THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE
It was no easy matter to bring the _Gamecock_ up to the island, for theriver had swept down so much silt that the banks extended for many milesout into the Atlantic. The coast was hardly to be seen when the firstwhite curl of the breakers warned us of our danger, and from thereonwards we made our way very carefully under mainsail and jib, keepingthe broken water well to the left, as is indicated on the chart. Morethan once her bottom touched the sand (we were drawing something undersix feet at the time), but we had always way enough and luck enough tocarry us through. Finally, the water shoaled very rapidly, but they hadsent a canoe from the factory, and the Krooboy pilot brought us withintwo hundred yards of the island. Here we dropped our anchor, for thegestures of the negro indicated that we could not hope to get anyfarther. The blue of the sea had changed to the brown of the river, and,even under the shelter of the island, the current was singing andswirling round our bows. The stream appeared to be in spate, for it wasover the roots of the palm trees, and everywhere upon its muddy, greasysurface we could see logs of wood and debris of all sorts which had beencarried down by the flood.
When I had assured myself that we swung securely at our moorings, Ithought it best to begin watering at once, for the place looked as if itreeked with fever. The heavy river, the muddy, shining banks, the brightpoisonous green of the jungle, the moist steam in the air, they were allso many danger signals to one who could read them. I sent the long-boatoff, therefore, with two large hogsheads, which should be sufficient tolast us until we made St. Paul de Loanda. For my own part I took thedinghy and rowed for the island, for I could see the Union Jackfluttering above the palms to mark the position of Armitage and Wilson’strading station.
When I had cleared the grove, I could see the place, a long, low,whitewashed building, with a deep verandah in front, and an immense pileof palm oil barrels heaped upon either flank of it. A row of surf boatsand canoes lay along the beach, and a single small jetty projected intothe river. Two men in white suits with red cummerbunds round theirwaists were waiting upon the end of it to receive me. One was a largeportly fellow with a greyish beard. The other was slender and tall, witha pale pinched face, which was half concealed by a great mushroom-shapedhat.
“Very glad to see you,” said the latter, cordially. “I am Walker, theagent of Armitage and Wilson. Let me introduce Dr. Severall of the samecompany. It is not often we see a private yacht in these parts.”
“She’s the _Gamecock_,” I explained. “I’m owner and captain—Meldrum isthe name.”
“Exploring?” he asked.
“I’m a lepidopterist—a butterfly-catcher. I’ve been doing the west coastfrom Senegal downwards.”
“Good sport?” asked the Doctor, turning a slow yellow-shot eye upon me.
“I have forty cases full. We came in here to water, and also to see whatyou have in my line.”
These introductions and explanations had filled up the time whilst mytwo Krooboys were making the dinghy fast. Then I walked down the jettywith one of my new acquaintances upon either side, each plying me withquestions, for they had seen no white man for months.
“What do we do?” said the Doctor, when I had begun asking questions inmy turn. “Our business keeps us pretty busy, and in our leisure time wetalk politics.”
“Yes, by the special mercy of Providence Severall is a rank Radical andI am a good stiff Unionist, and we talk Home Rule for two solid hoursevery evening.”
“And drink quinine cocktails,” said the Doctor. “We’re both pretty wellsalted now, but our normal temperature was about 103 last year. Ishouldn’t, as an impartial adviser, recommend you to stay here very longunless you are collecting bacilli as well as butterflies. The mouth ofthe Ogowai River will never develop into a health resort.”
There is nothing finer than the way in which these outlying pickets ofcivilization distil a grim humour out of their desolate situation, andturn not only a bold, but a laughing face upon the chances which theirlives may bring. Everywhere from Sierra Leone downwards I had found thesame reeking swamps, the same isolated fever-racked communities and thesame bad jokes. There is something approaching to the divine in thatpower of man to rise above his conditions and to use his mind for thepurpose of mocking at the miseries of his body.
“Dinner will be ready in about half an hour, Captain Meldrum,” said theDoctor. “Walker has gone in to see about it; he’s the housekeeper thisweek. Meanwhile, if you like, we’ll stroll round and I’ll show you thesights of the island.”
The sun had already sunk beneath the line of palm trees, and the greatarch of the heaven above our head was like the inside of a huge shell,shimmering with dainty pinks and delicate iridescence. No one who hasnot lived in a land where the weight and heat of a napkin becomeintolerable upon the knees can imagine the blessed relief which thecoolness of evening brings along with it. In this sweeter and purer airthe Doctor and I walked round the little island, he pointing out thestores, and explaining the routine of his work.
