Chapter Text
Reunion
More than three weeks had passed since Tarzan had been taken prisoner by Jacobs. During this time he had, of late, learned little more of the treasure, his captors having become introverted and quarrelsome at the delay of their own expected release.
“Where is Monsieur Pique?” Montplace hissed at Jacobs one night, who by his usual sleight of hand, had his gun co*cked below the chin of Montplace within the fraction of a second.
“Want to reconsider your tone of voice?” Jacobs challenged, raising his eyebrows, upon which Montplace withdrew.
Noticing the tension between the three Belgians of the camp, Tarzan surmised that he must soon stand ready to grasp whatever opportunity might present itself.
The following day, as Tarzan took leave to quench his thirst under the scorching noon sun, his ears suddenly perked to a shift in the tune of the jungle birds. First, there was a short abruption to their song, followed by agitated shrieks. Finally the upper terraces rustled and in place of the melodious song of birds came the incessant chatter of Manu. Hearing it, Tarzan made his way to where the plantation edged into the wild of the jungle.
He smiled at the little gray monkey hopping up and down the branches in the top of the tree.
“Ho there Manu, ” he called, “ what news of the Mangani ?”
Manu skipped down a few branches, chattering.
“Manu went south! ” the monkey informed the ape-man, “ it took many suns to find the Mangani, and when Manu found them, they threw sticks at Manu and told him to go away !”
Tarzan nodded.
“Manu told them he was sent by a Tarmangani who said he was king of the Mangani, and they laughed at Manu! ” the monkey continued.
Tarzan furrowed his brows.
“They tried to chase Manu away, saying Manu could not have their fruits! ”
“Were they not the tribe of Kerchak ?” asked Tarzan.
“Manu does not know !” answered the monkey, “ for none remembered their old king, now that wicked Toyat was in charge! ”
Tarzan thought back, Toyat had been the name of a fierce upstart whom he had been forced to put in his place repeatedly, until finally driving him away from the tribe. Alas, thought the ape-man, Manu must have found the wrong tribe.
“Did none recognize the name of Tarzan? ” he asked, at last.
Manu started his excited bouncing up and down, shaking the branch again. “
Only two recalled the name !” he admitted, finally. “ They come this way, but they do not travel as fast as Manu, who can run along the upper terraces of the forest! ” the monkey beamed.
“You have done well Manu, ” Tarzan praised: “ Go to the Mangani and tell them to linger close by, I will call them when I need their help! They must not charge before then, because the Tarmangani carry thundersticks, and will kill them! ”
The monkey gave a squeal, before turning back to the jungle, and Tarzan resumed his work.
He was certain that if he applied all his strength to it, he would be able to loosen the earth anchor to which his shackles were secured. However, that would encumber him with not only the shackles around his neck, hand and legs, but would force him to carry the long length of chain, plus the weight of the anchor, through the jungle. He also doubted that the Waziri, though they did possess the means by which to heat iron for their spear- and arrowheads, had much in the way of freeing him from his bonds.
Nor did he deem it wise to try to reach civilization thus clapped in chains. Even if he were to convince the surly men of the little port towns along the coast of his heritage, they would doubtless assume him an escaped prisoner and lock him up in lieu of answers. Both options would only render him later than he already was. No, it would be better to wait until the opportune moment, when two of the white men would set him free for the night, to take him off towards supper and rest.
Thus he called one of the female workers, giving her a full decanter, and an encouraging smile. Though all had been weary of him for the first couple of weeks, only Adebe speaking to him initially, something had shifted in the mood of the worker the last week. Even though their captors were growing ever fretful, more prone to jabs and insults, the graver punishments had relented as of late.
The white men stuck to themselves and avoided communication with all workers. They had barely commented on what would have constituted low individual quotas in the last few days, and in reply the weariness of the workers had lessened, their spirit lifted, and their singing increased. Step by step they had eased in the vicinity of the white giant. At first they were happy to see that he helped raise the total quota of the camp, giving relief to their individual burden, worn down as they were with months of heavy labour. But moreover when they realised he could communicate in their own languages - albeit strangely enough not in French - as well as would gladly join in with their singing, they came to regard him as one of their own.
The singing had turned from not only working songs to pass the time: Now small snippets of songs praising their lands, giving thanks to their blessings, and calling to arms, had begun nestling their way into the ululating lyrics. In addition, at night, before they all fell asleep, the strange jungle-man would whisper tales of defeating the great cats of the jungle, or of how a man raised by apes had rescued Goro, the moon, from being eaten by Sheeta, the leopard.
All in all, the light had begun to return to their eyes, and as the strange white man began encouraging them to fight back against the oppressors, fewer and fewer voices were raised in objection to his message. A message that encouraged them to not look to the white man for salvation, but instead find resilience within themselves.
Tarzan allowed himself a little respite while he waited to be loosened from the earth anchor. He would not bring the machete down with the full force of his arms, nor would he hurriedly carry barrels from the edge of the jungle, to the end of his chain. Instead he took up a restful pace, and adapted an attitude to work best described by “good enough.” Thus passed the hours of the afternoon, and as the sun started to sink below the edge of the treetops, Tarzan seized his work altogether, preserving his strength for what was to come.
