The dry details of the log-book did not interest Philip save as they showed him that the Reynard arrived at the island after a reasonably prosperous voyage, with the colonists and crew in the best of health.
He read of the exploration of the island, where mention was made of the extinct volcano which he had already seen, and learned that the village was on the southernmost of the Toukang-Basi group.
Then, in rapid succession, he noted the author’s remarks relative to certain portions of the land which it was proposed to cultivate, ran his eye carelessly over the meteorological observations, and passed quickly on to those pages where mention was made of the settlement, referring to which Captain Sea worth wrote:
The portable houses prove to be a most admirable invention. In fifteen days we have unloaded and set up every building, and not one joist has been wrongly measured or marked. In that short space of time we built an entire village resembling those to be found in Sumatra, and are as comfortably situated as the most captious colonist could desire.
The Reynard has been brought around to the eastern shore, where we have found a small bay with water enough to float a line-of-battle ship, and the banks of which are so densely wooded that it is impossible to see a hundred yards in either direction. But for the fact that we are in the very center of a nest of Malay pirates, I should have no hesitation whatever about leaving her at moorings in charge of the boatswain. As it is, however, I am obliged to keep half the crew quartered on board, which reduces my working force very materially.
If this colony does not succeed it will unquestionably be because of the ever-increasing audacity of the pirates who infest the seas in this part of the world. Their power increases year by year, and their flotillas have become fleets. The proas and junks are armed like frigates, and as sailors and fighting-men their crews are the most energetic of any nation; therefore it is that to guard against these marauders is the most important of all our duties, and better the work of planting should progress slowly than that we run the risk of having the fruits of our labor destroyed through neglect of precaution.
The soil of the island is evidently very fertile. Flowers and fruits are abundant, and the thickest positively swarm with game. Save for the apes, which are as thick here as grasshoppers in a country field, this would be a garden spot indeed. But the apes destroy the charm of the place, since one must be constantly on watch against them, and they increase like flies. Unless some means can be devised to exterminate them we shall be forced to guard our plantations by night as well as by day, and therefore I have many serious misgivings as to whether the venture which has been so admirably planned will prove successful. To defend ourselves against the pirates from the ocean, and to save our crops from apes, we need at least two hundred more men; and whether I shall be justified in making the additional outlay, after it was decided that there were to be no further expenditures, is the question which disturbs me greatly.
To guard against these monkey-robbers, who pull up our plants from sheer love of mischief, a high, barbed-wire fence would answer every purpose; but, unfortunately, it would cost more for such material than the additional force required, because it must be sent out in a ship from New York. My first officer counsels that we visit Lombok, Batavia, or Samarang, for the purpose of procuring natives, and his opinion I should incline to were it not for the fact that I am afraid to withdraw the entire ship’s crew from the island lest the colonists be overcome either by pirates or apes, the latter being quite as formidable as the former.
Here followed many notes regarding the labor already performed or projected; and continuing after the banana plantation had been started, Captain Seaworth wrote:
Our house life is charming. The colonists are enjoying the best of health, in houses surrounded with palm-trees; and as for our own quarters, I never had anything to compare with these, not even in Madras, in point of comfort and elegance. We want for nothing, and our amusements are numerous. Once each week we give a ball in the drawing-room of the main building, and on Saturday mornings we hold an informal court on the open lawn to decide as to the business and government of our charming island.
Again I am constrained to speak of our pests, the apes. So numerous are they, in fact, that one is almost certain, in discharging a gun at hazard, to bring down an animal; and their ferocity exceeds anything of which I have ever read. Those we brought from the establishment of Garland & Co. are civilized beings compared with the tribe we find here. It is a source of many jokes that we should have taken the trouble to bring so far pets which could be captured in such numbers. Instead of buying apes, we could ship a full cargo and never know they had left the island.
Again, the journal was continued with notes which would interest the stockholders of the enterprise more than they did Philip, and he passed hastily over them until he found the following:
I have been trying to teach the gigantic baboon, Goliah, to follow me in the semi-weekly hunts we make for apes. Although hundreds are killed on each occasion the numbers do not seem to diminish, and we have decided to make hunters, if possible, of the apes we brought with us. Goliah, especially, would be invaluable could he be trained to prey upon those of his kind who so disturb us. Thus far, however, we have met with only partial success.