“There’s a certain romance about the place,” said he, in answer to someremark of mine about the dulness of their lives. “We are living herejust upon the edge of the great unknown. Up there,” he continued,pointing to the north-east, “Du Chaillu penetrated, and found the homeof the gorilla. That is the Gaboon country—the land of the great apes.In this direction,” pointing to the south-east, “no one has been veryfar. The land which is drained by this river is practically unknown toEuropeans. Every log which is carried past us by the current has comefrom an undiscovered country. I’ve often wished that I was a betterbotanist when I have seen the singular orchids and curious-lookingplants which have been cast up on the eastern end of the island.”
The place which the Doctor indicated was a sloping brown beach, freelylittered with the flotsam of the stream. At each end was a curved point,like a little natural breakwater, so that a small shallow bay was leftbetween. This was full of floating vegetation, with a single hugesplintered tree lying stranded in the middle of it, the current ripplingagainst its high black side.
“These are all from up country,” said the Doctor. “They get caught inour little bay, and then when some extra freshet comes they are washedout again and carried out to sea.”
“What is the tree?” I asked.
“Oh, some kind of teak I should imagine, but pretty rotten by the lookof it. We get all sorts of big hardwood trees floating past here, to saynothing of the palms. Just come in here, will you?”
He led the way into a long building with an immense quantity of barrelstaves and iron hoops littered about in it.
“This is our cooperage,” said he. “We have the staves sent out inbundles, and we put them together ourselves. Now, you don’t see anythingparticularly sinister about this building, do you?”
I looked round at the high corrugated iron roof, the white wooden walls,and the earthen floor. In one corner lay a mattress and a blanket.
“I see nothing very alarming,” said I.
“And yet there’s something out of the common, too,” he remarked. “Yousee that bed? Well, I intend to sleep there to-night. I don’t want tobuck, but I think it’s a bit of a test for nerve.”
“Why?”
“Oh, there have been some funny goings on. You were talking about themonotony of our lives, but I assure you that they are sometimes quite asexciting as we wish them to be. You’d better come back to the house now,for after sundown we begin to get the fever-fog up from the marshes.There, you can see it coming across the river.”
I looked and saw long tentacles of white vapour writhing out from amongthe thick green underwood and crawling at us over the broad swirlingsurface of the brown river. At the same time the air turned suddenlydank and cold.
“There’s the dinner gong,” said the Doctor. “If this matter interestsyou I’ll tell you about it afterwards.”
It did interest me very much, for there was something earnest andsubdued in his manner as he stood in the empty coope
rage, which appealedvery forcibly to my imagination. He was a big, bluff, hearty man, thisDoctor, and yet I had detected a curious expression in his eyes as heglanced about him—an expression which I would not describe as one offear, but rather that of a man who is alert and on his guard.
“By the way,” said I, as we returned to the house, “you have shown methe huts of a good many of your native assistants, but I have not seenany of the natives themselves.”
“They sleep in the hulk over yonder,” the Doctor answered, pointing overto one of the banks.
“Indeed. I should not have thought in that case that they would need thehuts.”
“Oh, they used the huts until quite recently. We’ve put them on the hulkuntil they recover their confidence a little. They were all half madwith fright, so we let them go, and nobody sleeps on the island exceptWalker and myself.”
“What frightened them?” I asked.
“Well, that brings us back to the same story. I suppose Walker has noobjection to your hearing all about it. I don’t know why we should makeany secret about it, though it is certainly a pretty bad business.”
He made no further allusion to it during the excellent dinner which hadbeen prepared in my honour. It appeared that no sooner had the littlewhite topsail of the _Gamecock_ shown round Cape Lopez than these kindfellows had begun to prepare their famous pepper-pot—which is thepungent stew peculiar to the West Coast—and to boil their yams and sweetpotatoes. We sat down to as good a native dinner as one could wish,served by a smart Sierra Leone waiting boy. I was just remarking tomyself that he at least had not shared in the general flight when,having laid the dessert and wine upon the table, he raised his hand tohis turban.
“Anyting else I do, Massa Walker?” he asked.
“No, I think that is all right, Moussa,” my host answered. “I am notfeeling very well to-night, though, and I should much prefer if youwould stay on the island.”
I saw a struggle between his fears and his duty upon the swarthy face ofthe African. His skin had turned of that livid purplish tint whichstands for pallor in a negro, and his eyes looked furtively about him.
“No, no, Massa Walker,” he cried, at last, “you better come to the hulkwith me, sah. Look after you much better in the hulk, sah!”
“That won’t do, Moussa. White men don’t run away from the posts wherethey are placed.”