It was Montplace and Gerard who came to unlock him from his chains this afternoon. Monplace was kicking a stone in front of him, and Gerard was leisurely holding the rifle, with a surly face. They nodded to the ape-man, having long since given up on communicating with him as he seemed impervious to learning French. Gerard stood back a little and shouldered his rifle. Monplace kicked his stone in front of him, and pulled up a ring of keys from his pocket. He stooped down to unfasten the lock tying the chain to the earth anchor, when suddenly came the thunderous cry of KREE-GAH! , the hideous cry for help in the anthropoid language of the apes, from the lips of the white savage.
Confused, Gerard looked up at them. Finding the white savage at a distance from Montplace that posed him no danger, he looked from side to side, but saw no living person. Again thundered the cry of KREE-GAH! from the lips of the savage man, who only smirked and stared at Gerard from under dark brows. Nervously Gerard turned around, lowering his rifle as he did so. Dropping from two adjacent trees, there sprang two great apes. Their shrieks horrible, the nerves of Gerard faltered and before he had time to shoulder his rifle again they set upon him, great, long arms battering him.
One of the apes was stark black, his cheeks tousled by white streaks, which indicated that he was the elder of the two. The other, bigger than his companion, had a distinct tinge of orange to his hide. Tarzan’s heart swelled and his lips drew back as he recognised Taug, his erstwhile competitor for the affections of Teeka, and Gazan, their cub, who both owed their very lives to Tarzan. Still there were those who remembered the Lord of the jungle despite his long absence! Still there were those who would come at his summon!
The eyes of Montplace grew wide as he witnessed the scene unfolding before him. Before he had time to flee, the white savage pounced through the air. His great frame flew unhindered by his shackles and chains; he landed, hands and feet forward, with a steely grip of the Belgian, and immediately brought the man to the ground. Montplace gave a cry for help, but Tarzan drew his chains from under him, ran them across his neck, and choked him with it. As Montplace went limp below his hold, he lifted his chin to his ape-brethren, and called for them to stop. The man they had been attacking was already dead.
Tarzan tightened his great muscles on the chain and Montplace gave a brief choking sound before passing out. Once he was unconscious, Tarzan grabbed the ring of keys from his hand, and promptly unlocked the chain from the anchor. Presently a gunshot was heard from the direction of the camp and towards them Jacobs and Tembo came running. Tarzan gathered up the length of the chain, plucked up his machete and signalled that it was time for retreat to Taug and Gazan. The three fled into the jungle, bullets whisking over their heads.
The great length of the chain hindered Tarzan’s movements, much as he had thought; He was unable to take to the trees to swing, as he had to hold the chain rolled up in one hand at all times. Still, the three managed to cover enough ground that it was safe to stay a while. Having caught their mutual breaths, Taug and Gazan began rummaging for food, lifting fallen logs in search of beetles. Tarzan smiled one of his rare smiles. The habits of the apes had not much changed in his absence, and though he felt the pangs of hunger himself, not having been allowed his supper eer his escape, he presently directed his attention to the locks around the chain.
He sat back, picked up the ring of keys, and tried the first in the lock attaching the chain to his foot. It would not turn. He tried the other. Then the other. None of the five keys of the ring would turn in the lock. Next he tried them on each of the locks of his wrist, and his neck, to no avail. Had his bonds been of rope, the teeth of the Mangani would have been able to tear through them, but against iron their sharp fangs were useless.
Frustrated, he let go of the long chain, attached the ring of keys to the gee-string of his loincloth, and joined the apes in satiating his hunger. The meditative act of rummaging calmed his mind. Once satisfied, Taug gestured to the ape-man that they must depart, and that they could join the tribe of Toyat, only five sun marches ahead.
The ape-man shook his head, and spoke “ No, ” in the anthropoid tongue. “ We must go back to the camp at dark, and find a way to rid me of these bonds ,” he explained, “ furthermore, there are Gomangani, black men, there who need our help. We should free them as well .”
Taug drew his knuckles along the dirt, and made an agitated jump. “ We came to save Tarzan. We remembered Tarzan. We will not fight to save Gomangani. The Gomangani kill the Mangani! ” he objected.
“ These Gomangani have caused you no harm, ” Tarzan stated, “ they are prisoners to the Tarmangani. The Tarmangani are bad. You can kill the Tarmangani who hurt the trees, and burn the jungle. The Gomangani should be allowed to go back to their tribes. ”
Gazan joined the objections of his father. “ No! ” he growled, “ The Gomangani chased us away from these lands. They hurt the trees. They burn the forest. We will not go to save Gomangani! ”
Tarzan stood to his full length and glared. “ I am Tarzan of the Apes, I am king of the tribe of Kerchak, ” he commanded, “ The Gomangani of the camp are led by bad kings, the Tarmangani; They have no choice in what they do. When there is a bad king in the Mangani, we kill the king, like Tarzan killed Kerchack. We do not punish the whole tribe for the offenses of their king! ”
Taug snarled: “ You killed many of the Gomangani of the tribe that killed Kala ,” he challenged.
