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<br/>
<h2> CHAPTER XVI<br/> THE GODS </h2>
<p>With a roar the Pongo soldiers leapt on us. I think that Mavovo managed to
get his spear up and kill a man, for I saw one of them fall backwards and
lie still. But they were too quick for the rest of us. In half a minute we
were seized, the spears were wrenched from our hands and we were thrown
headlong into the canoe, all six of us, or rather seven including the
Kalubi. A number of the soldiers, including Komba, who acted as steersman,
also sprang into the canoe that was instantly pushed out from beneath the
bridge or platform on which the Motombo sat and down the little creek into
the still water of the canal or estuary, or whatever it may be, that
separates the wall of rock which the cave pierces from the base of the
mountain.</p>
<p>As we floated out of the mouth of the cave the toad-like Motombo, who had
wheeled round upon his stool, shouted an order to Komba.</p>
<p>“O Kalubi,” he said, “set the Kalubi-who-<i>was</i> and the three white
men and their three servants on the borders of the forest that is named
House-of-the-god and leave them there. Then return and depart, for here I
would watch alone. When all is finished I will summon you.”</p>
<p>Komba bowed his handsome head and at a sign two of the men got out
paddles, for more were not needed, and with slow and gentle strokes rowed
us across the water. The first thing I noted about this water at the time
was that its blackness was inky, owing, I suppose, to its depth and the
shadows of the towering cliff on one side and of the tall trees on the
other. Also I observed—for in this emergency, or perhaps because of
it, I managed to keep my wits about me—that its banks on either side
were the home of great numbers of crocodiles which lay there like logs. I
saw, further, that a little lower down where the water seemed to narrow,
jagged boughs projected from its surface as though great trees had fallen,
or been thrown into it. I recalled in a numb sort of way that old Babemba
had told us that when he was a boy he had escaped in a canoe down this
estuary, and reflected that it would not be possible for him to do so now
because of those snags. Unless, indeed, he had floated over them in a time
of great flood.</p>
<p>A couple of minutes or so of paddling brought us to the further shore
which, as I think I have said, was only about two hundred yards from the
mouth of the cave. The bow of the canoe grated on the bank, disturbing a
huge crocodile that vanished into the depths with an angry plunge.</p>
<p>“Land, white lords, land,” said Komba with the utmost politeness, “and go,
visit the god who doubtless is waiting for you. And now, as we shall meet
no more—farewell. You are wise and I am foolish, yet hearken to my
counsel. If ever you should return to the Earth again, be advised by me.
Cling to your own god if you have one, and do not meddle with those of
other peoples. Again farewell.”</p>
<p>The advice was excellent, but at that moment I felt a hate for Komba which
was really superhuman. To me even the Motombo seemed an angel of light as
compared with him. If wishes could have killed, our farewell would indeed
have been complete.</p>
<p>Then, admonished by the spear points of the Pongo, we landed in the slimy
mud. Brother John went first with a smile upon his handsome countenance
that I thought idiotic under the circumstances, though doubtless he knew
best when he ought to smile, and the wretched Kalubi came last. Indeed, so
great was his shrinking from that ominous shore, that I believe he was
ultimately propelled from the boat by his successor in power, Komba. Once
he had trodden it, however, a spark of spirit returned to him, for he
wheeled round and said to Komba,</p>
<p>“Remember, O Kalubi, that my fate to-day will be yours also in a day to
come. The god wearies of his priests. This year, next year, or the year
after; he always wearies of his priests.”</p>
<p>“Then, O Kalubi-that-was,” answered Komba in a mocking voice as the canoe
was pushed off, “pray to the god for me, that it may be the year after;
pray it as your bones break in his embrace.”</p>
<p>While we watched that craft depart there came into my mind the memory of a
picture in an old Latin book of my father’s, which represented the souls
of the dead being paddled by a person named Charon across a river called
the Styx. The scene before us bore a great resemblance to that picture.
