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- Herausgeber: e-artnow
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017
This carefully crafted ebook: "THE CALL OF THE SAVAGE – Jan of the Jungle & Jan in India" is formatted for your eReader with a functional and detailed table of contents: Jan of the Jungle is a young boy, raised in isolation of lab by a weird scientist, with a chimpanzee as his only company. When he manages to escape, Jan finds himself in the surrounding forests and swamps of the Everglades, with his ape friend as a mentor in the wildlife. After tasting a freedom for the first time, Jan and his ape friend go through number of adventures, but as the time passes, Jan is getting anxious to learn about his origins and find his parents. Jan in India – As we continue to follow adventures of Jan of the Jungle, we find him engaged to his fiancée Ramona and reunited with his parents. Together with some friends, they start a cruise on the Indian Ocean. However, the happy days don't last long for Jan as he gets thrown in the shark infested waters and Ramona gets abducted. Otis Adelbert Kline was an adventure and science-fiction novelist, best known for his interplanetary adventure novels set on Venus and Mars, which instantly became science-fiction classics.
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THE CALL OF THE SAVAGE – Jan of the Jungle & Jan in India
Table of Contents
JAN OF THE JUNGLE
Chapter 1. A Diabolical Scheme
Dr. Bracken suavely bowed his Florida cracker patient out of his dispensary. It was in the smaller right wing of his rambling ancestral home on a hummock in the Everglades, near the Gulf of Mexico and five miles from Citrus Crossing.
The doctor cursed under his breath as a sudden uproar came from the larger right wing of the house, directly behind him. This wing, a place double- locked and forbidden even to his two old colored servants, had no entrance save through a narrow passageway that connected it with his private office in the smaller wing.
So far as his servants, Aunt Jenny and Uncle Henry, were concerned, a lock was superfluous. The muffled animal-like sounds that came from it were so strange and unearthly that they regarded them with superstitious awe.
As he closed the door behind his patient it seemed that a mask suddenly slipped from the doctor’s face, so swift and horrible was the change that came over his features. He had been smiling and suave, but as be turned away from the door his demeanor was more like that of a frenzied madman. His teeth, bared like those of a jungle beast at bay, gleamed white and menacing against the iron-gray of his closely cropped vandyke. His small, deep-set eyes burned malevolently, madly.
Fishing a bunch of keys from his pocket, he opened the door to the narrow passageway, pressed a switch that flooded it with light, and entered, locking it behind him. The roars were louder now. At the end of the passageway he used another key to open a second door, and stepped into the room beyond, pressing a second switch as he did so. The yellow rays of a bulb overhead revealed the stoutly: barred cages that housed his private menagerie within soundproofed walls.
In the cage at his elbow an African leopard snarled menacingly. Its next- door neighbor, a South American jaguar, padded silently back and forth with head hanging low and slavering jowls slightly parted. In the adjacent cage, the bars of which had been reinforced with powerful wire meshwork, a huge python was coiled complacently around a whitewashed tree trunk, its shimmering folds resting on the shortened stumps of the limbs. Beside this was the cage of Malik, the old and nearly toothless lion.
The glittering eyes of the doctor swept the room, seeking the cause of the disturbance. They paused for a moment at the cage of Tichuk, the surly old male chimpanzee, who was squatting on his shelf, striving to look innocent. But the Brazilian spider monkeys in the cage at Tichuk’s left were leaping and skipping about and chattering excitedly in a manner that showed all too plainly where the trouble had centered.
In two cages which adjoined each other and that of Tichuk were two creatures: Chicma, an old female chimpanzee, and a naked boy sixteen years of age. He was a handsome, superbly muscled lad, with a straight, athletic figure, broad shoulders, narrow hips, and the features of a Greek god, crowned by a tumbled mass of auburn curls. Several bloody scratches stood out against the white of his face and arms, and one hand still clutched a tuft of chimpanzee hair which he made no effort to conceal.
“Fighting through the bars with Tichuk again,” muttered the doctor. He reached for a whip hanging on a near-by peg. Then withdrew his hand. “Won’t punish him this time,” he growled to himself. “Tomorrow he must perform the act of vengeance for which I have trained him. Then he will leave this place forever. And I will be compensated for my years of bitterness and suffering.”
Glancing at his watch, the doctor saw that it was nearly feeding time. He went into the cooler and emerged a moment later. Growls, snarls, chatterings, and rending sounds marked his, progress.
At last Chicma, the female chimpanzee, was given bet ration of bread and lettuce; but to the omnivorous manchild’s ration a pound of raw beef was added.
This boy, the innocent victim of the doctor’s insane hatred for a woman, had never seen a human being other than the physician. Nor had he glimpsed any more of the outside world than might be observed through the small, high windows of the menagerie, or above the tall stockade just outside it, where he was exercised.
