span></p> +<p>His dislike for this man had been steadily growing. +The thought that Berselius had risked his life for this +creature, and the remembrance of how he had pointed to +the dead man with a grin and said “B’selius,” had brought +matters to a head in the mind of Adams, and turned his +dislike into a furious antipathy. He sat now in what +little shadow there was, watching the figure of the +Zappo Zap.</p> +<p>Félix, the tent-pole finished, had slunk off westward, +hunting about, or pretending to hunt for salvage. Little +by little the black figure dwindled till it reached where +the birds were discoursing and clamouring, and Adams +felt his blood grow cold as he watched the birds rise like +a puff of black smoke and scatter, some this way, some +that; some flying right away, some settling down near by.</p> +<p>The black figure, a tiny sketch against the sky, wandered +hither and thither, and then vanished.</p> +<p>Félix had sat him down.</p> +<p>Adams rose up and took the elephant rifle, took from +the bag a great solid drawn brass cartridge, loaded the +rifle, and sat down again in the shade.</p> +<p>Berselius was sleeping peacefully. He could hear the +even respirations through the tent cloth. The porters +were sleeping in the sun as only niggers can sleep when +they are tired; but Adams was feeling as if he could never +sleep again, as he sat waiting and watching and listening +to the faint whisper, whisper of the grass as the wind bent +it gently in its passage.</p> +<p>A long time passed, and then the black sketch appeared +again outlined on the sky. It grew in size, and as it grew +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +Adams fingered the triggers of the gun, and his lips became +as dry as sand, so that he had to lick them and keep on +licking them, till his tongue became dry as his lips and his +palate dry as his tongue.</p> +<p>Then he rose up, rifle in hand, for the Zappo Zap had +come to speaking distance. Adams advanced to meet +him. There was a dry, dull glaze about the creature’s +lips and chin that told a horrible story, and at the sight +of it the white man halted dead, pointed away to +where the birds were again congregating, cried “Gr-r-r,” +as a man cries to a dog that has misbehaved, and flung +the rifle to his shoulder.</p> +<p>Félix broke away and ran. Ran, striking eastward, +and bounding as a buck antelope bounds with a leopard +at its heels, whilst the ear-shattering report of the great +rifle rang across the land and a puff of white dust broke +from the ground near the black bounding figure. Adams, +cursing himself for having missed, grounded the gun-butt +and stood watching the dot in the distance till it +vanished from sight.</p> +<p>He had forgotten the fact that Félix was the guide +and that without him the return would be a hazardous +one; but had he remembered this, it would have made +no difference. Better to die in the desert twenty times +over than to return escorted by <i>that</i>.</p> +<p>It was now getting toward sundown. The great +elephant country in which the camp lay lost had, during +the daytime, three phases. Three spirits presided +over this place; the spirit of morning, of noon, and of +evening. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +In towns and cities, even in the open country of civilized +lands, these three are clad in language and bound in +chains of convention, reduced to slaves whose task is to +call men to rise, to eat, or sleep. But here, in this vast +place, one saw them naked—naked and free as when +they caught the world’s first day, like a new-minted +coin struck from darkness, and spun it behind them +into night.</p> +<p>Under the presidency of these three spirits the land +was ever changing; the country of the morning was not +the country of the noon, nor was the country of the +noon the country of the evening.</p> +<p>The morning was loud. I can express it in no other +terms. Dawn came like a blast of trumpets, driving +the flocks of the red flamingoes before it, tremendous, and +shattering the night of stars at the first fanfare. A +moment later, and, changing the image, imagination +could hear the sea of light bursting against the far edge of +the horizon, even as you watched the spindrift of it surging +up to heaven and the waves of it breaking over ridge +and tree and plain of waving grass.</p> +<p>Noon was the hour of silence. Under the pyramid +of light the land lay speechless, without a shadow except +the shadow of the flying bird, or a sound except the sigh +of the grass, touched and bent by the wind, if it blew.</p> +<p>Evening brought with it a new country. There was +no dusk here, no beauties of twilight, but the level light +of sunset brought a beauty of its own. Distance stood +over the land, casting trees farther away, and spreading +the prairies of grass with her magic. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span></p> +<p>The country, now, had a new population. The +shadows. Nowhere else, perhaps, do shadows grow and +live as here, where the atmosphere and the level light of +evening combine to form the quaintest shadows on earth. +The giraffe has for his counterpart a set of shadow legs +ten yards long, and the elephant in his shadow state goes +on stilts. A man is followed by a pair of black compasses, +and a squat tent flings to the east the shadow of +a sword.</p> +<p>Adams was sitting looking at the two porters whom +he had set to hunt for firewood; he was watching their +grotesque figures, and more than grotesque shadows, +when a movement of the sick man under the tent-cloth +caused him to turn.</p> +<p>Berselius had awakened. More than that, he was +sitting up, and before Adams could put up a hand, the +tent-cloth was flung back, and the head and shoulders +of the sick man appeared.</p> +<p>His face was pale, his hair in disorder; but his consciousness +had fully returned. He recognized Adams +with a glance, and then, without speaking, struggled +to free himself of the tent-cloth and get on his feet.</p> +<p>Adams helped him.</p> +<p>Berselius, leaning on the arm of his companion, looked +around him, and then stood looking at the setting sun.</p> +<p>The glorious day was very near its end. The sun +huge and half-shorn of his beams, was sinking slowly, +inevitably; scarce two diameters divided his lower edge +from the horizon that was thirsting for him as the grave +thirsts for man. Thus fades, shorn of its dazzle and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +splendour, the intellect so triumphant at noon, the personality, +the compelling will; the man himself when night +has touched him.</p> +<p>“Are you better?” asked Adams.</p> +<p>Berselius made no reply.</p> +<p>Like a child, held by some glittering bauble, he seemed +fascinated by the sun. The western sky was marked +by a thin reef of cloud; dull gold, it momentarily brightened +to burnished gold, and then to fire.</p> +<p>The sun touched the horizon. Ere one could say +“Look!” he was half gone. The blazing arc of his upper +limb hung for a moment palpitating, then it dwindled +to a point, vanished, and a wave of twilight, like the +shadow of a wing, passed over the land.</p> +<p>As Berselius, leaning on the arm of his companion, +turned, it was already night.</p> +<p>The camp fire which the porters had lit was crackling, +and Berselius, helped by his friend, sat down with his +back to the tree and his face toward the fire.</p> +<p>“Are you better?” asked Adams, as he took a seat +beside him and proceeded to light a pipe.</p> +<p>“My head,” said Berselius. As he spoke he put +his hand to his head as a person puts his hand to his +forehead when he is dazed.</p> +<p>“Have you any pain?”</p> +<p>“No, no pain, but there is a mist.”</p> +<p>“You can see all right?”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, I can see. It is not my sight, but there is +a mist—in my head.”</p> +<p>Adams guessed what he meant. The man’s mind had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span> +been literally shaken up. He knew, too, that thought +and mental excitement were the worst things for him.</p> +<p>“Don’t think about it,” said he. “It will pass. You +have had a knock on the head. Just lean back against +the tree, for I want to dress the wound.”</p> +<p>He undid the bandage, fetched some water from the +pool, which was now clear, and set to work. The wound +was healthy and seemed much less severe than it had +seemed the night before. The dent in the bone seemed +quite inconsiderable. The inner table of the skull might, +after all, be not injured. One thing was certain: whatever +mischief the cortex of the brain had suffered, the prime +centres had escaped. Speech and movement were perfect +and thought was rational.</p> +<p>“There,” said Adams, when he had finished his dressings +and taken his seat, “you are all right now. But +don’t talk or do any thinking. The mist, as you call it, +in your head will pass away.”</p> +<p>“I can see,” said Berselius; then he stopped, hesitated, +and went on—“I can see last night—I can see us all +here by the camp fire, but beyond that I cannot see, for +a great white mist hides everything. And still”—he +burst out—“I seem to know everything hidden by that +mist, but I can’t see, I can’t see. What is this thing that +has happened to me?”</p> +<p>“You know your name?”</p> +<p>“Yes, my name is Berselius, just as your name is Adams. +My mind is clear, my memory is clear, but I have lost the +sight of memory. Beyond the camp fire of last night, +everything is a thick mist—I am afraid!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span></p> +<p>He took Adams’s big hand, and the big man gulped +suddenly at the words and the action.</p> +<p>The great Berselius afraid! The man who had faced +the elephants, the man who cared not a halfpenny for +death, the man who was so far above the stature of other +men, sitting there beside him and holding his hand like +a little child, and saying, “I am afraid!”</p> +<p>And the voice of Berselius was not the voice of the +Berselius of yesterday. It had lost the decision and commanding +tone that made it so different from the voices of +common men.</p> +<p>“It will pass,” said Adams. “It is only a shake-up +of the brain. Why, I have seen a man after a blow on +the head with his memory clean wiped out. He had to +learn his alphabet again.”</p> +<p>Berselius did not reply. His head was nodding forward +in sleep. He had slept all day, but sleep had taken +him again suddenly, just as it takes a child, and Adams +placed him under the improvised tent with the coat for +a pillow under his head, and then sat by the fire.</p> +<p>Memory of all things in this wonderful world is surely +the most wonderful. It is there now, and the next +moment it is not. You leave your house in London, and +you are next found in Brighton, sane to all intents and +purposes, but your memory is gone. A dense fog hides +everything you have ever done, dreamed or spoken. +You may have committed crimes in your past life, or you +may have been a saint. It is all the same, for the moment, +until the mist breaks up and your past reappears.</p> +<p>Berselius’s case was a phase of this condition. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +knew his name—everything lay before his mind up to +a certain point. Beyond that, he knew all sorts of things +were lying, but he could not see them. To use his own +eloquent expression, he had lost the sight of memory.</p> +<p>If you recall your past, it comes in pictures. You +have to ransack a great photographic gallery. Before +you can think, you must see.</p> +<p>Beyond a certain point Berselius had lost the sight +of memory, In other words, he had lost his past.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIII_BEYOND_THE_SKYLINE' id='XXIII_BEYOND_THE_SKYLINE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<h3>BEYOND THE SKYLINE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Adams, wearied to death with the events of the +past day and night, slept by the camp fire the +deep dreamless sleep of utter exhaustion. He +had piled the fire with wood, using broken boxes, slow-burning +vangueria brushwood, and the remains of a +ruined mimosa tree that lay a hundred yards from the +camp, and he lay by it now as soundly asleep as the two +porters and Berselius. The fire stood guard; crackling +and flickering beneath the stars, it showed a burning spark +that made the camping place determinable many miles +away.</p> +<p>Now the Zappo Zap, when he had fled from Adams, +put ten miles of country behind him, going almost with +the swiftness of an antelope, taking low bush and broken +ground in his stride, and halting only when instinct brought +him to a stand, saying, “You are safe.”</p> +<p>He knew the country well, and the thirty miles that +separated him from the eastern forest, where he could +obtain food and shelter, were nothing to him. He could +have run nearly the whole distance and reached there in +a few hours’ time.</p> +<p>But time was also nothing to him. He had fed well, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +and could last two days without food. It was not his +intention to desert the camp yet; for at the camp, under +that tree away to the west, lay a thing that he lusted +after as men lust for drink or love: the desire of his dark +soul—the elephant gun.</p> +<p>Before Adams drove him away from the camp he had +made up his mind to steal it. Sneak off with it in the +night and vanish with it into his own country away to the +northeast, leaving B’selius and his broken camp to fend +for themselves. This determination was still unshaken; +the thing held him like a charm, and he sat down, squatting +in the grass with his knees drawn up to his chin and +his eyes fixed westward, waiting for evening.</p> +<p>An hour before sunset he made for the camp, reaching +within a mile of it as the light left the sky. He watched +the camp fire burning, and made for it. Toward midnight, +crawling on his belly, soundless as a snake, he +crept right up beside Adams, seized the gun and the +cartridge bag, and with them in his hands stood erect.</p> +<p>He had no fear now. He knew he could outrun anyone +there. He held the gun by the barrels. Adams’s +white face, as he lay with mouth open, snoring and +deep in slumber, presented an irresistible mark for the +heavy gun-butt, and all would have been over with that +sleeper in this world, had not the attention of the savage +been drawn to an object that suddenly appeared from +beneath the folds of the improvised tent.</p> +<p>It was the hand of Berselius.</p> +<p>Berselius, moving uneasily in his sleep, had flung out +his arm; the clenched fist, like the emblem of power, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +struck the eye of the Zappo Zap, and quelled him as the +sight of the whip quells a dog.</p> +<p>B’selius was alive and able to clench his fist. That fact +was enough for Félix, and next moment he was gone, +and the moonlight cast his black shadow as he ran, making +northeast, a darkness let loose on life and on the land.</p> +<p>Adams awoke at sun-up to find the gun and the cartridge +bag gone. The porters knew nothing. He had +picked up enough of their language to interrogate them, +but they could only shake their heads, and he was debating +in his own mind whether he ought to kick them on +principle, when Berselius made his appearance from the +tent.</p> +<p>His strength had come back to him. The dazed look +of the day before had left his face, but the expression +of the face was altered. The half smile which had been +such a peculiar feature of his countenance was no longer +there. The level eye that raised to no man and lowered +before no man, the aspect of command and the ease of +perfect control and power—where were they?</p> +<p>Adams, as he looked at his companion, felt a pang such +as we feel when we see a human being suddenly and +terribly mutilated.</p> +<p>Who has not known a friend who, from an accident +in the hunting field, the shock of a railway collision, or +some great grief, has suddenly changed; of whom people +say, “Ah, yes, since the accident he has never been the +same man”?</p> +<p>A friend who yesterday was hale and hearty, full of +will power and brain, and who to-day is a different person +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +with drooping under-lip, lack-lustre eye, and bearing +in every movement the indecision which marks the +inferior mind.</p> +<p>Berselius’s under-lip did not droop, nor did his manner +lack the ordinary decision of a healthy man; the change +in him was slight, but it was startlingly evident. So +high had Nature placed him above other men, that a +crack in the pedestal was noticeable; as to the injury +to the statue itself, the ladder of time would be required +before that could be fully discovered.</p> +<p>So far from being downcast this morning, Berselius +was mildly cheerful. He washed and had his wound +dressed, and then sat down to a miserable breakfast of +cold tinned meat and cassava cakes, with water fetched +from the pool in a cracked calabash.</p> +<p>He said nothing about the mist in his head, and Adams +carefully avoided touching on the question.</p> +<p>“Sleep has put him all right,” said Adams to himself. +“All the same, he’s not the man he was. He’s a dozen +times more human and like other men. Wonder how +long it will last. Just as long as he’s feeling sick, I +expect.”</p> +<p>He rose to fetch his pipe when Berselius, who had +finished eating and had also risen to his feet, beckoned +him to come close.</p> +<p>“That is the road we came by?” said Berselius, pointing +over the country toward the west.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Adams, “that is the road.”</p> +<p>“Do you see the skyline?” said Berselius.</p> +<p>“Yes, I see the skyline.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span></p> +<p>“Well, my memory carries me to the skyline, but not +beyond.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Lord!” said Adams to himself, “here he is beginning +it all over again!”</p> +<p>“I can remember,” said Berselius, “everything that +happened as far as my eye carries me. For instance, +by that tree a mile away a porter fell down. He was +very exhausted. And when we had passed that ridge +near the skyline we saw two birds fighting; two bald-headed +vultures——”</p> +<p>“That is so,” said Adams.</p> +<p>“But beyond the skyline,” said Berselius, suddenly +becoming excited and clutching his companion’s arm, +“I see nothing. I know nothing. All is mist—all +is mist.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes,” said the surgeon. “It’s only memory +blindness. It will come back.”</p> +<p>“Ah, but will it? If I can get to the skyline and see +the country beyond, and if I remember that, and if I go +on and on, the way we came, and if I remember as I go, +then, then, I will be saved. But if I get to that skyline +and if I find that the mist stops me from seeing beyond, +then I pray you kill me, for the agony of this thing is not +to be borne.” Suddenly he ceased, and then, as if to some +unseen person, he cried out—</p> +<p>“I have left my memory on that road.”</p> +<p>Adams, frightened at the man’s agitation, tried to +soothe him, but Berselius, in the grip of this awful desire +to pierce back beyond that mist and find himself, would +not be soothed. Nothing would satisfy him but to strike +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +camp and return along the road they had come by. Some +instinct told him that the sight of the things he had seen +would wake up memory, and that bit by bit, as he went, +the mist would retreat before him, and perhaps vanish +at last. Some instinct told him this, but reason, who is +ever a doubter, tortured him with doubts.</p> +<p>The only course was to go back and see. Adams, +who doubted if his patient was physically fit for a march, +at last gave in; the man’s agony of mind was more dangerous +to him than the exhaustion of physical exercise +could prove. He gave orders to the porters to strike camp, +and then turned to himself, and helped them. They +only carried what was barely needful, and was even less +than needful, to take them to Fort M’Bassa, ten days, +journey in Berselius’s condition. Four water bottles +that had been left intact they filled with water; they took +the tent, and the pole that Félix had spliced. Cassava +cakes and tinned meat and a few pounds of chocolate +made up the provisions. There were no guns to carry, +no trophies of the chase. Of all the army of porters only +two were left. Berselius was broken down, Félix had +fled, they had no guide, and the crowning horror of the +thing was that they had struck off in pursuit of the herd +at right angles to the straight path they had taken from +the forest, and Adams did not know in the least the point +where they had struck off. The porters were absolutely +no use as guides, and unless God sent a guide from +heaven or chance interposed to lead them in the right +way, they were lost; for they had no guns or ammunition +with which to get food. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span></p> +<p>Truly the omen of the elephant lying down had not +spoken in vain.</p> +<p>When all was loaded up, and Adams was loaded even +like the porters, they turned their backs on the tree +and the pools, and leaving them there to burn in the +sun forever struck straight west in the direction from +which they had come.</p> +<p>Berselius had come in pursuit of a terrible thing and +a merciless thing; he was returning in search of a more +terrible and a more merciless thing—Memory.</p> +<p>It was four hours after sun-up when they left the camp; +and two hours’ march brought them to that ridge which +Berselius had indicated from the camp as being near the +skyline.</p> +<p>When they reached the ridge, and not before, Berselius +halted and stared over the country in front of him, +his face filled with triumph and hope.</p> +<p>He seized Adams’s hand and pointed away to the west. +The ridge gave a big view of the country.</p> +<p>“I can remember all that,” said he, “keenly, right +up to the skyline.”</p> +<p>“And at the skyline?”</p> +<p>“Stands the mist,” replied Berselius. “But it will +lift before me as I go on. Now I know it is only the +sight of the things I have seen that is needful to recall the +memory of them and of myself in connection with them.”</p> +<p>Adams said nothing. It struck him with an eerie +feeling that this man beside him was actually walking +back into his past. As veil after veil of distance was +raised, so would the past come back, bit by bit. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span></p> +<p>But he was yet to learn what a terrible journey that +would be.</p> +<p>One thing struck him as strange. Berselius had +never tried to pierce the mist by questions. The man +seemed entirely obsessed by the curtain of mist, and +by the necessity of piercing it by physical movement, +of putting tree to tree and mile to mile.</p> +<p>Berselius had not asked questions because, no doubt, +he was under the dominion of a profound instinct, telling +him that the past he had lost could only be recalled +by the actual picture of the things he had seen.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIV_THE_SENTENCE_OF_THE_DESERT' id='XXIV_THE_SENTENCE_OF_THE_DESERT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<h3>THE SENTENCE OF THE DESERT</h3> +</div> + +<p>Berselius had not asked a single question as +to the catastrophe. His own misfortune had +banished for him, doubtless, all interest in everything +else.</p> +<p>Adams had said to him nothing of Félix, his horrible +deeds or his theft of the rifle. Félix, though he had +vanished from Adams’s life completely and forever, had +not vanished from the face of the earth. He was very +much alive and doing, and his deeds and his fate are worth +a word, for they formed a tragedy well fitting the stage +of this merciless land.</p> +<p>The Zappo Zap, having secured the gun and its ammunition, +revelling in the joy of possession and power, +went skipping on his road, which lay to the northeast. +Six miles from the camp he flung himself down by a +bush, and, with the gun covered by his arm, slept, and +hunted in his sleep, like a hound, till dawn.</p> +<p>Then he rose and pursued his way, still travelling +northeast, his bird-like eyes skimming the land and +horizon. He sang as he pursued his way, and his song +fitted his filed teeth to a charm. If a poisoned arrow +could sing or a stabbing spear, it would sing what Félix +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +sang as he went, his long morning shadow stalking +behind him; he as soulless and as heartless as it.</p> +<p>What motive of attachment had driven him to follow +Verhaeren to Yandjali from the Bena Pianga country +heaven knows, for the man was quite beyond the human +pale. The elephants were far, far above him in power +of love and kindness; one had to descend straight to the +alligators to match him, and even then one found oneself +at fault.</p> +<p>He was not. Those three words alone describe this +figure of india-rubber that could still walk and talk and +live and lust, and to whom slaying and torture were +amongst the æsthetics of life.</p> +<p>An hour before noon, beyond and above a clump of +trees, he sighted a moving object. It was the head of +a giraffe.</p> +<p>It was the very same bull giraffe that had fled with +the elephant herd and then wheeled away south from it. +It was wandering devious now, feeding by itself, and the +instant Félix saw the tell-tale head, he dropped flat to the +ground as if he had been shot. The giraffe had not seen +him, for the head, having vanished for a moment, +reappeared; it was feeding, plucking down small branches +of leaves, and Félix, lying on his side, opened the breech +of the rifle, drew the empty cartridge case, inserted a +cartridge in each barrel, and closed the breech. Now, +unknown to Adams, when he had fired the gun the day +before, there was a plug of clay in the left-hand barrel +about two inches from the muzzle; just an inconsiderable +wad of clay about as thick as a gun wad; the elephant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span> +folk had done this when they had mishandled the gun, +and, though the thing could have been removed with a +twig, Puck himself could not have conceived a more +mischievous obstruction. He certainly never would +have conceived so devilish a one.</p> +<p>Adams had, fortunately for himself, fired the right-hand +barrel; the concussion had not broken up the plug, +for it was still moist, being clay from the trodden-up edge +of the pool. It was moist still, for the night dew had +found it.</p> +<p>The Zappo Zap knew nothing of the plug. He knew +nothing, either, of the tricks of these big, old-fashioned +elephant guns, for he kept both barrels full cock, and it is +almost three to two that if you fire one of these rifles +with both barrels full cock, both barrels will go off +simultaneously, or nearly so, from the concussion.</p> +<p>With the gun trailing after him—another foolish +trick—the savage crawled on his belly through the long +grass to within firing distance of the tree clump.</p> +<p>Then he lay and waited.</p> +<p>He had not long to wait.</p> +<p>The giraffe, hungry and feeding, was straying along +the edge of the clump of trees, picking down the youngest +and freshest leaves, just as a <i>gourmet</i> picks the best bits +out of a salad.</p> +<p>In a few minutes his body was in view, the endless +neck flung up, the absurd head and little, stumpy, useless +horns prying amidst the leaves, and every now and +then slewing round and sweeping the country in search +of danger. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span></p> +<p>Félix lay motionless as a log; then, during a moment +when the giraffe’s head was hidden in the leaves, he +flung himself into position and took aim.