During our excursion yesterday, while in the center of a large wood of mimosas, where I had wandered with the baboon, I suddenly saw advancing toward me with a club, which he carried like a drum-major’s cane, a gigantic mandrill, black as a negro, and followed by a regiment of apes.
Goliah, generally so fierce and courageous, trembled with terror as he beheld this enormous animal. He recognized in him a conqueror, and consequently one to be feared. For the first time since owning him he crouched by my side like a frightened dog imploring protection, at the same time gnashing his teeth and beating his breast as he glanced furtively toward the gigantic beast who confronted him. This was the opportunity for which I had sought. If my baboon would fight the mandrill and come off victorious it might be possible the lesson had been learned, and I raised my rifle with the intention of wounding the brute, in order to make it more certain Goliah would vanquish him.
Before I could discharge the weapon, however, the gigantic stranger leaped upon Goliah regardless of my presence, and the struggle between the two animals was terrific. Unquestionably my baboon would speedily have been killed, for in a few seconds he received most terrible punishment, and I was forced to fire at the risk of hitting the wrong one. Fortunately my aim was perfect, and the colossal mandrill fell dead.
Never have I seen any animal display so much joy as did Goliah when his enemy expired. He would first shower blows upon the body, and then fawn on me with the most extravagant demonstrations of pleasure and thankfulness. With each buffet of the carcass his courage seemed to return, and I flatter myself that after a few more lessons he will understand his mission is the slaughter of these long-tailed pests.
The apes who accompanied the mandrill dispersed immediately after his fall without offering any violence, but from the threatening demonstrations made to Goliah it seemed as if they were vowing vengeance; and he must have understood something of the kind, for despite his returning courage he hugged closer to my side, trembling violently all the while. Could they have gotten hold of him at that moment, the largest baboon ever owned by Garland & Co. would soon have been food for the ants.
I shall have this enormous mandrill skinned, and dry his hide and bones, in order to present them to the Museum at Central Park on my return home.
“Then this is the story of the skeleton I found hanging on the mimosas when I was first cast ashore here,” Philip said to himself. “He must have hung it there that the ants might devour the flesh. But how much different would have been my position had the captain or the mandrill killed Goliah! I think I should most heartily enjoy seeing the bones of that vicious baboon hanging side by side with those among the mimosas.”
This portion of the journal was concluded with two paragraphs, both of which were particularly interesting to Philip, and he read as follows:
From what I have heard of the habits of these peculiar animals, coupled with my own observations, I am of the opinion that the mandrill which I killed was the chief or leader of all the apes on the island, and am greatly in hopes the death of this beast may prevent many of their predatory excursions.
On returning from this hunt I placed my rifle in the concealed armory, because I do not wish the baboons to get the idea that I use anything but the weapons provided by nature, for it might make them timid in the hunt which I am determined they shall indulge in before many weeks more.
The last paragraph which Philip read caused him to leap from his chair in very excess of joy, since through it he learned that concealed somewhere in the building—probably very near where he sat—was a collection of weapons. If only so much as one rifle could be found, he would be reasonably certain of holding his besiegers at bay, at least until the provisions were exhausted.
Heeding not the volume, which had fallen to the floor, he made a hasty circuit of the room, opening closet after closet until all but one had been examined, and in this last he found that for which he sought. Captain Seaworth had referred to it as “the armory,” but it must have been his own private sporting weapons, for there were three fine fowling-pieces, two rifles, and a large quantity of cartridges made up for every kind of game.
To buckle on one of the ammunition-belts, fill it with ball-cartridges and seize a rifle from the hooks was but the work of a moment, after which Philip felt that at last he was in a condition to cope with a hundred such as Goliah.
It was hardly possible to exterminate all the apes on the island from the windows of the building, but he could certainly slay the most vicious, and having done so, would in a certain measure be free to move around.
Philip now understood that Goliah had taken the place of the mandrill whom Captain Seaworth killed, and was exercising the rights of leader over them—an office which they probably respected because he approached so nearly in size to their late chief. With Goliah and his counselors dead, however, Philip’s position would be far more safe, if not comfortable, and using the two chimpanzees as guard, it might be possible to roam about the island at will. Then he could gather yet more gold from the subterranean stream, and stow it away preparatory to removal as soon as any vessel might visit that shore, unless, indeed, the pirates spoken of in the journal should first make their appearance.