Tarzan’s eyes narrowed. “ They were enemies to the Mangani. ” he said, with finality, “ Since I left you, I have lived among many other Gomangani. They are the friends of Tarzan, and the Mangani. Will you, friends of Tarzan, not aid others who would help him? Do you not both owe your life to Tarzan? ”
Both Taug and Gazan were losing their concentration at this lengthy speech. Gazan had resumed his rummaging, but Taug was shaking his head, trying to remember. Images flashed before his weary eyes, not just the time Tarzan rescued him from the tribe of the Mbongo, but also the time he came to the rescue of Teeka, whom was taken by another tribe of Mangani, and how Tarzan had saved Gazan from Sheeta, when he was a little Balu.
“ We will do as Tarzan says, ” he eventually relented.
Gazan, a little slower, and in possession of fewer memories, snarled, upon which his father pounced him, brought him down and bit his neck.
“ Ka-goda !” The anthropoid word for surrender, Gazan cried, and Taug backed away.
“We will wait until night,” Tarzan explained, “then I will find the means of my release from these bonds.”
***
Jacobs sat in front of the fire, carving a stick with the long hunting knife, and pondered. He was down one man, and Montplace had taken to drink in response to being attacked. He was fairly sure of Tembo’s allegiance, but for the rest of the Askari, the fighting guards, they could turn on him any moment. Hopefully, the white savage was completely gone. He was entertaining more than mere suspicions that probably Montplace had been right, and that the white savage was indeed the English Lord raised by apes whom Pique had spoken of. His greatest hope, he deduced, still lay in the imminent arrival of the elusive Monsieur Pique, and the desertion of the plantation.
***
Tarzan had managed to gather the length of the chain diagonally around his body, not much unlike how he usually wore a rope for hunting. It was heavy, uncomfortable, and encumbering. But at least the placement allowed for climbing the trees. He was now crouching perched on a great branch overhanging the camp.
The last time he had snuck into the game by way of this tree he had easily accessed the storage tent and managed to obtain the rifle he needed to break the lock holding Wasimbu. He doubted he would have the same luck this time. Besides, at that point there had been only one guard by the storage tent. Now there were two. Jacobs must be nervous, he deduced. Even if he couldn’t get his hands on a rifle, this branch was still the best way of getting into the camp.
He dropped with his usual grace, but was soon aghast to find that not only was the long chain cumbersome, it also clanked as he touched ground! One of the guards outside the storage tent reacted to the clinking sound closeby. He rose, signaled the other to wait, and went to investigate. Though he couldn’t descend as silently as a cat from great height with his chain, Tarzan still slunk into the shadows in great stealth.
The guard circled the tent, but found nothing. Instead he returned to his fellow, and sat down on the stool. Tarzan sneaked up to the back of the tent and quietly drove his machete through the fabric. Having created a hole wide enough to step into it, he quickly noticed that the rack that had held rifles had been emptied. This was not surprising, given that he had looted it before. He looked around the space. There was no place that suggested holding any keys. There was however a chest close to the opening of the tent. He hesitated due to its proximity to the guards outside, but as the flaps were secured with ties, he decided to risk it.
He padded silently to it, and found it padlocked. He loosened the ring of keys from his gee-string, and turned the first. It did not yield. Neither did the second key. However by the third Tarzan felt a spring give way, and covering the shackle in his hand, he stealthily opened it. Next he opened the lid of the chest. It contained several rifles, boxes, and belts of ammunition. Strangely enough the rifles were missing straps, and would have to be carried by hand.
After having donned a cartridge belt, Tarzan shouldered two rifles, closed the lid, and left through the slit in the tent. He was just about to turn towards the sleeping quarters of the three white men - in case there was a key that would open his locks there - when a sharp explosion sounded and a bullet grazed his shoulder. Several feet to his rear stood Jacobs, holding his pistol, and around his hip Tarzan noticed the twined leather strips and the sheath holding the unmistakable hunting knife of his father.
“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” Jacobs grinned.
Tarzan turned, co*cked a rifle and held it to his shoulder.
“It seems we’re at a standoff. How sure are you with a shotgun?” Jacobs asked.
Tarzan smirked, aimed, and pulled the trigger. Jacobs swore and shook the hand that had just held his pistol, which had just been shot from his hand. As Jacobs turned he could barely make out the feet that vanished up the branch of the tree. Below the branch lay Tarzan’s machete, abandoned for the sake of the rifles.
“At least I know where you came from, and how you got out” said Jacobs to himself.
***
Tarzan returned to Taug and Gazan carrying the two rifles. He had not been able to rid himself of his bonds, he explained, but he had managed to procure two thundersticks. He doubted he could instruct either of them in the use of it, but at least they evened the playing field a little. Since he had lost his primitive weapons, including his machete, they would also provide security against the night in the jungle.
Normally the ape-man would always choose his knife over a rifle, and presently he lamented having lost his father’s hunting knife at his capture. In addition to wanting to free himself of his bonds, release the captive natives, and investigate the treasure, the ape-man wanted very much to retrieve the knife, for it held a certain nostalgia to him.