Again I saw the passionate struggle in the negro’s face, and again hisfears prevailed.
“No use, Massa Walker, sah!” he cried. “S’elp me, I can’t do it. If itwas yesterday or if it was to-morrow, but this is the third night, sah,an’ it’s more than I can face.”
Walker shrugged his shoulders.
“Off with you then!” said he. “When the mail-boat comes you can get backto Sierra Leone, for I’ll have no servant who deserts me when I need himmost. I suppose this is all mystery to you, or has the Doctor told you,Captain Meldrum?”
“I showed Captain Meldrum the cooperage, but I did not tell himanything,” said Dr. Severall. “You’re looking bad, Walker,” he added,glancing at his companion. “You have a strong touch coming on you.”
“Yes, I’ve had the shivers all day, and now my head is like acannon-ball. I took ten grains of quinine, and my ears are singing likea kettle. But I want to sleep with you in the cooperage to-night.”
“No, no, my dear chap. I won’t hear of such a thing. You must get to bedat once, and I am sure Meldrum will excuse you. I shall sleep in thecooperage, and I promise you that I’ll be round with your medicinebefore breakfast.”
It was evident that Walker had been struck by one of those sudden andviolent attacks of remittent fever which are the curse of the WestCoast. His sallow cheeks were flushed and his eyes shining with fever,and suddenly as he sat there he began to croon out a song in thehigh-pitched voice of delirium.
“Come, come, we must get you to bed, old chap,” said the Doctor, andwith my aid he led his friend into his bedroom. There we undressed him,and presently, after taking a strong sedative, he settled down into adeep slumber.
“He’s right for the night,” said the Doctor, as we sat down and filledour glasses once more. “Sometimes it is my turn and sometimes his, but,fortunately, we have never been down together. I should have been sorryto be out of it to-night, for I have a little mystery to unravel. I toldyou that I intended to sleep in the cooperage.”
“Yes, you said so.”
“When I said sleep I meant watch, for there will be no sleep for me.We’ve had such a scare here that no native will stay after sundown, andI mean to find out to-night what the cause of it all may be. It hasalways been the custom for a native watchman to sleep in the cooperage,to prevent the barrel hoops being stolen. Well, six days ago the fellowwho slept there disappeared, and we have never seen a trace of himsince. It was certainly singular, for no canoe had been taken, and thesewaters are too full of crocodiles for any man to swim to shore. Whatbecame of the fellow, or how he could have left the island is a completemystery. Walker and I were merely surprised, but the blacks were badlyscared, and queer Voodoo tales began to get about amongst them. But thereal stampede broke out three nights ago, when the new watchman in thecooperage also disappeared.”
“What became of him?” I asked.
“Well, we not only don’t know, but we can’t even give a guess whichwould fit the facts. The niggers swear there is a fiend in the cooperagewho claims a man every third night. They wouldn’t stay in theisland—nothing could persuade them. Even Moussa, who is a faithful boyenough, would, as you have seen, leave his master in a fever rather thanremain for the night. If we are to continue to run this place we mustreassure our niggers, and I don’t know any better way of doing it thanby putting in a night there myself. This is the third night, you see, soI suppose the thing is due, whatever it may be.”
“Have you no clue?” I asked. “Was there no mark of violence, noblood-stain, no footprints, nothing to give a hint as to what kind ofdanger you may have to meet?”
“Absolutely nothing. The man was gone and that was all. Last time it wasold Ali, who has been wharf-tender here since the place was started. Hewas always as steady as a rock, and nothing but foul play would take himfrom his work.”
“Well,” said I, “I really don’t think that this is a one-man job. Yourfriend is full of laudanum, and come what might he can be of noassistance to you. You must let me stay and put in a night with you atthe cooperage.”
“Well, now, that’s very good of you, Meldrum,” said he heartily, shakingmy hand across the table. “It’s not a thing that I should have venturedto propose, for it is asking a good deal of a casual visitor, but if youreally mean it——”
“Certainly I mean it. If you will excuse me a moment, I will hail the_Gamecock_ and let them know that they need not expect me.”
As we came back from the other end of the little jetty we were bothstruck by the appearance of the night. A huge blue-black pile of cloudshad built itself up upon the landward side, and the wind came from it inlittle hot pants, which beat upon our faces like the draught from ablast furnace. Under the jetty the river was swirling and hissing,tossing little white spurts of spray over the planking.
“Confound it!” said Doctor Severall. “We are likely to have a flood onthe top of all our troubles. That rise in the river means heavy rainup-country, and when it once begins you never know how far it will go.We’ve had the island nearly covered before now. Well, we’ll just go andsee that Walker is comfortable, and then if you like we’ll settle downin our quarters.”