There was Charon’s boat floating on the dreadful Styx. Yonder glowed the
lights of the world, here was the gloomy, unknown shore. And we, we were
the souls of the dead awaiting the last destruction at the teeth and claws
of some unknown monster, such as that which haunts the recesses of the
Egyptian hell. Oh! the parallel was painfully exact. And yet, what do you
think was the remark of that irrepressible young man Stephen?</p>
<p>“Here we are at last, Allan, my boy,” he said, “and after all without any
trouble on our own part. I call it downright providential. Oh! isn’t it
jolly! Hip, hip, hooray!”</p>
<p>Yes, he danced about in that filthy mud, threw up his cap and cheered!</p>
<p>I withered, or rather tried to wither him with a look, muttering the
single word: “Lunatic.”</p>
<p>Providential! Jolly! Well, it’s fortunate that some people’s madness takes
a cheerful turn. Then I asked the Kalubi where the god was.</p>
<p>“Everywhere,” he replied, waving his trembling hand at the illimitable
forest. “Perhaps behind this tree, perhaps behind that, perhaps a long way
off. Before morning we shall know.”</p>
<p>“What are you going to do?” I inquired savagely.</p>
<p>“Die,” he answered.</p>
<p>“Look here, fool,” I exclaimed, shaking him, “you can die if you like, but
we don’t mean to. Take us to some place where we shall be safe from this
god.”</p>
<p>“One is never safe from the god, lord, especially in his own House,” and
he shook his silly head and went on, “How can we be safe when there is
nowhere to go and even the trees are too big to climb?”</p>
<p>I looked at them, it was true. They were huge and ran up for fifty or
sixty feet without a bough. Moreover, it was probable that the god climbed
better than we could. The Kalubi began to move inland in an indeterminate
fashion, and I asked him where he was going.</p>
<p>“To the burying-place,” he answered. “There are spears yonder with the
bones.”</p>
<p>I pricked up my ears at this—for when one has nothing but some clasp
knives, spears are not to be despised—and ordered him to lead on. In
another minute we were walking uphill through the awful wood where the
gloom at this hour of approaching night was that of an English fog.</p>
<p>Three or four hundred paces brought us to a kind of clearing, where I
suppose some of the monster trees had fallen down in past years and never
been allowed to grow up again. Here, placed upon the ground, were a number
of boxes made of imperishable ironwood, and on the top of each box sat, or
rather lay, a mouldering and broken skull.</p>
<p>“Kalubi-that-were!” murmured our guide in explanation. “Look, Komba has
made my box ready,” and he pointed to a new case with the lid off.</p>
<p>“How thoughtful of him!” I said. “But show us the spears before it gets
quite dark.” He went to one of the newer coffins and intimated that we
should lift off the lid as he was afraid to do so.</p>
<p>I shoved it aside. There within lay the bones, each of them separate and
wrapped up in something, except of course the skull. With these were some
pots filled apparently with gold dust, and alongside of the pots two good
spears that, being made of copper, had not rusted much. We went on to
other coffins and extracted from them more of these weapons that were laid
there for the dead man to use upon his journey through the Shades, until
we had enough. The shafts of most of them were somewhat rotten from the
damp, but luckily they were furnished with copper sockets from two and a
half to three feet long, into which the wood of the shaft fitted, so that
they were still serviceable.</p>
<p>“Poor things these to fight a devil with,” I said.</p>
<p>“Yes, Baas,” said Hans in a cheerful voice, “very poor. It is lucky that I
have got a better.”</p>
<p>I stared at him; we all stared at him.</p>
<p>“What do you mean, Spotted Snake?” asked Mavovo.</p>
<p>“What do you mean, child of a hundred idiots? Is this a time to jest? Is
not one joker enough among us?” I asked, and looked at Stephen.</p>
<p>“Mean, Baas? Don’t you know that I have the little rifle with me, that
which is called <i>Intombi</i>, that with which you shot the vultures at
Dingaan’s kraal? I never told you because I was sure you knew; also
because if you didn’t know it was better that you should not know, for if
<i>you</i> had known, those Pongo <i>skellums</i> (that is, vicious ones)
might have come to know also. And if <i>they</i> had known——”</p>
<p>“Mad!” interrupted Brother John, tapping his forehead, “quite mad, poor
fellow! Well, in these depressing circumstances it is not wonderful.”</p>
<p>I inspected Hans again, for I agreed with John. Yet he did not look mad,
only rather more cunning than usual.</p>
<p>“Hans,” I said, “tell us where this rifle is, or I will knock you down and
Mavovo shall flog you.”</p>
<p>“Where, Baas! Why, cannot you see it when it is before your eyes?”</p>
<p>“You are right, John,” I said, “he’s off it”; but Stephen sprang at Hans
and began to shake him.</p>
<p>“Leave go, Baas,” he said, “or you may hurt the rifle.”</p>
<p>Stephen obeyed in sheer astonishment. Then, oh! then Hans did something to
the end of his great bamboo stick, turned it gently upside down and out of
it slid the barrel of a rifle neatly tied round with greased cloth and
stoppered at the muzzle with a piece of tow!</p>
<p>I could have kissed him. Yes, such was my joy that I could have kissed
that hideous, smelly old Hottentot.</p>
<p>“The stock?” I panted. “The barrel isn’t any use without the stock, Hans.”</p>
<p>“Oh! Baas,” he answered, grinning, “do you think that I have shot with you
all these years without knowing that a rifle must have a stock to hold it
by?”</p>
<p>Then he slipped off the bundle from his back, undid the lashings of the
blanket, revealing the great yellow head of tobacco that had excited my
own and Komba’s interest on the shores of the lake. This head he tore
apart and produced the stock of the rifle nicely cleaned, a cap set ready
on the nipple, on to which the hammer was let down, with a little piece of