</p> +<p>A tremendous report rang out, the giraffe fell, squealing, +and roaring and kicking, and Félix, flung on his back, +lay stretched out, a cloud of gauzy blue smoke in the air +above him.</p> +<p>The breech of the rifle had blown out. He had fired +the right-hand barrel, but the concussion had sprung +the left-hand cock as well.</p> +<p>It seemed to the savage that a great black hand struck +him in the face and flung him backward. He lay for +a moment, half-stunned; then he sat up, and, behold! +the sun had gone out and he was in perfect blackness.</p> +<p>He was blind, for his eyes were gone, and where his +nose had been was now a cavity. He looked as though +he had put on a red velvet domino, and he sat there in the +sun with the last vestige of the blue smoke dissolving +above him in the air, not knowing in the least what had +happened to him.</p> +<p>He knew nothing of blindness; he knew little of pain. +An Englishman in his wounded state would have been +screaming in agony; to Félix the pain was sharp, but +it was nothing to the fact that the sun had “gone down.”</p> +<p>He put his hand to the pain and felt his ruined face, +but that did not tell him anything.</p> +<p>This sudden black dark was not the darkness which +came from shutting one’s eyes; it was something else, +and he scrambled on his feet to find out.</p> +<p>He could feel the darkness now, and he advanced a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +few steps to see if he could walk through it; then he +sprang into the air to see if it was lighter above, and +dived on his hands and knees to see if he could slip under +it, and shouted and whooped to see if he could drive it +away.</p> +<p>But it was a great darkness, not to be out-jumped, +jumped he as high as the sun, or slipped under, were +he as thin as a knife, or whooped away, though he +whooped to everlasting.</p> +<p>He walked rapidly, and then he began to run. He +ran rapidly, and he seemed to possess some instinct in his +feet which told him of broken ground. The burst gun +lay where he had left it in the grass, and the dead giraffe +lay where it had fallen by the trees; the wind blew, and +the grass waved, the sun spread his pyramid of light +from horizon to horizon, and in the sparkle above a black +dot hung trembling above the stricken beast at the edge +of the wood.</p> +<p>The black figure of the man continued its headlong +course. It was running in a circle of many miles, impelled +through the nothingness of night by the dark soul raging +in it.</p> +<p>Hours passed, and <i>then</i> it fell, and lay face to the sky +and arms outspread. You might have thought it dead. +But it was a thing almost indestructible. It lay motionless, +but it was alive with hunger.</p> +<p>During all its gyrations it had been followed and +watched closely. It had not lain for a minute when a +vulture dropped like a stone from the sky and lit on it +with wings outspread. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span></p> +<p>Next moment the vulture was seized, screeching, torn +limb from limb, and in the act of being devoured!</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>But the sentence of the desert on the blind is death, +trap vultures as cunningly as you will, and devour them +as ferociously. The eye is everything in the battle of +the strong against the weak. And so it came about that +two days later a pair of leopards from the woods to the +northeast fought with the figure, which fought with +teeth and hands and feet, whilst the yellow-eyed kites +looked on at a battle that would have turned with horror +the heart of Flamininus.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXV_TOWARD_THE_SUNSET' id='XXV_TOWARD_THE_SUNSET'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +<h3>TOWARD THE SUNSET</h3> +</div> + +<p>When Berselius, standing on the ridge, had +looked long enough at the country before +him, taking in its every detail with delight, +they started again on their march, Berselius leading.</p> +<p>They had no guide. The only plan in Adams’s head +was to march straight west toward the sunset for a distance +roughly equivalent to the forced march they had +made in pursuit of the herd, and then to strike at right +angles due north and try to strike the wood isthmus of +the two great forests making up the forest of M’Bonga.</p> +<p>But the sunset is a wide mark and only appears at +sunset. They had no compass; the elephant folk had +made away with all the instruments of the expedition. +They must inevitably stray from the true direction, striking +into that infernal circle which imprisons all things +blind and all things compassless. Even should they, by +a miracle, strike the isthmus of woods, the forest would +take them, confuse them, hand them from tree to tree +and glade to glade, and lose them at last and for ever +in one of the million pockets which a forest holds open +for the lost.</p> +<p>The stout heart of the big man had not quailed before +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +this prospect. He had a fighting chance; that was +enough for him. But now at the re-start, as Berselius +stepped forward and took the lead, a hope sprang up in +his breast. A tremendous and joyful idea occurred to +him. Was it possible that Berselius would guide them +back?</p> +<p>The memory that the man possessed was so keen, his +anxiety to pierce the veil before him was so overpowering, +was it possible that like a hound hunting by sight instead +of smell, he would lead them straight?</p> +<p>Only by following the exact track they had come by, +could Berselius pierce back into that past he craved to see. +Only by putting tree to tree and ridge to ridge, memory +to memory, could he collect what he had lost.</p> +<p>Could he do this?</p> +<p>The life of the whole party depended upon the answer +to that question.</p> +<p>The track they ought to follow was the track by which +the herd had led them. Adams could not tell whether +they were following that track—even Félix could scarcely +have told—for the dew and the wind had made the faint +traces of the elephants quite indiscernible now to civilized +eyes; and Berselius never once looked at the ground under +his feet, he was led entirely by the configuration of the +land. That to the eyes of Adams was hopeless. For +the great elephant country is all alike, and one ridge is +the counterpart of another ridge, and one grassy plain +of another grassy plain, and the scattered trees tell you +nothing when you are lost, except that you are lost.</p> +<p>The heat of the day was now strong on the land; the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +porters sweated under their loads, and Adams, loaded +like them, knew for once in his life what it was to be a +slave and a beast of burden.</p> +<p>Berselius, who carried nothing, did not seem to feel +the heat; weak though he must have been from his injury +and the blood-letting. He marched on, ever on, apparently +satisfied and well pleased as horizon lifted, giving place +to new horizon, and plain of waving grass succeeded +ridge of broken ground.</p> +<p>But Adams, as hour followed hour, felt the hope dying +out in his breast, and the remorseless certainty stole upon +him that they were out of their track. This land seemed +somehow different from any he had seen before; he could +have sworn that this country around them was not the +country through which they had pursued the herd. His +hope had been built on a false foundation. How could a +man whose memory was almost entirely obscured +lead them right? This was not the case of the blind +leading the blind, but the case of the blind leading men +with sight.</p> +<p>Berselius was deceiving himself. Hope was leading +him, not memory.</p> +<p>And still Berselius led on, assured and triumphant, +calling out, “See! do you remember that tree? We +passed it at just this distance when we were coming.” +Or, now, “Look at that patch of blue grass. We halted +for a minute here.”</p> +<p>Adams, after a while, made no reply. The assurance +and delight of Berselius as these fancied memories came +to him shocked the heart. There was a horrible and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +sardonic humour in the whole business, a bathos that +insulted the soul.</p> +<p>The dead leading the living, the blind leading the +man with sight, lunacy leading sanity to death.</p> +<p>Yet there was nothing to be done but follow. As +well take Berselius’s road as any other. Sunset would +tell them whether they were facing the sunset; but he +wished that Berselius would cease.</p> +<p>The situation was bad enough to bear without those +triumphant calls.</p> +<p>It was past noon now; the light wind that had been +blowing in their faces had died away; there was the faintest +stirring of the air, and on this, suddenly, to Adams’s +nostrils came stealing a smell of corruption, such as he +had never experienced before.</p> +<p>It grew stronger as they went.</p> +<p>There was a slight rise in the ground before them just +here, and as they took it the stench became almost insupportable, +and Adams was turning aside to spit when a cry +from Berselius, who was a few yards in advance, brought +him forward to his side.</p> +<p>The rise in the ground had hidden from them a dried-up +river-bed, and there before them in the sandy trough, huge +amidst the boulders, lay the body of an elephant.</p> +<p>A crowd of birds busy about the carcass rose clamouring +in the air and flew away.</p> +<p>“Do you remember?” cried Berselius.</p> +<p>“Good God!” said Adams. “Do I remember!”</p> +<p>It was the body of the great beast they had passed when +in pursuit of the herd. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span></p> +<p>Yes, there was no doubt now that Berselius was guiding +them aright. He had followed the track they had +come by without deviating a hundred yards.</p> +<p>The great animal was lying just as they had left it, but +the work of the birds was evident; horribly so, and it +was not a sight to linger over.</p> +<p>They descended into the river bed, passed up the other +bank, and went on, Berselius leading and Adams walking +by his side.</p> +<p>“Do you know,” said Adams, “I was beginning to +think you were out of the track.”</p> +<p>Berselius smiled.</p> +<p>Adams, who was glancing at his face, thought that he +had never seen an expression like that on the man’s face +before. The smile of the lips that had marked and +marred his countenance through life, the smile that was +half a sneer, was not there; this came about the eyes.</p> +<p>“He was in exactly the same position, too,” said Adams. +“But the birds will have him down before long. Well, +he has served one purpose in his life; he has shown us +we are on the right road, and he has given you back +another bit of memory.”</p> +<p>“Poor brute,” said Berselius.</p> +<p>These words, coming from the once iron-hearted +Berselius, struck Adams strangely; there was a trace of +pity in their tone.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVI_THE_FADING_MIST' id='XXVI_THE_FADING_MIST'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +<h3>THE FADING MIST</h3> +</div> + +<p>They camped two hours before sundown. One of +the few mercies of this country is the number of +dead trees and the bushes from which one can +always scrape the materials for a fire.</p> +<p>Adams, with his hunting knife and a small hatchet +which was all steel and so had been uninjured in the +catastrophe, cut wood enough for the fire. They had +nothing to cook with, but fortunately the food they had +with them did not require cooking.</p> +<p>The tent was practicable, for the pole, so well had +it been spliced, was as good as new. They set it up, +and having eaten their supper, crept under it, leaving the +porters to keep watch or not as they chose.</p> +<p>Berselius, who had marched so well all day, had broken +down at the finish. He seemed half dead with weariness, +and scarcely spoke a word, eating mechanically and +falling to sleep immediately on lying down.</p> +<p>But he was happy. Happy as the man who suddenly +finds that he can outwalk the paralysis threatening him, +or the man who finds the fog of blindness lifting before +him, showing him again bit by bit the world he had +deemed forever lost. Whilst this man sleeps in the tent +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +beside his companion and the waning moon breaks up +over the horizon and mixes her light with the red flicker +of the fire, a word about that past of which he was in +search may not be out of place.</p> +<p>Berselius was of mixed nationality. His father of +Swedish descent, his mother of French.</p> +<p>Armand Berselius the elder was what is termed a lucky +man. In other words, he had that keenness of intellect +which enables the possessor to seize opportunities and to +foresee events.</p> +<p>This art of looking into the future is the key to Aladdin’s +Palace and to the Temple of Power. To know what will +appreciate in value and what will depreciate, that is the +art of success in life, and that was the art which made +Armand Berselius a millionaire.</p> +<p>Berselius the younger grew up in an atmosphere of +money. His mother died when he was quite young. He +had neither brothers nor sisters; his father, a chilly-hearted +sensualist, had a dislike to the boy; for some obscure +reason, without any foundation in fact, he fancied that he +was some other man’s son.</p> +<p>The basis of an evil mind is distrust. Beware of +the man who is always fearful of being swindled. Who +cannot trust, cannot be trusted.</p> +<p>Berselius treated his son like a brute, and the boy, +with great power for love in his heart, conceived a hatred +for the man who misused him that was hellish in intensity.</p> +<p>But not a sign of it did he show. That power of will +and restraint so remarkable in the grown-up man was +not less remarkable in the boy. He bound his hate with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +iron bands and prisoned it, and he did this from pride. +When his father thrashed him for the slightest offence, he +showed not a sign of pain or passion; when the old man +committed that last outrage one can commit against the +mind of a child, and sneered at him before grown-up +people, young Berselius neither flushed nor moved an eyelid. +He handed the insult to the beast feeding at his +heart, and it devoured it and grew.</p> +<p>The spring was poisoned at its source.</p> +<p>That education of the heart which only love can give +was utterly cut off from the boy and supplanted by the +education of hate.</p> +<p>And the mind tainted thus from the beginning was an +extraordinary mind, a spacious intellect, great for evil +or great for good, never little, and fed by an unfailing +flood of energy.</p> +<p>The elder Berselius, as if bent on the utter damnation +of his son, kept him well supplied with money. He did +this from pride.</p> +<p>The young man took his graduate degree in vice, with +higher marks from the devil than any other young man +of his time. He passed through the college of St. Cyr +and into the cavalry, leaving it at the death of his father +and when he had obtained his captaincy.</p> +<p>He now found himself free, without a profession and +with forty million francs to squander, or save, or do what +he liked with.</p> +<p>He at once took his place as a man of affairs with one +hand in politics and the other in finance. There are a +dozen men like Berselius on the Continent of Europe. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +Politicians and financiers under the guise of Boulevardiers. +Men of leisure apparently, but, in reality, men of intellect, +who work their political and financial works quite unobtrusively +and yet have a considerable hand in the making +of events.</p> +<p>Berselius was one of these, varying the monotony of +social life with periodic returns to the wilderness.</p> +<p>With the foundation of the Congo State by King +Leopold, Berselius saw huge chances of profit. He +knew the country, for he had hunted there. He knew +the ivory, the copal, and the palm oil resources of the +place, and in the rubber vines he guessed an untapped +source of boundless wealth. He saw the great difficulty +in the way of making this territory a paying concern; that +is to say, he saw the labour question. Europeans would +not do the work; the blacks would not, unless paid, and +even then inefficiently.</p> +<p>To keep up a large force of European police to make +the blacks work on European terms, was out of the +question. The expense would run away with half the +profits; the troops would die, and, worst of all, other +nations would say, “What are you doing with that huge +army of men?” The word “slavery” had to be +eliminated from the proceedings, else the conscience of +Europe would be touched. He foresaw this, and he was +lost in admiration at the native police idea. The stroke +of genius that collected all the Félixes of the Congo basin +into an army of darkness, and collected all the weak and +defenceless into a herd of slaves, was a stroke after his +own heart. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span></p> +<p>Of the greatest murder syndicate the world has ever +seen, Berselius became a member. He was not invited +to the bloody banquet—he invited himself.</p> +<p>He had struck the Congo in a hunting expedition; +he had seen and observed; later on, during a second +expedition, he had seen the germination of Leopold’s idea. +He dropped his gun and came back to Europe.</p> +<p>He was quite big enough to have smashed the whole +infernal machinery then and there. America had not +yet, hoodwinked, signed the licence to kill, which she +handed to Leopold on the 22d of April, 1884. Germany +had not been roped in. England and France were +still aloof, and Berselius, arriving at the psychological +moment, did not mince matters.</p> +<p>The result was two million pounds to his credit during +the next ten years.</p> +<p>So much for Berselius and his past.</p> +<p>An hour after dawn next day they started. The +morning was windless, warm, and silent, and the sun +shining broad on the land cast their shadows before +them as they went, the porters with their loads piled +on their heads, Adams carrying the tent-pole and tent, +Berselius leading.</p> +<p>He had recovered from his weakness of the night before. +He had almost recovered his strength, and he felt that +newness of being which the convalescent feels—that +feeling of new birth into the old world which pays one, +almost, for the pains of the past sickness.</p> +<p>Never since his boyhood had Berselius felt that keen +pleasure in the sun and the blue sky and the grass under +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span> +his feet; but it called up no memories of boyhood, for the +mist was still there, hiding boyhood and manhood and +<i>everything</i> up to the skyline.</p> +<p>But the mist did not frighten him now. He had +found a means of dispelling it; the photographic plates +were all there unbroken, waiting only to be collected and +put together, and he felt instinctively that after a time, +when he had collected a certain number, the brain would +gain strength, and all at once the mist would vanish for +ever, and he would be himself again.</p> +<p>Three hours after the start they passed a broken-down +tree.</p> +<p>Adams recognized it at once as the tree they had passed +on the hunt, shortly after turning from their path to follow +the herd of elephants.</p> +<p>Berselius was still leading them straight, and soon +they would come to the crucial point—the spot +where they had turned at right angles to follow the +elephants.</p> +<p>Would Berselius remember and turn, or would he +get confused and go on in a straight line?</p> +<p>The question was answered in another twenty minutes +by Berselius himself.</p> +<p>He stopped dead and waved his arm with a sweeping +motion to include all the country to the north.</p> +<p>“We came from there,” he said, indicating the north. +“We struck the elephant spoor just here, and turned due +west.”</p> +<p>“How on earth do you know?” asked Adams. “I +can’t see any indication, and for the life of me I couldn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +tell where we turned or whether we came from there,” +indicating the north, “or there,” pointing to the south. +“How do you know?”</p> +<p>“How do I know?” replied Berselius. “Why, this +place and everything we reach and pass is as vivid to +me as if I had passed it only two minutes ago. <i>It hits +me with such vividness that it blinds me.</i> It is that which +I believe makes the mist. The things I can see are so +extraordinarily vivid that they hide everything else. My +brain seems new born—every memory that comes back +to it comes back glorious in strength. If there were gods, +they would see as I see.”</p> +<p>A wind had arisen and it blew from the northwest. +Berselius inhaled it triumphantly.</p> +<p>Adams stood watching him. This piece-by-piece +return of memory, this rebuilding of the past foot by foot, +mile by mile, and horizon by horizon, was certainly the +strangest phenomenon of the brain that he had ever +come across.</p> +<p>This thing occurs in civilized life, but then it is far +less striking, for the past comes to a man from a hundred +close points—a thousand familiar things in his house or +surroundings call to him when he is brought back to them; +but here in the great, lone elephant land, the only familiar +thing was the track they had followed and the country +around it. If Berselius had been taken off that track and +placed a few miles away, he would have been as lost as +Adams.</p> +<p>They wheeled to the north, following in their leader’s +footsteps. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span></p> +<p>That afternoon, late, they camped by the same pool +near which Berselius had shot the rhinos.</p> +<p>Adams, to make sure, walked away to where the great +bull had fought the cow before being laid low by the rifle +of the hunter.</p> +<p>The bones were there, picked clean and bleached, +exemplifying the eternal hunger of the desert, which is +one of the most horrible facts in life. These two great +brutes had been left nearly whole a few days ago; tons +of flesh had vanished like snow in sunshine, mist in +morning.</p> +<p>But Adams, as he gazed at the colossal bones, was +not thinking of that; the marvel of their return filled his +mind as he looked from the skeletons to where, against +the evening blue, a thin wreath of smoke rose up from +the camp fire which the porters had lighted.</p> +<p>Far away south, so far away as to be scarcely discernible, +a bird was sailing along, sliding on the wind without a +motion of the wings. It passed from sight and left the +sky stainless, and the land lay around silent with the tremendous +silence of evening, and lifeless as the bones +bleaching at his feet.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVII_I_AM_THE_FOREST' id='XXVII_I_AM_THE_FOREST'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> +<h3>I AM THE FOREST</h3> +</div> + +<p>The day after the next, two hours before noon, +they passed an object which Adams remembered +well.</p> +<p>It was the big tree which Berselius had pointed out +to him as having been tusked by an elephant; and an +hour after they had started from the mid-day rest, the +horizon to the north changed and grew dark.</p> +<p>It was the forest.</p> +<p>The sky immediately above the dark line, from contrast, +was extraordinarily bright and pale, and, as they +marched, the line lifted and the trees grew.</p> +<p>“Look!” said Berselius.</p> +<p>“I see,” replied Adams.</p> +<p>A question was troubling his mind. Would Berselius +be able to guide them amidst the trees? Here in the +open he had a hundred tiny indications on either side +of him, but amidst the trees how could he find his way? +Was it possible that memory could lead him through that +labyrinth once it grew dense?</p> +<p>It will be remembered that it was a two days’ march +from Fort M’Bassa through the isthmus of woods to +the elephant country. At the edge of the forest the trees +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +were very thinly set, but for the rest, and a day’s march +from the fort, it was jungle.</p> +<p>Would Berselius be able to penetrate that jungle? +Time would tell. Berselius knew nothing about it; he +only knew what lay before his sight.</p> +<p>Toward evening the trees came out to meet them, +baobab and monkey-bread, set widely apart; and they +camped by a pool and lit their fire, and slept as men sleep +in the pure air of the woods and the desert.</p> +<p>Next morning they pursued their journey, Berselius +still confident. At noon, however, he began to exhibit +slight signs of agitation and anxiety. The trees were +thickening around them; he still knew the way, but the +view before him was getting shorter and shorter as the +trees thickened; that is to say, the mist was coming closer +and closer. He knew nothing of the dense jungle before +them; he only knew that the clear road in front of him +was shortening up rapidly and horribly, and that if it +continued to do so it would inevitably vanish.</p> +<p>The joy that had filled his heart became transformed +to the grief which the man condemned to blindness feels +when he sees the bright world fading from his sight, +slowly but surely as the expiring flame of a lamp.</p> +<p>He walked more rapidly, and the more rapidly he went +the shorter did the road before him grow.</p> +<p>All at once the forest—which had been playing, up to +this, with Berselius as a cat plays with a mouse—all at +once the forest, like a great green Sphinx, put down its +great green paw and spoke from its cavernous heart—</p> +<p>“I am the Forest.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span></p> +<p>They had passed almost at a step into the labyrinths. +Plantain leaves hit them insolently in the face, lianas +hung across their path like green ropes placed to bar +them out, weeds tangled the foot.</p> +<p>Berselius, like an animal that finds itself trapped, +plunged madly forward. Adams following closely behind +heard him catching back his breath with a sob. +They plunged on for a few yards, and then Berselius +stood still.</p> +<p>The forest was very silent, and seemed listening. The +evening light and the shade of the leaves cast gloom around +them. Adams could hear his own heart thumping and +the breathing of the porters behind him. If Berselius +had lost his way, then they were lost indeed.</p> +<p>After a moment Berselius spoke, as a man speaks whose +every hope in life is shattered.</p> +<p>“The path is gone.”</p> +<p>Adams’s only reply was a deep intake of the breath.</p> +<p>“There is nothing before me. I am lost.”</p> +<p>“Shall we try back?” said Adams, speaking in that +hard tone which comes when a man is commanding his +voice.</p> +<p>“Back? Of what use? I cannot go back; I must +go forward. But here there is nothing.”</p> +<p>The unhappy man’s voice was terrible to hear. He +had marched so triumphantly all day, drawing nearer +at each step to himself, to that self which memory had +hidden from him and which memory was disclosing bit +by bit. And now the march was interrupted as if by +a wall set across his path. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span></p> +<p>But Adams was of a type of man to whom despondency +may be known, but never despair.</p> +<p>They had marched all day; they were lost, it is true, but +they were not far, now, from Fort M’Bassa. The immediate +necessity was rest and food.</p> +<p>There was a little clearing amidst the trees just here, +and with his own hands he raised the tent. They had no +fire, but the moon when she rose, though in her last quarter, +lit up the forest around them with a green glow-worm +glimmer. One could see the lianas and the trees, the +broad leaves shining with dew, some bright, some sketched +in dimly, and all bathed in gauze green light; and they +could hear the drip and patter of dew on leaf and branch.