CHAPTER XIX
THE MASTER OF HIS RACE
Days, busy days, lengthened into weeks, and these to monthshappy and full of labor; and in the ever-growing colony progress andchange came steadily forward.
All along the cliff-face and the terraces the cave-dwellings nowextended, and the smoke from a score of chimneys fashioned among theclefts rose on the temperate air of that sub-tropic winter.
At the doors, nets hung drying. On the pool, boats were anchored atseveral well-built stone wharfs. The terraces had been walled withpalisades on their outer edge and smooth roadways fashioned, leadingto all the dwellings as well as to the river below.
On top of the cliff and about three hundred yards back from the edgeanother palisade had been built of stout timbers set firmly in theearth, interlaced with cordage and propped with strong braces.
The enclosed space, bounded to east and west by the barrier whichswung toward and touched the canyon, had all been cleared, save for afew palms and fern-trees left for shade.
Beside drying-frames for fish and game and a well-smoothed plaza forpublic assemblies and the giving of the Law, it now contained Stern'spermanent hangar. The Pauillac had been brought along the road fromNewport Heights and housed there.
This road passed through strong gates of hewn planks hinged withwell-wrought ironwork forged by some of the Folk under the directionof H'yemba, the smith. For H'yemba, be it known, had been brought upby Stern early in December.
The man was essential to progress, for none knew so well as he thearts of smelting and of metal-work. Stern still felt suspicious ofhim, but by no word or act did the smith now betray any rebelliousspirit, any animosity, or aught but faithful service.
Allan, however, could not trust him yet. No telling what fires mightstill be smoldering under the peaceful and industrious exterior. Andthe master's eye often rested keenly on the powerful figure of theblacksmith.
Across the canyon, from a point about fifty yards to eastward of CliffVilla--as Beta and Allan had christened their home--a light bridge hadbeen flung, connecting the northern with the southern bank and savinglaborious toil in crossing via the river-bed.
This bridge, of simple construction, was merely temporary. Allancounted on eventually putting up a first-class cantilever; but for nowhe was content with two stout fiber cables anchored to palm-trunks,floored with rough boards lashed in place with cordage, and railedwith strong rope.
This bridge opened up a whole new tract of country to northward andvastly widened the fruit and game supply. Plenty reigned at SettlementCliffs; and a prosperity such as the Folk had never known in theAbyss, a well-being, a luxurious variety of foodstuffs--fruits, meats,wild vegetables--as well as a profusion of furs for clothing, banisheddiscontent.
Barring a little temporary depression and lassitude due to the greatalteration of environment, the Folk experienced but slight ill effectsfrom the change.
And, once they grew acclimated, their health and vigor rapidlyimproved. Strangest of all, a phenomenon most marked in the children,Allan noticed that after a few weeks under the altered conditions offood and exposure to the actinic rays of the sun as reflected by themoonlight, pigmentation began to develop. A certain clouding of theiris began to show, premonitory of color-deposit. The skin lostsomething of its chalky hue, while at the roots of the hair, as itgrew, a distinct infiltration of pigment-cells was visible. And atthis sight Allan rejoiced exceedingly.
Beatrice did not now go much abroad with him, on account of hercondition. She hardly ventured farther than the top of the cliff, andmany days she sat in her low chair on the terrace, resting, watchingthe river and the forest, thinking, dreaming, sewing for the littlenew colonist soon to arrive. Some of their most happy hours were spentthus, as Allan sat beside her in the sun, talking of their future. Thebond between them had grown closer and more intimate. They two, linkedby another still unseen, were one.
"Will you be very angry with me, dear, if it's a girl?" she asked oneday, smiling a little wistfully.
"Angry? Have I ever been angry with you, darling? Could I ever be?"
She shook her head.
"No; but you might if I disappointed you now."
"Impossible! Of course, the world's work demands a chief, a head, aleader, to come after me and take up the reins when they fall from myhands, but--"
"Even if it's a girl--only a girl--you'll love me just the same?"
His answer was a pressure of her hand, which he brought to his lipsand held there a long minute. She smiled again and in the followingsilence their souls spoke together though their lips were mute.
But Beta had her work to do those days as well as Allan.
While he planned the public works of the colony and directed theirconstruction at night, or made his routine weekly trip into the Abyssfor more and ever more of the Folk--a greatly shortened trip, now thathe knew the way so well and needed stop below ground only long enoughto rest a bit and take on oil and fuel--she was busy with her teachingof the people.