Now that he felt reasonably secure from the apes he began to fear those marauders of the sea about whom he had read, and he could readily fancy that to them was due the absence of the colonists. The pirates had most likely made a raid upon the island, and killed or carried off as prisoners those who were trying to establish the plantation.
Although this seemed the true and only reasonable explanation as to why Captain Seaworth and his party had disappeared, it was certainly strange and beyond Philip’s power to imagine why a more thorough sack of the buildings had not taken place. That the pirates should leave all this property—for so far as he had seen the houses were filled with a plentiful supply of movable goods—seemed incomprehensible; but he was not disposed to waste much time in these useless speculations. It was as if he wished to enjoy the sense of security given by the weapons, and advancing to the window he gazed through the loop-holes into the street.
The besiegers were still in the same places and the same attitudes of hostility, but they had increased in numbers. From this point of vantage he counted among the foliage and crouching behind the trunks of the trees more than a hundred animals, all watching the closed windows with the greatest intentness, and evidently waiting for an opportunity to begin the attack.
Philip laughed to himself as he saw the vindictive faces of the apes, and thought what a surprise he had in store for them, or how useless would be their attempts to drive him out. But he failed to realize what they could do in case of an attack, or how fierce might be the battle. The knowledge that he had plenty of ammunition caused him to look upon these brute enemies with a certain disdain which was destined to be changed to one of fear before many days passed.
Leaving his position at the window he took the journal from the floor and laid it on the table, but without any intention of reading it. He would have plenty of time in which to pursue the investigation, and was resolved now to enjoy himself after his own fashion. Besides, he was weary with sitting still so long, and hungry. A further perusal of the document which might reveal to him the cause of the colonists’ absence could be had at any time, and there would undoubtedly be many dull hours to while away; consequently he was in no haste to finish the captain’s story.
A spiral staircase from the library led to the rooms below, and he went into the kitchen intending there to have a hearty meal, for it would be foolish not to enjoy that with which he was so generously provided.
There was an ample store of candles, and he lighted half a dozen in order to give the semblance of a feast to his lonely repast.
Since his stay was indefinite and might be prolonged even into months, he resolved to be methodical in his manner of living. Therefore, as the first step in this direction, he set about arranging the table with as much care as if he was to entertain a party of epicures.
Even at this moment, when he fancied his wants were so generously provided for, came the knowledge that he would be denied water. During his previous repast he congratulated himself that there was plenty of wine, and thought this the most pleasant method of assuaging thirst; but now he was of a different opinion. Although having been deprived of nature’s beverage so short a time, he would have bartered a case of the finest champagne in Captain Seaworth’s collection for a single pint of such water as he had found in the grotto. But this it was impossible to obtain, and during the elaborate meal he fancied how refreshing would be coffee or tea rather than the rare vintages with which he was plentifully supplied.
In the preparation of this meal he had an opportunity of taking account of the stores on hand, and, as nearly as could be judged, there was sufficient to last him at least three months; therefore fear of starvation was not among his troubles.
A hearty meal was conducive to sleep, and being thoroughly the master of his own time, Philip ascended the narrow staircase to the captain’s bed-chamber, where, for the first time since the gale which wrecked the Swallow sprung up, he was able to undress and retire in a Christian-like fashion.
The unwonted luxury of a soft bed, clean sheets and pillows, were well calculated to keep him within the borders of dreamland many hours, and when he awakened the morning sun was just peeping in through the crevices of the blind in the shutter.
With the awakening came the further and perhaps even greater desire for water. He was denied even the pleasure of washing his face unless with wine, and contented himself as best he could by using a dry towel, after which he descended once more to the kitchen, where he made anything rather than a hearty meal of canned dainties. He was beginning to tire of delicacies, and remembered with regret the coarse food from which he had turned with disgust while on board the Swallow.
It is strange in what a channel one’s fancies sometimes run. Here was Philip, virtually a prisoner on an island inhabited by apes who would rend him limb from limb should he venture out of doors, and yet he was longing ardently for a commonplace plate of hash, and a cup of the weakest coffee that was ever set before the patrons of a cheap boarding-house would have tasted at that moment like nectar. However, neither the hash nor the coffee was to be had for the wishing, and he ascended once more to the library.
Another view of the surroundings was anything rather than reassuring. The apes were there, with numbers still further increased, occupying the same points of vantage as when he had seen them the day previous, and now each had in front of him, or in a crotch of a tree where he was located, a little pile of heavy stones stacked up with as much care as if they had been cartridges, and Philip was soon to learn that they would be almost as effective as the heaviest charged shell in his collection.