</p> +<p>This is a mournful sound—the most mournful of all +the sounds that fill the great forests of the Congo. It +is so casual, so tearful. One might fancy it the sound +of the forest weeping to itself in the silence of the night.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVIII_GOD_SENDS_A_GUIDE' id='XXVIII_GOD_SENDS_A_GUIDE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> +<h3>GOD SENDS A GUIDE</h3> +</div> + +<p>To be lost in the desert or in a land like the elephant +country is bad, but to be lost in the dense parts +of the tropical forest is far worse.</p> +<p>You are in a horrible labyrinth, a maze, not of intricate +paths but of blinding curtains. I am speaking now of that +arrogant jungle, moist and hot, where life is in full ferment, +and where the rubber vine grows and thrives; where you +go knee-deep in slush and catch at a tree-bole to prevent +yourself going farther, cling, sweating at every pore +and shivering like a dog, feeling for firmer ground and +finding it, only to be led on to another quagmire. The +bush pig avoids this place, the leopard shuns it; it is +bad in the dry season when the sun gives some light +by day, and the moon a gauzy green glimmer by night, +but in the rains it is terrific. Night, then, is black as +the inside of a trunk, and day is so feeble that your hand, +held before your face at arm’s length, is just a shadow. +The westward part of the forest of M’Bonga projects a +spur of the pestiferous rubber-bearing land into the +isthmus of healthy woods. It was just at the tip of +this spur that Berselius and his party were entangled +and lost. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span></p> +<p>The two porters were Yandjali men, they knew nothing +of these woods, and were utterly useless as guides; +they sat now amidst the leaves near the tent eating their +food; dark shadows in the glow-worm light, the glistening +black skin of a knee or shoulder showing up touched +by the glimmer in which leaf and liana, tree trunk and +branch, seemed like marine foliage bathed in the watery +light of a sea-cave.</p> +<p>Adams had lit a pipe, and he sat beside Berselius at +the opening of the tent, smoking. The glare of the match +had shown him the face of Berselius for a moment. +Berselius, since his first outcry on finding the path gone, +had said little, and there was a patient and lost look on +his face, sad but most curious to see. Most curious, +for it said fully what a hundred little things had been +hinting since their start from the scene of the catastrophe—that +the old Berselius had vanished and a new +Berselius had taken his place. Adams had at first put +down the change in his companion to weakness, but the +weakness had passed, the man’s great vitality had +reasserted itself, and the change was still there.</p> +<p>This was not the man who had engaged him in Paris; +this person might have been a mild twin-brother of the +redoubtable Captain of the Avenue Malakoff, of Matadi +and Yandjali. When memory came fully back, would it +bring with it the old Berselius, or would the new Berselius, +mild, inoffensive, and kindly, suddenly find himself +burdened with the tremendous past of the man he once +had been?</p> +<p>Nothing is more true than that the human mind from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +accident, from grief, or from that mysterious excitement, +during which in half an hour a blaspheming +costermonger “gets religion” and becomes a saint of +God—nothing is more certain than that the human +mind can like this, at a flash, turn topsy-turvy; the good +coming to the top, the bad going to the bottom. Mechanical +pressure on the cortex of the brain can bring this +state of things about, even as it can convert a saint of God +into a devil incarnate.</p> +<p>Was Berselius under the influence of forced amendment +of this sort?</p> +<p>Adams was not even considering the matter, he was +lost in gloomy thoughts.</p> +<p>He was smoking slowly, holding his index and middle +fingers over the pipe-bowl to prevent the tobacco burning +too quickly, for he had only a couple of pipefuls +left. He was thinking that to-morrow evening the pouch +would be empty, when, from somewhere in the forest +near by, there came a sound which brought him to his +feet and the two porters up on hands and knees like +listening dogs.</p> +<p>It was the sound of a human voice raised in a sort +of chant, ghostly and mournful as the sound of the falling +dew. As it came, rising and falling, monotonous and +rhythmical, the very plain song of desolation, Adams +felt his hair lift and his flesh crawl, till one of the porters, +springing erect from his crouching position, sent his +voice through the trees—</p> +<p>“Ahi ahee!”</p> +<p>The song ceased; and then, a moment later, faint +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span> +and wavering, and like the voice of a seagull, came +the reply—</p> +<p>“Ahi aheee!”</p> +<p>“Man,” said the porter, turning white eyeballs and +glinting teeth over his shoulder at Adams.</p> +<p>He called again, and again came the reply.</p> +<p>“Quick,” said Adams, seizing the arm of Berselius, +who had risen, “there’s a native here somewhere about; +he may guide us out of this infernal place; follow me, and +for God’s sake keep close.”</p> +<p>Holding Berselius by the arm, and motioning the +other native to follow, he seized the porter by the shoulder +and pushed him forward. The man knew what was +required and obeyed, advancing, calling, and listening +by turns, till, at last, catching the true direction of the +sound he went rapidly, Berselius and Adams following +close behind. Sometimes they were half up to the knees +in boggy patches, fighting their way through leaves that +struck them like great wet hands; sometimes the call in +the distance seemed farther away, and they held their +pace, they held their breath, they clung to each other, +listening, till, now, by some trick of the trees, though +they had not moved and though there was no wind, the +cry came nearer.</p> +<p>“Ahi, ahee!”</p> +<p>Then, at last, a dim red glow shone through the foliage +before them and bursting their way through the leaves +they broke into an open space where, alone, by a small +fire of dry branches and brushwood, sat a native, stark +naked, except for a scrap of dingy loincloth, and looking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span> +like a black gnome, a faun of this horrible place, and +the very concretion of its desolation and death.</p> +<p>He was sitting when they caught their first glimpse +of him, with his chin supported on his hand, but the +instant he saw the faces of the white men he rose +as if to escape, then the porter called out something +that reassured him, and he sat down again +and shivered.</p> +<p>He was one of the rubber collectors. He had reached +this spot the day before, and had built himself a shelter +of leaves and branches. He would be here for ten days +or a fortnight, and his food, chiefly cassava, lay in a little +pile in the shelter, covered over with leaves.</p> +<p>The porter continued speaking to the collector, who, +now regaining the use of his limbs, stood up before the +white men, hands folded in front of him, and his eyes +rolling from Berselius to Adams.</p> +<p>“M’Bassa,” said Adams, touching the porter, pointing +to the collector, and then away into the forest in the +direction he fancied Fort M’Bassa to be.</p> +<p>The porter understood. He said a few words to the +collector, who nodded his head furiously and struck +himself on the breast with his open hand.</p> +<p>Then the porter turned again to Adams.</p> +<p>“M’Bassa,” said he, nodding his head, pointing to the +collector, and then away into the forest.</p> +<p>That was all, but it meant that they were saved.</p> +<p>Adams gave a great whoop that echoed away through +the trees, startling bats and birds in the branches and +losing itself without an echo in the depths of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +gloom. Then he struck himself a blow on the chest +with his fist.</p> +<p>“My God!” said he, “the tent!”</p> +<p>They had only travelled an eighth of a mile or so from +the camping place, but they had wandered this way and +that before the porter had found the true direction of the +call, and the tent, provisions, and everything else were +lost as utterly and irrevocably as though they had been +dropped in mid-ocean.</p> +<p>To step aside from a thing—even for a hundred +yards—in this terrible place was to lose it; even the +rubber collectors, from whom the forest holds few +secrets have, in these thick places, to blaze a trail by +breaking branches, tying lianas and marking tree +trunks.</p> +<p>“True,” said Berselius in a weary voice, “we have +lost even that.”</p> +<p>“No matter,” said Adams, “we have got a guide. +Cheer up, this man will take us to Fort M’Bassa and +there you will find the road again.”</p> +<p>“Are you sure?” said Berselius, a touch of hope +in his voice.</p> +<p>“Sure? Certain. You’ve forgotten Fort M’Bassa. +Well, when you see it, you will remember it, and it will +lead you right away home. Cheer up, cheer up; we’ve +got a fire and a bit of shelter for you to sleep under, and +we’ll start bright and early in the morning, and this +black imp of Satan will lead you straight back to your road +and your memory—hey! Uncle Joe!”</p> +<p>He patted the collector on the naked shoulder and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +a faint grin appeared on that individual’s forlorn countenance; +never had he come across a white man like this +before. Then, bustling about, Adams piled up the fire +with more sticks, got Berselius under the shelter of the +collector’s wretched hut, sat himself down close to the fire, +produced his pipe, and proceeded, in one glorious debauch, +to finish the last of his tobacco.</p> +<p>This rubber collector, the last and the humblest +creature on earth, had given them fire and shelter; they +were also to be beholden to him for food. His wretched +cassava cakes and his calabash of water gave them their +breakfast next morning, and then they started, the collector +leading, walking before them through the dense +growth of the trees as assuredly as a man following a +well-known road. It was a terrible thing for him to +leave his post, but the white men were from M’Bassa and +wished to return to M’Bassa, and M’Bassa was the head +centre of his work and the terrible Mecca of his fears. +White men from there and going to there must be obeyed.</p> +<p>This was the last phase of the great hunt. Berselius +had been slowly stripped by the wilderness of everything +now but the clothes he stood up in, his companion +and two porters. Guns, equipment, tents, stores, the +Zappo Zap, and the army of men under that ferocious +lieutenant, had all “gone dam.” He was mud to the +knees, his clothing was torn, he was mud to the elbows +from having tripped last night and fallen in a quagmire, +his face was white and drawn and grimy as the face of a +London cabrunner, his hair was grayer and dull, but his +eyes were bright and he was happy. At M’Bassa he would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +be put upon the road again—the only road to the thing he +craved for as burning Dives craved for water—himself.</p> +<p>But it was ordained that he should find that questionably +desirous person before reaching M’Bassa.</p> +<p>They had been on the march for an hour when Adams, +fussing like a person who is making his first journey by +rail, stopped the guide to make sure he was leading them +right.</p> +<p>“M’Bassa?” said Adams.</p> +<p>“M’Bassa,” replied the other, nodding his head. +Then with outspread hand he pointed before them and +made a semicircular sweep to indicate that he was leading +them for some reason by a circuitous route.</p> +<p>He was making, in fact, for open ground that would +bring them in the direction of the fort by a longer but +much easier road than a direct line through the jungle. +He was making also for water, for his scant supply had +been exhausted by his guests, and he knew the road he +was taking would lead him to broad pools of water. +Adams nodded his head to imply that he understood, +and the man led on.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIX_THE_VISION_OF_THE_POOLS' id='XXIX_THE_VISION_OF_THE_POOLS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> +<h3>THE VISION OF THE POOLS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Somewhere about noon they halted for a rest +and some food. It was less boggy here, and +the sunlight showed stronger through the dense +roof of foliage. The cassava cakes were tainted with +must, and they had no water, but the increasing light +made them forget everything but the freedom that was +opening before them.</p> +<p>Adams pointed to the empty calabash which their +guide carried, and the collector nodded and pointed before +them, as if to imply that soon they would come to water +and that all would be well.</p> +<p>Now, as they resumed their way, the trees altered +and drew farther apart, the ground was solid under +foot, and through the foliage of the euphorbia and +raphia palm came stray glimmers of sunshine, bits of +blue sky, birds, voices, and the whisper of a breeze.</p> +<p>“This is better,” said Berselius.</p> +<p>Adams flung up his head and expanded his nostrils.</p> +<p>“Better, my God!” said he; “this is heaven!”</p> +<p>It was heaven, indeed, after that hell of gloom; that +bog roofed in with leaves, the very smell of which clings +to one for ever like the memory of a fever dream. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span></p> +<p>All at once patches of sunlight appeared in front as +well as above. They quickened their pace, the trees +drew apart, and, suddenly, with theatrical effect, a park-like +sward of land lay before them leading to a sheet +of blue water reflecting tall feather-palms and waving +speargrass, all domed over with blue, and burning in +the bright, bright sunshine.</p> +<p>“The Silent Pools!” cried Adams. “The very place +where I saw the leopard chasing the antelope! Great +Scott!—Hi! hi! hi! you there!—where are you going?”</p> +<p>The collector had raced down to the water’s edge; +he knew the dangers of the place, for he divided the +grass, filled his calabash with water, and dashed back +before anything could seize him. Then, without drinking, +he came running with the calabash to the white +men.</p> +<p>Adams handed the calabash first to his companion.</p> +<p>Berselius drank and then wiped his forehead; he +seemed disturbed in his mind and had a dazed look.</p> +<p>He had never come so far along the edge of the pools +as this, but there was something in the configuration +of the place that stirred his sleeping memory.</p> +<p>“What is it?” asked Adams.</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” replied Berselius. “I have dreamt—I +have seen—I remember something—somewhere—”</p> +<p>Adams laughed.</p> +<p>“I know,” said he; “you come along, and in a few +minutes you will see something that will help your memory. +Why, man, we camped near here, you and I and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +Meeus; when you see the spot you’ll find yourself on your +road again. Come, let’s make a start.”</p> +<p>The collector was standing with the half-full calabash +in his hands.</p> +<p>He had not dared to drink. Adams nodded to him, +motioning him to do so, but he handed it first to the porter. +Then, when the porter had drunk, the collector finished +the remains of the water and the last few drops he flung +on the ground, an offering, perhaps, to some god or devil +of his own. Then he led on, skirting the water’s edge. +The loveliness of the place had not lessened since Adams +had seen it last; even the breeze that was blowing to-day +did not disturb the spirit of sweet and profound peace +which held in a charm this lost garden of the wilderness; +the palms bent as if in sleep, the water dimpled to the +breeze and seemed to smile, a flamingo, with rose-coloured +wings, passed and flew before them and vanished beyond +the rocking tops of the trees that still sheltered the camping +place where once Berselius had raised his tent.</p> +<p>Again, with theatrical effect, as the pools had burst +upon them on leaving the forest, the camping place +unveiled itself.</p> +<p>“Now,” said Adams in triumph, “do you remember +that?”</p> +<p>Berselius did not reply. He was walking along with +his eyes fixed straight before him. He did not stop, +or hesitate, or make any exclamation to indicate whether +he remembered or not.</p> +<p>“Do you remember?” cried Adams.</p> +<p>But Berselius did not speak. He was making noises +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +as if strangling, and suddenly his hands flew up to the +neck of his hunting shirt, and tore at it till he tore it open.</p> +<p>“Steady, man, steady,” cried Adams catching the +other’s arm. “Hi, you’ll be in a fit if you don’t mind—steady, +I <i>say</i>.”</p> +<p>But Berselius heard nothing, knew nothing but the +scene before him, and Adams, who was running now +after the afflicted man, who had broken away and was +making straight for the trees beneath which the village +had once been, heard and knew nothing of what lay before +and around Berselius.</p> +<p>Berselius had stepped out of the forest an innocent +man, and behold! memory had suddenly fronted him +with a hell in which he was the chief demon.</p> +<p>He had no time to accommodate himself to the situation, +no time for sophistry. He was not equipped with +the forty years of steadily growing callousness that had +vanished; the fiend who had inspired him with the lust +for torture had deserted him, and the sight and the knowledge +of himself came as suddenly as a blow in the face.</p> +<p>Under that m’bina tree two soldiers, one with the +haft of a blood-stained knife between his teeth, had +mutilated horribly a living girl. Little Papeete had +been decapitated just where his skull lay now; the shrieks +and wails of the tortured tore the sky above Berselius; +but Adams heard nothing and saw nothing but Berselius +raving amidst the remains.</p> +<p>Bones lay here and bones lay there, clean picked by +the vultures and white bleached by the sun; skulls, jawbones, +femurs, broken or whole. The remains of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +miserable huts faced the strewn and miserable bones, +and the trees blew their golden trumpets over all.</p> +<p>As Adams looked from the man who with shrill cries +was running about as a frantic woman runs about, to +the bones on the ground, he guessed the tragedy of +Berselius. But he was to hear it in words spoken with the +torrid eloquence of madness.</p> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>PART FOUR</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXX_THE_AVENGER' id='XXX_THE_AVENGER'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2> +<h3>THE AVENGER</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was a hot night up at the fort, a night eloquent +of the coming rains. The door of the guest house +stood open and the light of the paraffin lamp lay +upon the veranda and the ground of the yard, forming +a parallelogram of topaz across which were flitting continually +great moth shadows big as birds.</p> +<p>Andreas Meeus was seated at the white-wood table +of the sitting room before a big blue sheet of paper. +He held a pen in his hand, but he was not writing just +at present; he was reading what he had written.</p> +<p>He was, in fact, making up his three-monthly report +for headquarters, and he found it difficult, because the +last three months had brought in little rubber and less +ivory. A lot of things had conspired to make trade bad. +Sickness had swept two villages entirely away; one village, +as we know, had revolted; then, vines had died +from some mysterious disease in two of the very best +patches of the forest. All these explanations Meeus was +now putting on paper for the edification of the Congo +Government. He was devoting a special paragraph to +the revolt of the village by the Silent Pools, and the +punishment he had dealt out to the natives. Not a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +word was said of torture and slaughtering. “Drastic +Measures” was the term he used, a term perfectly well +understood by the people to whom he was writing.</p> +<p>On the wall behind him the leopard-skin still hung, +looking now shrivelled at the edges in this extreme heat. +On the wall in front of him the Congo bows and poisoned +arrows looked more venomous and deadly than by the +light of day. A scorpion twice the size of a penny was +making a circuit of the walls just below the ceiling; +you could hear a faint scratch from it as it travelled along, +a scratch that seemed an echo of Meeus’s pen as it +travelled across the paper.</p> +<p>He held between his lips the everlasting cigarette.</p> +<p>Sitting thus, meditating, pen in hand, he heard sounds: +the sound of the night wind, the sound of one of the +soldiers singing as he cleaned his rifle—the men always +sang over this business, as if to propitiate the gun god—the +scratch of the scorpion and the “creak, creak” of a +joist warping and twisting to the heat.</p> +<p>But the sound of the wind was the most arresting. +It would come over the forest and up the slope and +round the guest house with a long-drawn, sweeping +“Ha-a-a-r,” and sob once or twice, and then die away +down the slope and over the forest and away and beyond +to the east, where Kilimanjaro was waiting for it, crowned +with snow on his throne beneath the stars.</p> +<p>But the wind was almost dead now—the heat of +the night had stifled it. The faintest breathing of +air took the place of the strong puffs that had sent +the flame of the lamp half up the glass chimney. As +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +Meeus listened, on this faint breath from the forest +he heard a sound—</p> +<p>“Boom—boom”—very faint, and as if someone were +striking a drum in a leisurely manner.</p> +<p>“Boom—boom.”</p> +<p>A great man-ape haunted this part of the forest of +M’Bonga like an evil spirit. He had wandered here, +perhaps from the west coast forests. Driven away from +his species—who knows?—for some crime. The natives +of the fort had caught glimpses of him now and then; he +was huge and old and gray, and now in the darkness +of the forest was striking himself on the chest, standing +there in the gloom of the leaves, trampling the plantains +under foot, taller than the tallest man, smiting himself +in the pride of his strength.</p> +<p>“Boom—boom.”</p> +<p>It is a hair-lifting sound when you know the cause, +but it left Meeus unmoved. His mind was too full of +the business of writing his report to draw images +or listen to imagination; all the same, this sinister +drum-beat acted upon his subconscious self and, scarcely +knowing why he did so, he got up from the table and +came outside to the fort wall and looked over away +into the dark.</p> +<p>There was not a star in the sky. A dense pall of +cloud stretched from horizon to horizon, and the wind, as +Meeus stepped from the veranda into the darkness, +died away utterly.</p> +<p>He stood looking into the dark. He could make out +the forest, a blackness humped and crouching in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span> +surrounding blackness. There was not a ray of light +from the sky, and now and again came the drum—</p> +<p>“Boom—boom.”</p> +<p>Then it ceased, and a bat passed so close that the +wind of it stirred his hair. He spat the taint of it from +his mouth, and returning to the house, seated himself at +the table and continued his work.</p> +<p>But the night was to be fateful in sounds and surprises. +He had not been sitting five minutes when a +voice from the blackness outside made him drop his pen +and listen.</p> +<p>It was a European voice, shouting and raving and +laughing, and Meeus, as he listened, clutched at the table, +for the voice was known to him. It was the voice of +Berselius!</p> +<p>Berselius, who was hundreds of miles away in the +elephant country!</p> +<p>Meeus heard his own name. It came in to him out +of the darkness, followed by a peal of laughter. Rapid +steps sounded coming across the courtyard, and the sweat +ran from Meeus’s face and his stomach crawled as, with +a bound across the veranda, a huge man framed himself +in the doorway and stood motionless as a statue.</p> +<p>For the first moment Meeus did not recognize Adams. +He was filthy and tattered, he wore no coat, and his +hunting shirt was open at the neck, and the arms of it +rolled up above the elbows.</p> +<p>Adams, for the space of ten seconds, stood staring +at Meeus from under his pith helmet. The face under +the helmet seemed cast from bronze. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span></p> +<p>Then he came in and shut the door behind him, walked +to the table, took Meeus by the coat at the back of the +neck, and lifted him up as a man lifts a dog by the scruff.</p> +<p>For a moment it seemed as if he were going to kill the +wretched man without word or explanation, but he mastered +himself with a supreme effort, put him down, took +the vacant seat at the table and cried:</p> +<p>“Stand before me there.”</p> +<p>Meeus stood. He held on to the table with his left hand +and with his right he made pawing movements in the air.</p> +<p>The big man seated at the table did not notice. He +sat for a few seconds with both hands clasped together, +one making a cup for the other, just as a man might +sit about to make a speech and carefully considering +his opening words.</p> +<p>Then he spoke.</p> +<p>“<i>Did you kill those people by the Silent Pools?</i>”</p> +<p>Meeus made no reply, but drew a step back and put +out his hand, as if fending the question off, as if asking +for a moment in which to explain. He had so many +things to say, so many reasons to give, but he could say +nothing, for his tongue was paralyzed and his lips were dry.</p> +<p>“<i>Did you kill those people by the Silent Pools?</i>”</p> +<p>The awful man at the table was beginning to work +himself up. He had risen at the second question, and +at the third time of asking he seized Meeus by the shoulders. +“<i>Did you kill those people——?</i>”</p> +<p>“Punishment,” stuttered Meeus.</p> +<p>A cry like the cry of a woman and a crash that shook +the plaster from the ceiling, followed the fatal word. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +Adams had swung the man aloft and dashed him against +the wall with such force, that the wattling gave and the +plaster fell in flakes.</p> +<p>Meeus lay still as death, staring at his executioner with +a face expressionless and white as the plaster flakes +around him.</p> +<p>“Get up,” said Adams.</p> +<p>Meeus heard and moved his arms.</p> +<p>“Get up.”</p> +<p>Again the arms moved and the body raised itself, +but the legs did not move. “I cannot,” said Meeus.</p> +<p>Adams came to him and bending down pinched his +right thigh hard.</p> +<p>“Do you feel me touching you?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>Adams did the same to the other thigh.</p> +<p>“Do you feel that?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Lie there,” said Adams.</p> +<p>He opened the door and went out into the night. A +moment later he returned; after him came the two porters +bearing Berselius between them.</p> +<p>Berselius was quiet now; the brain fever that had +stricken him had passed into a muttering stage, and he +let himself be carried, passive as a bag of meal, whilst +Adams went before with the lamp leading the way into +the bedroom. Here, on one of the beds, the porters laid +their burden down. Then they came back, and under +the directions of Adams lifted Meeus and carried him +into the bedroom and placed him on the second bed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span></p> +<p>Adams, with the lamp in his hand, stood for a moment +looking at Meeus. His rage had spent itself; he had +avenged the people at the Silent Pools. With his naked +hands he had inflicted on the criminal before him an +injury worse than the injury of fire or sword.