The sick man was sunk in a profound slumber, and we left him with somecrushed limes in a glass beside him in case he should awake with thethirst of fever upon him. Then we made our way through the unnaturalgloom thrown by that menacing cloud. The river had risen so high thatthe little bay which I have described at the end of the island hadbecome almost obliterated through the submerging of its flankingpeninsula. The great raft of driftwood, with the huge black tree in
themiddle, was swaying up and down in the swollen current.
“That’s one good thing a flood will do for us,” said the Doctor. “Itcarries away all the vegetable stuff which is brought down on to theeast end of the island. It came down with the freshet the other day, andhere it will stay until a flood sweeps it out into the main stream.Well, here’s our room, and here are some books, and here is my tobaccopouch, and we must try and put in the night as best we may.”
By the light of our single lantern the great lonely room looked verygaunt and dreary. Save for the piles of staves and heaps of hoops therewas absolutely nothing in it, with the exception of the mattress for theDoctor, which had been laid in the corner. We made a couple of seats anda table out of the staves, and settled down together for a long vigil.Severall had brought a revolver for me, and was himself armed with adouble-barrelled shot-gun. We loaded our weapons and laid them cockedwithin reach of our hands. The little circle of light and the blackshadows arching over us were so melancholy that he went off to thehouse, and returned with two candles. One side of the cooperage waspierced, however, by several open windows, and it was only by screeningour lights behind staves that we could prevent them from beingextinguished.
The Doctor, who appeared to be a man of iron nerves, had settled down toa book, but I observed that every now and then he laid it upon his knee,and took an earnest look all round him. For my part, although I triedonce or twice to read, I found it impossible to concentrate my thoughtsupon the book. They would always wander back to this great empty silentroom, and to the sinister mystery which overshadowed it. I racked mybrains for some possible theory which would explain the disappearance ofthese two men. There was the black fact that they were gone, and not theleast tittle of evidence as to why or whither. And here we were waitingin the same place—waiting without an idea as to what we were waitingfor. I was right in saying that it was not a one-man job. It was tryingenough as it was, but no force upon earth would have kept me therewithout a comrade.
What an endless, tedious night it was! Outside we heard the lapping andgurgling of the great river, and the soughing of the rising wind.Within, save for our breathing, the turning of the Doctor’s pages, andthe high, shrill ping of an occasional mosquito, there was a heavysilence. Once my heart sprang into my mouth as Severall’s book suddenlyfell to the ground and he sprang to his feet with his eyes on one of thewindows.
“Did you see anything, Meldrum?”
“No. Did you?”
“Well, I had a vague sense of movement outside that window.” He caughtup his gun and approached it. “No, there’s nothing to be seen, and yet Icould have sworn that something passed slowly across it.”
“A palm leaf, perhaps,” said I, for the wind was growing stronger everyinstant.
“Very likely,” said he, and settled down to his book again, but his eyeswere for ever darting little suspicious glances up at the window. Iwatched it also, but all was quiet outside.
And then suddenly our thoughts were turned into a new direction by thebursting of the storm. A blinding flash was followed by a clap whichshook the building. Again and again came the vivid white glare withthunder at the same instant, like the flash and roar of a monstrouspiece of artillery. And then down came the tropical rain, crashing andrattling on the corrugated iron roofing of the cooperage. The big hollowroom boomed like a drum. From the darkness arose a strange mixture ofnoises, a gurgling, splashing, tinkling, bubbling, washing,dripping—every liquid sound that nature can produce from the thrashingand swishing of the rain to the deep steady boom of the river. Hourafter hour the uproar grew louder and more sustained.
“My word,” said Severall, “we are going to have the father of all thefloods this time. Well, here’s the dawn coming at last and that is ablessing. We’ve about exploded the third night superstition anyhow.”
A grey light was stealing through the room, and there was the day uponus in an instant. The rain had eased off, but the coffee-coloured riverwas roaring past like a waterfall. Its power made me fear for the anchorof the _Gamecock_.
“I must get aboard,” said I. “If she drags she’ll never be able to beatup the river again.”
“The island is as good as a breakwater,” the Doctor answered. “I cangive you a cup of coffee if you will come up to the house.”
I was chilled and miserable, so the suggestion was a welcome one. Weleft the ill-omened cooperage with its mystery still unsolved, and wesplashed our way up to the house.
“There’s the spirit lamp,” said Severall. “If you would just put a lightto it, I will see how Walker feels this morning.”