His first thought on noting these missiles was that they were intended for him as soon as he made his appearance out of doors. He failed to comprehend how the apes might use them; but all too soon did he understand.
For a moment he stood undetermined whether to give his assailants a taste of powder and ball at once, believing a lesson might be beneficial; but the thought of the unfinished journal restrained him.
“I have plenty of time in which to show what can be done with fire-arms,” he said to himself, “and it won’t interfere with the effectiveness of the dose if I wait until the hours begin to drag. Beside, it is to Goliah that the first instruction must be given, and then that little ape who made me stand on my head shall be the next to receive one of the captain’s bullets.”
Thus it was that a desire for revenge had come into Philip’s mind with the first assurance of his own safety, as it often comes to the minds of others. We arrogate to ourselves the right to teach, and cloak under it a vengeance oftentimes as childish as the besieged animal-trainer’s may seem.
With the happy belief in his mind that he could punish and drive away his assailants whenever he should feel so disposed, Philip seated himself once more in the captain’s arm-chair and opened the journal at the page whereon he had found the welcome information concerning the weapons.
It was no longer like a person who believes himself in danger that Philip continued the story. The fire-arms and stock of ammunition had given him a sense of almost perfect security, and to have seen him as he took up the book one would have supposed him to be some prosperous planter’s son rather than a shipwrecked youth surrounded on all sides by brute enemies.
Philip had ceased reading at the point where the mystery attending the disappearance of the colonists was apparently solved, and now the lines which followed caused him to be oblivious of everything around. The additional information was couched in the following words:
We have this morning discovered that which gives my officers and myself the greatest uneasiness. There can no longer be any question but that the pirates have learned of our whereabouts, and are already meditating an attack, in which case we shall be almost entirely at their mercy, for the ship is not armed sufficiently heavy to resist such an onslaught as may be expected.
It has been the subject of consultation during the forenoon, and opinion seems to be equally divided as to whether we ought to abandon the plantation, or destroy the ship and hold out as long as possible in such frail refuge as the buildings of the village will afford. In the event of our deciding upon this last plan, it is an open question with me whether we will not be sacrificing more than if we left the island until a sufficient force of natives can be procured from one of the Dutch settlements to augment our army until we are able to cope with these scourges of the seas.
The cause of our uneasiness may seem a trifling one to the uninitiated, but those who are at all familiar with the customs of the Malays can readily understand how imminent is the danger which threatens.
Last evening Mr. Clark, who is in command of the ship while she lays at anchorage, believed he saw the reflection of a light from the southernmost point of the island, but owing to the lateness of the hour he did not report such fact to me. This morning at daybreak he, with half a dozen of the crew, proceeded to that portion of the beach where the fire was supposed to have been built, and the absence of any embers in the vicinity convinced him that he had been mistaken or else a vessel was burned many miles off the coast. On returning to the Reynard, however, he found sufficient proof that the pirates had been on shore within the past twenty-four hours, for sticking in the sand directly opposite the ship was a Malay creese. It is such a menace as cannot be misunderstood. Before making an attack the pirates, in case members of their own tribe are at a station to be destroyed, leave such a weapon near by as token that they must be ready to use their own creeses when the battle begins. We have among the colonists four Malays, whom we took from Batavia as interpreters in the event of our finding any natives on this island.
I am positive these four did not see the sinister message, otherwise the knife would have been removed; and I have just given Mr. Clark orders to forbid the sailors to leave the ship lest the fact should become known to those who may have joined us simply for the purpose of aiding in the massacre which would probably take place if the pirates landed. Judging from what I have read and heard, it is not likely we shall be molested for several days; therefore sufficient time yet remains in which to decide upon our course of action.
At this moment the arrival of a ship would be most opportune. I am positive any captain could be persuaded or hired to remain at anchor here three or four weeks, while a portion of our company sailed in search of natives. In any event, word could be sent to Batavia; therefore, in the hope of signaling a vessel that shall lend such assistance, I have had a fire built in the crater of the old volcano, which is the highest point of land, and detailed a force of men to feed it night and day. Should any European craft pass within sight, her commander would unquestionably endeavor to learn the reason for the beacon, and thus my object may be attained.