</p> +<p>Meeus, frightened now by the pity in the face of the +other, horribly frightened by the unknown thing that +had happened to him, making him dead from the waist +down, moved his lips, but made no sound.</p> +<p>“Your back is broken,” replied Adams to the question +in the other’s eyes.</p> +<p>Then he turned to Berselius.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>At midnight the rains broke with a crash of thunder +that seemed to shake the universe.</p> +<p>Adams, worn out, was seated at the table in the living +room smoking some tobacco he had found in a tin on +the shelf, and listening to the rambling of Berselius, +when the thunder-clap came, making the lamp shiver on +the table.</p> +<p>Meeus, who had been silent since his death sentence +had been read to him, cried out at the thunder, but Berselius +did not heed—he was hunting elephants under +a burning sun in a country even vaster than the elephant +country.</p> +<p>Adams rose up and came to the door; not a drop of +rain had fallen yet. He crossed the yard and stood +at the fort wall looking into blackness. It was solid +as ebony, and he could hear the soldiers, whose huts were +outside the wall, calling to one another. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span></p> +<p>A great splash of light lit up the whole roof of the forest +clear as day, and the darkness shut down again with a +bang that hit the ear like a blow, and the echoes of it +roared and rumbled and muttered, and died, and Silence +wrapped herself again in her robe and sat to wait.</p> +<p>Now, there was a faint stirring of the air, increasing +to a breeze, and far away a sound like the spinning of +a top came on the breeze. It was the rain, miles away, +coming over the forest in a solid sheet, the sound of it +increasing on the great drum of the forest’s roof to a roar.</p> +<p>Another flash lit the world, and Adams saw the rain.</p> +<p>He saw what it is given to very few men to see. From +horizon to horizon, as if built by plumb, line and square, +stretched a glittering wall, reaching from the forest to +the sky. The base of this wall was lost in snow-white +billows of spray and mist.</p> +<p>Never was there so tremendous a sight as this infinite +wall and the Niagara clouds of spray, roaring, living, +and lit by the great flash one second, drowned out by the +darkness and the thunder the next.</p> +<p>Adams, terrified, ran back to the house, shut the door, +and waited.</p> +<p>The house was solidly built and had withstood many +rains, but there were times when it seemed to him that +the whole place must be washed away bodily. Nothing +could be heard but the rain, and the sound of such +rain is far more terrifying than the sound of thunder or +the rumble of the earthquake.</p> +<p>There were times when he said to himself, “This cannot +last,” yet it lasted. With the lamp in his hand he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +went into the sleeping room to see how Berselius and +Meeus were doing. Berselius was still, to judge from +the movements of his lips, delirious, and just the same. +Meeus was lying with his hands on his breast. He might +have been asleep, only for his eyes, wide open and bright, +and following every movement of the man with the lamp.</p> +<p>Meeus, catching the other’s eye, motioned to him to +come near. Then he tried to speak, but the roar outside +made it impossible to hear him. Adams pointed to the +roof, as if to say, “Wait till it is over,” then he came +back to the sitting room, tore the leopard skin down +from the wall, rolled it up for a pillow, and lay down with +his head on it.</p> +<p>He had been through so much of late that he had grown +callous and case-hardened; he did not care much whether +the place was washed away or not—he wanted to sleep, +and he slept.</p> +<p>Meeus, left alone, lay watching the glimmer of the +lamp shining through the cracks of the door, and listening +to the thunder of the rain.</p> +<p>This was the greatest rain he had experienced. He +wondered if it would flood the go-down and get at the rubber +stored there; he wondered if the soldiers had deserted +their huts and taken refuge in the office. These thoughts +were of not the slightest interest to him; they just came +and strayed across his mind, which was still half-paralyzed +by the great calamity that had befallen him.</p> +<p>For the last half-hour an iron hand seemed round his +body just on a level with the diaphragm; this seemed +growing tighter, and the tighter it grew the more difficult +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +it was to breathe. The fracture had been very high up, +but he knew nothing of this; he knew that his back was +broken, and that men with broken backs die, but he did +not fully realize that he was going to die till—all at once—his +breathing stopped dead of its own accord, and then of +its own accord went on rapidly and shallowly. Then he +recognized that his breathing was entirely under the +control of something over which <i>he</i> had no control.</p> +<p>This is the most terrible thing a man can know, for it +is a thing that no man ever knows till he is in the hands +of death.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>It was daylight when Adams awoke, and the rain +had ceased.</p> +<p>He went to the door and opened it. It was after +sunrise, but the sun was not to be seen. The whole +world was a vapour, but through which the forest was +dimly visible. The soldiers were in the courtyard; they +had just come out of the office where they had taken refuge +during the night. Their huts had been washed away, but +they did not seem to mind a bit; they showed their teeth +in a grin, and shouted something when they saw the white +man, and pointed to the rainswept yard and the sky.</p> +<p>Adams nodded, and then went back into the house +and into the bedroom, where he found Meeus hanging +head downward out of his bed.</p> +<p>Rubber would trouble Andreas Meeus no more; +his soul had gone to join the great army of souls in +the Beyond.</p> +<p>It is strange enough to look upon the body of a man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span> +you have killed. But Adams had no more pity or compunction +in his mind than if Meeus had been a stoat.</p> +<p>He turned to Berselius, who was sleeping. The delirium +had passed, and he was breathing evenly and well. There +was hope for him yet—hope for his body if not for his +mind.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXXI_THE_VOICE_OF_THE_FOREST_BY_NIGHT' id='XXXI_THE_VOICE_OF_THE_FOREST_BY_NIGHT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> +<h3>THE VOICE OF THE FOREST BY NIGHT</h3> +</div> + +<p>The first thing to be done was to bury Meeus. +And now came the question, How would the +soldiers take the death of the <i>Chef de Poste</i>? +They knew nothing of it yet. Would they revolt, or +would they seek to revenge him, guessing him to have +been killed.</p> +<p>Adams did not know and he did not care. He half +hoped there would be trouble. The Congo had burst +upon his view, stripped of shams, in all its ferocity, just as +the great scene of the killing had burst upon Berselius. +All sorts of things—from the Hostage House of Yandjali +to the Hostage House of M’Bassa, from Mass to +Papeete’s skull—connected themselves up and made +a skeleton, from which he constructed that great and +ferocious monster, the Congo State. The soldiers, with +their filed teeth, were part of the monster, and, such was +the depth of fury in his heart, he would have welcomed +a fight, so that he might express with his arms what +his tongue ached to say.</p> +<p>The original man loomed large in Adams. God had +given him a character benign and just, a heart tempered +to mercy and kindliness; all these qualities had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span> +outraged and were now under arms. They had given a +mandate to the original man to act. The death of Meeus +was the first result.</p> +<p>He went to the shelf where Meeus had kept his official +letters and took Meeus’s Mauser pistol from it. It was +in a holster attached to a belt. He strapped the belt +round his waist, drew the pistol from the holster and +examined it. It was loaded, and in an old cigar-box he +found a dozen clips of cartridges. He put three of these +in his pocket and with the pistol at his side came out into +the courtyard.</p> +<p>Huge billows of white cloud filled the sky, broken here +and there by a patch of watery blue. The whole earth +was steaming and the forest was absolutely smoking. +One could have sworn it was on fire in a dozen places when +the spirals of mist rose and broke and vanished like the +steam clouds from locomotive chimneys.</p> +<p>He crossed the courtyard to the go-down, undid the +locking bar and found what he wanted. Half a dozen +mattocks stood by the rubber bales—he had noticed +them when the stores had been taken out for the +expedition; they were still in the same place and, taking +two of them, he went to the break in the wall that gave +exit from the courtyard and called to the soldiers, who +were busy at work rebuilding their huts.</p> +<p>They came running. He could not speak twenty words +of their language, but he made them line up with a movement +of his arm.</p> +<p>Then he addressed them in a perfectly unprintable +speech. It was delivered in unshod American—a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +language he had not spoken for years. It took in each +individual of the whole gang, it told them they were dogs +and sons of dogs, killers of men, unmentionable carrion, +cayotes, kites, and that he would have hanged them each +and individually with his own hands (and I believe by +some legerdemain of strength he would), but that they +were without hearts, souls or intellect, not responsible +creatures, tools of villains that he, Adams, would expose +and get even with yet.</p> +<p>Furthermore, that if by a look or movement they disobeyed +his orders, he would make them sweat tears and +weep blood, so help him God. Amen.</p> +<p>They understood what he said. At least they understood +the gist of it. They had found a new and angry +master, and not an eye was raised when Adams stood +silent; some looked at their toes and some at the ground, +some looked this way, some that, but none at the big, +ferocious man, with three weeks’ growth of beard, standing +before them and, literally, over them.</p> +<p>Then he chose two of them and motioned them to +follow to the guest house. There he brought them +into the sleeping room and pointed to the body of Meeus, +motioning them to take it up and carry it out. The men +rolled their eyes at the sight of the <i>Chef de Poste</i>, but they +said no word; one took the head, the other the feet, and +between them they carried the burden, led by their new +commander, through the dwelling room, across the +veranda and then across the yard.</p> +<p>The rest of the soldiers were in a group near the gate. +When they saw the two men and their burden, they set +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span> +up a chattering like a flock of magpies, which, however, +instantly ceased at the approach of Adams.</p> +<p>He pointed to the two mattocks which he had placed +against the wall. They understood what he meant; the +last <i>Chef de Poste</i> had shot himself in the presence of the +District Commissioner, and they had dug his grave.</p> +<p>“Here,” said Adams, stopping and pointing to a spot +at a convenient distance from the walls.</p> +<p>When the body was buried, Adams stood for a second +looking at the mound of earth, wet and flattened down +by blows of the spades.</p> +<p>He had no prayers to offer up. Meeus would have +to go before his Maker just as he was, and explain +things—explain all that business away there at the +Silent Pools and other things as well. Prayers over +his tomb or flowers on it would not help that explanation +one little bit.</p> +<p>Then Adams turned away and the soldiers trooped +after him.</p> +<p>He had looked into the office and seen the rifles and +ammunition which they had placed there out of the wet. +A weak man would have locked the office door and so +have deprived the soldiers of their arms, but Adams was +not a weak man.</p> +<p>He led his followers to the office, handed them their +arms, carefully examining each rifle to see that it was +clean and uninjured, drew them up on a line, addressed +them in some more unprintable language but in a milder +tone, dismissed them with a wave of his hand and returned +to the house. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span></p> +<p>As he left them the wretched creatures all gave a shout—a +shout of acclamation.</p> +<p>This was the man for them—very different from +the pale-faced Meeus—this was a man they felt who +would lead them to more unspeakable butchery than +Meeus had ever done. Therefore they shouted, piled +their arms in the office and returned to the rebuilding of +their huts with verve.</p> +<p>They were not physiognomists, these gentlemen.</p> +<p>Berselius awoke from sleep at noon, but he was so +weak that he could scarcely move his lips. Fortunately +there were some goats at the fort, and Adams fed him with +goats’ milk from a spoon, just as one feeds an infant. +Then the sick man fell asleep and the rain came down +again—not in a thunder shower this time, but steadily, +mournfully, playing a tattoo on the zinc roof of the +veranda, filling the place with drizzling sounds, dreary +beyond expression. With the rain came gloom so deep +that Adams had to light the paraffin lamp. There were +no books, no means of recreation, nothing to read but the +old official letters and the half-written report which the +dead man had left on the table before leaving earth to +make his report elsewhere. Adams having glanced at +this, tore it in pieces, then he sat smoking and thinking +and listening to the rain.</p> +<p>Toward night a thunderstorm livened things up a little, +and a howling wind came over the forest on the heels of +the storm.</p> +<p>Adams came out on the veranda to listen.</p> +<p>He could have sworn that a great sea was roaring below +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span> +in the darkness. He could hear the waves, the boom +and burst of them, the suck-back of the billows tearing +the shrieking shale to their hearts, the profound and +sonorous roar of leagues of coast. Imagination could do +anything with that sound except figure the reality of it or +paint the tremendous forest bending to the wind in billows +of foliage a hundred leagues long; the roar of the cotton-woods, +the cry of the palm, the sigh of the withered euphorbias, +the thunderous drumming of the great plantain leaves, +all joining in one tremendous symphony led by the trumpets +of the wind, broken by rainbursts from the rushing +clouds overhead, and all in viewless darkness, black as +the darkness of the pit.</p> +<p>This was a new phase of the forest, which since the +day Adams entered it first, had steadily been explaining +to him the endlessness of its mystery, its wonder, and +its terror.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXXII_MOONLIGHT_ON_THE_POOLS' id='XXXII_MOONLIGHT_ON_THE_POOLS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> +<h3>MOONLIGHT ON THE POOLS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Now began for Adams a time of trial, enough to +break the nerve of any ordinary man. Day +followed day and week followed week, Berselius +gaining strength so slowly that his companion began to +despair at last, fancying that the main fountain and +source of life had been injured, and that the stream would +never flow again but in a trickle, to be stopped at the +least shock or obstruction.</p> +<p>The man was too weak to talk, he could just say “Yes” +and “No” in answer to a question, and it was always +“Better” when he was asked how he felt, but he never +spoke a word of his own volition.</p> +<p>Nearly every day it rained, and it rained in a hundred +different ways—from the thunderous shower-bath rush +of water that threatened to beat the roof in, to the light +spitting shower shone through by the sun. Sometimes +the clouds would divide, roll up in snow-white billows of +appalling height, and over the fuming foliage a rainbow +would form, and flocks of birds, as if released by some +wizard, break from the reeking trees. Adams could hear +their cries as he stood at the foot wall watching them +circle in the air, and his heart went out to them, for they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +were the only living things in the world around him +that spoke in a kindly tongue or hinted at the tenderness +of God.</p> +<p>All else was vast and of tragic proportions. The +very rainbow was titanic; it seemed primeval as the land +over which it stretched and the people to whom it bore +no promise.</p> +<p>But the forest was the thing which filled Adams’s +heart with a craving for freedom and escape that rose to +a passion.</p> +<p>He had seen it silent in the dry season; he had seen it +divided by the great rain-wall and answering the downpour +with snow-white billows of mist and spray; he had +heard it roaring in the dark; it had trapped him, beaten +him with its wet, green hands, sucked him down in its +quagmires, shown him its latent, slow, but unalterable +ferocity, its gloom, its devilment.</p> +<p>The rubber collector who had helped to carry Berselius +to the fort had gone back to his place and task—the forest +had sucked him back. This gnome had explained without +speaking what the gloom and the quagmire, and the +rope-like lianas had hinted, what the Silent Pools had +shouted, what the vulture and the kite had laid bare, what +the heart had whispered: <i>There is no God in the forest +of M’Bonga, no law but the law of the leopard, no mercy +but the mercy of Death.</i></p> +<p>The forest had become for Adams a living nightmare—his +one desire in life now was to win free of it, and +never did it look more sinister than when, rainbow-arched +and silently fuming, it lay passive, sun-stricken, the palms +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +bursting above the mist and the great clouds rolling away +in billows, as if to expose fully the wonder of those primeval +leagues of tree-tops sunlit, mist-strewn, where the +feathery fingers of the palms made banners of the wrack +and the baobabs held fog-banks in their foliage.</p> +<p>At the end of the third week Berselius showed signs of +amendment. He could raise himself now in bed and +speak. He said little, but it was evident that his memory +had completely returned, and it was evident that he was +still the changed man. The iron-hearted Berselius, the +man of daring and nerve, was not here, he had been left +behind in the elephant country in the immeasurable +south.</p> +<p>The mist had departed entirely from his mind; his +whole past was clear before him, and with his new mind +he could reckon it up and see the bad and the good. The +extraordinary fact was that in reviewing this past he did +not feel terrified—it seemed a dead thing and almost as +the past of some other man. All those acts seemed to +Berselius to have been committed by a man who was now +dead.</p> +<p>He could regret the acts of that man and he could +seek to atone for them, but he felt no personal remorse. +“He was not I,” would have reasoned the mind of Berselius; +“those acts were not my acts, because <i>now I could +not commit them</i>,” so he would have reasoned had he +reasoned on the matter at all. But he did not. In that +wild outburst by the Silent Pools the ego had screamed +aloud, raving against itself, raving against the trick that +fate had played it, by making it the slave of two personalities, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span> +and then torturing it by showing it the acts of the +old personality through the eyes of the new.</p> +<p>When the brain fever had passed, it awoke untroubled; +the junction had been effected, the new Berselius was It, +and all the acts of the old Berselius were foreign to it and +far away.</p> +<p>It is thus the man who gets religion feels when the +great change comes on his brain. After the brain-storm +and the agony of new birth comes the peace and the feeling +that he is “another man.” He feels that all his sins +are washed away; in other words, he has lost all sense +of responsibility for the crimes he committed in the old +life, he has cast them off like an old suit of clothes. The +old man is dead. Ah, but is he? Can you atone for +your vices by losing your smell and taste for vice, +and slip out of your debt for crime by becoming +another man?</p> +<p>Does the old man ever die?</p> +<p>The case of Berselius stirs one to ask the question, +which is more especially interesting as it is prompted by +a case not unique but almost typical.</p> +<p>The interesting point in Berselius’s case lay in the +question as to whether his change of mind was initiated +by the injury received in the elephant country or by the +shock at the Silent Pools. In other words, was it due +to some mechanical pressure on the brain produced by the +accident, or was it due to “repentance” on seeing suddenly +unveiled the hideous drama in which he had taken +part?</p> +<p>This remains to be seen. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span></p> +<p>At the end of the fourth week Berselius was able to +leave his bed, and every day now marked a steady improvement +in strength.</p> +<p>Not a word about the past did he say, not a question +did he ask, and what surprised Adams especially, not +a question did he put about Meeus, till one day in the +middle of the fifth week.</p> +<p>Berselius was seated in one of the arm chairs of the +sitting room when he suddenly raised his head.</p> +<p>“By the way,” said he, “where is the <i>Chef de Poste</i>?”</p> +<p>“He is dead,” replied Adams.</p> +<p>“Ah!” said Berselius; there was almost a note of relief +in his voice. He said nothing more and Adams volunteered +no explanation, for the affair was one entirely +between Meeus, himself, and God.</p> +<p>A few minutes later, Berselius, who seemed deep in +thought, raised his head again.</p> +<p>“We must get away from here. I am nearly strong +enough to go now. It will be a rough journey in these +rains, but it will be a much shorter road than the road +we came by.”</p> +<p>“How so?”</p> +<p>“We came from Yandjali right through the forest +before striking south to here; we will now make straight +for the river, along the rubber road. I think the post +on the river which we will reach is called M’Bina, it is a +hundred miles above Yandjali; we can get a boat from +there to Leopoldsville. I have been thinking it all out +this morning.”</p> +<p>“How about a guide?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span></p> +<p>“These soldiers here know the rubber track, for they +often escort the loads.”</p> +<p>“Good,” said Adams. “I will have some sort of litter +rigged up and we will carry you. I am not going to let +you walk in your present condition.”</p> +<p>Berselius bowed his head.</p> +<p>“I am very sensible,” said he, “of the care and attention +you have bestowed on me during the past weeks. +I owe you a considerable debt, which I will endeavour +to repay, at all events, by following your directions +implicitly. Let the litter be made, and if you will send +me in the corporal of those men, I will talk to him in his +own language and explain what is to be done.”</p> +<p>“Good,” said Adams, and he went out and found the +corporal and sent him in to Berselius.</p> +<p>“Good!” The word was not capacious enough to +express what he felt. Freedom, Light, Humanity, the +sight of a civilized face, for these he ached with a great +longing, and they were all there at the end of the rubber +road, only waiting to be met with.</p> +<p>He went to the fort wall and shook his fist at the forest.</p> +<p>“Another ten days,” said Adams.</p> +<p>The forest, whose spirit counted time by tens of thousands +of years, waved its branches to the wind.</p> +<p>A spit of rain from a passing cloud hit Adams’s cheek, +and in the “hush” of the trees there seemed a murmur +of derision and the whisper of a threat.</p> +<p>“It is not well to shake your fist at the gods—in +the open.”</p> +<p>Adams went back to the house to begin preparations, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +and for the next week he was busy. From some spare +canvas and bamboos in the go-down he made a litter +strong enough to carry Berselius—he had to do nearly +all the work himself, for the soldiers were utterly useless +as workmen. Then stores had to be arranged and put +together in a convenient form for carrying; clothes had +to be mended and patched—even his boots had to be +cobbled with twine—but at last all was ready, and on +the day before they started the weather improved. The +sun came out strong and the clouds drew away right to +the horizon, where they lay piled in white banks like +ranges of snow-covered mountains.</p> +<p>That afternoon, an hour before sunset, Adams +announced his intention of going on a little expedition +of his own.</p> +<p>“I shall only be a few hours away,” said he, “five at +most.”</p> +<p>“Where are you going?” asked Berselius.</p> +<p>“Oh, just down into the woods,” replied Adams. +Then he left the room before his companion could ask +any more questions and sought out the corporal.</p> +<p>He beckoned the savage to follow him, and struck +down the slope in the direction of the Silent Pools. When +they reached the forest edge he pointed before them and +said, “Matabayo.”</p> +<p>The man understood and led the way, which was +not difficult, for the feet of the rubber collectors had +beaten a permanent path. There was plenty of light, +too, for the moon was already in the sky, only waiting for +the sun to sink before blazing out. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span></p> +<p>When they were half-way on their journey heavy dusk +fell on them suddenly, and deepened almost to dark; +then, nearly as suddenly, all the forest around them glowed +green to the light of the moon.</p> +<p>The Silent Pools and the woods, when they reached +them, lay in mist and moonlight, making a picture unforgettable +for ever.</p> +<p>It recalled to Adams that picture of Doré’s, illustrating +the scene from the “Idylls of the King,” where Arthur +labouring up the pass “all in a misty moonlight,” had +trodden on the skeleton of the once king, from whose head +the crown rolled like a rivulet of light down to the tarn—the +misty tarn, where imagination pictured Death waiting +to receive it and hide it in his robe.</p> +<p>The skeleton of no king lay here, only the poor bones +still unburied of the creatures that a far-off king had +murdered. The rain had washed them about, and +Adams had to search and search before he found what he +had come to find.</p> +<p>At last he saw it. The skull of a child, looking like +a white stone amidst the grass. He wrapped it in leaves +torn from the trees near by, and the grim corporal stood +watching him, and wondering, no doubt, for what fetish +business the white man had come to find the thing.</p> +<p>Then Adams with the dreary bundle under his arm +looked around him at the other remains and swore—swore +by the God who had made him, by the mother +who had borne him, and the manhood that lay in +him, to rest not nor stay till he had laid before the +face of Europe the skull of Papeete and the acts of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +the terrible scoundrel who for long years had systematically +murdered for money.</p> +<p>Then, followed by the savage, he turned and retook +his road. At the wood’s edge he looked back at the +silent scene, and it seemed to look at him with the muteness +and sadness of a witness who cannot speak, of a +woman who cannot tell her sorrow.