Dr. Bracken had loved the boy’s mother, Georgia Adams, a titian-haired Southern beauty, with a fiery passion of which few men are capable. A sudden declaration before his departure on a trip to Africa had won what he thought was a promise from her—a half-hearted assent she had evidently regretted the moment he had gone; but it was the one thing on which he had counted during all his weary months of tramping in the jungles. Her face had smiled at him in the light of many a camp fire; her voice had soothed his troubled sleep as he lay in his net-covered hammock while fierce beasts of prey roamed just outside the boma. For him the red-gold sunsets had reflected the glory of her titian hair. Bits of the blue vault of heaven visible at times through rents in the forest canopy, had hinted of the more wondrous blue of her eyes.
But he had returned to America only to have the cup of happiness dashed rudely from his lips—for she had married Harry Trevor.
True, she had told him, when they had a few moments alone, of writing a letter breaking the engagement only a week after his departure. He had accepted the statement politely, yet deep in his heart he doubted it. She had broken faith, and in his estimation a woman capable of that was capable of anything. The letter, if indeed there had been a letter, had never reached him.
So love had turned to hate—an abnormally intense hate that filled his waking hours and made his nights restless and hideous—a passionate, unreasoning hate that engendered a desire which soon became a fixed purpose and the sole end toward which he planned and strove—revenge.
But Dr. Bracken’s warped mind had cunningly pretended friendship, so cunningly that he served the Trevors as their family physician in Florida. And the birth of a son and heir gave him his long-awaited opportunity for a revenge which would be no trifling retribution from which Georgia Trevor would soon recover.
The kidnaping of the day-old boy had been ridiculously easy. At first the doctor’s diabolical plan had been to mutilate and cripple the child, turn his face into a hideous monstrosity, and return him, to be a living curse to his parents. But an event had occurred in the menagerie which changed his plans and gave him the germ of an even more diabolical scheme.
For the male chimpanzee, Tichuk, at that time caged with his mate Chicma, had slain their little one in a fit of fury and was attacking her, when the doctor returned with the stolen baby. Dr. Bracken had quieted both chimpanzees with hypodermics and removed the unconscious Tichuk to another cage. Then, a terrible smile upon his face; he had skinned the baby chimpanzee, treated its hide with an odorless preservative and sewed the cotton-padded skin about the human baby. As Chicma came out of her drugged sleep he placed the child in her arms.
The chimpanzee, dazed and foggy of perception, had sniffed the hairy hide of her own child. She recognized the scent and feel; yet the tensely waiting doctor, club and whip in hand, saw her hesitate in puzzlement, as if on the verge of flinging away this somehow suspiciously changed child of hers. But nature and mother-instinct conquered, and she fed the hungry infant.
Filled with a fierce exultation, the doctor stole away, muttering:
“What a scheme! The body of a man and the mind of an ape. And I would have made a physical monster of him, but with a clear mind. She would not have recognized him—might not have acknowledged him; but now, with features unchanged, she can’t deny him—and when she has seen she will die —die by the hand of her own son. I will teach him to slay. Only two words of the human language, other than his name and the names of these beasts, shall he know: ‘Mother,’ and ‘Kill!’”
Now, as the demented physician looked at the sixteen-year-old ape-boy, a grin of triumph overspread his satanic features, for the awful climax of his revenge was nearly at hand.
The titian-haired woman who was the object of his hatred had come very near to dying, and thus cheating him of his full measure of vengeance, shortly after she learned that her child had been stolen. But Dr. Bracken had stood between her and death, fending off the scythe of the Grim Reaper.
For fourteen years Georgia Trevor had been an invalid—constantly under his care. Dr. Bracken had never let her lose hope of the child’s return. Then her husband, who had, meanwhile inherited the enormous fortune of his father, had purchased a palatial yacht and taken her on a two-year cruise.
Only the day before Georgia Trevor and her husband had returned to Citrus Crossing; and the doctor had planned a clever coup; a faked telegram to get the husband away from the louse, that he might consummate the revenge for which he had waited so long, and for which he had trained the boy from babyhood.
Dr. Bracken, who had a liking for things oriental, had named the boy “Jan,” after Jan ibn Jan who, in Arabic legends, was Sultan of the Evil Jinn. A truly demoniac name—the choice of a diabolical mind.
As the raw meat was thrown to him, Jan who was a perfect mimic, seized it with a snarl as he had seen the carnivora seize theirs. While the doctor watched, seated in his chair, with a long black stogie going, the lad retired, growling, to a corner of his cage. First he ate the meat; then he munched a few lettuce leaves. The rest of his rations he passed through the bars to his foster-mother.
When Jan had finished his meal, the doctor arose, took his whip from the peg, and opened the doors of their cages. Then he shouted: “Jan! Chicma!” and whistled as if he were calling a dog. The boy and chimpanzee came out.