Now they would withdraw further east, rest, and return tomorrow, he explained to his ape-brethren. But before that he needed to use the thunderstick.
“ Don’t be afraid ,” he encouraged them, “ it will boom, but you are safe .”
He aimed the rifle at the padlock, pulled the trigger, and following a loud bang, he was free of the long chain at least, though his shackles remained. The two apes took to the trees, but despite having lost his greatest burden, the ape-man was still largely encumbered to walk the ground due to the rifles. Granted, his agility and surefire night vision helped him keep a steady pace with Taug and Gazan as they traversed the night jungle.
Following a twenty minute march, they had crossed the river in the place that Wasimbu had directed, when suddenly there came the cry of Kree-Gah! from up ahead.
“ Who is it ?” cried Tarzan.
“ Gomangani! ” answered Gazan, fretful.
“ Wait! ” ordered Tarzan, and abandoning the rifles against the foot of a tree, he leapt up it. Within moments he had caught up with Gazan, who stood snarling at the men below. Happily did the eyes of Tarzan take in the ranks of ebon warriors clad in their white fighting plumage: The Waziri had come at last!
He dropped in front of the foremost warrior, who was directing his spear towards the snarling Gazan and immediately shouts of cheer broke out among the party. Tarzan gestured to Gazan to hold back and the ape complied. Wasimbu came to the front and threw his arms around the ape-man.
With so many words he explained that his flight home had taken longer than he had hoped, the injury to his leg slowing his progress. Once he had finally reached the land of the Uziri, he had been fraught with fever. Luckily a hunting party discovered him and brought him to the village.
Once there he had been out with fever for several days, teetering on the edge between life and death. Thankfully the tender care of their village medicine man had lessened the infection. They had avoided amputation by emptying of puss of the wound and cauterising it. Even after the fever abated the villagers had thought him raving when he asked for them to form a search party to go after the big Bwana. The idea of Tarzan having returned had seemed a most incredulous one.
Not until the wound had healed enough for Wasimbu to show them the way, had they been able to come to Tarzan’s rescue. Perhaps, it seemed, in vain? They wondered.
Tarzan put his hand on the shoulder of Wasimbu and thanked him for his great service, and informed them that they had not come for nothing.
“ The workers of the plantation deserve just as much freedom as we do ,” he said with finality. A spark lit in the eyes of Wasimbu; of course they would free all workers, regardless of tribal belonging. No human deserved to toil under such conditions.
Tarzan gathered Wasimbu and Muviro around him. Wasimbu had brought the rifle Tarzan had given him at the time of his escape, and between that and the two that Tarzan had procured they were fit to attack from several directions.
“ Still ,” said Tarzan, “ I do wish I could equip myself with other weapons. I have always preferred the knife, the bow and arrow, or even the spear to the shotgun. ”
Immediately Wasimbu produced Tarzan’s own bow and arrow, and offered him his war spear. Tarzan shouldered the bow and arrow and hefted the spear. Its weight was pleasant in his hand, and unlike the rifles, he could carry it on his back, secured in the cartridge belt.
The men sat down on their haunches and sketched the plan. The ape-man had various methods of dealing with enemies - methods that he had learned and practised long before he had been cognizant of the fact that he was not a man. Among them was that a long step towards defeating an enemy may be taken by first demoralising its morale. In such a way, reasoned Tarzan, could they hope to minimise the casualties.
There were only some ten or so Askari, plus the foreman Jacobs, and his aide Montplace, who had weapons, Tarzan explained.
“ What happened to Gerard ?” asked Wasimbu.
Tarzan clenched his jaw, before answering: “ Dead .”
Given the brightness of the camp in the light of torches, and the moon being more than half full, Tarzan and the Waziri soon agreed on a repeat of the plan of attack they had used when freeing their own village from Arab slavers.
They would take to the trees, and hide themselves behind the stems, loosening silent arrows only when it was clear that they were out of sight of the Askari. Only if great confusion arose, or if the Askari seemed on the edge of capitulation, would they charge.
They divided themselves into three groups; Muviro and Wasimbu took charge of one half each of the amassed warriors, while Tarzan kept Taug and Gazan in his own charge. Each leader carried a rifle, but the others were armed with bow and arrow, as well as spears. Except, of course, the apes, who fought only by the strength of their great muscles and sharp fangs.
Stealthily the group made their way across the shallower end of the river. Once on the other side Wasimbu, who knew the area, took off to the north, while Tarzan and Muviro continued south. When nearing the eastern border of the plantation, Tarzan indicated which trees in the south-eastern direction surrounding the palisade would be best suited for their mission, before walking west together with Taug and Gazan.
Neither group had any real means to communicate with the other, nor did they possess the means by which to keep any measure of time. Still, they were not in any hurry. It was already well past midnight and the camp seemed at rest. By the gate two armed sentries stood guard; by the storage tents stood another two. Some seven Askari were assembled around the campfire in the middle of the camp, with their rifles resting beside themselves. Tarzan settled himself on a great bough which stretched far into the camp over its palisade, should he need to enter it. Taug and Gazan flanked him in trees on either side.