They had carefully discussed this matter, and had decided to imposeEnglish bodily and arbitrarily upon the colonists. Every eveningBeatrice gathered a class of the younger men and women, alwaysincluding the children, and for an hour or two drilled them in simplewords and sentences.
She used their familiar occupations, and taught them to speak offishing, metal-working, weaving, dyeing, and the preparation of food.
And always after they had learned a certain thing, in speaking to themshe used English for that thing. The Folk, keen-witted and retentiveof memory as barbarians often are, made astonishing strides in thisnew language.
They realized fully now that it was the speech of their remote andsuperior ancestors, and that it far surpassed their own crude andlimited tongue.
Thus they learned with enthusiasm; and before long, among them intheir own daily lives and labors, you could hear words, phrases, andbits of song in English. And at sound of this both Allan and the girlthrilled with pride and joy.
Allan felt confident of ultimate success along this line.
"We must teach the children, above all," he said to her one day."English must come to be a secondary tongue to them, familiar asMerucaan. The next generation will speak English from birth andgradually the other language will decay and perish--save as we recordit for the sake of history.
"It can't be otherwise, Beatrice. The superior tongue is always boundto replace the inferior. All the science and technical work I teachthese people must be explained in English.
"They have no words for all these things. Bridges, flying-machines,engines, water-pipes for the new aqueduct we're putting in to supplythe colony from the big spring up back there, tools, processes,everything of importance, will enforce English. The very trend oftheir whole evolution will drive them to it, even if they wereunwilling, which they aren't."
"Yes, of course," she answered. "Yet, after all, we're only two--"
"We'll be three soon."
She blushed.
"Three, then, if you say so. So few among so many--it will be a hardfight, after all."
"I know, but we shall win. Old man Adams and one or two others, at thetime of the mutiny of the 'Bounty' taught English to all their one ortwo score wives and numerous children on Pitcairn.
"The Tahitan was soon forgotten, and the brown half-breeds all spokegood English right up to the time of the catastrophe, when, of course,they were all wiped out. So you see, history proves the thing can bedone--and will be."
Came an evening toward the beginning of spring again--an evening ofsurpassing loveliness, soft, warm, perfumed with the first crimsonblossoms of the season--when Bremilu ran swiftly up the path to thecliff-top and sought Allan in the palisaded enclosure, working withhis men on the new aqueduct.
"Come, master, for they seek you now!" he panted.
"Who?"
"The mistress and old Gesafam, the aged woman, skilled in allmaladies! Come swiftly, O Kromno!"
Allan started, dropped his lantern, and
turned very white.
"You mean--"
"Yea, master! Come!"
He found Beatrice in bed, the bronze lamp shining on her face, pale ashis own.
"Come, boy!" she whispered. "Let me kiss you just oncebefore--before--"
He knelt, and on her brow his lips seemed to burn. She kissed him,then with a smile of happiness in all her pain said:
"Go, dearest! You must go now!"
And, as he lingered, old Gesafam, chattering shrilly, seized him bythe arm and pushed him toward the doorway.
Dazed and in silence he submitted. But when the door had closed behindhim, and he stood alone there in the moonlight above the rushingriver, a sudden exaltation thrilled him.
He knelt again by the rough sill and kissed the doorway of the houseof pain, the house of life; and his soul flamed into prayer towhatsoever Principle or Power wrought the mysteries of theever-changing universe.
And for hours, keeping all far away, he held his vigil; and the starswatched above him, too, mysterious and far.
But with the coming of the dawn, hark! a cry within! The cry--thethrilling, never-to-be-forgotten, heart-wringing cry of thefirst-born!
"Oh, God!" breathed Allan, while down his cheeks hot tears gushedunrestrained.
The door opened. Gesafam beckoned.
Trembling, weak as a child, the man faltered in. Still burned the lampupon the table. He saw the heavy masses of Beta's hair upon the pillowof deerskin, and something in his heart yearned toward her as neveruntil now.
"Allan!"
Choking, unable to formulate a word, shaking, he sank beside the bed,buried his face upon it, and with his hand sought hers.
"Allan, behold your son!"
Into his quivering arms she laid a tiny bundle wrapped in the finestcloth the Folk could weave of soft palm-fibers.
His son!
Against his face he held the child, sobbing. One hand sheltered it;the other pressed the weak and trembling hand of Beatrice.
And as the knowledge and the joy and pain of realization, of fullachievement, of fatherhood, surged through him, the strong man's tearsbaptized the future master of the race!