wad between to prevent the cap from being fired by any sudden jar.</p>
<p>“Hans,” I exclaimed, “Hans, you are a hero and worth your weight in gold!”</p>
<p>“Yes, Baas, though you never told me so before. Oh! I made up my mind that
I wouldn’t go to sleep in the face of the Old Man (death). Oh! which of
you ought to sleep now upon that bed that Bausi sent me?” he asked as he
put the gun together. “<i>You</i>, I think, you great stupid Mavovo. <i>You</i>
never brought a gun. If you were a wizard worth the name you would have
sent the rifles on and had them ready to meet us here. Oh! will you laugh
at me any more, you thick-head of a Zulu?”</p>
<p>“No,” answered Mavovo candidly. “I will give you <i>sibonga</i>. Yes, I
will make for you Titles of Praise, O clever Spotted Snake.”</p>
<p>“And yet,” went on Hans, “I am not all a hero; I am worth but half my
weight in gold. For, Baas, although I have plenty of powder and bullets in
my pocket, I lost the caps out of a hole in my waistcoat. You remember,
Baas, I told you it was charms I lost. But three remain; no, four, for
there is one on the nipple. There, Baas, there is <i>Intombi</i> all ready
and loaded. And now when the white devil comes you can shoot him in the
eye, as you know how to do up to a hundred yards, and send him to the other
devils down in hell. Oh! won’t your holy father the Predikant be glad to
see him there.”</p>
<p>Then with a self-satisfied smirk he half-cocked the rifle and handed it to
me ready for action.</p>
<p>“I thank God!” said Brother John solemnly, “who has taught this poor
Hottentot how to save us.”</p>
<p>“No, Baas John, God never taught me, I taught myself. But, see, it grows
dark. Had we not better light a fire,” and forgetting the rifle he began
to look about for wood.</p>
<p>“Hans,” called Stephen after him, “if ever we get out of this, I will give
you £500, or at least my father will, which is the same thing.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Baas, thank you, though just now I’d rather have a drop of
brandy and—I don’t see any wood.”</p>
<p>He was right. Outside of the graveyard clearing lay, it is true, some huge
fallen boughs. But these were too big for us to move or cut. Moreover,
they were so soaked with damp, like everything in this forest, that it
would be impossible to fire them.</p>
<p>The darkness closed in. It was not absolute blackness, because presently
the moon rose, but the sky was rainy and obscured it; moreover, the huge
trees all about seemed to suck up whatever light there was. We crouched
ourselves upon the ground back to back as near as possible to the centre
of the place, unrolled such blankets as we had to protect us from the damp
and cold, and ate some biltong or dried game flesh and parched corn, of
which fortunately the boy Jerry carried a bagful that had remained upon
his shoulders when he was thrown into the canoe. Luckily I had thought of
bringing this food with us; also a flask of spirits.</p>
<p>Then it was that the first thing happened. Far away in the forest
resounded a most awful roar, followed by a drumming noise, such a roar as
none of us had ever heard before, for it was quite unlike that of a lion
or any other beast.</p>
<p>“What is that?” I asked.</p>
<p>“The god,” groaned the Kalubi, “the god praying to the moon with which he
always rises.”</p>
<p>I said nothing, for I was reflecting that four shots, which was all we
had, was not many, and that nothing should tempt me to waste one of them.
Oh! why had Hans put on that rotten old waistcoat instead of the new one I
gave him in Durban?</p>
<p>Since we heard no more roars Brother John began to question the Kalubi as
to where the Mother of the Flower lived.</p>
<p>“Lord,” answered the man in a distracted way, “there, towards the East.
You walk for a quarter of the sun’s journey up the hill, following a path
that is marked by notches cut upon the trees, till beyond the garden of
the god at the top of the mountain more water is found surrounding an
island. There on the banks of the water a canoe is hidden in the bushes,
by which the water may be crossed to the island, where dwells the Mother
of the Holy Flower.”</p>
<p>Brother John did not seem to be quite satisfied with the information, and
remarked that he, the Kalubi, would be able to show us the road on the
morrow.</p>
<p>“I do not think that I shall ever show you the road,” groaned the
shivering wretch.</p>
<p>At that moment the god roared again much nearer. Now the Kalubi’s nerve
gave out altogether, and quickened by some presentiment, he began to
question Brother John, whom he had learned was a priest of an unknown
sort, as to the possibility of another life after death.</p>
<p>Brother John, who, be it remembered, was a very earnest missionary by
calling, proceeded to administer some compressed religious consolations,
when, quite near to us, the god began to beat upon some kind of very large
and deep drum. He didn’t roar this time, he only worked away at a
massed-band military drum. At least that is what it sounded like, and very
unpleasant it was to hear in that awful forest with skulls arranged on
boxes all round us, I can assure you, my reader.</p>
<p>The drumming ceased, and pulling himself together, Brother John continued
his pious demonstrations. Also just at that time a thick rain-cloud quite
obscured the moon, so that the darkness grew dense. I heard John
explaining to the Kalubi that he was not really a Kalubi, but an immortal
soul (I wonder whether he understood him). Then I became aware of a
horrible shadow—I cannot describe it in any other way—that was
blacker than the blackness, which advanced towards us at extraordinary
speed from the edge of the clearing.</p>
<p>Next second there was a kind of scuffle a few feet from me, followed by a
stifled yell, and I saw the shadow retreating in the direction from which
it had come.</p>
<p>“What’s the matter?” I asked.</p>
<p>“Strike a match,” answered Brother John; “I think something has happened.”</p>
<p>I struck a match, which burnt up very well, for the air was quite still.