The doctor walked to a door which had been cut in the end of the menagerie wing a number of years before, and opened it. While he fumbled with the latch, the imitative lad, unobserved, opened the catch of the lion’s cage, leaving the door slightly ajar. Then he and the chimpanzee obediently followed the doctor out of the building into a stockade with a twelve-foot board fence around it. In this stockade were various exercising devices—a trapeze, parallel bars, a thick rope for climbing, and a suspended dummy dressed like a woman, with titian hair.
For some time the boy and ape amused themselves by swinging on the trapeze and rope. Then they performed various antics on the parallel bars.
Presently the doctor called them down from the bars. Walking to the dummy of the red-haired woman, he shook it savagely and said:
“Mother! Kill!”
Instantly the boy and ape charged the dummy, biting and tearing with mimic ferocity, the ape snarling and growling, but the boy, between his own snarls and growls, crying: “Mother! Kill!”
Both boy and ape always enjoyed this mimic fight which ended their afternoon exercises, and were loath to leave off when the doctor whistled to them.
But before he could summon them a second time there came a terrific growl from the doorway behind them. Turning, he beheld Malik, the old lion, just emerging from the door. With upraised whip he tried to frighten the beast into returning to its cage, but it snarled and raised a huge paw menacingly.
He flicked the lion on the nose, and it backed up with a growl. Again he stung the tender nose, and the lion slunk, snarling, back into the house. Here it was necessary once more to use the lash in order to get the stubborn feline to enter the cage. When the beast was inside, the doctor shut and fastened the door, and with a sigh of relief took his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his dripping face.
But his look of relief was instantly supplanted by one of fierce anger as he realized that it must have been Jan who opened the catch of that cage door. Well, Jan must be taught a lesson. He should receive a whipping that he would not soon forget.
Gripping his whip more tightly and frowning thunderously, the doctor strode menacingly through the door. But after one look around the stockade he gasped in astonishment.
Jan and Chicma were gone!
At the first growl of the lion from the doorway, Chicma, who had an intense hereditary fear of the king of beasts, ran, and seizing the end of the climbing rope swung high in the air. At the end of her swing she was only a few feet from the top of the fence which surrounded the stockade. Letting go of the rope, and still carried onward by the momentum of her swing, she caught the top of the fence with both forepaws, drew herself up, and dropped to the ground on the other side.
Jan was not nearly so frightened by the growl of the lion. But he was at the imitative age, and the beast that had just gone over the fence was, so far as his knowledge went, his parent. Fully as agile as the chimpanzee and nearly as strong, it was easy for him to swing up onto. the fence and follow.
Still thoroughly frightened, she was standing fifty feet away from the fence in a patch of saw-palmettos, bouncing up and down and calling to him in the language of the chimpanzees—the only language Jan fully understood:
“Come, come! Hurry, or Malik the Terrible One will eat you!”
As soon as his feet struck the ground she scampered off through the palmettos, swinging along on hind toes and fore-knuckles. Jan, who had never traveled for any great distance, followed, imitating her peculiar gait for a while, but presently found that he could keep up with her much better by traveling on only two legs, as the doctor traveled.
He was without clothing of any kind, and the saw-edged leaves cruelly lacerated his tender skin, so he was soon a mass of bloody scratches. His feet, bruised and cut by sticks and sharp stones, left spots of red on the ground. But all of these hurts only served to accelerate his speed. He imagined that the shrubs were angry with him for some unknown reason, and, like Dr. Bracken with his whip, were punishing him. He must get away from them, as Chicma was doing.
They crossed a hummock on which a few tall, gaunt, long-needle pines stood like silent sentinels. Beyond this the ground became marshy, so they were sometimes wading ankle-deep in muck, sometimes sunk to the armpits in mud water, and subaqueous vegetation.
This was Jan’s first sight of the outside world, and despite the hurts he was getting, he was thrilled immeasurably Freedom—the only condition that makes life tolerable and desirable to men who have spirit—was his for the first time. It went to his head like strong wine. He shouted—a wordless, triumphant roar, voicing the exuberance of his feelings.
Everywhere about him were new sights smells and sounds. With the soft mud oozing up between his toes, the warm water splashing around his legs, and the hot sun beating mercilessly down on his tousled red head and bare body, he strode happily onward.
Presently they came to another hummock, on which grew several wild orange trees. Chicma sprang into one of these and began to regale herself with the highly acid fruit, and Jan followed her example.
The sun was low on the western horizon when they came to a forest of cypress and water oaks, most of which were standing in the water. They were heavily draped with Spanish moss and Jan, who was wont to personalize everything, compared the bearded trees with the bearded doctor, and heartily disliked them for the similarity.
Scarcely had they entered the shady depths ere Jan heard, far off in the direction whence they had come a weird sound that sent gooseflesh crawling all over his body.