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXXIII_THE_RIVER_OF_GOLD' id='XXXIII_THE_RIVER_OF_GOLD'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> +<h3>THE RIVER OF GOLD</h3> +</div> + +<p>Next morning they started.</p> +<p>The corporal, three of the soldiers, and the +two porters made up the escort.</p> +<p>Berselius, who was strong enough to walk a little way, +began the journey on foot, but they had not gone five +miles on their road when he showed signs of fatigue, and +Adams insisted on him taking to the litter.</p> +<p>It was the same road by which Félix had led them, but +it was very different travelling; where the ground had +been hard underfoot it was now soft, and where it had +been elastic it was now boggy; it was more gloomy, and +the forest was filled with watery voices; where it dipped +down into valleys, you could hear the rushing and mourning +of waters. Tiny trickles of water had become rivulets—rivulets +streams.</p> +<p>Away in the elephant country it was the same, the dry +river-bed where they had found the carcass of the elephant, +was now the bed of rushing water. The elephant and +antelope herds were wandering in clouds on the plains. +A hundred thousand streams from Tanganyika to Yandjali +were leaping to form rivers flowing for one destination, +the Congo and the sea. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span></p> +<p>On the second day of their journey, an accident +happened; one of the porters, released for a spell from +bearing the litter, and loitering behind, was bitten by +a snake.</p> +<p>He died despite all Adams’s attempts to save him, +and, leaving his body to be buried by the leopards, they +passed on.</p> +<p>But the soldiers, especially the corporal, took the +matter strangely. These bloodthirsty wretches, inured +to death and thinking nothing of it, seemed cast down, +and at the camping place they drew aside, chattered +together for a few minutes, and then the corporal came to +Berselius and began a harangue, his eyes rolling toward +Adams now and then as he proceeded.</p> +<p>Berselius listened, spoke a few words, and then turned +to Adams.</p> +<p>“He says you have brought something with you that +is unlucky, and that unless you throw it away, we shall +all die.”</p> +<p>“I know what he means,” replied Adams; “I have +brought a relic from that village by the Silent Pools. I +shall not throw it away. You can tell him so.”</p> +<p>Berselius spoke to the man who still stood sullenly +waiting, and who was opening his mouth to continue +his complaints, when Adams seized him by the shoulders, +turned him round, and with a kick, sent him back to his +companions.</p> +<p>“You should not have done that,” said Berselius; +“these people are very difficult to deal with.”</p> +<p>“Difficult!” said Adams. He stared at the soldiers +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span> +who were grouped together, slapped the Mauser pistol +at his side, and then pointed to the tent.</p> +<p>The men ceased muttering, and came as beaten dogs +come at the call of their master, seized the tent and put +it up.</p> +<p>But Berselius still shook his head. He knew these +people, their treachery, and their unutterable heartlessness.</p> +<p>“How far are we from the river now?” asked Adams, +that night, as they sat by the fire, for which the corporal +by some miracle of savagery had found sufficient dry fuel +in the reeking woods around them.</p> +<p>“Another two days’ march,” replied Berselius, “I trust +that we shall reach it.”</p> +<p>“Oh, we’ll get there,” said Adams, “and shall I tell +you why? Well, we’ll get there just because of that relic +I am carrying. God has given me it to take to Europe. +To take to Europe and show to men that they may see +the devilment of this place, and the work of Satan that is +being carried out here.”</p> +<p>Berselius bowed his head.</p> +<p>“Perhaps you are right,” said he, at last, slowly and +thoughtfully.</p> +<p>Adams said no more. The great change in his +companion stood as a barrier between him and the +loathing he would have felt if Berselius had been still +himself.</p> +<p>The great man had fallen, and was now very low. That +vision of him in his madness by the Silent Pools had placed +him forever on a plane above others. God had dealt +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span> +with this man very visibly, and the hand of God was +still upon him.</p> +<p>Next day they resumed their journey. The soldiers +were cheerful and seemed to have forgotten all about their +grievance, but Berselius felt more uneasy than ever. +He knew these people, and that nothing could move them +to mirth and joy that was not allied to devilment, or +treachery, or death.</p> +<p>But he said nothing, for speech was useless.</p> +<p>Next morning when they woke they found the soldiers +gone; they had taken the porter with them, and as much +of the provisions as they could steal without disturbing +the white men.</p> +<p>“I thought so,” said Berselius.</p> +<p>Adams raged and stormed, but Berselius was perfectly +calm.</p> +<p>“The thing I fear most,” said he, “is that they have +led us out of our road. Did you notice whether we were +in the track for the last mile or so of our journey +yesterday?”</p> +<p>“No,” replied Adams, “I just followed on. Good +God! if it is so we are lost.”</p> +<p>Now, the rubber road was just a track so faint, that +without keeping his eyes on the ground where years of +travel had left just a slight indication of the way, a +European would infallibly lose it. Savages, who have +eyes in their feet, hold it all right, and go along with their +burdens even in the dark.</p> +<p>Adams searched, but he could find no track.</p> +<p>“We must leave all these things behind us,” said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +Berselius, pointing to the tent and litter. “I am strong +enough to walk; we must strike through the forest and +leave the rest to chance.”</p> +<p>“Which way?” asked Adams.</p> +<p>“It does not matter. These men have purposely lost +us, and we do not know in the least the direction of the +river.”</p> +<p>Adams’s eyes fell on a bundle wrapped in cloth. It +was the relic.</p> +<p>He knelt down beside it, and carefully removed the +cloth without disturbing the position of the skull.</p> +<p>He noted the direction in which the eye-holes pointed.</p> +<p>“We will go in that direction,” said he. “We have +lost ourselves, but God has not lost us.”</p> +<p>“Let it be so,” replied Berselius.</p> +<p>Adams collected what provisions he could carry, tied +the skull to his belt with a piece of rope taken from the +tent, and led the way amidst the trees.</p> +<p>Two days later, at noon, still lost, unutterably weary, +they saw through the trees before them a sight to slay all +hope.</p> +<p>It was the tent and the litter just as they had left them.</p> +<p>Two days’ heart-breaking labour had brought them +to this by all sorts of paths.</p> +<p>They had not wandered in a circle. They had travelled +in segments of circles, and against all mathematical +probability, had struck the camp.</p> +<p>But the camp was not tenantless. Someone was there. +A huge man-like form, a monstrous gorilla, the evil spirit +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +that haunted the forest, bent and gray and old-looking, +was picking the things about, sniffing at them, turning +them over.</p> +<p>When they saw him first, he was holding the tent-cloth +between both his hands just as a draper holds a piece of +cloth, then he ripped it up with a rending sound, flung the +pieces away, and began turning over the litter.</p> +<p>He heard the steps of the human beings, and sat up, +looking around him, sniffing the air. He could not see +them, for he was purblind.</p> +<p>The human beings passed on into the terrible nowhere +of the forest.</p> +<p>When you are lost like this, you cannot rest. You +must keep moving, even though you are all but hopeless +of reaching freedom.</p> +<p>Two days later they were still lost, and now entirely +hopeless.</p> +<p>To torment their hearts still more, faint sun-rays came +through the leaves overhead.</p> +<p>The sun was shining overhead; the sun they would never +see again. It was the very end of all things, for they had +not eaten for twelve hours now.</p> +<p>The sun-rays danced, for a breeze had sprung up, and +they could hear it passing free and happily in the leaves +overhead.</p> +<p>Berselius cast himself down by a huge tree and leaned +his head against the bark. Adams stood for a moment +with his hand upon the tree-bole. He knew that when +he had cast himself down he would never rise again. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span> +It was the full stop which would bring the story of his life +to a close.</p> +<p>He was standing like this when, borne on the breeze +above the tree-tops, came a sound, stroke after stroke, +sonorous and clear. The bell of a steamboat!</p> +<p>It was the voice of the Congo telling of Life, Hope, +Relief.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Berselius did not hear it. Sunk in a profound stupor, +he would not even raise his head.</p> +<p>Adams seized his companion in his arms and came +facing the direction of the breeze. He walked like a +man in his sleep, threading the maze of the trees on, on, +on, till before him the day broke in one tremendous splash +of light, and the humble frame-roof of M’Bina seemed +to him the roofs of some great city, beyond which the +river flowed in sheets of burnished gold.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXXIV_THE_SUBSTITUTE' id='XXXIV_THE_SUBSTITUTE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> +<h3>THE SUBSTITUTE</h3> +</div> + +<p>District Commissioner De Wiart, chief +at M’Bina, was a big man with a blond beard +and a good-natured face. He worked the post +at M’Bina with the assistance of a subordinate named +Van Laer.</p> +<p>De Wiart was a man eminently fitted for his post. He +had a genius for organization and overseeing. He +would not have been worth a centime away up-country, +for his heart was far too good to allow him to personally +supervise the working of the niggers, but at M’Bina he +was worth a good deal to the Government that employed +him.</p> +<p>This man who would not hurt a fly—this man who +would have made an excellent father of a family—was +terrible to his subordinates when he took a pen in his +hand. He knew the mechanism of every <i>Chef de Poste</i> +in his district, and the sort of letter that would rouse him +up, stimulate him to renewed action, and the slaves under +him to renewed work.</p> +<p>Van Laer was of quite a different type. Van Laer +had the appearance of a famished hound held back by a +leash. He was tall and thin. He had been a schoolmaster +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span> +dismissed from his school for a grave offence; +he had been a billiard-marker; he had walked the streets +of Brussels in a frock-coat and tall hat, a “guide” on the +lookout for young foreigners who wished to enjoy the +more dubious pleasures of the city. He had been many +things, till, at the age of thirty-five, he became a servant +of the crown.</p> +<p>The pale blue eyes of Van Laer held in them a shallowness +and murderous cruelty, an expression of negation +and coldness combined with mind such as one finds +nowhere in the animal kingdom, save that branch of it +which prides itself on its likeness to God. His thumbs +were cruelly shaped and enormous. A man may disguise +his soul, he may disguise his mind, he may disguise +his face, but he cannot disguise his thumbs unless he +wears gloves.</p> +<p>No one wears gloves on the Congo, so Van Laer’s +thumbs were openly displayed.</p> +<p>He had been six months now at M’Bina and he was +sick of the place, accounts were of no interest to him. +He was a man of action, and he wanted to be doing. He +could make money up there in the forest at the heart of +things; here, almost in touch with civilization, he was +wasting his time. And he wanted money. The bonus-ache +had seized him badly. When he saw the great tusks +of green ivory in their jackets of matting, when he saw +the bales of copal leafed round with aromatic unknown +leaves, and speaking fervently of the wealth of the tropics +and the riches of the primeval forests, when he saw the +tons of rubber and remembered that this stuff, which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span> +in the baskets of the native collectors looks like fried +potato chips, in Europe becomes, by the alchemy of trade, +minted gold, a great hunger filled his hungry soul.</p> +<p>At M’Bina great riches were eternally flowing in and +flowing out. Wealth in its original wrappings piled itself +on the wharf in romantical packets and bales, piled itself +on board steamers, floated away down the golden river, +and was replaced by more wealth flowing in from the +inexhaustible forests.</p> +<p>The sight of all this filled Van Laer with an actual +physical hunger. He could have eaten that stuff that +was wealth itself. He could have devoured those tusks. +He was Gargantua as far as his appetite was concerned, +and for the rest he was only Van Laer driving a quill in +the office of De Wiart.</p> +<p>He did not know that he was here on probation; that +the good-natured and seemingly lazy de Wiart was studying +him and finding him satisfactory, that very soon his +desires would be fulfilled, and that he would be let loose +like a beast on the land of his longing, a living whip, an +animated thumb-screw, a knife with a brain in its haft.</p> +<p>When the soldiers had lost Berselius and Adams, they +struck at once for M’Bina, reaching it in a day’s march.</p> +<p>Here they told their tale.</p> +<p><i>Chef de Poste</i> Meeus was dead. They had escorted a +sick white man and a big white man toward M’Bina. +One night three leopards had prowled round the camp +and the soldiers had gone in pursuit of them.</p> +<p>The leopards escaped, but the soldiers could not find +the white men again. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span></p> +<p>De Wiart listened to this very fishy tale without believing +a word of it, except in so far as it related to Meeus.</p> +<p>“Where did you lose the white men?” asked de Wiart.</p> +<p>The soldiers did not know. One does not know where +one loses a thing; if one did, then the thing would not +be lost.</p> +<p>“Just so,” said De Wiart, agreeing to this very evident +axiom, and more than ever convinced that the story was a +lie. Meeus was dead and the men had come to report. +They had delayed on the road to hold some jamboree of +their own, and this lie about the white men was to account +for their delay.</p> +<p>“Did anyone else come with you as well as the white +men?” asked De Wiart.</p> +<p>“Yes, there was a porter, a Yandjali man. He had +run away.”</p> +<p>De Wiart pulled his blond beard meditatively, and +looked at the river.</p> +<p>From the office where he was sitting the river, great +with the rains and lit by the sun which had broken through +the clouds, looked like a moving flood of gold. One +might have fancied that all the wealth of the elephant +country, all the teeming riches of the forest, flowing by a +thousand streams and disdaining to wait for the alchemy +of trade, had joined in one Pactolian flood flowing toward +Leopoldsville and the sea.</p> +<p>De Wiart was not thinking this. He dismissed the +soldiers and told them to hold themselves in readiness to +return to M’Bassa on the morrow.</p> +<p>That evening he called Van Laer into the office. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span></p> +<p>“<i>Chef de Poste</i> Meeus of Fort M’Bassa is dead,” said +De Wiart; “you will go there and take command. You +will start to-morrow.”</p> +<p>Van Laer flushed.</p> +<p>“It is a difficult post,” said De Wiart, “wild country, +and the natives are the laziest to be found in the whole +of the state. The man before Meeus did much harm; +he had no power or control, he was a weak man, +and the people frankly laughed at him. Actually +rubber came in here one-third rubbish, the people were +half their time in revolt, they cut the vines in two districts. +I have a report of his saying, ‘There is no ivory to be +got. The herds are very scarce, and the people say they +cannot make elephants.’ Fancy writing nigger talk like +that in a report. I replied in the same tone. I said, +‘Tell the people they must make them: and make them +in a hurry. Tell them that they need not trouble to make +whole elephants, just the tusks will do—eighty-pound +tusks, a hundred-pound if possible.’ But sarcasm was +quite thrown away on him. He listened to the natives. +Once a man does that he is lost, for they lose all respect +for him. They are just like children, these people; once +let children get in the habit of making excuses and you +lose control.</p> +<p>“Meeus was a stronger man, but he left much to be +desired. He had too much whalebone in his composition, +not enough steel, but he was improving.</p> +<p>“You will find yourself at first in a difficult position. +It always is so when a <i>Chef de Poste</i> dies suddenly and +even a few days elapse before he is replaced. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span> +people get out of hand, thinking the white man is gone +for ever. However, you will find yourself all right in a +week or so, if you are firm.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said Van Laer. “I have no doubt +at all that I will be able to bring these people into line. +I do not boast. I only ask you to keep your eye on the +returns.”</p> +<p>Next day Van Laer, escorted by the soldiers, left +M’Bina to take up the station at Fort M’Bassa left vacant +by the death of <i>Chef de Poste</i> Andreas Meeus.</p> +<p>Three days later at noon De Wiart, drawn from his house +by shouts from the sentinels on duty saw, coming toward +him in the blazing sunshine, a great man who stumbled +and seemed half-blinded by the sunlight, and who was +bearing in his arms another man who seemed dead.</p> +<p>Both were filthy, ragged, torn and bleeding. The +man erect had, tied to his waistbelt by a piece of liana, a +skull.</p> +<p>Fit emblem of the forest he had passed through and +the land that lay behind it.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXXV_PARIS' id='XXXV_PARIS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> +<h3>PARIS</h3> +</div> + +<p>One hot day in June Schaunard was seated in the +little office just behind his shop. He was +examining an improved telescopic sight which +had just been put upon the market by an opponent, +criticizing it as one poet criticizes the poem of another +poet—that is to say, ferociously.</p> +<p>To him, thus meditating, from the Rue de la Paix +suddenly came a gush of sound which as suddenly ceased.</p> +<p>The shop door had opened and closed again, and +Schaunard leaving his office came out to see who the +visitor might be.</p> +<p>He found himself face to face with Adams. He knew +him by his size, but he would scarcely have recognized him +by his face, so brown, so thin and so different in expression +was it from the face of the man with whom he had parted +but a few months ago.</p> +<p>“Good day,” said Adams. “I have come to pay you +for that gun.”</p> +<p>“Ah, yes, the gun,” said Schaunard with a little laugh, +“this is a pleasant surprise. I had entered it amidst +my bad debts. Come in, monsieur, come into my office, +it is cooler there, and we can talk. The gun, ah, yes. I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span> +had entered that transaction in Ledger D. Come in, +come in. There, take that armchair, I keep it for visitors. +Well, and how did the expedition go off?”</p> +<p>“Badly,” said Adams. “We are only back a week. +You remember what you said to me when we parted? +You said, ‘Don’t go.’ I wish I had taken your advice.”</p> +<p>“Why, since you are back sound and whole, it seems +to me you have not done so badly—but perhaps you +have got malaria?”</p> +<p>The old man’s sharp eyes were investigating the face +of the other. Schaunard’s eyes had this peculiarity, that +they were at once friendly to one and cruel, they matched +the eternal little laugh which was ever springing to his +lips—the laugh of the eternal mocker.</p> +<p>Schaunard made observations as well as telescopic +sights and wind-gauges—he had been making observation +for sixty years—he took almost as much interest +in individual human beings as in rifles, and much more +interest in Humanity than in God.</p> +<p>He was afflicted with the malady of the nineteenth and +twentieth centuries—he did not believe in God, only +instead of hiding his disease under a cloak of mechanical +religion, or temporizing with it, he frankly declared himself +to be what he was, an atheist.</p> +<p>This fact did not interfere with his trade—a godly +gunmaker gets no more custom than an atheistical one; +besides, Schaunard did not obtrude his religious opinions +after the fashion of his class, he was a good deal of a +gentleman, and he was accustomed to converse familiarly +with emperors and kings. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span></p> +<p>“No, it is not malaria,” replied Adams, following +the old man who was leading the way into the office. +“I never felt better in my life. It is just the Congo. +The place leaves an impression on one’s mind, M. Schaunard, +a flavour that is not good.”</p> +<p>He took the armchair which Schaunard kept for +visitors. He was only a week back—all he had seen +out there was fresh to him and very vivid, but he felt in +Schaunard an antagonistic spirit, and he did not care to +go deeper into his experiences.</p> +<p>Schaunard took down that grim joke, Ledger D, placed +it on the table and opened it, but without turning the +leaves.</p> +<p>“And how is Monsieur le Capitaine?” asked he.</p> +<p>“He has been very ill, but he is much better. I am +staying with him in the Avenue Malakoff as his medical +attendant. We only arrived at Marseilles a week ago.”</p> +<p>“And Madame Berselius, how is she?”</p> +<p>“Madame Berselius is at Trouville.”</p> +<p>“The best place this weather. <i>Ma foi</i>, you must +find it warm here even after Africa—well, tell me how +you found the gun to answer.”</p> +<p>Adams laughed. “The gun went off—in the hands +of a savage. All your beautiful guns, Monsieur Schaunard, +are now matchwood and old iron, tents, everything +went, smashed to pieces, pounded to pulp by elephants.”</p> +<p>He told of the great herd they had pursued and how +in the dark it had charged the camp. He told of how in +the night, listening by the camp fire, he had heard the +mysterious boom of its coming, and of the marvellous +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +sight he had watched when Berselius, failing in his attempt +to waken the Zappo Zap, had fronted the oncoming +army of destruction.</p> +<p>Schaunard’s eyes lit up as he listened.</p> +<p>“Ah,” said he, “that is a man!”</p> +<p>The remark brought Adams to a halt.</p> +<p>He had become strangely bound up in Berselius; he +had developed an affection for this man almost brotherly, +and Schaunard’s remark hit him and made him wince. +For Schaunard employed the present tense.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Adams at last, “it was very grand.” Then +he went on to tell of Berselius’s accident, but he said +nothing of his brain injury, for a physician does not speak +of his patient’s condition to strangers, except in the +vaguest and most general terms.</p> +<p>“And how did you like the Belgians?” asked the old +man, when Adams had finished.</p> +<p>“The Belgians!” Adams, suddenly taken off his +guard, exploded; he had said nothing as yet about the +Congo to anyone. He could not help himself now; the +horrors rushed to his mouth and escaped—the cry of +the great mournful country—the cry that he had brought +to Europe with him in his heart, found vent.</p> +<p>Schaunard sat amazed, not at the infamies pouring +from Adams’s mouth, for he was well acquainted with +them, but at the man’s vehemence and energy.</p> +<p>“I have come to Europe to expose him,” finished +Adams.</p> +<p>“Expose who?”</p> +<p>“Leopold, King of the Belgians.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span></p> +<p>“But, my dear Monsieur Adams, you have come to +waste your time; he is already exposed. Expose Leopold, +King of the Belgians! Say at once that you are +going to expose the sun. He doesn’t care. He exposes +himself. His public and his private life are common +property.”</p> +<p>“You mean to say that everyone knows what I know?”</p> +<p>“Precisely, and perhaps even more, but everyone has +not seen what you have seen, and that’s all the difference.”</p> +<p>“How so?”</p> +<p>“In this way, monsieur; let us suppose that you have +just seen a child run over in the Rue de la Paix. You +come in here and tell me of it; the horror of it is in your +mind, but you cannot convey that horror to me, simply +because I have not seen what you have seen. Still, you +can convey a part of it, for I know the Rue de la Paix, it +is close to me, outside my door, and I know French +children.</p> +<p>“You come to me and tell me of hideous sights you +have seen in Africa. That does not move me a tenth +so much, for Africa is very far away—it is, in fact, for +me a geographical expression; the people are niggers I +have never seen, dwelling in a province I have never +heard of. You come to seek sympathy for this people +amongst the French public? Well, I tell you frankly +you are like a man searching in a dark room for a black +hat that is not there.”</p> +<p>“Nevertheless I shall search.”</p> +<p>“As monsieur wills, only don’t knock yourself against +the chairs and tables. Ah, monsieur, monsieur, you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +are young and a medical man. Remain so, and don’t +lose your years and your prospects fighting the impossible. +Now listen to me, for it is old Schaunard of the Rue de la +Paix who is speaking to you. The man you would +expose, as you term it, is a king to begin with; to go on +with, he is far and away the cleverest king in Christendom. +That man has brains enough to run what you in America +call a department store. Every little detail of his estate +out there, even to the cap guns and rifles of the troops, he +looks after himself; that’s why it pays. It is a bad-smelling +business, but it doesn’t poison the nose of Europe, +because it is so far away. Still, smells are brought over +in samples by missionaries and men like you, and people +say ‘Faugh!’ Do you think he did not take that into his +consideration when he planned the affair and laid down +the factory? If you think so, you would be vastly mistaken. +He has agents everywhere—I have met them, +apologists everywhere—in the Press, in Society, in the +Church. The Roman Catholic Church is entirely his; +he is triple-ringed with politicians, priests, publicists, +and financiers, all holding their noses to keep out the +stench and all singing the <i>Laus Leopold</i> at the top of +their voices.</p> +<p>“Ah! you don’t know Europe. I do, from the Ballplatz +to Willhelmstrasse, from the Winter Palace to the Elysée, +my trade has brought me everywhere, and if you could +see with my eyes, you would see the great, smooth plain +of ice you hope to warm with your poor breath in the name +of Humanity.”</p> +<p>“At all events I shall try,” replied Adams, rising to go. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span></p> +<p>“Well, try, but don’t get frozen in making the trial——”</p> +<p>“Oh, the gun—well, look here—you are starting on +another hunting expedition, it seems to me, a more dangerous +one, too, than the last, for there is no forest where +one loses oneself more fatally than the forest of social +reform—pay me when you come back.”</p> +<p>“Very well,” said Adams, laughing.</p> +<p>“Only if you are successful though.”