In the light of it I saw first the anxious faces of our party—how
ghastly they looked!—and next the Kalubi who had risen and was
waving his right arm in the air, a right arm that was bloody and <i>lacked
the hand</i>.</p>
<p>“The god has visited me and taken away my hand!” he moaned in a wailing
voice.</p>
<p>I don’t think anybody spoke; the thing was beyond words, but we tried to
bind the poor fellow’s arm up by the light of matches. Then we sat down
again and watched.</p>
<p>The darkness grew still denser as the thick of the cloud passed over the
moon, and for a while the silence, that utter silence of the tropical
forest at night, was broken only by the sound of our breathing, the buzz
of a few mosquitoes, the distant splash of a plunging crocodile and the
stifled groans of the mutilated man.</p>
<p>Again I saw, or thought I saw—this may have been half an hour later—that
black shadow dart towards us, as a pike darts at a fish in a pond. There
was another scuffle, just to my left—Hans sat between me and the
Kalubi—followed by a single prolonged wail.</p>
<p>“The king-man has gone,” whispered Hans. “I felt him go as though a wind
had blown him away. Where he was there is nothing but a hole.”</p>
<p>Of a sudden the moon shone out from behind the clouds. In its sickly light
about half-way between us and the edge of the clearing, say thirty yards
off, I saw—oh! what did I see! The devil destroying a lost soul. At
least, that is what it looked like. A huge, grey-black creature,
grotesquely human in its shape, had the thin Kalubi in its grip. The
Kalubi’s head had vanished in its maw and its vast black arms seemed to be
employed in breaking him to pieces.</p>
<p>Apparently he was already dead, though his feet, that were lifted off the
ground, still moved feebly.</p>
<p>I sprang up and covered the beast with the rifle which was cocked, getting
full on to its head which showed the clearest, though this was rather
guesswork, since I could not see distinctly the fore-sight. I pulled, but
either the cap or the powder had got a little damp on the journey and hung
fire for the fraction of a second. In that infinitesimal time the devil—it
is the best name I can give the thing—saw me, or perhaps it only saw
the light gleaming on the barrel. At any rate it dropped the Kalubi, and
as though some intelligence warned it what to expect, threw up its massive
right arm—I remember how extraordinarily long the limb seemed and
that it looked thick as a man’s thigh—in such a fashion as to cover
its head.</p>
<p>Then the rifle exploded and I heard the bullet strike. By the light of the
flash I saw the great arm tumble down in a dead, helpless kind of way, and
next instant the whole forest began to echo with peal upon peal of those
awful roarings that I have described, each of which ended with a dog-like
<i>yowp</i> of pain.</p>
<p>“You have hit him, Baas,” said Hans, “and he isn’t a ghost, for he doesn’t
like it. But he’s still very lively.”</p>
<p>“Close up,” I answered, “and hold out the spears while I reload.”</p>
<p>My fear was that the brute would rush on us. But it did not. For all that
dreadful night we saw or heard it no more. Indeed, I began to hope that
after all the bullet had reached some mortal part and that the great ape
was dead.</p>
<p>At length, it seemed to be weeks afterwards, the dawn broke and revealed
us sitting white and shivering in the grey mist; that is, all except
Stephen, who had gone comfortably to sleep with his head resting on
Mavovo’s shoulder. He is a man so equably minded and so devoid of nerves,
that I feel sure he will be one of the last to be disturbed by the trump
of the archangel. At least, so I told him indignantly when at length we
roused him from his indecent slumbers.</p>
<p>“You should judge things by results, Allan,” he said with a yawn. “I’m as
fresh as a pippin while you all look as though you had been to a ball with
twelve extras. Have you retrieved the Kalubi yet?”</p>
<p>Shortly afterwards, when the mist lifted a little, we went out in a line
to “retrieve the Kalubi,” and found—well, I won’t describe what we
found. He was a cruel wretch, as the incident of the herd-boy had told us,
but I felt sorry for him. Still, his terrors were over, or at least I hope
so.</p>
<p>We deposited him in the box that Komba had kindly provided in preparation
for this inevitable event, and Brother John said a prayer over his
miscellaneous remains. Then, after consultation and in the very worst of
spirits, we set out to seek the way to the home of the Mother of the
Flower. The start was easy enough, for a distinct, though very faint path
led from the clearing up the slope of the hill. Afterwards it became more
difficult for the denser forest began. Fortunately very few creepers grew
in this forest, but the flat tops of the huge trees meeting high above
entirely shut out the sky, so that the gloom was great, in places almost
that of night.</p>
<p>Oh! it was a melancholy journey as, filled with fears, we stole, a pallid
throng, from trunk to trunk, searching them for the notches that indicated
our road, and speaking only in whispers, lest the sound of our voices
should attract the notice of the dreadful god. After a mile or two of this
we became aware that its notice was attracted despite our precautions, for
at times we caught glimpses of some huge grey thing slipping along
parallel to us between the boles of the trees. Hans wanted me to try a
shot, but I would not, knowing that the chances of hitting it were small