He left me, but was back in an instant with a dreadful face.
“He’s gone!” he cried hoarsely.
The words sent a thrill of horror through me. I stood with the lamp inmy hand, glaring at him.
“Yes, he’s gone!” he repeated. “Come and look!”
I followed him without a word, and the first thing that I saw as Ientered the bedroom was Walker himself lying huddled on his bed in thegrey flannel sleeping suit in which I had helped to dress him on thenight before.
“Not dead, surely!” I gasped.
The Doctor was terribly agitated. His hands were shaking like leaves inthe wind.
“He’s been dead some hours.”
“Was it fever?”
“Fever! Look at his foot!”
I glanced down and a cry of horror burst from my lips. One foot was notmerely dislocated but was turned completely round in a most grotesquecontortion.
“Good God!” I cried. “What can have done this?”
Severall had laid his hand upon the dead man’s chest.
“Feel here,” he whispered.
I placed my hand at the same spot. There was no resistance. The body wasabsolutely soft and limp. It was like pressing a sawdust doll.
“The breast-bone is gone,” said Severall in the same awed whisper. “He’sbroken to bits. Thank God that he had the laudanum. You can see by hisface that he died in his sleep.”
“But who can have done this?”
“I’ve had about as much as I can stand,” said the Doctor, wiping hisforehead. “I don’t know that I’m a greater coward than my neighbours,but this gets beyond me. If you’re going out to the _Gamecock_——”
“Come on!” said I, and off we started. If we did not run it was becauseeach of us wished to keep up the last shadow of his self-respect beforethe other. It was dangerous in a light canoe on that swollen river, butwe never paused to give the matter a thought. He bailing and I paddlingwe kept her above water, and gained the deck of the yacht. There, withtwo hundred yards of water between us and this cursed island, we feltthat we were our own men once more.
“Well go back in an hour or so,” said he. “But we need a little time tosteady ourselves. I wouldn’t have had the niggers see me as I was justnow for a year’s salary.”
“I’ve told the steward to prepare breakfast. Then we shall go back,”said I. “But in God’s name, Doctor Severall, what do you make of itall?”
“It beats me—beats me clean. I’ve heard of Voodoo devilry, and I’velaughed at it with the others. But that poor old Walker, a decent,God-fearing, nineteenth-century, Primrose-League Englishman should gounder like this without a whole bone in his body—it’s given me a shake,I won’t deny it. But look there, Meldrum, is that hand of yours mad ordrunk, or what is it?”
Old Patterson, the oldest man of my crew, and as steady as the Pyramids,had been stationed in the bows with a boat-hook to fend off the driftinglogs which came sweeping down with the current. Now he stood withcrooked knees, glaring out in front of him, and one forefinger stabbingfuriously at the air.
“Look at it!” he yelled. “Look at it!”
And at the same instant we saw it.
A huge black tree trunk was coming down the river, its broad glisteningback just lapped by the water. And in front of it—about three feet infront—arching upwards like the figure-head
of a ship, there hung adreadful face, swaying slowly from side to side. It was flattened,malignant, as large as a small beer-barrel, of a faded fungoid colour,but the neck which supported it was mottled with a dull yellow andblack. As it flew past the _Gamecock_ in the swirl of the waters I sawtwo immense coils roll up out of some great hollow in the tree, and thevillainous head rose suddenly to the height of eight or ten feet,looking with dull, skin-covered eyes at the yacht. An instant later thetree had shot past us and was plunging with its horrible passengertowards the Atlantic.
“What was it?” I cried.
“It is our fiend of the cooperage,” said Dr. Severall, and he had becomein an instant the same bluff, self-confident man that he had beenbefore. “Yes, that is the devil who has been haunting our island. It isthe great python of the Gaboon.”
I thought of the stories which I had heard all down the coast of themonstrous constrictors of the interior, of their periodical appetite,and of the murderous effects of their deadly squeeze. Then it all tookshape in my mind. There had been a freshet the week before. It hadbrought down this huge hollow tree with its hideous occupant. Who knowsfrom what far distant tropical forest it may have come. It had beenstranded on the little east bay of the island. The cooperage had beenthe nearest house. Twice with the return of its appetite it had carriedoff the watchman. Last night it had doubtless come again, when Severallhad thought he saw something move at the window, but our lights haddriven it away. It had writhed onwards and had slain poor Walker in hissleep.
“Why did it not carry him off?” I asked.
“The thunder and lightning must have scared the brute away. There’s yoursteward, Meldrum. The sooner we have breakfast and get back to theisland the better, or some of those niggers might think that we had beenfrightened.”