</p> +<p>“Very well.”</p> +<p>“And, see here, in any event come and tell me the +result. <i>Bon jour</i>, monsieur, and a word in your ear——”</p> +<p>The old man was opening the shop door.</p> +<p>“Yes?”</p> +<p>“Don’t go.”</p> +<p>Schaunard closed his door and retired to his office +to chuckle over his joke, and Adams walked off down the +Rue de la Paix.</p> +<p>Paris was wearing her summer dress; it was the end +of the season, and the streets were thronged with foreigners—the +Moor from Morocco, in his white burnous, +elbowed the Slav from Moscow; the Eiffel Tower had +become a veritable Tower of Babel; the theatres were +packed, the <i>cafés</i> crowded. Austrian, Russian, English, +and American gold was pouring into the city—pouring +in ceaselessly from the four corners of the world and +by every great express disgorging at the Gare du Nord, +the Gare de l’Est, and the Gare de Lyons.</p> +<p>To Adams, fresh from the wilderness and the forest, +fresh from those great, silent, sunlit plains of the elephant +country and the tremendous cavern of the jungle, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span> +city around him and the sights affected him with vividness +and force.</p> +<p>Here, in the centre of the greatest civilization that the +world has ever seen, he stood fresh from that primeval +land.</p> +<p>He had seen civilization with her mask off, her hair +in disorder, her foot on the body of a naked slave and +the haft of a blood-stained knife between her teeth, he +was watching her now with her mask on, her hair in powder, +Caruso singing to her; sitting amidst her court of +poets, philosophers, churchmen, placemen, politicians, +and financiers.</p> +<p>It was a strange experience.</p> +<p>He took his way down the Rue de Rivoli and then +to the Avenue Malakoff, and as he walked the face of +the philosophic Schaunard faded from his mind and was +replaced by the vision of Maxine Berselius. Opposites +in the world of thought often awaken images one of +the other, just because of the fact that they are opposites.</p> +<p>Maxine was not at Trouville. She had met them at +the railway station on the day of their arrival.</p> +<p><i>La Joconde</i> had been cabled for from Leopoldsville, +and the great yacht had brought them to Marseilles. +Nothing had been cabled as to Berselius’s accident or +illness, and Madame Berselius had departed for Trouville, +quite unconscious of anything having happened to her +husband.</p> +<p>Maxine was left to discover for herself the change in +her father. She had done so at the very first sight of him, +but as yet she had said no word.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXXVI_DREAMS' id='XXXVI_DREAMS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> +<h3>DREAMS</h3> +</div> + +<p>When Adams arrived at the Avenue Malakoff +he found Berselius in the library. He was +seated in a big armchair, and M. Pinchon, +his secretary, a man dry-looking as an account-book, +bald, and wearing spectacles, was just leaving the room +with some shorthand notes of business letters to be typed.</p> +<p>Berselius was much changed; his hair was quite gray, +his eyes, once so calm, forceful, and intrinsically brilliant, +had lost their lustre, his face wore the expression of a +confirmed invalid.</p> +<p>Great discontent was the predominant feature of this +expression.</p> +<p>It was only within the last few days that this had +appeared. On recovering from the hardships of the +forest and on the voyage home, though weak enough, +he had been serene, mild, amiable and rather listless, +but during the last few days something was visibly troubling +him.</p> +<p>He had “gone off,” to use an expressive phrase sometimes +employed by physicians.</p> +<p>A strange thing had happened to Berselius. Ever +since the recovery of his memory his new self had contemplated +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +the past from the heights of new birth, calmly +conscious of the fact that this past belonged to a man +who was dead. The more he examined this past the +more he loathed the man to whom it had belonged, but +the difference between that man and himself was so profound +that he felt, rightly, that he was not <i>He</i>.</p> +<p>Three mornings ago Berselius, who rarely dreamt, +had awakened from a long night of hunting in Dreamland. +In Dreamland he had cast off his new personality +and became his old self, and then, in his hunting +shirt and with a cordite rifle in his hand, accompanied +by the Zappo Zap, he had tracked elephant herds across +illimitable plains.</p> +<p>He had awakened to his new self again with the full +recognition in his mind that only a few moments ago he +had been thinking with that other man’s brain, acting +under his passions, living his life.</p> +<p>The Berselius of Dreamland had not the remotest +connection with, or knowledge of, the Berselius of real +life. Yet the Berselius of real life was very intimately +connected with the Berselius of Dreamland, knew all his +actions, knew all his sensations, and remembered them +to the minutest detail.</p> +<p>The next night he did not dream at all—not so on +the third night, when the scene of horror by the Silent +Pools was reenacted, himself in the original <i>role</i>. The +incidents were not quite the same, for scenes from real +life are scarcely ever reproduced on the stage of Dreamland +in their entirety; but they were ghastly enough in +all conscience, and Berselius, awake and wiping the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span> +sweat from his brow, saw them clearly before him and +remembered the callousness with which he had watched +them but a few moments ago.</p> +<p>No man can command his dreams; the dreaming man +lives in a world beyond law, and it came as a shock to +Berselius that his old self should be alive in him like this, +powerful, active, and beyond rebuke.</p> +<p>Physically, he was a wreck of his old self, but that was +nothing to the fact which was now borne in on him—the +fact that this new mentality was but a thin shell +covering the old, as the thin shell of earth, with its flowers +and pleasant landscapes, covers the burning hell which +is the earth’s core.</p> +<p>The thing was perfectly natural. A great and vivid +personality, and forty years of exuberant and self-willed +life had at a stroke been checked and changed. The +crust of his mind had cooled; tempestuous passions had +passed from the surface, giving place to kindlier emotions, +but the furnace was there beneath the flower garden +just as it is in the case of the earth.</p> +<p>Captain Berselius was still alive, though suppressed +and living in secrecy. At night, touched by the magic +wand of sleep, he became awake, and became supreme +master of the tenement in the cellars of which he was +condemned to sleep by day.</p> +<p>So far from having been touched by death, Captain +Berselius was now secure from death or change; a thing +not to be reasoned with or altered—beyond human +control—yet vividly alive as the fabled monster that +inhabits the cellars of Glamis Castle. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span></p> +<p>Between the dual personalities of the man complete +fission had taken place, a terrible accident of the sort +condemning the cast-off personality to live in darkness +beyond the voice of mind or amendment.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Adams, as he entered the room. “How +are you to-day?”</p> +<p>“Oh, about the same, about the same. If I could +sleep properly I would mend, but my sleep is broken.”</p> +<p>“I must give you something to alter that.”</p> +<p>Berselius laughed.</p> +<p>“Drugs?”</p> +<p>“Yes, drugs. We doctors cannot always command +health, but we can command sleep. Do you feel yourself +able to talk for a bit?”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, I feel physically well. Sit down, you will +find some cigars in that cabinet.”</p> +<p>Adams lit a cigar and took his seat in an armchair +close to his companion. All differences of rank and +wealth were sunk between these two men who had gone +through so much together. On their return, when +Berselius had desired Adams to remain as his medical +attendant, he had delegated M. Pinchon as intermediary +to deal with Adams as to the financial side of the +question.</p> +<p>Adams received a large salary paid monthly in advance +by the secretary. Berselius did not have any hand in +the matter, thus the feeling of employer and employed +was reduced to vanishing point and the position rendered +more equal.</p> +<p>“You know,” said Adams, “I have always been glad +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span> +to do anything I can for you, and I always shall be, but +since I have come back to Paris I have been filled with +unrest. You complain of sleeplessness—well, that is my +disease.”</p> +<p>“Yes?”</p> +<p>“It’s that place over there; it has got into my blood. +I declare to God that I am the last man in the world to +sentimentalize, but that horror is killing me, and I must +act—I must do something—even if I have to go into +the middle of the Place de la Concorde and shout it aloud. +I shall shout it aloud. I’m not made so that I can +stand seeing a thing like that in silence.”</p> +<p>Berselius sat with his eyes fixed on the carpet; he +seemed abstracted and scarcely listening. He knew +perfectly well that Adams was acquainted with the +affair at the Silent Pools, but the subject had never been +mentioned between them, nor was it now.</p> +<p>“That missionary I met on the return home at Leopoldsville,” +went on Adams, “he was a Baptist, a man, not a +religion-machine. He gave me details from years of +experience that turned my heart in me. With my own +eyes I saw enough——”</p> +<p>Berselius held up his hand.</p> +<p>“Let us not speak of what we know,” said he. “The +thing is there—has been there for years—can you +destroy the past?”</p> +<p>“No; but one can improve the future.” Adams +got up and paced the floor. “Now, now as I am talking to +you, that villainy is going on; it is like knowing that a +murder is slowly being committed in the next house +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span> +and that one has no power to interfere. When I look at +the streets full of people amusing themselves; when I +see the <i>cafés</i> crammed, and the rich driving in their carriages; +the churches filled with worshippers worshipping +a God who serenely sits in heaven without stretching +a hand to help His poor, benighted creatures—when +I see all this and contrast it with what I have seen, +I could worship <i>that</i>!”</p> +<p>He stopped, and pointed to the great gorilla shot years +ago in German West Africa by Berselius. “That was +a being at least sincere. Whatever brutalities he committed +in his life, he did not talk sentiment and religion +and humanitarianism as he pulled his victims to pieces, +and he did not pull his victims to pieces for the sake of +gold. He was an honest devil, a far higher thing than +a dishonest man.”</p> +<p>Again Berselius held up his hand.</p> +<p>“What would you do?”</p> +<p>“Do? I’d break that infernal machine which calls +itself a State, and I’d guillotine the ruffian that invented +it. I cannot do that, but I can at least protest.”</p> +<p>Berselius, who had helped to make the machine, and +who knew better than most men its strength, shook +his head sadly.</p> +<p>“Do what you will,” said he. “If you need money +my funds are at your disposal, but you cannot destroy +the past.”</p> +<p>Adams, who knew nothing of Berselius’s dream-obsession, +could not understand the full meaning of +these words. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span></p> +<p>But he had received permission to act, and the promise +of that financial support without which individual +action would be of no avail.</p> +<p>He determined to act; he determined to spare neither +Berselius’s money nor his own time.</p> +<p>But the determination of man is limited by circumstance, +and circumstance was at that moment preparing +and rehearsing the last act of the drama of Berselius.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXXVII_BERSELIUS_BEHOLDS_HIS_OTHER_SELF' id='XXXVII_BERSELIUS_BEHOLDS_HIS_OTHER_SELF'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> +<h3>BERSELIUS BEHOLDS HIS OTHER SELF</h3> +</div> + +<p>On the morning after Berselius’s conversation +with Adams, Berselius left the Avenue Malakoff, +taking his way to the Avenue des Champs +Elysées on foot.</p> +<p>The change in the man was apparent even in his +walk. In the old days he was rapid in his movements, +erect of head, keen of eye. The weight of fifteen years +seemed to have suddenly fallen on his shoulders, bowing +them and slowing his step. He was in reality +carrying the most terrible burden that a man can +carry—himself.</p> +<p>A self that was dead, yet with which he had to live. +A past which broke continually up through his dreams.</p> +<p>He was filled with profound unrest, irritation and revolt; +everything connected with that other one, even the money +he had made and the house he had built for himself and the +pursuits he had followed, increased this irritation and +revolt. He had already formed plans for taking a new +house in Paris, but to-day, as he walked along the streets, +he recognized that Paris itself was a house, every corner of +which belonged to that other one’s past.</p> +<p>In the Avenue Champs Elysées, he hailed a <i>fiacre</i> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +and drove to the house of his lawyer, M. Cambon, which +was situated in the Rue d’Artiles.</p> +<p>Cambon had practically retired from his business, which +was carried on now by his son. But for a few old and +powerful clients, such as Berselius, he still acted personally.</p> +<p>He was at home, and Berselius was shown into a drawing +room, furnished heavily after the heart of the prosperous +French <i>bourgeois</i>.</p> +<p>He had not to wait long for the appearance of the +lawyer, a fat, pale-faced gentleman, wearing gold-rimmed +spectacles, tightly buttoned up in a frock-coat, the buttonhole +of which was adorned with the red rosette of the +Legion of Honour.</p> +<p>Cambon had known Berselius for years. The two +men were friends, and even more, for Cambon was the +depository of Berselius’s most confidential affairs.</p> +<p>“Well,” said the lawyer, “you have returned. I saw +a notice of your return in the <i>Echo de Paris</i>, and indeed, +this very day I had promised myself the pleasure of calling +on you. And how is Madame Berselius?”</p> +<p>“She is at Trouville.”</p> +<p>“I had it in my mind that you proposed to remain away +twelve months.”</p> +<p>“Yes, but our expedition came to an end.”</p> +<p>Berselius, in a few words, told how the camp had +been broken up, without referring, however, to his accident; +and the fat and placid Cambon listened, pleased as a child +with the tale. He had never seen an elephant except at +the Jardin d’Acclimatation. He would have run from a +milch-cow. Terrible in the law courts, in life he was the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span> +mildest of creatures, and the tale had all the attraction +that the strong has for the weak and the ferocious for the +mild.</p> +<p>But even as he listened, sitting there in his armchair, +he was examining his visitor with minute attention, trying +to discover some clue to the meaning of the change in him.</p> +<p>“And now,” said Berselius, when he had finished, “to +business.”</p> +<p>He had several matters to consult the lawyer about, +and the most important was the shifting of his money +from the securities in which they were placed.</p> +<p>Cambon, who was a large holder of rubber industries, +grew pale beneath his natural pallor when he discovered +that Berselius was about to place his entire fortune elsewhere.</p> +<p>Instantly he put two and two together. Berselius’s +quick return, his changed appearance, the fact that +suddenly and at one sweep he was selling his stock. All +these pointed to one fact—disaster.</p> +<p>The elephant story was all a lie, so resolved Cambon, +and, no sooner had he bowed his visitor out, than he rushed +to the telephone, rang up his broker, and ordered him to +sell out his rubber stock at any price.</p> +<p>Berselius, when he left the lawyer’s house, drove to his +club. The selling of his rubber industry shares had been +prompted by no feeling of compunction; it was an act +entirely dictated by the profound irritation he felt against +the other one who had made his fortune out of those same +rubber industries.</p> +<p>He wished to break every bond between himself and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span> +infernal entity that dominated him by night. Surely it +was enough to be that other one at night, without being +perpetually haunted by that other one’s traces by day.</p> +<p>In the Place de L’Opera, his <i>fiacre</i> paused in a crowd +of vehicles. Berselius heard himself hailed. He turned +his head. In a barouche drawn up beside his carriage, +was seated a young and pretty woman. It was Sophia +Melmotte, a flame from his past life, burning now for a +space in the life of a Russian prince.</p> +<p>“<i>Ma foi</i>,” said Sophia, as her carriage pushed up till +it was quite level with Berselius. “So you are back from—where +was it you went to? And how are the tigers? +Why, heavens, how you are changed! How gloomy you +look. One would think you had swallowed a hearse and +had not digested the trappings——”</p> +<p>To all of which Berselius bowed.</p> +<p>“<i>You</i> are just the same as ever,” said he.</p> +<p>The woman flushed under her rouge, for there was +something in Berselius’s tone that made the simple words an +insult. Before she could reply, however, the block in the +traffic ceased, and as the carriage drove on Berselius +bowed again to her coldly, and as though she were a +stranger with whom he had spoken for a moment, and +whom he had never seen before.</p> +<p>At the club in the smoking room, where he went for an +absinthe before luncheon, he met Colonel Tirard, the very +man who had presided at the banquet given to him on the +day of his leaving for Africa. This man, who had been his +friend, this man, in whose society he had always felt pleasure, +was now obnoxious to him. And after a while the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +weird fact was borne in on the mind of Berselius that Tirard +was not talking to him. Tirard was talking to the man +who was dead—the other Berselius. The new rifle for +the army, which filled Tirard’s conversation, would have +been an interesting subject to the old Berselius; it was +absolutely distasteful to the new.</p> +<p>Now, for the first time, he quite clearly recognized +that all the friends, pursuits, and interests that had filled +his life till this, were useless to him and dead as the cast-off +self that had once dominated his being. Not only +useless and dead, but distasteful in a high degree. He +would have to re-create a world of interests for himself +out of new media. He was living in a world where all the +fruit and foliage and crops had been blighted by +some wizard’s wand; he would have to re-plant it over +anew, and at the present moment he did not know where +to cast about him for a single seed.</p> +<p>Yet he did not give in all at once. Like a person persisting +in some disagreeable medicine, hoping to become +accustomed to it, he continued his conversation with +Tirard.</p> +<p>After luncheon, he sat down to a game of écarté in the +card-room with an old acquaintance, but after half an +hour’s play he left the table on the plea of indisposition and +left the club, taking his way homeward on foot.</p> +<p>Near the Madeleine occurred one of those incidents +which, in tragic lives, appear less incidents than occurrences +prepared by Fate, as though she would say, “Look +and deny me if you dare.”</p> +<p>Toward Berselius was approaching a victoria drawn +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span> +by two magnificent horses, and in the victoria lolled a man. +An old man with a gray beard, who lolled on the cushions +of the carriage, and looked about him with the languid +indifference of a king and the arrogance of a megalomaniac.</p> +<p>It was Leopold, King of the Belgians.</p> +<p>When Berselius’s eyes fell upon that face, when he +saw before him that man whom all thinking men abhor, +a cold hand seemed laid upon his heart, as though in that +person he beheld the dead self that haunted his dreams +by night, as though he saw in the flesh Berselius, the murderer, +who, by consent, had murdered the people of the +Silent Pools; the murderer, by consent, who had crushed +millions of wretched creatures to death for the sake of +gold; the villain of Europe, who had spent that gold in +nameless debauchery; the man whose crimes ought to +have been expiated on the scaffold, and whose life ought +to have been cut short by the executioner of justice, many, +many years ago.</p> +<p>It was thus at one stroke that Berselius saw his other +self, the self that haunted him in his dreams, saw it clearly, +and in the light of day.</p> +<p>The terrible old man in the carriage passed on his way +and Berselius on his.</p> +<p>When he reached home, in the hall, just as he was handing +his hat to a servant, Maxine appeared at the door of the +library. Her beauty, innocence, and sweetness formed a +strange vision contrasted with that other vision he had seen +near the Madeleine. Was it possible that God’s world +could hold two such creatures, and that God’s air should +give them breath? For a week or ten days after this, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span> +Berselius remained in his own suite of apartments without +leaving the house.</p> +<p>It was as if the sight of Leopold, so triumphantly alive, +had shown him fully his own change and his weakness +had demonstrated to him clearly that he was but the +wraith of what he had been.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXXVIII_THE_REVOLT_OF_A_SLAVE' id='XXXVIII_THE_REVOLT_OF_A_SLAVE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> +<h3>THE REVOLT OF A SLAVE</h3> +</div> + +<p>The day after that on which Berselius had seen +Leopold, Madame Berselius, moved by one of +those fits of caprice common to women of her +type, came back suddenly from Trouville.</p> +<p>She knew of her husband’s return, but she knew nothing +of the injury or of the alteration that had come in +him until Maxine, who met her at the station, hinted +at the fact. Berselius was standing at the window of +his private sitting room when Madame Berselius was +announced.</p> +<p>He turned to greet her; even as he turned she perceived +the change. This was not the man who had +left her a few months ago, strong, confident, impassive; +the man who had been her master and before whom she +had shrunk like a slave. Intuition told her that the +change was not the change wrought by sickness—Berselius +was not ill, he was gone, leaving another man +in his place. They conversed for some time on indifferent +matters, and then Madame Berselius took her +departure for her own apartments.</p> +<p>But she left the room of Berselius a changed woman, +just as he had returned to it a changed man. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span></p> +<p>The slave in her had found her freedom. Utterly +without the capacity for love and without honour, without +conscience and with a vague superstition to serve +for religion, Madame Berselius had, up to this, been +held in her place by the fear of her husband. His will +up to this had been her law; she had moved in the major +affairs of life under his direction, and even in the minor +affairs of life everything had to be surrendered at his +word.</p> +<p>And now she hated him.</p> +<p>She had never hated him before, she had admired him; +indeed, as far as her power of admiration went, his +strength had appealed to her as only strength can +appeal to a woman of her type; but now that his strength +was gone hatred of him rose up in her heart, petty yet +powerful, a dwarf passion that had been slumbering +for years.</p> +<p>When the engine seizes the engineer in its wheels, +when the slave gets power over his master, cruel things +happen, and they were to happen in the case of Berselius.</p> +<p>Madame’s rooms were so far away from the rooms of +her husband that they might have been living in different +houses. There was none of the intimacy of married +life between this couple; they met formally at meal +times, and it was at <i>déjeuner</i> on the morning after her +return that she showed openly before Adams, Maxine, +and the servants her contempt for the man who had once +held her in subjection. Without a rude word, simply +by her manner, her tone, and her indifference to him, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span> +she humbled to the dust the stricken man and proclaimed +the full measure of his disaster.</p> +<p>As day followed day the dominance of the woman +and the subjection of the man became more marked. +Madame would, if the spirit took her, countermand her +husband’s orders; once, with absolute rudeness, she, at +table and before the Minister of Foreign Affairs, who +was a guest, turned to ridicule a remark which Berselius +had let escape. The flush that came to his cheek told +Maxine that her father’s sensibilities were not dead—he +was dominated.</p> +<p>Nothing could be stranger than this reduction of a +man from greatness to insignificance. The old Berselius +dying, bound in chains, would have mastered this woman +with one glance of his eye. The new Berselius, free, +wealthy, and with all his material powers at command, +was yet her creature, an object of pity to his daughter +and of derision to his servants.</p> +<p>Eight days after her return Madame Berselius, now +free and her own mistress, left Paris for Vaux on a +short visit to some friends, little dreaming of the momentous +event that was to cause her return.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXXIX_MAXINE' id='XXXIX_MAXINE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> +<h3>MAXINE</h3> +</div> + +<p>On the night of the day upon which Berselius +had paid his visit to M. Cambon, Adams, seated +in the smoking room at a writing table before +a broad sheet of white paper covered with words, +suddenly took the paper, tore it up, and threw the pieces +in a wastepaper-basket.</p> +<p>He had been trying to put in language the story of +the Congo as it had been revealed to him.</p> +<p>It was all there in his mind like a tremendous dramatic +poem: the great sunlit spaces of the elephant country +watched over by the vultures, the eternal and illimitable +forests old as Memnon, young as Spring, unwithered +and unbroken by the suns and rains and storms of the +ages; the river flooding to the sea, and the people to whom +this place belonged, and the story of their misery and +despair.</p> +<p>When he contrasted what he had written with what +was in his mind, he recognized the hopelessness of his +attempt. He had not the power to put on paper more +than the shadow of what he had seen and of what he knew.</p> +<p>To represent that people under the heel of that Fate +was a task for an Æschylus. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span></p> +<p>Sitting thus before the picture he could not reproduce, +there rose before his mind another picture he had seen +that day. It was a large photograph of the Laocoon. +He had seen it in Brentano’s window, and, now, with the +eye of memory, he was looking at it again.</p> +<p>That wonderful work of art washed up to us by the +ages, that epic in marble, expressed all that words refused +to say: the father and the children in the toils of Fate; +the hand upholding for a moment the crushing coil of +the serpent, the face raised to a sky devoid of God or pity; +the agony, the sweat and the cruelty, all were there; and +as Adams gazed, the python-like lianas of the forest +became alive in his mind, the snake-like rubber vine +twined in coils, circling about and crushing a nation and +its children, remote from help and from God, as Laocoon +and his sons.