“I am gradually learning the cause of the apes’ movements,” Philip said to himself, as he looked up from the book thoughtfully. “Goliah’s force probably enjoyed the glare of the flames, and since then, when having nothing better to occupy their attention, have kept the fire alive as I saw it on the night they captured me. If I ever succeed in reaching home again I shall have a true story to tell which will seem in the highest degree improbable.”
Then he turned his attention to the journal once more, and read the following:
During the past week the officers have been making ready for a ball to be held in this building, and I do not consider it necessary to put an end to the festivities. This merry-making will serve to allay any suspicions regarding our safety which may have sprung up among the colonists, owing to our protracted consultation of the morning, and it is in the highest degree essential that no panic shall ensue, whatever plan we may decide upon. The officers are warned to keep our deliberations a secret, and the people will dance and sing as if we were in perfect security, instead of living, as is really the case, on the crater of a sleeping volcano, which has already begun to seethe and boil preparatory to an eruption.
This last paragraph completed the page, and Philip eagerly turned to the next leaf, but it was blank. The journal, which he had believed would extend very much further, was suddenly ended. Not a word respecting the ball, nor any mention of the weapon left in the sand!
A sinister blank followed the last line penned by the captain. What had happened to the colony and to the writer himself since this final entry? No one was present to answer these questions; but an ominous reply was written everywhere around in the silence and desolation; the houses partially destroyed and their contents pillaged; savage and vindictive animals wearing, as if in raillery, the habiliments of gallant officers.
During the remainder of that day Philip sat in the library studying over what was apparently a solution of the mystery, but arriving at no satisfactory conclusion. It seemed almost certain the pirates had interrupted the merry-making, and that the captain was massacred before the dawning of another morning, otherwise he would have written more, for the journal bore evidence of an entry, however slight or insignificant, each day.
“But,” Philip asked himself, “if the Malays did make the descent, why was not the village destroyed, and why were the valuable contents of the houses left behind? If the pirates overcame the colonists they would have had plenty of opportunity to sack and pillage, for there was no possibility of an interruption, since they were masters of the surrounding sea.”
One other supposition flashed across Philips mind, although it seemed too absurd to be seriously entertained, and this was that the apes had forestalled the murderous intentions of the pirates. Despite the apparent foolishness of such a conjecture Philip could not banish the idea, even though he said many times that if all belonging to the colony had been assassinated in some mysterious way, he would certainly have found their remains during his travels since the shipwreck.
Night came and he was still seated in the library sad and disheartened. During the hours of darkness he alternately slumbered and speculated upon the tragedy which must have taken place. Before morning he solved the mystery or believed he did; and, terrible as was his theory, it had strangely ’ enough the effect of calming him to a wonderful degree.
“It can only be accounted for by the fact that the creese had been left on the shore earlier than the officer of the ship believed,” he said aloud, as if addressing a companion. “The light which Mr. Clark thinks he fancied must have been a reality—a signal to other vessels in the vicinity. While the ball was at its height the pirates landed, so completely surprising the merry-makers that resistance was more than useless; therefore no blood was shed, but every member of the party was made prisoner. At that moment, according to my belief, a body of apes appeared, and the pirates, in the darkness, mistaking them for human beings, fled before there was an opportunity to gather up the plunder.”
This supposition was certainly the most plausible of any yet entertained by Philip. Had the entire colony been captured while at the ball, it would account for the disorder of the dining-room, where the tables had been prepared for the banquet.
With these gloomy ideas in his mind Philip no longer dreamed of vengeance. He now believed that escape from the island was impossible. Should he succeed in holding the apes at bay it would only serve to prolong life until the pirates returned, as they undoubtedly would under the belief that there were more inhabitants on the island.
“I shall live in this building as in a tomb as long as it pleases God to preserve me,” he said to himself. “And the treasure in the cave is of no more value than if I had piled up the sands on the sea-shore. To dream of leaving here is little less than madness, surrounded and guarded as I am by those who are a thousand times more crafty and cruel than the Malay pirates.”
All hope was dead, and as does one who bids farewell to this earth, expecting his stay on it is numbered by hours, he moved about mechanically, but yet instinctively trying to preserve longer his wretched existence. As if his weapons were now useless he replaced them in the closet, but examined once more the fastenings of the doors and windows, closing the shuttered loop-holes that he might not see the sinister and menacing cordon of besiegers.
Then he descended to the floor below, determined there to spend the last few hours of this most unnatural drama. The darkness was preferable to light when even the slight consolation of hope must be denied, and he waited only for death, in what form he did not speculate, to come.