indeed. With only three charges, or rather three caps left, it was
necessary to be saving.</p>
<p>We halted and held a consultation, as a result of which we decided that
there was no more danger in going on than in standing still or attempting
to return. So we went on, keeping close together. To me, as I was the only
one with a rifle, was accorded what I did not at all appreciate, the
honour of heading the procession.</p>
<p>Another half-mile and again we heard that strange rolling sound which was
produced, I believe, by the great brute beating upon its breast, but noted
that it was not so continuous as on the previous night.</p>
<p>“Ha!” said Hans, “he can only strike his drum with one stick now. Your
bullet broke the other, Baas.”</p>
<p>A little farther and the god roared quite close, so loudly that the air
seemed to tremble.</p>
<p>“The drum is all right, whatever may have happened to the sticks,” I said.</p>
<p>A hundred yards or so more and the catastrophe occurred. We had reached a
spot in the forest where one of the great trees had fallen down, letting
in a little light. I can see it to this hour. There lay the enormous tree,
its bark covered with grey mosses and clumps of a giant species of
maidenhair fern. On our side of it was the open space which may have
measured forty feet across, where the light fell in a perpendicular ray,
as it does through the smoke-hole of a hut. Looking at this prostrate
trunk, I saw first two lurid and fiery eyes that glowed red in the shadow;
and then, almost in the same instant, made out what looked like the head
of a fiend enclosed in a wreath of the delicate green ferns. I can’t
describe it, I can only repeat that it looked like the head of a very
large fiend with a pallid face, huge overhanging eyebrows and great yellow
tushes on either side of the mouth.</p>
<p>Before I had even time to get the rifle up, with one terrific roar the
brute was on us. I saw its enormous grey shape on the top of the trunk, I
saw it pass me like a flash, running upright as a man does, but with the
head held forward, and noted that the arm nearest to me was swinging as
though broken. Then as I turned I heard a scream of terror and perceived
that it had gripped the poor Mazitu, Jerry, who walked last but one of our
line which was ended by Mavovo. Yes, it had gripped him and was carrying
him off, clasped to its breast with its sound arm. When I say that Jerry,
although a full-grown man and rather inclined to stoutness, looked like a
child in that fell embrace, it will give some idea of the creature’s size.</p>
<p>Mavovo, who had the courage of a buffalo, charged at it and drove the
copper spear he carried into its side. They all charged like berserkers,
except myself, for even then, thank Heaven! I knew a trick worth two of
that. In three seconds there was a struggling mass in the centre of the
clearing. Brother John, Stephen, Mavovo and Hans were all stabbing at the
enormous gorilla, for it was a gorilla, although their blows seemed to do
it no more harm than pinpricks. Fortunately for them, for its part, the
beast would not let go of Jerry, and having only one sound arm, could but
snap at its assailants, for if it had lifted a foot to rend them, its
top-heavy bulk would have caused it to tumble over.</p>
<p>At length it seemed to realise this, and hurled Jerry away, knocking down
Brother John and Hans with his body. Then it leapt on Mavovo, who, seeing
it come, placed the copper socket of the spear against his own breast,
with the result that when the gorilla tried to crush him, the point of the
spear was driven into its carcase. Feeling the pain, it unwound its arm
from about Mavovo, knocking Stephen over with the backward sweep. Then it
raised its great hand to crush Mavovo with a blow, as I believe gorillas
are wont to do.</p>
<p>This was the chance for which I was waiting. Up till that moment I had not
dared to fire, fearing lest I should kill one of my companions. Now for an
instant it was clear of them all, and steadying myself, I aimed at the
huge head and let drive. The smoke thinned, and through it I saw the
gigantic ape standing quite still, like a creature lost in meditation.</p>
<p>Then it threw up its sound arm, turned its fierce eyes to the sky, and
uttering one pitiful and hideous howl, sank down dead. The bullet had
entered just behind the ear and buried itself in the brain.</p>
<p>The great silence of the forest flowed in over us, as it were; for quite a
while no one did or said anything. Then from somewhere down amidst the
mosses I heard a thin voice, the sound of which reminded me of air being
squeezed out of an indiarubber cushion.</p>
<p>“Very good shot, Baas,” it piped up, “as good as that which killed the
king-vulture at Dingaan’s kraal, and more difficult. But if the Baas could
pull the god off me I should say—Thank you.”</p>
<p>The “thank you” was almost inaudible, and no wonder, for poor Hans had
fainted. There he lay under the huge bulk of the gorilla, just his nose
and mouth appearing between the brute’s body and its arm. Had it not been
for the soft cushion of wet moss in which he reclined, I think that he
would have been crushed flat.</p>
<p>We rolled the creature off him somehow and poured a little brandy down his
throat, which had a wonderful effect, for in less than a minute he sat up,
gasping like a dying fish, and asked for more.</p>
<p>Leaving Brother John to examine Hans to see if he was really injured, I
bethought me of poor Jerry and went to look at him. One glance was enough.