Despite the fatigue that any other man would have suffered at the end of a long work day, the struggle of the escape, and the numerous tracks he had already taken, Tarzan’s mind was perfectly calm and alert. So still was the ape-man that he might have been part and parcel of the great branch upon which he lay, or of the shadowy foliage which hid him from view. He took in the scene below him.
The guards by the storage tents were hidden from view by the fabric of the tent. Though he could make out their silhouettes against the khaki cloth, and could thereby potentially fell them through the tent itself, he deduced that there was too great a risk that the arrow would go awry. The guards by the northern gate were equally hidden from his view by the palisade.
This left only the guards by the fire, who were stretched out and half asleep. Tarzan fitted an arrow to his bow, and pulled back his elbow. His gaze found its target but realising that he could not see the whites of the man’s eyes he steadied himself a little. It seemed cowardice to shoot a sleeping man with no means of self-defence. Though the situation necessitated bloodshed he couldn’t help but think that these guards were perhaps only innocent tools of the Belgians. To his surprise, Tarzan’s mind was once again overcome with memories of his youth.
Sitting perched in a tree, bow and arrow ready, he thought back to his old nemesis: the Mbongo tribe. He had told Taug and Gazan that they had been enemies to the Mangani and therefore deserved to die. And sure enough, given the opportunity they would have seized and killed any of his ape-brethren. It still brought an acute sense of fury when he recollected the murder of his ape-mother. For only such could he think of it: Murder. And he figured, in the jungle ‘might was right’ and thus the young ape-man had thought it fair to exercise what he considered his superiority against those he had deemed lesser. Until the day he had, by influence of his own longing, attempted to adopt Tibo.
He hadn’t realised until this moment that after that experience, he had not killed another Mbongo tribe member except in self-defence. Forming an attachment to some of their denizens had made them more human, more his own kind. Was that not the conclusion he had come to as a child? That he was M-A-N and that his family were A-P-E?
He realised that he knew the man who was sleeping by the fire, and in knowing him, he also felt kinship to him. Just as he was beginning to realise, he did to some little extent, to civilization at large. Though he had considered himself Mangani since stepping foot on the land-locked beach of his father’s cabin, now the part of him which was English Lord, rather than savage carnivore prompted him to examine his relationship to civilised behaviour.
It was true that he held civilization in general in considerable contempt. But, having seen so many aspects of it had given him perspective. It was also true that perhaps especially among the seemingly most civilised of men there was hypocrisy and cruelty. The Belgians in the camp below were supposed to bring civilisation and Christian values to the natives. However, in this camp, same as in many other plantations, avarice had been the better hand of supposedly good intentions, if colonisation might indeed be called good intentions.
Yet, he reasoned, much of society did hold some order, and there were many who were indeed driven by ideals. Did his own ideals allow him to kill a sleeping man? Was the contempt he held for those who interfered with the established order of the jungle great enough to wantonly take a defenceless life? He was not beyond letting the law of the jungle take its course, but did necessity merit manslaughter? He had thought so before. What had changed? What kind of warrior hesitated at taking the first shot? In the midst of an approaching battle the ape-man experienced a crisis of identity. Had heredity finally overcome his rearing; nature triumphed over nurture? There was no cowardice in his hesitation, nor did he fundamentally object to the spilling of life that the situation required, but something had changed.
As he sat and pondered whether any situation could warrant shooting an armed man who had his back towards him, a silent arrow suddenly flew from the south of the camp, and struck one of the sentries by the gate in the heart. Almost without making a sound the man dropped to his knees, before toppling face first. It took a moment before his fellow guard could gather his senses. His eyes grew large, he landed an unsteady hand on the arrow, before rising and sounding the alarm. Immediately all the guards around the fire sprung to their feet, shouldering their rifles. Still, the light spilling out from the camp entailed nothing but Stygian darkness from the jungle, and no one knew where to aim.
Momentarily Jacobs exited his tent, seemingly unarmed. The Askari were standing back to back, eyes wide and peering out into the darkness. Jacobs asked Tembo what had happened, and he explained how a silent arrow had appeared out of nowhere. Jacobs noted the arrow and deduced that it had come from the direction of beyond the storage tents to the south, probably up in the trees somewhere. With his usual contemptuously booming voice he commanded order and peace of mind in the camp.
The Askari all gathered round the camp fire and were gazing south, towards the trees, where they hoped to catch a glimpse of their foe. Many minutes passed and the tenseness of the shoulders of the amassed men began to subside ever so slightly. Meanwhile, Tarzan left his warspear and rifle in a crotch of the tree and soundlessly dropped into its midst. Crouching along the edge of the palisade he gathered up the dead sentry by the gate, before returning, and with the aid of an arm held out by Taug, he went up the tree carrying the body of the dead guard. He handed it over to Taug and with so many gestures and grunts directed the Ape to circle the camp to the East side, where another tall tree overhung large parts of the camp. The Ape shouldered the dead man and took the southern route around the camp.
The Askari were still peering south, trying to catch a glimpse of any movement in the trees, when suddenly a twang resounded over the camp from the northern direction of the gate. One of the men in the back of the group fell to his knees with a scream: an arrow protruding from his leg. All eyes turned north, towards the gate. There was more light in that direction, the silver moon illuminating the more sparsely treed area between the camp and the plantation. At first there were some worried voices raised, but as Jacobs raised his hand, calling for silence, they each peered towards the borders of the palisade.