It is difficult to describe the condition of mind into which Philip fell when the hope which had so long sustained him took flight.
As one in a dream, and hardly more conscious of his movements than a sleeper, he remained during the next five days in the lower story of the building.
A most unnatural and unhealthy condition of mind it was; but another under the same circumstances might have displayed even less fortitude. He believed death to be inevitable in a very short time, and that it was an equal chance whether the blow would be dealt by pirates or apes; therefore, with his sensibilities dulled by the conviction that his days on earth were few, he passed them as does the brute, and without thought save for the one supreme moment.
Mechanically he ate, drank and slept, seeing nothing save those objects which were revealed by the rays of the candles, and it is more than probable his mind would have given way under the continued monotony had it not been for the rebellion his body made against this unnatural mode of life.
His clothes, which had been literally torn to rags during his painful experience in trying to amuse the apes and his subsequent flight through the thicket, actually fell from his body, and since he possessed neither needle nor thread he was almost in a complete state of nudity.
The rainy season, which answers in the tropics to our winter, had just commenced. The nights were damp, even cold; and it was against this exposure that his body rebelled. During the first two or three days the deprivation of natural beverage affected him but slightly. He drank frequently of the different wines and liquors to be found in the closet, and therefore was always thirsty. The greater amount of spirits he consumed the more necessary did water become, and as his body protested against the cold, so did his stomach and brain cry out against such stimulants.
That which at the end of the second day had simply been an inconvenience became absolute suffering as time wore on. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot; his pulse beat with feverish rapidity, his mouth felt parched and dry, and the throbbing of his brain was like violent blows against the skull. It needed but little to deprive him of reason, and yet he realized not his own condition.
It was while suffering from that which was so nearly akin to delirium that, hardly knowing what he did he ascended the staircase, took once more the weapons from the closet and approached the window.
The fever in his blood rendered him irresponsible, and now a conflict was something to be desired. In his mind came a vague idea that he would end it all and die fighting. Better such an end than to yield up his life amid the loneliness of that dwelling.
Piling all the ammunition under the window which was situated directly beneath the tower, and loading every musket and rifle, a savage glee took possession of him as he opened the loop-hole.
That which met his gaze temporarily sobered him. The fumes of the liquor were driven from his brain, and he saw clearly the danger which menaced.
On the day when he descended to the kitchen with the intention of remaining until death should come to his release there had been perhaps two hundred apes guarding the dwelling. As he looked forth now, five times as many were to be seen. To count them was impossible; they were as the sands of the sea, and equally silent.
Five days previous these besiegers had gathered only insignificant piles of stones. Now this rude ammunition had increased to such an enormous extent that it formed veritable hills, placed so close one to the other that it was as if an army had been throwing up breastworks, and behind them three men each raised on the shoulders of the other could hardly have looked over the top. The dwelling, instead of commanding a view of the surrounding country, was now so inclosed that he was forced to lift his eyes in order to see the grinning faces which were gazing down upon him. The house no longer stood on an elevation, but in a valley formed by these walls of projectiles.
Just within the edge of the woods, where was yet an open space, two large apes were engaged in a deadly struggle, and Philip watched them for a moment with a sort of savage pleasure, as if delighting in the brutal scene.
Then a delirium of fever seized him once more. He was no longer a reasoning animal, but a brute sunk to the level of those who held him captive.
Without questioning as to what might be gained by such a course, he discharged both barrels of his musket into the crowd of those who had gathered around the combatants, and three fell at the first discharge. Again and again he emptied his weapons, mowing down long lines of apes, but apparently increasing their numbers, for as one fell a dozen sprung to fill his place in the line of battle which was now formed.
In five minutes, where perhaps a hundred had stood, half a thousand were gathered.
Neither were these new-comers idle. It was as if the report of his weapon had been waited for as the signal of a general assault, and in an instant the air was filled with fragments of rocks and stones, until one might have fancied a furious hailstorm was raging. Pelting against the building on all sides came the missiles, doing little damage at first; but it was not possible such a frail structure could long withstand the assault.
Amid the shower of stones were handfuls of sand, as if the latter was thrown by weaker arms; and, accompanied by grunts and shrieks of the besiegers, the effect can hardly be described. It was deafening, and at the same time horrible.
Maddened by continued drinking of liquor, and also by the terrific din without, Philip kept up a perfect fusillade, until the moment came when his weapons were so choked and heated that it was necessary to pause.
