CHAPTER VI
THE TOTEM
'They won't eat us now, will they, Mr. Grinson?' said Meek in a whisper,hopefully.
Grinson swore.
'Not after them biscuits, Mr. Grinson?' Meek persisted.
'Stow it, can't you?' growled Grinson. 'This ain't a time for jokes.'
Meek was so much astonished at being accused of joking that his jawdropped, and he eyed the boatswain sadly. His expression turned toanguish as he listened to the low-toned conversation between Hoole andTrentham.
'We 're fairly in the cart,' said the former. 'See any way out?'
'No. We 're still alive. They might have killed us--those spears!'
'Better if they had, perhaps. Waiting is the deuce!'
'If we could only speak to them!'
'Try right now. Perhaps some of them know pidgin.'
'You boys belongina this place?' began Trentham in loud tones. 'Yousavvy English fella? English he like him black fella man too much, comethis place look out black fella man, no fighting black fella man.'
The natives had stopped jabbering.
'You savvy all same what English fella man he say?' Trentham asked.
There was no answer. The Papuans, squatting in a line, gave aninarticulate grunt, then resumed their talk.
'No good!' said Trentham. 'They evidently haven't been to the ports.Very little chance for us with savages of the interior.'
'What are they waiting for, then? Look, that's the fellow we saw awhile ago.'
The young native whom they had seen examining their tracks came out ofthe gloom, stood before the squatting men, and spoke to them. Theystared at the four prisoners and grunted; the speaker disappeared amongthe trees.
'He 's left them on guard, and gone to report at headquarters,' saidTrentham. 'A brief respite.'
'Till the rising of the moon, I suppose. Well, old boy, I hope it 'll beshort--and both together.'
Trentham was silent. He had had many anxious moments since the Raider'sfirst shell had flown screaming over the deck; but it was with a shockof a totally different kind that he now found himself looking with openeyes upon the imminence of death. To a man in health death isunrealisable. But he remembered those hideous figures on the beach, thepig's squeal, and he shuddered.
There was barely light enough to distinguish the savages from theirsurroundings; but it seemed to him, from their general appearance, thatthey were of the same tribe as the dancers--possibly they were thedancers themselves. In that case, baulked of one victim, they were onlytoo likely to make the most of the four who had now fallen into theirhands. It was not to be hoped that they would relax their watchfulness.Would their leader return at the rising of the moon?
Complete darkness enwrapped them. The blacks talked on endlessly,breaking at times into boisterous laughter.
'Have you tried the knots, Grinson?' Trentham asked.
'Did that first go off, sir,' replied the boatswain in doleful accents.'I couldn't have tied 'em better myself.'
Each of the prisoners had in fact already wriggled and strained at hisbonds, with total unsuccess.
They lay silent again. Presently Grinson let out a torrent ofexpletives with something like his old vigour. The others questionedhim.
'Skeeters!' he cried furiously. 'They 're all over me, and I can't rubmy nose.'
Hitherto insects had troubled them little, and the advent of mosquitoeswas likely to enhance their physical discomfort.
'I guess we 're near water,' remarked Hoole; 'perhaps that stream we sawrunning into the bay. Have the mosquitoes bit you, Trentham?'
'Not yet.'
'Nor me. They 've taken a fancy for Grinson.'
'I 'm willing they should have a bite at me,' said Meek, 'if so be they'd let Mr. Grinson alone.'
Grinson swore again; in his present mood Meek's devotion was only lessirritating than the stabs of the insects.
A glint of moonlight stole through the trees, and revealed the faces ofsome of the natives--ugly faces of rusty black, daubed with red andwhite. The prisoners felt their heart-beats quicken. But though themoonbeams lengthened the savages made no move, nor did their leaderreturn.
The hours dragged on. One after another the four men slumbereduneasily, waking with sudden starts and tremors, always to hear theharsh voices of their guards. Towards morning they slept heavily, andwere only awakened by the touch of hands upon their legs. In the dimgreenish light they saw that the savages had been rejoined by the youngman who had left them in the evening, and by another native resemblinghim, but a good deal older, wearing a high plume of feathers. The bondsabout the prisoners' legs were released; they were hauled to their feet,and the two leaders made signs that they were to march. So cramped thatthey could scarcely move their limbs, they followed their leaders; thePapuan guards, all armed with spears, tramping in single file behindthem.
'Your poor face is all swollen, Mr. Grinson,' said Meek, with a look ofcommiseration.
'Shut _your_ face!' growled the boatswain ill-temperedly.
With their arms still bound firmly to their sides, the prisoners, faintwith hunger, stumbled through the forest, at the heels of the twoleaders, along a well-worn track. It crossed deeply wooded ravines,shallow streams; wound round steep bluffs on which no trees grew.Presently they came to a wide clearing where naked children were runningabout, and women were busy with cooking. At their appearance, men camescrambling down ladders from the trees beyond, exchanged a few excitedwords with their escort, and, shouting with delight, joined themselvesto the party.