One guard held the injured man down, while another secured his leg and pulled out the arrow. The wound was clean, but oozed blood, and someone came running with a bandage, with which they wrapped his leg. The man had screamed terribly as they pulled out his arrow, but in the ensuing silence rang louder than his shouts had. While they stood thus, an eerie voice seemed to come from above:
“ Abandon the Belgians!” it cried in a Bantu dialect understandable to all Askari. “ They are devils who have angered the forest spirits. This camp is doomed. Leave tonight!”
They huddled together, eyes jetting in every direction. Were they surrounded? worried voices cried in query. Jacobs grabbed Tembo by the arm and demanded a translation. Upon hearing the suggestion of forest spirits he spat contemptuously. “These arrows are man made,” he bellowed, face red, “don’t worry about spirits!” The Askari looked at the Belgian with contemptuous suspicions, finding that his veined red countenance provided little comfort.
There was a rustle in the trees to the south and turning in that direction two of the Askari fired into the jungle. A flock of birds took flight at the sound of the explosion, but within minutes the eerie silence permeated the camp again. From the west came a shrill shriek in an ungodly voice and just after they had all turned their eyes in that direction, a ghastly thud came from the east. The amassed men huddled together, sending out the remaining sentry from the gate to investigate. His voice broke into a terrible shriek as he found his dead fellow having fallen down as if from the sky.
Presently the camp broke out into pandemonium. Some Askari were shouldering rifles, shooting at random into the jungle darkness. Others were fleeing in panic, diving into tents, or hiding in corners of the palisade. All around were curses of the malignant demons which their fatigued minds deduced were attacking them.
Montplace came stumbling out of his tent, asking what the noise was about. Jacobs furrowed his brows. As Tembo came running by, crouched so as to not allow his back an easy target, Jacobs let his arm curl around Tembo’s. “Stand up man!” he commanded. Tembo’s eyes were wide and blood-shot.
Jacobs asked what the voice had said, and Tembo translated. The Belgian scoffed: “Spirits indeed!” He whispered something in Tembo’s ear. Tembo looked shocked, and attempted to shake his head. Jacobs simply patted the chest of his jacket, upon which Tembo sank his head defeatedly and called to two of the other Askari. Together they unbarred the gate and headed in the direction of the thornbush BOMA to the east. Jacobs walked up to the fire, took out a cigarette and lit it by setting a short stick ablaze. He stood calmly, peering out towards the jungle.
Momentarily Tembo and the other two Askari returned and quickly boarded up the gate. In their hands was the length of chains holding the workers of the plantation prisoners at night. The chain itself was attached to the shackles around the ankles of the full mass of the workers. Jacobs took another drag of his cigarette before beckoning the remaining Askari to join them. Within minutes they had arranged the workers in a great arch, and using the worker’s bodies as shields, were standing behind them, rifles to their backs.
“Greystoke!” bellowed Jacobs, in English. “Don’t think I don’t know it’s you! You gave yourself away when you called your apes!” He threw the cigarette on the ground, and stomped at it. He turned around and faced the workers and Askari. “Shoot the two at the end,” he commanded, with a shrug of his shoulders. Immediately the boom of two rifles echoed over the stillness of the jungle night, and two men on the right end of the chain collapsed. The faces of the remaining workers froze in panic.
“Know this Greystoke! For each one of us you kill, I will kill two. Now will you have them all die, or will you face me as a man? Or will you maybe run away like a beast?” Jacobs challenged.
The mind of the ape-man was in uproar. He had not foreseen this course of events and blamed himself for the murder of the workers. Thus he made up his mind, gestured to the Gazan to circle round the camp and join Taug, before crawling out on the branch and dropping to the ground. When he stood up, two eyes of complete darkness peered out below knitted brows, and though it could not be seen in the darkness, the scar on his forehead blazed red.
“No more games, Greystoke,” said Jacobs. “Throw your weapons over here.”
The ape-man complied, tossing the rifle, warspear, and bow and arrow to the ground.
“You’ve spent a month lying to me,” Jacobs smirked, “Will you honour me with the truth now? Or do you have no honour?” His eyes narrowed.
The lips around the ape-man tensed, but he remained silent, glaring at his opponent.
“Are there others here?” Jacobs asked.
Tarzan nodded slowly.
“Then order them out of the trees,” Jacobs demanded, “over to the outside of the gate.
Tarzan raised his chin and called to the Waziri to gather by the gate. Jacobs turned to Tembo, who acknowledged the truth of what had been said. There were some moments of rustling among the branches of the trees in the south-east, before the soft padding of stealthy feet barely gave away the presence of the Waziri assembling at the gate.
“Are we alone?” Jacobs asked.
Tarzan simply stared back at him.
Jacobs took a step towards him, gesturing for Montplace to circle the ape-man.