Not for an instant did the apes cease their attack, however. It was as if this silence on the part of the besieged gave them renewed courage, and the splintering of wood from time to time told that some timber had yielded to their repeated assaults.
One would have said that these animals were well skilled in the art of war. They advanced by platoons, discharging a volley and falling back to get more supplies, while fresh troops advanced.
Much as a skillful general might do when his enemy shows signs of weakening, Goliah appeared on the scene at the moment Philip’s fusillade ceased, and, urging his followers to greater exertions, flung a heavy, jagged fragment of rock at the window with such force that the shutter was splintered, the pieces which fell inside knocking Philip to the floor.
This was the first evidence of what might be accomplished by such a bombardment, and through this rent in the wall came showers of stones, until the room was partially filled.
Philip was dazed for the moment by the fragments of wood; but he sprung to his feet on regaining consciousness, and once more opened fire, this time from another window. Such a fearful storm of projectiles rained into the room that he would have been killed before one cartridge was exploded had he attempted to fire through the breach.
He no longer heeded the condition of his weapons. One musket was used until the danger of explosion was so imminent as to make it apparent to his disordered mind, and dropping the useless gun he seized another, firing with accurate aim, but never diminishing in the slightest the enemy’s vigor.
The second shutter gave way before the fierce assault. He was wounded by the splinters of wood and fragments of stone. His face was lacerated and several teeth were broken. His hands were bleeding, and the upper portion of his body was bruised and swollen.
The ammunition was becoming exhausted, and he saw with dismay that not only was it impossible to vanquish the enemy unaided, but also that he could not continue the battle a great many hours longer.
Hundreds of cartridges had been used; the shells were strewn so thickly about him that he was forced now and then to stop and kick them away in order to gain a foot-hold.
Before nightfall two of the muskets had burst in his hands, fortunately without inflicting any serious injury, and he understood that it was necessary to cease hostilities on his side until the remainder of the weapons could be cleaned.
It was when he arrived at this decision that the shades of night began to fall, and never before, to man, did the going down of the sun give more pleasure.
Darkness settled over the island. The apes ceased their bombardment, and victory was for the time undecided.
As a matter of fact, however, the apes were really the conquerors, since the enemy whose ranks can be continually reinforced must triumph in the end were he a hundred times less clever and brave than his adversary; therefore it is that in battle “might makes right.”
Until this night Philip had fancied that the dwelling would serve him as an impregnable fort; but the result of the first day’s battle showed how idle was such belief. It was hardly probable the building would withstand another attack, and he who had flattered himself that he was safe as long as he remained indoors understood how shelterless he would be after four or five hours more of stone-throwing.
The knowledge of such imminent danger had a beneficial effect upon the solitary occupant of Captain Seaworth’s house. It cleared the fumes of liquor from his brain, as it were, and left him weaker in body, but mentally better able to comprehend his exact position.
Carrying his weapons, he descended to the kitchen once more, and there the excitement brought on a fever turn, with which came also despair. He was like one in an ague-fit, and after the heat of the melee had subsided—which was not until he had partially cleaned his weapons with wine instead of water—a cold chill took possession of him.
Now a covering of some sort became necessary. It seemed as if he was literally freezing to death, and with a lighted candle in his hand he rushed frantically upstairs, hoping to find draperies with which to screen his almost naked body, or failing in that, intending to use the light covering of the bed.
Ammunition had become as essential to success as clothing, and again he searched feverishly around the room.
It was while overhauling one of Captain Seaworth’s chests that Philip placed his hands on a thick fur which felt soft as silk.
Delighted at the discovery he examined it closely, and found that it was the entire hide of an animal similar to those by whom he was besieged. From its enormous size he became convinced it was the coat of the gigantic mandrill killed by the captain—the same brute whose skeleton, hanging in the mimosas, had caused him so much surprise as well as fear.
With the exception of a slit in the stomach the hide had been taken off entire, and, shrunken somewhat during the process of drying, it fitted Philip as well as if it were made by an expert furrier.
Through the opening in the front he inserted his body, as does a boy who puts on one of those peculiar night-gowns made to cover each limb; and in order that none of the warmth so necessary just then should escape, he laced up the aperture with a piece of string. Pulling the top of the hide over his head, he had cap, coat and trousers of the same material, all fitting like a glove, and warm enough to withstand the rigors of an Arctic winter.