'Quite a Roman triumph,' said Hoole with a sickly smile.
'Roman?' said Trentham, roused from the listlessness into which he hadfallen. 'Those fellows in front might almost be Romans, bar the colour.'
'They 're a better breed than the crowd behind. Don't look likecannibals.'
'D' ye hear that?' Meek whispered to Grinson. 'Mr. Hoole says they ain'tcannibals.'
'Mr. Hoole won't be the fust,' growled the boatswain.
Meek was half a minute or so in seeing the connection between Grinson'sreply and his own statement. When light dawned, he contemplated theboatswain's rotundity with mournful composure.
The procession was swelled by accretions from two more villages duringthe next hour. Some of the new-comers pressed close to the prisoners,now almost overcome by heat, hunger, and weariness, and discussed themexcitedly. Hoole and Trentham walked on with nonchalant disregard; Meekwore a deprecating look; Grinson turned upon them a truculentcountenance, disfigured by the mosquitoes' attentions.
Another hour had passed; the captives were on the verge of collapse,even Grinson's face had lost its ruddy hue, when, emerging from theforest, they found themselves in a clearing several acres in extent,divided off into plots on which crops of various kinds were growing.Beyond stood a line of neatly thatched huts, and in the distance waswhat appeared to be a closely built stockade. A broad road ran throughthe midst of the settlement. At the approach of the procession, nowsome sixty strong, women and children flocked from the fields andgathered, wondering spectators, on the road, and men sprang up from theground in front of the huts, and hastened to meet the new-comers.
The elder of the two leaders turned round and shouted a few words. Allbut ten of the Papuans halted. The ten continued their march behind theprisoners, through a lane between two of the huts, until they arrived ata narrow gateway in the stockade. This, on nearer view, proved to be aformidable wall of pandanus trunks cemented with earth, and with anearthen parapet that bore a strange resemblance to the machicolations ofa mediaeval castle.
The gate was thrown open; the two leaders, the prisoners, and theirescort passed through, and the scene that met the white men's eyesfilled them with astonishment. On either side stood a row of neat woodenhouses with gabled roofs and long window openings. The woodwork showedcrude attempts at decoration in red and white. In the centre was alarger, loftier building
than the rest, also of wood, but constructedlike a rough imitation of a castle keep.
Within this inner enclosure there were none but men, all of goodstature, well proportioned, and with the arched nose and straight hairwhich the prisoners had remarked in the two leaders of the procession.In colour they were a bright bronze, contrasting forcibly with thelustreless black of the Papuan escort.
A few yards from the central building the prisoners were halted, and theyoung leader went forward alone, disappearing within an arched doorway.In a few minutes he returned, accompanied by a tall old man with whitehair and wrinkled brow, naked like the others, except for a broaderloin-cloth and a heavy gold chain, curiously wrought, about his neck.
'"The noblest Roman of them all!"' quoted Hoole, under his breath.'Where on earth are we?'
The apprehensions of all the prisoners, were for the moment smothered bysurprise and wonderment.
At the appearance of the old man in the doorway, the ten Papuans fell onone knee, like courtiers before a king. The chief gazed fixedly at thewhite men, appraising them one after another. A cruel smile dawned uponhis face--a smile that in an instant revived in the prisoners the worstof their fears. During the march Trentham had buoyed himself with thehope that these natives of a higher type might turn out to be friendly;the hope died within him now. The chief had evidently heard all aboutthe prisoners from the young man who had visited him during the night.He had now come to pronounce their doom.
'Rhadamanthus,' murmured Hoole. 'Try him with pidgin, Trentham. Hehasn't heard our defence.'
'Chief, we English fella,' cried Trentham. 'Come this side look outblack fella man; no fighting this time.'
The old man beckoned to one of the men who had come from the housesright and left, and now stood spectators of the scene. The man cameforward, and after the chief had addressed a few words to him in his owntongue, he said to Trentham:
'White fella man no belongina this place. White fella man come thisplace, make fire houses belongina black fella man, fight black fella manall same too much; white man he belongina die.'
Trentham understood from this that he and his friends were supposed tobe connected with the white men who had recently burnt the tree villageand ill-treated the natives.
'We no belongina bad fella man,' he hastened to explain. 'Like youfella, no like bad fella come ship stop this place; ship no belonginame.'
The interpreter translated to the chief, who listened with a derisiveair, shrugged his shoulders, and threw out his hands, and made answer:
'Chief he say all belongina gammon: you come all same place other whitefella man, no look out good alonga him. He finish talk alonga you.'
'The Huns have queered our pitch,' said Trentham to Hoole, with a wrysmile. 'We are at their mercy.'
'Wish I had my hands free,' said Hoole. 'What's the end to be?'