“I’ll have you in chains again, soon enough,” Jacobs hissed, “and I’ll work your friends to the bone.” His lip curled up. “And I don’t care whether your mother was a whor* to natives or Apes, I’ll take those brown hands off you and put them as a trophy on the mantelpiece.”
At that moment Montplace came up from behind, and rested a machete against Tarzan’s throat.
Suddenly the chattering screech of little Manu was heard from the direction of the trees in the west, and a tall branch began shaking. Jacobs produced his revolver from his breast pocket and fired into the trees. In the same second, Tarzan grabbed Montplace’s arm, and folding over his own great length, hurled the man straight across his shoulder, loosened his machete, and threw it over to the workers being held hostage by the Askari.
Standing up he let a chilling call of KREE-GAH escape his lips, and to each side of the amassed Askari who had moved found refuge with their back to the eastern part of the palisade, Taug and Gazan dropped. Their sinewy arms came down on the horrified guards, grabbing their rifles and hurling them over the palisade eer they had time to shoulder them and fire, after which the Apes attacked them with their full force. As the Apes were using the Askari on the end of the length of guards as a shield, their comrades dared not fire at the apes for fear of hitting their fellows.
Montplace found enough composure to sit up only to receive the equivalent of a battering ram on his cheek, before immediately passing out. Tarzan raised his head and scoured the length of the camp, in search of Jacobs, who was suddenly nowhere to be found. Instead Tarzan picked up the discarded weapons and dashed to the gate. Having unbarred it, the Waziri flooded the camp, charging towards the group of workers and Askari at the other end, screaming their war cries. Tarzan handed over the rifle to one of the warriors before arranging his spear, shouldering his bow and taking up the trail of Jacobs.
In the sight of the oncoming ebon warriors most of the workers simultaneously dropped to their knees, holding their heads in a panic. The Waziri moved in sync like a tidal wave, making it impossible to tell the one frightful foe from the other. Only Adebe remained standing, with a certain gleam to his eye as the warriors charged. As they heard the war cry of the Waziri, some of the Askari found enough composure to shoulder their rifles and fired into the oncoming mass.
Three of the Waziri warriors fell to their knees but Muviro and Wasimbu each shouldered their rifles and took down another two of the guards, Tembo being one of them. The remaining four guards, who were not being assailed by the apes, did not have time to reload their rifles eer the Waziri gracefully leapt over the huddling workers. They landed with the grace of pouncing panthers between the chained workers and the Askari, spearpoints below each of the guards’ chins.
At the rear of the group of warriors stood Wasimbu aiming a rifle towards the remaining Askari. So overcome with the adrenaline of the battle was he, that he did not notice the shuffle of a man coming to his feet behind him. Montplace had regained consciousness and in so doing, had produced a pistol from holsters hidden below his khaki jacket, which he was currently aiming at the back of Wasimbu’s head.
Still dazed from the strike upon his cheek and his drink though, Montplace did not register that one of the workers had stirred and found the machete which Tarzan had discarded in their direction. Just as Montplace was about to squeeze the trigger, the machete came down on Montplace’s wrist with the full fury of Mbele, the man who had lost his own hand to the foe before him.
As the panicked scream of Montplace rang over the camp, Tarzan was taking up the spoor of Jacobs. It was not an easy task, as his scent permeated the grounds. But, trailing back to the storage tent he found a stool indicating someone unused to climbing trees having gone up the same branch that Tarzan had both entered, and exited, the camp by earlier during the night. The ape-man leapt up the branch and took up the pursuit.
Few men, if any, would be able to follow a man into the jungle with any hope of discovering him. However, Tarzan’s ability to use his sensitive nose far succeeds ours, and his senses heightened by the dark, he was soon tracking the scent spoor of Jacobs. The Belgian had made his way over the barrier of the camp by way of the branch with surprising agility, had dropped on the other side of the tree, and then taken to the underbrush. Thankfully it had not rained for several days, and thus the scent spoor was making itself clearer to the ape-man the further they were getting from the camp.
So did Tarzan continue to move slowly along the trail, until it broke into a large, open area in the forest, where the ground was scantily covered with bushes and there were few trees. Perhaps a quarter of an acre composed the clearing and surrounding it were the forest on all sides. Dotting the edges of the clearing were the gleaning eyes of all manner of jungle denizens.
Tarzan’s eyes narrowed and he sniffed the air. He was certain that Jacobs had crossed the clearing, and as a cloud left the face of the moon, its silver lights highlighted the edges of the field before him. Wearily the ape-man started across in a crouched position, making sure the tip of his war spear did not give away his position, but once he had travelled about a third of its length there suddenly boomed the echo of a pistol. Again a bullet grazed the left shoulder of the ape-man and he folded for a moment, only just escaping a bullet which whisked over his head.
His shoulder stung, but since he had not been badly injured the ape-man crawled along the ground on knees and shoulders. The scent spoor of Jacobs was still distinct to him, but he noted other scents as well, both those of prey and predator. He came up behind a bush and fitted a bow to his arrow, releasing it with a twang. When the arrow hit a tree in the distance with a resounding thud, a flock of birds took flight into the night sky. Still the ape-man did not call out, hoping his silence would provoke Jacobs to surrender the location of his position.