</p> +<p>Ages have passed since the sculptor of that marble +laid down his chisel and gazed at his completed work. +Little dreamt he that thousands of years later it would +stand as a parable, representing civilization in the form of +the python which he had carved with such loathing yet +such loving care.</p> +<p>Adams, in the grasp of this startling thought, was +recalled from reverie by a sound behind him.</p> +<p>Someone had entered the room. It was Maxine +Berselius.</p> +<p>They had seen very little of each other since his return. +Adams, indeed, had purposely avoided her as much as +it is possible for one person to avoid another when both +are dwelling in the same house. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span></p> +<p>The pride of manhood warned him against this woman +who was rich and the daughter of the man from whom +he received a salary.</p> +<p>Maxine knew nothing of the pride of manhood; she +only knew that he avoided her.</p> +<p>She was dressed entirely in white with a row of pearls +for her only ornament. She had just returned from some +social function, and Adams as he rose to meet her noticed +that she had closed the door.</p> +<p>“Dr. Adams,” said the girl, “forgive me for disturbing +you at this hour. For days I have wished to speak +to you about my father. I have put it off, but I feel I +must speak—what has happened to him?”</p> +<p>She took a seat in an armchair, and Adams stood before +her with his back to the mantelpiece and his hands +behind him.</p> +<p>The big man did not answer for a moment. He +stood there like a statue, looking at his questioner gravely +and contemplatively, as a physician looks at a patient +whose case is not quite clear.</p> +<p>Then he said, “You notice a change in your father?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Maxine, “it is more than a change. He +is quite different—he is another man.”</p> +<p>“When we were hunting out there,” said Adams, +“Captain Berselius had an accident. In trying to rescue +a servant he was caught by an elephant and flung some +distance; he hurt his head, and when he recovered consciousness +his memory was quite gone. It slowly returned——” He +paused, for it was impossible to give details, +then he went on—“I noticed, myself, as the memory +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +was returning, that he seemed changed; when he had +fully recovered his memory, the fact was obvious. He +was, as you say, quite different—in fact, just as you see +him now.”</p> +<p>“But can an injury change a person like that?”</p> +<p>“Yes; an injury to the head can change a person +completely.”</p> +<p>Maxine sighed. She had never seen the dark side of +her father; she had never loved him in the true sense of +the word, but she had respected him and felt a pride +in his strength and dominance.</p> +<p>The man who had returned from Africa seemed to +her an inferior being; the wreck, in fact, of the man she +had always known.</p> +<p>“And this happened to him,” said she, “when he +was trying to save a servant’s life?”</p> +<p>“Ah,” said Adams, “if you could have seen it, you +would have called it something even higher than that—it +was a sublime act.”</p> +<p>He told her the details, even as he had told them +to Schaunard, but with additions.</p> +<p>“I myself was paralyzed—I could only cling to the +tree and watch. The fury of that storm of beasts coming +down on one was like a wind—I can put it no other +way—like a wind that stripped one’s mind of everything +but just the power of sight. I can imagine now +the last day, when the sun shall be turned into darkness +and the moon into blood. It was as bad as that—well, +<i>he</i> did not lose his mind or nerve, he found time +to think of the man who was lying drugged with hemp, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span> +and he found courage enough in his heart to attempt +to save him. He was fond of the man, for the man was +a great hunter though an absolute savage, without heart +or soul.</p> +<p>“Without heart or soul——” Adams paused. There +was something about Maxine Berselius that made her +different from the ordinary woman one meets in life—some +inheritance from her father, perhaps, who knows? +But through the sweetness of her nature which spoke +in voice and expression, through her loveliness and her +womanliness, there shone a light from within. Like +the gleam from the lamp that lives in an opal, this mind-brightness +of Maxine’s pierced the clouds of her beauty +capriciously, now half-veiled, now shining forth. It +was the light of that flame which men call originality. +Maxine saw the world by the light of her own lamp. +Adams, though he had seen far more of the world than she, +had seen it by the light of other people’s lamps.</p> +<p>The Hostage House of Yandjali would have told +Maxine infinitely more than it told Adams. She would +have read in Meeus’s face a story that he never deciphered; +she would have seen in the people of the Silent Pools a +whole nation in chains, when he with his other-people-begotten +ideas of niggers and labour only saw a few +recalcitrant blacks. It wanted skulls and bones to bring +him to a sense of the sorrow around him; the sight of +these people would have told Maxine of their tears.</p> +<p>This instinct for the truth of things made her a reader +of people. Adams had interested her at first sight, +because she found him difficult to read. She had never +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span> +met a man like him before; he belonged to a different +race. The man in him appealed powerfully to the +woman in her; they were physical affinities. She had +told him this in a hundred ways half unconsciously and +without speech before they parted at Marseilles, but the +mind in him had not appealed to the mind in her. She +did not know his mind, its stature or its bent, and until +that knowledge came to her she could not love him.</p> +<p>As he stood with his back to the fireplace after that +pronouncement on the spiritual and moral condition of +the Zappo Zap, his thoughts strayed for a moment with +a waft of the wing right across the world to the camping +place by the great tree. Out there now, under the +stars, the tree and the pool were lying just as he had seen +them last. Away to the east the burst elephant gun was +resting just where it had been dropped; the bones of the +giraffe, clean-picked and white, were lying just where +the gun had laid them; and the bones of the man who +had held the gun were lying just where the leopards had +left him.</p> +<p>Adams knew nothing of this triangle drawn by death; +he still fancied the Zappo Zap alive and deadly. Stirred +into speech by that thought he went on:</p> +<p>“A cannibal—a creature worse than a tiger—that +was the being for whom your father risked his life.”</p> +<p>“A cannibal?” said Maxine, opening her eyes wide.</p> +<p>“Yes; a soldier of the Government who was detailed +to act as our guide.”</p> +<p>“A soldier—but what Government employs cannibals +as soldiers?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span></p> +<p>“Oh,” said Adams, “they call them soldiers, that is +just a name. Slave drivers is the real name, but the +Government that employs them does not use the word +slave—oh, no, everyone would be shocked—<i>scoundrels</i>!”</p> +<p>He spoke the word with suddenly flashing eyes, uplifted +head, and a face as stern the face of Themis. He seemed +for a moment fronting some invisible foe, then, smothering +his wrath, he went on:</p> +<p>“I lose control of myself when I think of what I have +seen—the suffering, the misery, and the wretchedness. +I saw enough at first to have made me open my eyes, but +the thing was not shown to me really till I saw the bones of +murdered people—people whom I had seen walking +about alive—lying there a few weeks later, just skeletons; +a little child I had talked to and played with——”</p> +<p>He stopped and turned to the fireplace and rested +his elbow on the mantel. He had turned his back on +Maxine, and volumes could not have said more than what +was expressed by that abrupt stoppage of speech and +turning away.</p> +<p>The girl scarcely breathed till the man turned from the +mantelpiece and faced her again. There was no trace +of emotion on his face, but the trace of a struggle with it. +Maxine’s eyes were filled with tears.</p> +<p>“I am sorry,” said he, “that I should have dragged +this subject before you at all. Why should I torment +your heart as well as my own?”</p> +<p>She did not reply for a moment. She was tracing the +vague pattern of the carpet with her eyes, her chin resting +on her hand, and the light from above made a halo +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +of the burnished red-gold hair that was her crowning +charm.</p> +<p>Then she said, speaking slowly, “I am not sorry. +Surely if such things are, they ought to be known. Why +should I turn away my face from suffering? I have +never done so in Paris, and I have seen much of the +misery of Paris, for I have gone amongst it as much as +a girl can, but what you tell me is beyond what I have +ever heard of, or read of, or dreamed. Tell me more, +give me facts; for, frankly, though I believe you, I cannot +yet fully realize, and with my mind fully believe. +I am like Thomas; I must put my fingers in the wounds.”</p> +<p>“Are you brave enough to look at material evidence?” +asked Adams.</p> +<p>“Yes; brave enough to face the suffering of others +if not my own——”</p> +<p>He left the room and in a few minutes later returned +with a parcel. He took from it the skull he had brought +with him through everything to civilization.</p> +<p>Maxine’s eyes dilated when she saw the thing, but +she did not turn pale, and she looked steadfastly at it +as Adams turned it in his hands and showed her by +the <i>foramen magnum</i> the hacks in the bone caused by +the knife.</p> +<p>She put out her finger and touched them, then she +said, “I believe.”</p> +<p>Adams put the skull on the table; curious and small +and ferocious and repellent it looked. One would +never have imagined the black face, the grin, and the +rolling eyes of the creature to whom it had once belonged. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +One thing only about it touched the heart with sadness—its +size.</p> +<p>“It is a child’s,” said Maxine.</p> +<p>“Yes; the child I told you of—all that remains of it.”</p> +<p>He was about to wrap the thing up again when the girl +interposed.</p> +<p>“Let it lie there whilst you tell me; it will bring things +nearer to me. I am not afraid of it—poor, poor creature. +Tell me all you know—tell me the worst. I am not a +young lady for the moment, please, just a person listening.”</p> +<p>He took his seat in an armchair opposite to her, and +resting his elbows on his knees, talking just as if he were +talking to a man, found the words he could not find when, +pen in hand, half an hour ago, he had tried to express +himself in writing.</p> +<p>He told of the Hostage House at Yandjali, and the +wretched creatures penned like animals eating their +miserable food; he told of M’Bassa and the Hostage +House there, with its iron rings and chains; he told how +all over that vast country these places were dotted, not +by the hundred but by the thousand; he told of the misery +of the men who were driven into the dismal forests, slaves +of masters worse than tigers, and of a task that would +never end as long as rubber grew and Christ was a name +in Europe and not a power; he told the awful fact that +murder there was used every day as an agricultural +implement, that people were operated upon, and suffered +amputation of limbs, not because of disease; and +that their sex and age—those two last appeals of Nature +to brutality—had no voice; he told the whole bitter tale +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span> +of tears and blood, but he could not tell her all, for she +was a girl, and it would be hard to speak even before +a man of the crimes against Nature, the crimes against +men, against women, and against children, that even if +the Congo State were swept away to-morrow, will leave +Belgium’s name in the world’s history more detestable +than the names of the unspeakable cities sunk in the +Dead Sea.</p> +<p>Maxine listened, entranced, swayed between the terror +of the tale and the power of the man who was telling it.</p> +<p>Ah! if he could have spoken to Europe as he spoke +to her; if he could have made Europe see as he made her +see, what a whirlwind of indignation would have arisen; +but he could not.</p> +<p>It was the magnet of her sympathy that marshalled +the facts, clad them in burning language, and led them +forth in battalions that stormed her mind and made her +believe what seemed unbelievable. Without that sympathy, +his words would have been cold and lifeless statements +bearing little conviction.</p> +<p>When he had finished, she did that which a woman +never does unless moved by the very highest excitement. +She rose up and paced the floor thrice. Without speaking, +she walked the length of the room, then she turned +to Adams.</p> +<p>“But this must cease.”</p> +<p>“This shall cease,” said he, “if I can only make myself +heard. To-day—to-night—just before you came in, +I was trying to put the thing on paper—trying to put +down what I have seen with my own eyes, and heard +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span> +with my own ears, but the ink seems ice. What I write +seems nothing, nothing beside what I have seen. The +mere statement that so many were killed, so many were +tortured, conveys nothing of the reality. The thing is +too big for me. God made it, I suppose; but I wish to +God I had never seen it.”</p> +<p>Maxine was standing now with her hands resting +on the back of an armchair. She seemed scarcely listening +to what her companion was saying. She was +listening, but she was thinking as well.</p> +<p>“You cannot do everything yourself,” said she, at +last. “You must get others to help, and in this I can, +perhaps, assist you. Will you go to-morrow and see +Monsieur Pugin? I do not know him personally, but I +know a friend of his. I will send him a note early +to-morrow morning, and the servant can bring back the +letter of introduction. You could call upon him to-morrow +afternoon.”</p> +<p>“Who is Monsieur Pugin?”</p> +<p>This question, showing such a boundless ignorance +of every-day French life and literature, rather shocked +Maxine. She explained that Ary Pugin, the author of +“Absolution” and twenty other works equally beautiful, +was above all other men fitted to bring home to France +the story of this great sin. “Absolution,” that masterpiece, +had shown France her cruelty in the expulsion of the +religious orders. France had read it weeping, drying +her tears with one hand and continuing the expulsion +of the religious orders with the other.</p> +<p>That, however, was not Pugin’s fault; he had done +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span> +his best. It was not his fault that logic and sentiment +are so largely constituent of the French nature, making +between them that paradox, the French mind.</p> +<p>“I will go and see him,” said Adams, when the girl +had explained what Pugin was, what Pugin did, and what +Pugin had written. “A man like that could do more +with a stroke of his pen, than I with weary years +of blundering attempts to write. I can never thank +you enough for listening to me. It is strange, but +half the weight of the thing seems to have passed from +my mind.”</p> +<p>“To mine,” she replied. Then, with charming <i>naïveté</i>, +she held out both hands to him.</p> +<p>“Good night.”</p> +<p>As he held the door open, and as she passed out, he +realized that, during the last few months, his faith in the +goodness of God—the old simple faith of his childhood—had +been all but stolen by ferocious and fiendish hands +from his mind, and that just now, in some miraculous way, +it had been returned.</p> +<p>It was as though the gentle hands of Maxine had put +it back.</p> +<p>Maxine, when she reached her own apartments, turned +on the electric light in her sitting room, and sat down at +once to write to the friend who was a friend of Pugin’s.</p> +<p>This friend was Sabatier.</p> +<p>She had studied art under him, and between artist +and pupil lay that mysterious bond which unites craftsmen. +For Maxine was great in knowledge and power, +and above all in that instinct without which an artist +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span> +is at best an animated brush, a pencil under the dominion +of mechanical force.</p> +<p>As she wrote, she little dreamed that the sympathy +burning in her heart and moving to eloquence her pen, +was a thing born not from the sufferings of an afflicted +people, but of the love of a man. A child of her mind +begotten by the man she had just left, and whom, that +night, she had learned to love.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XL_PUGIN' id='XL_PUGIN'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XL</h2> +<h3>PUGIN</h3> +</div> + +<p>Pugin lived in the Boulevard Haussmann. He +had begun life quite low down in the Parisian +world on the quays as apprentice to Manasis, +a jew book-dealer, who has been dead twenty-five years, +whose money has been dispersed, whose name has been +forgotten, of whom nothing remains on earth but the +few hours a day of time filched from him by Pugin.</p> +<p>Pugin had a hard and bitter fight for twenty years +before he obtained recognition. The garret and starvation +act had been unduly prolonged in the case of this +genius, and it seemed a mystery where and how in the +ruined city which is at the heart of every city, in that +<i>cour des Miracles</i> where the Bohemians camp, he had +found, like a crystal vase, his exquisite style, preserved +it unbroken by mischance or shock of fate, and carried +it safely at last to the hands of Fame.</p> +<p>He was very rich now, very powerful, and very fortunate. +Charitable, too, and ever ready to assist a fellow-worker +in straitened circumstances, and to-day as he sat +reading in the cool recesses of his library, and listening +to the sound of the Paris he loved floating in with the +warm June air through the open window, he felt at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span> +peace with all the world and in a mood to do justice to +his bitterest enemy.</p> +<p>The striped sun-blinds filtered the blaze outside, letting +pass only a diffused and honey-coloured twilight; +a great bowl of roses filled the room with the simple and +deep poetry of summer, the story of the hedges and the +fields, of orchards shot through with the voices of birds, +of cattle knee-deep in cool water where the dragon-flies +keep up their eternal dance to the flute-like ripple of the +river amidst the reeds.</p> +<p>Pugin, his book upon his knees, was enjoying these +pictures of summer woven by perfume, when a servant +entered and handed him Adams’s card and the letter of +introduction written by Sabatier.</p> +<p>He ordered the visitor to be shown in. Adams, when +he entered, found himself before a small man with a +big head; an ugly little man, with a look of kindness +and a very gracious and charming manner.</p> +<p>To Pugin Adams seemed a giant. A giant bronzed +by unknown suns, talking French indifferently well, +and with a foreign accent. An interesting person, indeed, +but a being quite beyond his range of knowledge.</p> +<p>Pugin, in physical matters, was timid as a rabbit. +He had never travelled farther than Trouville or Ostend, +and when he indicated a chair, and when these two sat +down to talk to each other, the mastiff-man felt instinctively +the presence of the rabbit-man, and was at a loss +how to begin.</p> +<p>Not for long, though. Bluffly, and with little grace +enough, but with earnestness and a cunning one would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span> +never have suspected, he told of Maxine’s great admiration +for the author’s work, and how she had suggested +the enlistment of the said author in the crusade against +crime which he, Adams, was endeavouring to raise.</p> +<p>Pugin listened, making little bows, sniffing the lettuce +which the mastiff-man had so cunningly placed before +his nose.</p> +<p>Then honestly and plainly and well, Adams told his +tale, and the rabbit held up its hands in horror at the +black doings disclosed to it. But it was horror divorced +from sentiment. Pugin felt almost as great a revulsion +toward the negroes upon whom these things were done +as toward the doers.</p> +<p>He could not see the vast drama in its true proportions +and its poetical setting of forest, plain, and sky. The +outlandish names revolted him; he could not see Yandjali +and its heat-stricken palms or M’Bassa burning in +the sun.</p> +<p>But he listened politely and it was this that chilled the +heart of the story-teller who instinctively felt that though +he had shocked his hearer, he had not aroused that high +spirit of revolt against injustice which converts a man +into a living trumpet, a living axe, or a living sword.</p> +<p>Pugin would have been a great force could his sentiment +have been awakened; but he could not see palm trees.</p> +<p>“What would you have? You cannot grow baobabs +on the Boulevards.”</p> +<p>“<i>Ma foi!</i>” said he, “it is terrible what you tell me, +but what are we to do?”</p> +<p>“I thought you might help,” said Adams. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span></p> +<p>“I? With all the power possible and goodwill. It +is evident to me that should you wish for success in this +matter, you should found a society.”</p> +<p>“Yes?”</p> +<p>“There is nothing done in a public way without coöperation. +You must found a society; you may use my +name. I will even let you put it on the committee list. +I will also subscribe.”</p> +<p>Now Pugin was on the committee lists of half a dozen +charitable and humanitarian concerns. His secretary +had them all down in a book; but Pugin himself, lost in +his art and the work of his life, had forgotten their very +names. So would it be with this.</p> +<p>“Thanks,” said the visitor.</p> +<p>Pugin would lend his purse to the cause, and his name, +but he would not lend his pen—simply because he could +not. To every literary man there are dead subjects; +this question was dead to the author of “Absolution”—as +uninspiring as cold mutton.</p> +<p>“Thanks,” said Adams, and rose to take his leave. +His rough-hewn mind understood with marvellous perspicuity +Pugin’s position.</p> +<p>“And one moment,” cried the little man, after he had +bidden his visitor good-bye and the latter was leaving +the room. “One moment; why did I not think of it +before? You might go and see Ferminard.”</p> +<p>He ran to a desk in the corner of the room, took a visiting +card and scribbled Ferminard’s address upon it, +explaining as he wrote that Ferminard was the deputy +for —— in Provence; a Socialist it is true, but a terrible +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span> +man when roused; that the very name of injustice was +sufficient to bring this lion from his den.</p> +<p>“Tell him Pugin said so,” cried he, following his +visitor this time out on the landing and patting him on +the shoulder in a fatherly manner, “and you will find +him in the Rue Auber, No. 14; it is all on the card; and +convey my kind regards to Mademoiselle ——, that +charming lady to whose appreciation of my poor work I +owe the pleasure of your visit.”</p> +<p>“Nice little man,” said Adams to himself as he walked +down the Boulevard Haussmann.</p> +<p>He found Ferminard at home, in an apartment smelling +of garlic and the south. Ferminard, a tall, black-bearded +creature, with a glittering eye; a brigand from +the Rhone Valley who had flung himself into the politics +of his country as a torpedo flings itself into the sea, greeted +Adams with effusion, when he read Pugin’s card; gave +him cigarettes, and shut the open window in honour of +his guest.</p> +<p>He worked himself into a state of indignation over +Adams’s story; as a matter of fact he knew the whole +thing well; but he was too polite to discount his +visitor’s grievance, besides it gave him an opportunity +to declaim—and of course the fact that a king was +at the bottom of it all, added keenness to the arrows +of his invective.</p> +<p>As Adams listened, delighted to have awakened such +a trumpet; as he listened to Ferminard thundering +against all that over there, speaking as though he were +addressing the Chambre, and as though he had known +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span> +Africa intimately from his childhood, he noticed gradually +and with alarm that the topic was changing; just +a moment ago it was Africa and its luckless niggers; the +Provençal imagination picturing them in glowing colours, +and the Provençal tongue rolling off their disabilities and +woes. One would have fancied from the fervour of the +man that is was Ferminard who had just returned from +the Congo, not Adams.</p> +<p>Well, a moment after, and Africa had quite fallen out +of the discussion. As a child lets a Noah’s Ark fall +from its hands—elephants, zebras and all on to the +floor whilst he grasps for a new toy—so Ferminard +let Africa tumble whilst he grasped for Socialism, found +it and swung it like a rattle, and Socialism went the way +of Africa as he seized at last that darling toy—himself. +The speech, in its relationship to the subject in point, was +the intellectual counterpart of the cry of those mechanical +pigs which the street venders blow up, and which, +standing on a board, scream in the face of Oxford Street, +loudly at first, and then, as the figure collapses, weakening +in voice to the buzzing of a fly.</p> +<p>Ferminard was, in fact, a great child with a good heart, +a Provençal imagination, a power of oratory, a quickness +in seizing upon little things and making them seem +great, coupled with a rather obscure understanding +as to the relative value of mountains and mole-hills. +A noise maker of a first-class description, but useless for +any serious work. <i>Feu de bruit</i> was his motto, and he +lived up to it.</p> +<p>It is only when you try to enlist men on your side +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span> +in some great and holy cause, that you come to some +knowledge of the general man’s weakness and want +of holiness—your own included. Adams, during the +fortnight that followed his visit to Pugin, had this fact +borne in on him. All the thinking minds of the centre of +civilization were so busy thinking thoughts of their +own making, that it was impossible to attract their attention +for more than a moment; from Bostoc the dramatist +to Bastiche the anarchist, each individual was turning +his own crank diligently, and not to be disturbed, +even by Papeete’s skull.</p> +<p>With such a thing in one’s hand, picked up like some +horrible talisman which, if not buried, will eventually +cast its spell upon human thought and the future of the +world; with such a thing in one’s hand, surely the +Church would present itself to the mind as a court of +appeal.</p> +<p>But as the Roman Catholic Church had actually put +its broad back against the door of the torture chamber, +and was, in fact, holding it tight shut whilst Papeete’s +head was being hacked from his body, it would scarcely +be logical to bring out the victim’s skull hoping for redress. +Other denominations being of such little power in +France, Adams determined to leave the attempt to +rouse them till he reached England, whither he determined +to go as soon as Berselius’s health would permit +him.</p> +<p>One evening, a fortnight after his visit to Pugin, on +his return to the Avenue Malakoff, Maxine met him +in the hall. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span></p> +<p>He saw at once from her face that something had +happened.</p> +<p>Berselius was worse; that afternoon he had suddenly +developed acute neuralgia of the right side of the head, +and this had been followed almost immediately by +twitching and numbness of the left arm. Thénard +had been summoned and he had diagnosed pressure on +the brain, or, at least, irritation from depressed bone, +due to the accident.</p> +<p>He declared himself for operation, and he had gone +now to make arrangements for nurses and assistants.</p> +<p>“He will operate this evening,” said Maxine.</p> +<p>“And Madame Berselius?”</p> +<p>“I have telegraphed for her.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XLI_THE_RETURN_OF_CAPTAIN_BERSELIUS' id='XLI_THE_RETURN_OF_CAPTAIN_BERSELIUS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XLI</h2> +<h3>THE RETURN OF CAPTAIN BERSELIUS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Berselius, for the last fortnight, had been +going back, slowly going from bad to worse, +and keeping the fact to himself.</p> +<p>Sulphonal, trional, morphia, each tried in turn had +no power to prevent him from dreaming. Sleep as +soundly as he would, just as he was awaking, the black +blanket of slumber, turned up at a corner or an edge by +some mysterious hand, would reveal a dream or part of one.</p> +<p>There was nothing in these dreams to terrify him +when he was dreaming them; in them, he was just the +old brave Berselius that nothing could terrify, but there +was often a good deal to terrify him when he awoke.</p> +<p>Many of them were quite innocent and as fatuous +as dreams are wont to be, but even these innocent dreams +fretted the soul of the waking man, for in every scrap +and vestige of them he recognized the mind of that other +personality.</p> +<p>After the first few days, his intellect, so severe and +logical, began to lose its severity and logic, and to take +up sides with his heart and to cry aloud against the +injustice of this persecution.</p> +<p>Why should he be haunted like this? He felt no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span> +trace of remorse now for the past; the sense of injustice +swallowed all that. Every day seemed to drive that past +further off, and to increase the sense of detachment +from that other man and his works; yet every night a +hand, like the hand of some remorseless chess player, +put things back in their places.</p> +<p>With the falling of the curtain of sleep he became +metamorphosed.</p> +<p>Then came the day when the evil he was suffering +from declared itself in a physical manner and Thénard +was called in.</p> +<p>Thénard found his patient in bed. His mind was +quite clear, but the pupils of his eyes were unequal; +there was numbness in the left arm and want of grip +in the hand. He had been prepared for the change +evident in Berselius’s face and manner, for Maxine had +told him in a few words of the accident and loss of memory, +and as he took his seat by the bedside he was about +to put some questions relative to the injury, when Berselius +forestalled him.</p> +<p>Berselius knew something about medicine. He +guessed the truth about his own case, and he gave a succinct +account of the accident and the loss of memory +following it.</p> +<p>“This is due to the result of the injury, is it not?” said +Berselius, pointing to his left arm when he had finished.</p> +<p>“I am afraid so,” said TThénard, who knew his patient, +and that plain speaking would be best.</p> +<p>“Some pressure?”</p> +<p>“So I imagine.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span></p> +<p>“Oh, don’t be afraid of speaking out. I don’t mind +the worst. Will an operation remove that pressure?”</p> +<p>“If, as I imagine, there is some pressure from the +inner table of the skull on the brain, it will.”</p> +<p>“Well, now,” said Berselius, “I want you to listen +to me attentively; ever since that accident, or, at least, +since I regained memory, I have felt that I am not the +same man. Only in sleep do I become myself again—do +you understand me? I have quite different aims +and objects; my feelings about things are quite different; +my past before the accident is ruled off from my present—that +is, when I am awake.</p> +<p>“When I dream I become my old self again—is that +not strange?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Thénard, “every man is double. We +have numerous cases where, from accident or other +circumstances, a man’s personality changes; one side +of his nature is suppressed. There is one strange point +about your case, though, and that is the waking up of +the suppressed personality so vividly during sleep; but +in your case it is perhaps not so strange.”</p> +<p>“Why not?”</p> +<p>“Because, and excuse me for being personal even +though I am complimentary, your personality as I knew +you before your accident was so profound, and vivid, +and powerful, that even though it is suppressed it must +speak. And it speaks in dreams.”</p> +<p>“So!—perhaps you are right. Now tell me, if you operate +and remove the pressure, may I become myself again?”</p> +<p>“You may.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span></p> +<p>“Even after all this time?”</p> +<p>“The mind,” said Thénard, “has nothing to do with +time. At the Battle of the Nile, a sea captain, one of +those iron-headed Englishmen, was struck on his iron +head with fragment of shell. He lost his memory. +Eight months after he was trephined; he awoke from +the operation completing the order he was giving to his +sailors when the accident cut him short——”</p> +<p>“I would be the same man. I would not be tormented +with the other self which is me, now?”</p> +<p>“Possibly—I do not say probably, but possibly.”</p> +<p>“Then,” said Berselius, “for God’s sake, operate +at once.”</p> +<p>“I would like to wait for another twelve hours,” said +Thénard, rising and re-examining the slight dent of his +patient’s skull.</p> +<p>“Why?”</p> +<p>“Well, to see if things may be cleared up a bit, and +the necessity for operation be removed.”</p> +<p>“Operate.”</p> +<p>“You know, in every operation, however slight, there +is an element of danger to life.”</p> +<p>“Life! what do I care? I insist on your operating. +Not another night shall pass——”</p> +<p>“As you will,” said Thénard.</p> +<p>“And now,” said Berselius, “make your preparations, +and send me my secretary.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>At twelve o’clock that night, Maxine was seated +in the library, with a book which she had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span> +vainly trying to read face downward on the floor +beside her.</p> +<p>Thénard, his assistant surgeon, and two nurses, had +arrived shortly after ten. Operating table, instruments, +everything necessary had been brought, set up, and fixed +by Thénard’s own man.</p> +<p>Adams had no part in the proceedings except as a +looker-on. No man could assist Thénard in an operation +who was not broken to the job, for, when +operating Thénard became quite a different person +to the every-day Thénard of lecture room and hospital +ward.</p> +<p>That harsh voice which we noticed in him in the +first pages of this book when on entering the lecture +room of the Beaujon he could not find his coloured +chalks, came out during an operation, and he would +curse his assistant to the face for the slightest fault or +fancied fault, and he would speak to the nurses as no +Frenchman ever spoke to Frenchwoman unless with +deliberate intent to insult. When the last stitch was in, +all this changed; nurses and assistant forgot what had +been said, and in the ease of released tension, worshipped +more than ever the cadaverous genius who was now +unwinding from his head and mouth the antiseptic +gauze in which he always veiled them when operating.</p> +<p>The clock on the mantel pointed to a few minutes past +the hour, when the door opened, and Adams came in.</p> +<p>Maxine rose to meet him.</p> +<p>She read both good and bad news in his face.</p> +<p>“The operation has been successful, but there is great +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span> +weakness.” He rolled an armchair for her to sit down, +and then he told her as much as she could understand.</p> +<p>Thénard had found a slight depression of the inner +table of the skull, and some congestion and thickening +of the dura mater. It all dated from the accident. There +would, without doubt, have been severe inflammation +of the brain, but for Berselius’s splendid condition at the +time of the accident, and the fact that Adams had bled +him within an hour of the injury. Thénard had relieved +the pressure by operation, but there was great weakness.</p> +<p>It was impossible to say what the result would be yet.</p> +<p>“Has he regained consciousness?”</p> +<p>“He is just recovering from the anæsthetic.”</p> +<p>The girl was silent for a moment, then she asked where +Thénard was.</p> +<p>“He has left. He has to operate again to-night on a +case which has just called for him by telephone. He +asked me to tell you that everything possible has been +done. He will call in the morning, and he has left everything +till then in my hands.”</p> +<p>“I shall not go to bed,” said Maxine. “I could not +sleep, and should my father want to see me, I shall be +ready.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Adams, “perhaps it will be better so. I +will go up and stay with him, and I will call you if it is +necessary.”</p> +<p>He left the room, and Maxine took up the book she +had dropped, but she could not read. Her eyes, travelling +about the room, rested here and there on the trophies +and the guns and the wild implements of destruction +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span> +collected by the hunter, who was now lying upstairs, like +a child dandled on the dark knees of death.</p> +<p>The books on philosophy, natural history, oceanography, +and history, in their narrow cases contrasted +strangely with the weapons of destruction and the relics +of the wild. The room was like a mirror of the mind +of Berselius, that strange mind in which the savage dwelt +with the civilized man, and the man of valour by the side +of the philosopher.</p> +<p>But the strangest contrast in the room was effected +by Maxine herself—the creation of Berselius—his +child, blossoming like a beautiful and fragile flower, +amidst the ruins of the things he had destroyed.</p> +<p>When, after daybreak, Adams came to find her, she +was asleep.</p> +<p>Berselius, awaking from a sleep that had followed +the effects of the anæsthetic, had asked for her.</p> +<p>Thénard had fixed upon the white marble bathroom +adjoining Berselius’s sleeping chamber as his operating +theatre, and after the operation the weakness of the +patient was so great, and the night so hot, they determined +to make up a bed for him there, as it was the +coolest room in the house.</p> +<p>It was a beautiful room. Walls, pillars, floor and ceiling, +of pure white Carrara marble, and in the floor, near +the window, a sunk bath, which, when not in use, was +covered by a grating of phosphor bronze, showing a +design of sea serpents and seaweed. There were no +basins or lavatory arrangements, nothing at all to break +the pure and simple charm of this ideal bathing-place +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span> +whose open French window showed, beyond a balcony +of marble, the tops of trees waving against the blue sky +of early morning.</p> +<p>Berselius was lying on the bed which had been arranged +for him near the door; his eyes were fixed on the waving +tree tops. He turned his head slightly when Maxine +entered, and looked at her long and deliberately.</p> +<p>In that one glance Maxine saw all. He was himself +again. The old, imperious expression had returned; +just a trace of the half-smile was visible about his lips.</p> +<p>The great weakness of the man, far from veiling the +returned personality, served as a background which made +it more visible. One could see the will dominating the +body, and the half-helpless hands lying on the coverlet +presented a striking contrast to the inextinguishable +fire of the eye.</p> +<p>Maxine sat down on the chair by the bed. She did +not attempt to stroke the hand near her, and she smothered +whatever emotion she felt, for she knew the man who +had returned.</p> +<p>“Your mother?” said Berselius, who had just sufficient +voice to convey interrogation as well as words.</p> +<p>“She has not returned yet; we telegraphed for her, +she will be here to-day.”</p> +<p>“Ah!”</p> +<p>The sick man turned his head again, and fixed his +eyes on the tree tops.</p> +<p>The hot, pure, morning air came through the open +window, bringing with it the chirruping and bickering +of sparrows; a day of splendour and great heat was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span> +breaking over Paris. Life and the joy of life filled the +world, the lovely world which men contrive to make so +terrible, so full of misery, so full of tears.</p> +<p>Suddenly Berselius turned his head, and his eyes found +Adams with a not unkindly gaze in them.</p> +<p>“Well, doctor,” he said, in a voice stronger than the +voice with which he had spoken to Maxine. “This is +the end of our hunting, it seems.”</p> +<p>Adams, instead of replying, took the hand that was +lying on the coverlet, and Berselius returned the pressure, +and then relinquished his hold.</p> +<p>Just a handshake, yet it told Adams in some majestic +way, that the man on the bed knew that all was up with +him, and that this was good-bye.</p> +<p>Berselius then spoke for a while to Maxine on indifferent +things. He did not mention his wife’s name, and +he spoke in a cold and abstracted voice. He seemed to +Adams as though he were looking at death, perfectly +serenely, and with that level gaze which never in this +world had been lowered before man or brute.</p> +<p>Then he said he was tired, and wished to sleep.</p> +<p>Maxine rose, but the woman in her had to speak. +She took the hand on the coverlet, and Berselius, who was +just dozing off, started awake again.</p> +<p>“Ah!” said he, as though he had forgotten something, +then he raised the little hand of Maxine and touched it +with his lips.</p> +<p>Then he asked that his wife should be sent to him +on her return.</p> +<p>Alone, he closed his eyes and one might have fancied +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span> +that he slept, yet every now and then his eyelids would +lift, and his eyes, unveiled by drowsiness, would fix +themselves on some point in the room with the intent +gaze of a person who is listening; so in the forest, or +on the plain, or by the cane brake had he often listened +at night, motionless, gun in hand and deadly, for the +tiger or the water buck.</p> +<p>Half an hour passed and then from the adjoining +room came a footstep, the door opened gently, and Madame +Berselius entered. She was dressed just as she +had traveled from Vaux. She had only just arrived, to +find death in the house, and as she looked at the figure +on the bed she fancied she beheld it indeed.</p> +<p>Closing the door gently she approached the bed. No, +it was not death but sleep. He was breathing evenly +and rhythmically, sleeping, apparently, as peacefully +as a child.</p> +<p>She was about to turn away when, like a bather who +has ventured into some peaceful tropic rock pool wherein +lurks an octopus, she found herself seized and held. +Berselius’s eyes were open, he was not asleep. His gaze +was fixed on hers, and he held her with his eyes as the +cat holds the bird or the python the man.</p> +<p>He had been waiting for her with the patience and +the artfulness of the hunter, but no game had ever inspired +such ferocity in him as this woman, vile and little, +who yet had abased him to the earth.</p> +<p>He was dying, but what beast full of life is more dangerous +than the dying tiger?</p> +<p>As Berselius gazed at the woman, she, with all her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span> +will urging her body to retreat, approached him. Then, +her knees touching the bed, she fell on her knees beside +him and his hand fell on her shoulder.</p> +<p>Holding her thus, he gazed on her coldly, dispassionately, +and critically, as an emperor of old might have +gazed on a defaulting slave. Then, as though his anger +had turned to disgust, as though disdaining to waste a +word on her, he struck her full in the face with the +back of his right hand, a blow that caused her to cry +out and sent her groveling on the marble floor, where +a moment after the nurse on duty, attracted by the cry, +found her.</p> +<p>Berselius was dead, but the mocking smile on his lips +remained, almost justified by the words of the nurse +imploring the woman on the floor to calm herself and +restrain her grief.</p> +<p>Whatever his life may have been, his death affected +Adams strangely. The magnetism of the man’s character +had taken a strong hold upon him, fascinating him +with the fascination that strength alone can exercise. +And the man he regretted was not the ambiguous being, +the amended Berselius, so obviously a failure, but the +real Berselius who had returned to meet death.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XLII_AMIDST_THE_LILIES' id='XLII_AMIDST_THE_LILIES'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XLII</h2> +<h3>AMIDST THE LILIES</h3> +</div> + +<p>One day in March, nine months later, at Champrosay, +in the garden of a little cottage near the +Paris road, Maxine Berselius stood directing +the movements of an old man in a blue blouse—Father +Champardy by name, and a gardener by profession.</p> +<p>On the death of her father, Maxine had come to an +arrangement with her mother, eminently suited to the +minds and tastes of both women.</p> +<p>Maxine absolutely refused to touch any part of the +colossal fortune left by her father. She knew how it +had been come by, and as she had a small fortune of her +own, a very small fortune of some ten thousand francs +a year settled on her by an uncle at her birth, she determined +to live on it, and go her own way in life.</p> +<p>Art was to her far preferable to society, and in a little +cottage with one woman for a servant, ten thousand +francs a year were affluence.</p> +<p>Madame Berselius, who had no scruple in using money +obtained in any way whatsoever, fell in with her daughter’s +views after a few formal objections.</p> +<p>Gillette had furnished the cottage as only a French +firm can furnish a cottage, and the garden, which had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span> +gone to decay, Maxine had furnished herself with the +help of Father Champardy.</p> +<p>Adams, after the death of Berselius, had lingered on +in Paris to settle up his affairs, going back to the Rue +Dijon and taking up his old life precisely at the point +where he had broken it off.</p> +<p>But he was richer by three things. Two days after +Berselius’s death, news came to him from America of the +death of an uncle whom he had never seen and the fact +that he had inherited his property. It was not very +much as money goes in America, but it was real estate +in New York City and would bring in some seven or eight +hundred pounds a year. He was richer by the experience +he had gained and the Humanity he had discovered in +himself, and he was richer by his love for Maxine.</p> +<p>But love itself was subordinate in the mind of Adams +to the burning question that lay at his heart. He had +put his hand to the plough, and he was not the man to +turn aside till the end of the furrow was reached. He +would have time to go to America, in any event, to look +after his property. He decided to stay some months in +England; to attack the British Lion in its stronghold; +to explain the infamies of the Congo, and then cross the +Atlantic and put the matter before the American Eagle.</p> +<p>He did.</p> +<p>For seven months he had been away, and every week he +had written to Maxine, saying little enough about the +progress of his work, and frequently using the cryptic +statement, “I will tell you everything when I come back.”</p> +<p>And “He will be back to-day,” murmured Maxine, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span> +as she stood in the little garden watching the old man at +his work.</p> +<p>The newness and the freshness of spring were in the +air, snow that had fallen three days ago was nearly gone, +just a trace of it lay on the black earth of the flower beds; +white crocuses, blue crocuses, snow-drops, those first +trumpeters of spring, blew valiantly in the little garden, +the air was sharp and clear, and the sky above blue and +sparkling. Great masses of white cloud filled the horizon, +sun-stricken, fair, and snow-bright, solid as mountains, +and like far-off mountains filled with the fascination and +the call of distance.</p> +<p>“Spring is here,” cried the birds from the new-budding +trees.</p> +<p>The blackbird in Dr. Pons’s garden to the left, answered +a rapturous thrush in the trees across the way, children’s +voices came from the Paris road and the sounds of wheels +and hoofs.</p> +<p>A sparrow with a long straw in its beak flew right +across Maxine’s garden, a little winged poem, a couplet +enclosing the whole story of spring.</p> +<p>Maxine smiled as it vanished, then she turned; the +garden gate had clicked its latch, and a big man was +coming up the path.</p> +<p>There was only Father Champardy to see; and as +his back was turned, he saw nothing and as he was deaf, +he heard nothing. The old man, bent and warped by +the years, deaf, and blind to the little love-scene behind +him, was, without knowing it, also a poem of spring; but +not so joyous as the poem of the sparrow. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span></p> +<p>“And now tell me all,” said Maxine, as they sat in the +chintz-hung sitting room before a bright fire of logs. +They had finished their private affairs. The day was +two hours older, and a sunbeam that had pointed at them +through the diamond-paned window had travelled away +and vanished. The day was darker outside, and it was +as though spring had lost her sportive mood and then +withdrawn, not wishing to hear the tale that Adams +had to tell.</p> +<p>In Adams’s hand Papeete’s skull had been a talisman +of terrible and magical power, for with it he had touched +men, and the men touched had disclosed their worth +and their worthlessness. It had been a lamp which +showed him society as it is.</p> +<p>The life and death of Berselius had been an object +lesson for him, teaching vividly the fact that evil is indestructible; +that wash yourself with holy water or wash +yourself with soap, you will never wash away the evil +being that you have constructed by long years of evil-doing +and evil-thinking.</p> +<p>His pilgrimage in search of mercy and redress for a +miserable people had emphasized the fact.</p> +<p>The great crime of the Congo stood gigantic, like a +shadowy engine for the murdering of souls.</p> +<p>“Destroy that,” said the devil triumphantly. “You +cannot, for it is past destruction; it has passed into the +world of the ideal. No man’s hand may touch it; it is +beyond the reach like the real self of your friend Berselius. +Sweep the Congo State away to-morrow; this will remain. +A thing soul-destroying till the end of time. It began +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span> +small in the brain of one ruinous man, God whom I hate! +look at it now.</p> +<p>“It has slain ten million men and it will slay ten million +more, that is nothing; it has ruined body and soul, the +stokers who fed it and the engineers who worked it, +that is nothing; it has tangled in its wheels and debased +the consciences of five nations, that is nothing. It is +eternal—that is everything.</p> +<p>“Since I was flung out of heaven, I have made many +things, but this is my masterpiece. If I and all my works +were swept away, leaving only this thing, it would be +enough. In the fiftieth century it will still have its clutch +on man, yea, and to the very end of time.”</p> +<p>Cause and effect, my friend, in those two words you +have the genius of this machine which will exist forever +in the world of consequence, a world beyond divine or +human appeal.</p> +<p>In England, Adams had found himself confronted +with the dull lethargy of the people, and the indifference +of the Established Church. The two great divisions +of Christ’s Church were at the moment at death grapples +over the question of Education. Only amongst the +Noncomformists could be found any real response to the +question which was, and is, the test question which will +disclose, according to its answer, whether Christianity +is a living voice from on high, or an echo from the Pagan +past; and a debased echo at that. Debased, for if Adams +could have stood in the Agora of Athens and told his +tale of horror and truth, could Demosthenes have taken +up the story; could Leopold the Barbarian have been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320' name='page_320'></a>320</span> +a king in those days, and have done in those days, under +the mandate of a deluded Greece, what he has done +under the mandate of a deluded England; what a living +spirit would have run through Athens like a torch, how +the phalanxes would have formed, and the beaked ships +at Piræus torn themselves from their moorings, to bring +to Athens in chains the ruffian who had murdered and +tortured in her name!</p> +<p>To complete the situation and give it a touch of hopelessness, +he found that others had striven well, yet almost +vainly in the field. Men working for truth and justice +as other men work for gold, had attacked the public +with solid battalions of facts, tabulated infamies; there +had been meetings, discussions, words, <i>palabres</i>, as they +say in the south; but the murderer had calmly gone +on with his work, and England had put out no hand +to stay him.</p> +<p>But it was not till he reached America, that Adams +found himself fighting the machine itself.</p> +<p>One great man with a living voice he found—Mark +Twain—and one great paper, at least. These had +raised their voices calling for Justice—with what result?</p> +<p>Two side facts the skull of Papeete showed to the +searcher, as a lamp shows up other things than the things +searched for. The deadness of the English Church to the +spiritual, and the corruption of his own countrymen.</p> +<p>When he had finished, it was dark outside. The +firelight lit up the little room. Glancing through the +diamond-paned window at that happy interior, one would +never have guessed that the man by the fire had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321' name='page_321'></a>321</span> +telling the girl by his side not a love story, but the story of +the world’s greatest crime.</p> +<p>Maxine, whose hand was resting on the hand of her +companion, said nothing for a moment after he had +ceased speaking. Then, in a half-whisper, and leaning +her forehead on his hand, “Poor things,” sighed Maxine.</p> +<p>So attuned were her thoughts to the thoughts of her +companion, that she voiced the very words that were +in his mind, as gazing beyond his own happiness and a +thousand miles of sea and forest, he saw again the moonlight +on the mist of the Silent Pools, and the bleached and +miserable bones.</p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' margin-top:2em;'>THE END</p> +</div> + +<!-- generated by ppgen.rb version: 2.27 --> +<!-- timestamp: Sun Oct 12 07:08:09 -0600 2008 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Pools of Silence, by H. de Vere Stacpoole + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POOLS OF SILENCE *** + +***** This file should be named 26889-h.htm or 26889-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/8/8/26889/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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