One of the Papuans, with every sign of humility, was addressing thechief. Into the old man's eyes crept the cruel smile which had alreadycaused the prisoners to shiver. He spoke a few words; the Papuanssprang up gleefully, crowded about the white men, and jabbered withexcitement. They gave scarcely a glance at Meek, who stood in his usualdrooping attitude, open-eyed with fright. They stared critically at thetwo younger men, seemed to dispute for a few moments, then turned toGrinson and began to poke him in the ribs. The boatswain glared,cursed, kicked, only to be caught by the leg and thrown to the ground.Hoole and Trentham made a movement towards him, but were instantlyseized by the natives standing by. After a vain struggle, Grinson layinert. The Papuans hauled him to his feet, and marched him away towardsthe gate.
'Good-bye, Mr. Trentham; good-bye, Mr. Hoole!' he shouted. 'So long,Ephraim, me lad! The anchor's weighed. Remember me.'
Pale to the lips, the three others watched the chief as he followed theindomitable seaman with his eyes. When the gate was shut he turned tothe young native who had first discovered the white men, and spoke tohim, using, as it appeared to Trentham, a dialect differing somewhatfrom that in which he had addressed the Papuan and the interpreter. Nowand then it had a nasal quality that reminded Trentham of French, andpresently he caught a word or two that sounded like debased forms ofFrench words he knew.
A drowning man will catch at a straw, and Trentham, incredible though itappeared that the natives hereabout should be familiar with French, as alast hope determined to try the effect of a word or two in thatlanguage.
'_Monsieur parle francais?_' he said, using the first phrase thatoccurred to him, and anxiously watching the chief.
Both the old man and the young looked at him with astonishment.
'_Monsieur parle francais?_' he repeated.
'_Oui, flancais,_' said the chief, and went on speaking in a gibberishwhich, though it had a French intonation, was utterly incomprehensibleto Trentham.
'_Nous sommes amis des Francais,_' he said.
'_Oui, amis,_' echoed the chief, and talked on. Then, apparently seeingthat Trentham was bewildered, he called up the interpreter, and spoke tohim in the Papuan dialect he had formerly used.
'Chief he say you savvy him talk, say you come this place belonginaship. What for come this place?'
Trentham almost despaired of finding his resources of pidgin Englishsuffice to explain the situation of himself and his companions. Butconscious how much depended on him, he did his best.
'Me belongina English ship; bad fella belongina another ship, hefighting me, no more ship. He no like white fella man; come fight thistime black fella belongina all place. English fella man like Flansaifella, no like Toitsche fella--you savvy all same?'
He clenched his fist, and shook it in the direction where he supposedthe Raider to lie. The explanation, translated, seemed to excite thechief, who turned to his young compatriot and entered into an animateddiscussion with him.
While they were still talking, the gate in the wall was once more thrownopen, and to the white men's utter amazement, Grinson marched in at thehead of a procession of his captors. His arms were unbound, his facewas wreathed in smiles, his body was bare to the waist.
GRINSON MARCHED IN AT THE HEAD OF A PROCESSION.]
'Ahoy, messmates!' he cried at the top of his voice, rather hoarsely.'Beg pardon, young gents, but I mean to say--oh, cripes! Ephraim, melad, I never thought I 'd see you again, 'cept as a ghost. Am I drunk?No, but I 'm darned merry, which I mean to say--I say, old cock,'turning to a Papuan, 'get me a drink--get us all a drink, and we 'lldrink your health and say no more about it.' He raised his arm, andkissed a spot just below his shoulder. 'Kiss it too, ugly mug! Come on,all you lubbers, kiss it, or I 'll never love you no more!'
And to his friends' amazement the Papuans came to him one by one, andreverently kissed the spot, Grinson beaming on them.
'That's right! It tickles, and I don't like your ugly nose bones, butyou 've good 'earts. No, you don't--once is enough,' he cried to a manwho offered the salute a second time.
'"When I was young and had no sense!"--no, blamed if it wasn't the mostsensiblest thing ever I did, and that's saying something.' He had nowcome up to his amazed companions. 'There it is--that's what done it."A sweet little cherub what sits up aloft,"--beg pardon, sir, I feelslike singing all the time. That's what done it!' He displayed his arm,on which was the blue tattooed effigy of a bird of paradise. 'Theypeeled off my shirt, and there was I looking for 'em to plunge the knifeinto my bare bussum, when dash me if they didn't start back with horrorlike as if I 'd the smallpox--and me vaccinated, too, twice, on thisvery arm. 'Twas the bird what done it, like the strawberry mark whatproved to the Marchioness of Mayfair that the dustman was her long-lostson and heir, stole from his cradle by the lady's maid she 'd sacked forswilling of her eau de colony. The ugly mugs take me for a long-lostbrother, and dash me if I ain't the best-looking of the family, Ephraim,me lad.'
While the hilarious mariner was reeling off his yarn, the Papuans hadexplained to the chief that, having discovered on his arm the image ofthe totem of their tribe, they had br
ought him back, to exchange him forone of the other prisoners, unless they too should prove to besacrosanct. To their intense discontent, the chief had refused to allowthem even to examine the arms of the three men; and while Trentham andhis companions were still digesting the astounding story told byGrinson, the crestfallen savages stole out of the gate in sullenill-humour.