He was quite dead. Indeed, he seemed to be crushed out of shape like a
buck that has been enveloped in the coils of a boa-constrictor. Brother
John told me afterwards that both his arms and nearly all his ribs had
been broken in that terrible embrace. Even his spine was dislocated.</p>
<p>I have often wondered why the gorilla ran down the line without touching
me or the others, to vent his rage upon Jerry. I can only suggest that it
was because the unlucky Mazitu had sat next to the Kalubi on the previous
night, which may have caused the brute to identify him by smell with the
priest whom he had learned to hate and killed. It is true that Hans had
sat on the other side of the Kalubi, but perhaps the odour of the Pongo
had not clung to him so much, or perhaps it meant to deal with him after
it had done with Jerry.</p>
<p>When we knew that the Mazitu was past human help and had discovered to our
joy that, save for a few bruises, no one else was really hurt, although
Stephen’s clothes were half-torn off him, we made an examination of the
dead god. Truly it was a fearful creature.</p>
<p>What its exact weight or size may have been we had no means of
ascertaining, but I never saw or heard of such an enormous ape, if a
gorilla is really an ape. It needed the united strength of the five of us
to lift the carcase with a great effort off the fainting Hans and even to
roll it from side to side when subsequently we removed the skin. I would
never have believed that so ancient an animal of its stature, which could
not have been more than seven feet when it stood erect, could have been so
heavy. For ancient undoubtedly it was. The long, yellow, canine tusks were
worn half-away with use; the eyes were sunken far into the skull; the hair
of the head, which I am told is generally red or brown, was quite white,
and even the bare breast, which should be black, was grey in hue. Of
course, it was impossible to say, but one might easily have imagined that
this creature was two hundred years or more old, as the Motombo had
declared it to be.</p>
<p>Stephen suggested that it should be skinned, and although I saw little
prospect of our being able to carry away the hide, I assented and helped
in the operation on the mere chance of saving so great a curiosity. Also,
although Brother John was restless and murmured something about wasting
time, I thought it necessary that we should have a rest after our fearful
anxieties and still more fearful encounter with this consecrated monster.
So we set to work, and as a result of more than an hour’s toil, dragged
off the hide, which was so tough and thick that, as we found, the copper
spears had scarcely penetrated to the flesh. The bullet that I had put
into it on the previous night struck, we discovered, upon the bone of the
upper arm, which it shattered sufficiently to render that limb useless, if
it did not break it altogether. This, indeed, was fortunate for us, for
had the creature retained both its arms uninjured, it would certainly have
killed more of us in its attack. We were saved only by the fact that when
it was hugging Jerry it had no limb left with which it could strike, and
luckily did not succeed in its attempts to get hold with its tremendous
jaws that had nipped off the Kalubi’s hand as easily as a pair of scissors
severs the stalk of a flower.</p>
<p>When the skin was removed, except that of the hands, which we did not
attempt to touch, we pegged it out, raw side uppermost, to dry in the
centre of the open place where the sun struck. Then, having buried poor
Jerry in the hollow trunk of the great fallen tree, we washed ourselves
with the wet mosses and ate some of the food that remained to us.</p>
<p>After this we started forward again in much better spirits. Jerry, it was
true, was dead, but so was the god, leaving us happily still alive and
practically untouched. Never more would the Kalubis of Pongo-land shiver
out their lives at the feet of this dreadful divinity who soon or late
must become their executioner, for I believe, with the exception of two
who committed suicide through fear, that no Kalubi was ever known to have
died except by the hand—or teeth—of the god.</p>
<p>What would I not give to know that brute’s history? Could it possibly, as
the Motombo said, have accompanied the Pongo people from their home in
Western or Central Africa, or perhaps have been brought here by them in a
state of captivity? I am unable to answer the question, but it should be
noted that none of the Mazitu or other natives had ever heard of the
existence of more true gorillas in this part of Africa. The creature, if
it had its origin in the locality, must either have been solitary in its
habits or driven away from its fellows, as sometimes happens to old
elephants, which then, like this gorilla, become fearfully ferocious.</p>
<p>That is all I can say about the brute, though of course the Pongo had
their own story. According to them it was an evil spirit in the shape of
an ape, which evil spirit had once inhabited the body of an early Kalubi,
and had been annexed by the ape when it killed the said Kalubi. Also they
declared that the reason the creature put all the Kalubis to death, as
well as a number of other people who were offered up to it, was that it
needed “to refresh itself with the spirits of men,” by which means it was
enabled to avoid the effects of age. It will be remembered that the
Motombo referred to this belief, of which afterwards I heard in more
detail from Babemba. But if this god had anything supernatural about it,
at least its magic was no shield against a bullet from a Purdey rifle.</p>
<p>Only a little way from the fallen tree we came suddenly upon a large
clearing, which we guessed at once must be that “Garden of the god” where
twice a year the unfortunate Kalubis were doomed to scatter the “sacred
seed.” It was a large garden, several acres of it, lying on a shelf, as it
were, of the mountain and watered by a stream. Maize grew in it, also
other sorts of corn, while all round was a thick belt of plantain trees.