His hope was not in vain, and the Belgian, prone to taunts and jeers, soon called out again: “A standoff again, Greystoke? Do you hope to disarm me by bow and arrow this time?” he scoffed.
The ape-man gave no reply, but made his way along dotted bushes to the eastern part of the clearing. The scent spoor was weaker here but he had been able to ascertain the whereabouts of Jacobs by the sound of his voice. The Belgian had climbed up a tree towards the western part of the edge of the clearing, and by circling it from behind Tarzan hoped to surprise the man.
Finding a large stone Tarzan tossed it sideways across the field and let it land audibly in the bush he had recently occupied. The sound produced the desired effect and Jacobs fired against the rustle, the boom of the firearm causing discord among the jungle denizens. Presently Tarzan had reached the edge of the clearing and in so doing immediately took to the trees. There was no more silent, and no swifter, travel than the graceful swing among the middle terraces by the Lord of the jungle.
He could only just make out the silhouette of the Belgian, sprawled out along a low bough on the tree ahead. Soundlessly Tarzan made his way into the same tree, found a branch almost directly above the man and dropped. On his way down he grabbed the shoulder of the unsuspecting man and brought him to the ground by his steel thews.
As they landed, Jacobs lost the grip of his revolver and the two men rolled on the ground like two tumbleweeds caught up in each other. Having the leverage of a clear mind, as opposed to the befuddlement of the surprised equivalent, Tarzan soon gained supremacy and pinned his foe down. The steely grip of Tarzan’s fingers presently found their way to the neck of Jacobs. Though Tarzan could not make out his features in the gloom, Jacobs’ eyes were bursting red, and veins were protruding across his forehead, as his life was being choked out of him.
So immersed with the fury of his revenge was the ape-man that he ignored the hairs standing up on the back of his neck, until his nose made him acutely aware of the distinct acrid smell of the fast approaching Sabor, the lioness. Of a sudden she pounced from the bushes of the clearing, attacking the bleeding shoulder of Tarzan. He knew not by what presence of mind his left hand had managed to grip the hilt of the hunting knife which had belonged to his sire, from the sheath secured by the hip of his foe, but as he tumbled down the clearing in wild battle with Sabor, he quickly realised that the tool which had for so long provided him with ascendency over the animals of the jungle, now provided his only chance of victory.
Where the brief tumble with Jacobs, following his own drop from the tree, had been a simple affair of exhibiting might for the jungle man, the present whirlwind of rolling in the grip of Sabor was a pure battle for survival. Finding his bearing in a world that spun at great speed, where he the one second was laying pillowed on the chest of Sabor, while the next being crushed to the ground over her great weight, and simultaneously avoiding both the ravaging claws and fangs, was no mean feat. Though he did not necessarily fear death, he also did not willingly invite it. Still, some corner of his mind acknowledged that if he must die, there would be no shame in doing so in an uproarious dance with the queen of the jungle.
When the chaotic pivot finally came to a halt, the ape-man counted his blessings for finding himself in the elevated position and without a moment's delay he plunged the knife into the chest of Sabor. She gave out a wild cry, and he raised the knife high, before letting it fall with all his remaining might. Again, and again, he drove the knife into her heart, and though she had stilled, her taloned paws now resting heavily against his back, he continued driving the knife down, fiercely crying out his resentment.
He barely had time to catch his breath before registering the sound of a co*cked revolver at the edge of the clearing. Looking up, Tarzan found Jacobs standing unsteadily pointing his gun directly at him. Though the tumble had seemed to last an eternity, Tarzan and Sabor had in reality not rolled more than some ten feet and at this distance there was no chance of Jacobs missing his target. Tarzan brought his lips up in a snarl and a low growl began sounding deep grown in the back of his throat.
To both their surprise the sound grew into the full roar of Numa directly behind Jacobs. The shock of the noise made Jacobs look over his shoulder. Coming towards them in a wild charge was Numa, the mate of Sabor, and despite his shaking knees Jacobs turned and fired in his direction. His revolver boomed and if he hit his mark, Numa gave no reaction to it. Again Jacobs fired but the revolver simply clicked. In a panic he searched his pockets for ammunition but before he had the chance of grasping a bullet, Numa was upon him, his great fangs digging deep into his throat.
Tarzan looked on as Numa shook his victim by the neck, the Belgian’s body going limp, before Numa dropped his dead quarry on the ground. Presently Numa locked eyes with Tarzan. The two masters of the jungle stared each other down, and not wishing to repeat the dance of death with yet another partner, Tarzan reached behind his back, and pulled out his war spear. In a blaze of fury Numa charged towards him, the ape-man crouching down in a steady position and just as Numa pounced, his great arms stretched wide to embrace his prey, Tarzan dug the butt of his spear securely into the ground, driving the tip of it right into the chest of the oncoming Numa.
For a moment all was silence, before the drum of his own pulse, and the roar of his strained breath reached the ears of the ape-men, through the shroud of his adrenaline. Finding his composure, he rose, rested his foot on the chest of Sabor, and after a deep breath, the savage cry of the victorious bull ape rang from his lips, echoing across the jungle to the camp beyond.