When his toilet was completed he looked at himself in the glass, but immediately drew back with a cry of alarm.
His brown skin, thin cheeks and parched lips, which allowed his teeth to be seen, his prominent cheek-bones, disheveled hair, together with eyes hollow and restless, because of the fever, caused him to look exactly like the ape whose garment he was wearing.
It would hardly be possible to imagine a more striking resemblance, and Philip himself was decidedly troubled. It seemed as if he had descended, both in body and mind, to the level of his enemies.
There was warmth in this garment, however, and with it came a return of the fever. At all events, it is better to say his subsequent movements were caused by the fire in his blood than to fancy for a single moment that the skin of the animal had such an effect as to make him leap over the chairs or tables in the same fashion as its original owner might have done.
He was transformed into an ape in appearance, and one could fancy this had unsettled his mind, for many moments elapsed before he resumed the bearing of a human being.
Then he descended to the kitchen, spread for himself a repast composed of delicacies which had become distasteful, and forced himself to eat until the generous food caused the fever to subside somewhat.
The sight of his fur-covered arms almost frightened him, and not for all the treasure in the subterranean chambers would he have taken another glance at the glass, lest his own identity be forgotten in the belief that he had become one of that species in whose education he formerly felt so much interest.
His mind was a curious mixture of fancies and realities, all so strangely interwoven that it seemed more like some hideous nightmare than the events of life.
Not until nearly daybreak did he fall into an uneasy slumber, which brought with it representations of every specimen of the monkey-tribe, and on awakening shortly after sunrise he felt as weary as if sleep had long been a stranger to his eyelids.
It was necessary he should be at his post of duty when the battle was opened once more, as it undoubtedly soon would be, and with his weapons in but little better condition than on the previous day he went into the room above, stationing himself at the corner window opposite the one which had been demolished.
This time it was the besiegers, not the besieged, who began the attack. Philip had hardly opened the loop-hole when showers of stones fell, and before he had time even to discharge a weapon a large portion of the front wall and roof collapsed under the weight of missiles, thus contracting his place of refuge to less than half its original size.
Realizing that he must check, if possible, this furious attack, lest the building be utterly demolished and he crushed to death amid the ruins, Philip began to fire with the utmost rapidity. During the next hour he sent shot after shot at intervals of not more than ten or fifteen seconds, but with no better result than before. It is true he could see an ape fall at every discharge, but his enemies were so numerous that the gaps were immediately closed with soldierly precision, and when fifty rounds had been fired it seemed as if the numbers of the besiegers increased rather than diminished.
Now and then a crash could be heard, telling that some portion of the building had fallen, and it seemed hardly probable he would be able to continue the struggle an hour longer.
Even though he might succeed in so far husbanding his strength as to keep up the firing indefinitely, his weapons would soon cease to be of service. Already was he reduced to one musket, the barrel of which was so hot as to burn his hands, and it was only a question of a few moments before he would be defenceless.
He could see Goliah leaping from point to point as he urged his followers to greater exertions, and never once remaining in one position long enough to serve as a fair target.
The rocks fell like rain in a summer shower, and at the expiration of a quarter of an hour the last remaining musket was so choked as to be useless. The entire front of the house gave way. The floor of the chamber swayed to and fro like the branches of a tree in a storm, and it was only by clutching at the window-casings that he saved himself from being precipitated into the road.
He could feel the building crumbling beneath his feet, and it now remained for him to accept one of the two alternatives. He must stay where he was, knowing he would soon be crushed under the fragments of the dwelling, or leap into the midst of the savage brutes who were maddened by thought of victory, and there die like a man.
On a shelf near by was a dagger, perhaps the very weapon the Malays had left sticking in the sand, and beside it lay his revolver, which he had discarded when the battle first began, believing it too small to be of any real service.
These two he seized, one in each hand, and mentally nerving himself for the death which he fancied must come immediately, he leaped through the rent in the walls, alighting on his feet in the road half a dozen paces from the vindictive Goliah.
In his mind there was not the slightest thought that it would be possible to escape a painful death. His only idea was to die while fighting, rather than submit to capture and such torture as the apes could probably devise.
Therefore it is not to be wondered at that an astonishment amounting almost to bewilderment seized upon him when the army, instead of making a deadly assault, dropped their weapons, drew back with every show of respect and even terror, and then bent before him as if trying to assume the most humble positions.