Of course these crops had formed the food of the god who, whenever it was
hungry, came to this place and helped itself, as we could see by many
signs. The garden was well kept and comparatively free from weeds. At
first we wondered how this could be, till I remembered that the Kalubi, or
someone, had told me that it was tended by the servants of the Mother of
the Flower, who were generally albinos or mutes.</p>
<p>We crossed it and pushed on rapidly up the mountain, once more following
an easy and well-beaten path, for now we saw that we were approaching what
we thought must be the edge of a crater. Indeed, our excitement was so
extreme that we did not speak, only scrambled forward, Brother John,
notwithstanding his lame leg, leading at a greater pace than we could
equal. He was the first to reach our goal, closely followed by Stephen.
Watching, I saw him sink down as though in a swoon. Stephen also appeared
astonished, for he threw up his hands.</p>
<p>I rushed to them, and this was what I saw. Beneath us was a steep slope
quite bare of forest, which ceased at its crest. This slope stretched
downwards for half a mile or more to the lip of a beautiful lake, of which
the area was perhaps two hundred acres. Set in the centre of the deep blue
water of this lake, which we discovered afterwards to be unfathomable, was
an island not more than five and twenty or thirty acres in extent, that
seemed to be cultivated, for on it we could see fields, palms and other
fruit-bearing trees. In the middle of the island stood a small, near house
thatched after the fashion of the country, but civilized in its
appearance, for it was oblong, not round, and encircled by a verandah and
a reed fence. At a distance from this house were a number of native huts,
and in front of it a small enclosure surrounded by a high wall, on the top
of which mats were fixed on poles as though to screen something from wind
or sun.</p>
<p>“The Holy Flower lives there, you bet,” gasped Stephen excitedly—he
could think of nothing but that confounded orchid. “Look, the mats are up
on the sunny side to prevent its scorching, and those palms are planted
round to give it shade.”</p>
<p>“The Mother of the Flower lives there,” whispered Brother John, pointing
to the house. “Who is she? Who is she? Suppose I should be mistaken after
all. God, let me not be mistaken, for it would be more than I can bear.”</p>
<p>“We had better try to find out,” I remarked practically, though I am sure
I sympathised with his suspense, and started down the slope at a run.</p>
<p>In five minutes or less we reached the foot of it, and, breathless and
perspiring though we were, began to search amongst the reeds and bushes
growing at the edge of the lake for the canoe of which we had been told by
the Kalubi. What if there were none? How could we cross that wide stretch
of deep water? Presently Hans, who, following certain indications which
caught his practised eye, had cast away to the left, held up his hand and
whistled. We ran to him.</p>
<p>“Here it is, Baas,” he said, and pointed to something in a tiny
bush-fringed inlet, that at first sight looked like a heap of dead reeds.
We tore away at the reeds, and there, sure enough, was a canoe of
sufficient size to hold twelve or fourteen people, and in it a number of
paddles.</p>
<p>Another two minutes and we were rowing across that lake.</p>
<p>We came safely to the other side, where we found a little landing-stage
made of poles sunk into the lake. We tied up the canoe, or rather I did,
for nobody else remembered to take that precaution, and presently were on
a path which led through the cultivated fields to the house. Here I
insisted upon going first with the rifle, in case we should be suddenly
attacked. The silence and the absence of any human beings suggested to me
that this might very well happen, since it would be strange if we had not
been seen crossing the lake.</p>
<p>Afterwards I discovered why the place seemed so deserted. It was owing to
two reasons. First, it was now noontime, an hour at which these poor
slaves retired to their huts to eat and sleep through the heat of the day.
Secondly, although the “Watcher,” as she was called, had seen the canoe on
the water, she concluded that the Kalubi was visiting the Mother of the
Flower and, according to practice on these occasions, withdrew herself and
everybody else, since the rare meetings of the Kalubi and the Mother of
the Flower partook of the nature of a religious ceremony and must be held
in private.</p>
<p>First we came to the little enclosure that was planted about with palms
and, as I have described, screened with mats. Stephen ran at it and,
scrambling up the wall, peeped over the top.</p>
<p>Next instant he was sitting on the ground, having descended from the wall
with the rapidity of one shot through the head.</p>
<p>“Oh! by Jingo!” he ejaculated, “oh! by Jingo!” and that was all I could
get out of him, though it is true I did not try very hard at the time.</p>
<p>Not five paces from this enclosure stood a tall reed fence that surrounded
the house. It had a gate also of reeds, which was a little ajar. Creeping
up to it very cautiously, for I thought I heard a voice within, I peeped
through the half-opened gate. Four or five feet away was the verandah from
which a doorway led into one of the rooms of the house where stood a table
on which was food.</p>
<p>Kneeling on mats upon this verandah were—<i>two white women</i>—clothed
in garments of the purest white adorned with a purple fringe, and wearing
bracelets and other ornaments of red native gold. One of these appeared to
be about forty years of age. She was rather stout, fair in colouring, with
blue eyes and golden hair that hung down her back. The other might have
been about twenty. She also was fair, but her eyes were grey and her long
hair was of a chestnut hue. I saw at once that she was tall and very
beautiful. The elder woman was praying, while the other, who knelt by her
side, listened and looked up vacantly at the sky.</p>
<p>“O God,” prayed the woman, “for Christ’s sake look in pity upon us two
poor captives, and if it be possible, send us deliverance from this savage
land. We thank Thee Who hast protected us unharmed and in health for so
many years, and we put our trust in Thy mercy, for Thou alone canst help
us. Grant, O God, that our dear husband and father may still live, and
that in Thy good time we may be reunited to him. Or if he be dead and
there is no hope for us upon the earth, grant that we, too, may die and
find him in Thy Heaven.”</p>
<p>Thus she prayed in a clear, deliberate voice, and I noticed that as she
did so the tears ran down her cheeks. “Amen,” she said at last, and the
girl by her side, speaking with a strange little accent, echoed the
“Amen.”</p>
<p>I looked round at Brother John. He had heard something and was utterly
overcome. Fortunately enough he could not move or even speak.</p>
<p>“Hold him,” I whispered to Stephen and Mavovo, “while I go in and talk to
these ladies.”</p>
<p>Then, handing the rifle to Hans, I took off my hat, pushed the gate a
little wider open, slipped through it and called attention to my presence
by coughing.</p>
<p>The two women, who had risen from their knees, stared at me as though they
saw a ghost.</p>
<p>“Ladies,” I said, bowing, “pray do not be alarmed. You see God Almighty
sometimes answers prayers. In short, I am one of—a party—of
white people who, with some trouble, have succeeded in getting to this
place and—and—would you allow us to call on you?”</p>
<p>Still they stared. At length the elder woman opened her lips.</p>
<p>“Here I am called the Mother of the Holy Flower, and for a stranger to
speak with the Mother is death. Also if you are a man, how did you reach
us alive?”</p>
<p>“That’s a long story,” I answered cheerfully. “May we come in? We will
take the risks, we are accustomed to them and hope to be able to do you a
service. I should explain that three of us are white men, two English and
one—American.”</p>
<p>“American!” she gasped, “American! What is he like, and how is he named?”</p>
<p>“Oh!” I replied, for my nerve was giving out and I grew confused, “he is
oldish, with a white beard, rather like Father Christmas in short, and his
Christian name (I didn’t dare to give it all at once) is—er—John,
Brother John, we call him. Now I think of it,” I added, “he has some
resemblance to your companion there.”</p>
<p>I thought that the lady was going to die, and cursed myself for my
awkwardness. She flung her arm about the girl to save herself from falling—a
poor prop, for she, too, looked as though she were going to die, having
understood some, if not all, of my talk. It must be remembered that this
poor young thing had never even seen a white man before.</p>
<p>“Madam, madam,” I expostulated, “I pray you to bear up. After living
through so much sorrow it would be foolish to decease of—joy. May I
call in Brother John? He is a clergyman and might be able to say something
appropriate, which I, who am only a hunter, cannot do.”</p>
<p>She gathered herself together, opened her eyes and whispered:</p>
<p>“Send him here.”</p>
<p>I pushed open the gate behind which the others were clustered. Catching
Brother John, who by now had recovered somewhat, by the arm, I dragged him
forward. The two stood staring at each other, and the young lady also
looked with wide eyes and open mouth.</p>
<p>“Elizabeth!” said John.</p>
<p>She uttered a faint scream, then with a cry of “<i>Husband!</i>” flung
herself upon his breast.</p>
<p>I slipped through the gate and shut it fast.</p>
<p>“I say, Allan,” said Stephen, when we had retreated to a little distance,
“did you see her?”</p>
<p>“Her? Who? Which?” I asked.</p>
<p>“The young lady in the white clothes. She is lovely.”</p>
<p>“Hold your tongue, you donkey!” I answered. “Is this a time to talk of
female looks?”</p>
<p>Then I went away behind the wall and literally wept for joy. It was one of
the happiest moments of my life, for how seldom things happen as they
should!</p>
<p>Also I wanted to put up a little prayer of my own, a prayer of
thankfulness and for strength and wit to overcome the many dangers that
yet awaited us.</p>
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