Chicma heard it, too, and although she had been traveling slowly before, redoubled her speed, urging Jan in her queer chimpanzee gutturals to hurry after her. Jan had heard similar sounds before, and they had always, caused the gooseflesh to come up on his skin even though he had no idea that they were the baying of bloodhounds trailing some luckless Negro who was attempting to escape from the convict camp.
Chicma sensed that the creatures were on their trail, so she sprang into a tree, calling to Jan to follow her, just as two huge bloodhounds, their quarry in sight, plunged forward with eager barks to seize them.
For a moment Jan stood, looking curiously at the advancing creatures. Then he turned, and with a dexterous leap, caught one of the lower branches of a water oak. Swinging his lithe body up into a tree, he was climbing, and watching the dogs, now leaping and barking beneath him, when he was startled by a thunderous growl just above him.
By this time the darkness had deepened to such an extent that he could not see clearly, but as he glanced fearfully upward, he beheld a tremendous black bulk, from which two gleaming, phosphorescent eyes looked down at him.
Then a huge paw tipped with sharp, sickle-like claws, swung for his upturned face.
Chapter 2. In the Bearded Forest
As soon As he discovered that Jan and Chicma were not in the stockade, Dr. Bracken realized that they must, somehow, have got over the fence. Although he was a wiry and powerful man, the doctor was unable to leap high enough to grasp the top of the twelve foot barrier that confronted him, nor did Chicma’s method occur to him.
To have Jan seen at large with one of his chimpanzees would mean the destruction, of all his plans, and perhaps of himself. Lynchings were not unknown, and the monstrous crime he had committed would arouse these people to a killing frenzy.
He dashed around the house to where the stockade jutted out from the menagerie. Here his trained hunter’s eye quickly found the tracks where Jan and Chicma had alighted, and he hurried away on the trail, feeling confident of being able to soon overtake his fleeing quarry. He smiled when he saw the spots of blood mingled with the boy’s footprints, for he believed that the lad would not long endure the pain of attempting to escape.
He crossed the stretch of saw palmetto and the pine-crested hummock with speed and confidence, but when he entered the marsh on the other side he lost the trail time and again where the tracks were concealed under water, and only found it by repeated circling and searching. This took time, and time, to him was very precious, for he knew that while he was floundering about, there in the muck and water, his quarry was getting farther away.
After about a half hour he decided that he would save time in the end by going back and borrowing a pair of bloodhounds from the sheriff.
He made the excuse that one of his apes had escaped; but it was with great difficulty that he dissuaded the sheriff from accompanying him on the hunt.
The hounds made much swifter progress than the doctor, so much so that they were soon out of sight, and he was able to follow them only by the sound of their baying.
He had traveled a considerable distance into the marsh when he met a Seminole Indian named Pete Little, whom he had often seen around Citrus Crossing.
“You make big hunt?” the Indian asked.
“Yes. One of my apes got away.”
“I seen it,” said Pete, and cast a look at the doctor that was full of meaning. “Red-head boy with it, about sixteen, seventeen year old.”
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Trevor, she’s red-headed. Her baby boy was stole sixteen year ago.”
“And—”
“I poor. You rich. For thousand dollar I forget.”
“I think that can be arranged,” said the doctor, his face suddenly gone pale. His perfectly controlled features betrayed no other sign of his emotion. He added suddenly, with feigned terror: “Look there, behind you! A moccasin!”
At the sound of that dread word, the Indian turned. He saw no moccasin, but realized too late that he had been tricked. There was a sharp report, a stinging pain that shot through his left side like the searing of a hot iron —and oblivion. As he pitched forward on his face in the muck, the doctor holstered his smoking forty-five, kicked viciously at the prostrate form, and hurried on after the baying bloodhounds, whose distant cries had suddenly changed to fighting growls.
Chapter 3. Jan’s First Fight
As the sickle-like claws of the big creature above him swung for his face, Jan dodged and hastily scuttled out on the limb. But the cornered black bear was not to be so easily dismissed. With a blood-curdling roar, it plunged down after the naked youth. At this, the blood-hounds below increased their clamor, leaping and barking with redoubled fury.
But the limb that Jan occupied, and onto which the beast had suddenly flung itself, was not equal to the combined weight of boy and brute, and gave way with a resounding crack.
Clutching wildly in mid-air, Jan grasped the tip of a branch which projected from an adjoining tree. It sagged with his weight, but did not break, and with his ape-like agility it was not difficult for him to quickly scramble to a less precarious position beside the trunk.
The bear; meanwhile, crashed to the ground, where it was instantly set upon by the dogs. A thud, and a series of plaintive yelps from one of them indicated that the creature, despite its fall was able to give a good account of itself. A medley of fierce barking, snarling and growling followed. But the bear, harassed by the dogs but not particularly fearful of them, lumbered away through the dark forest, crashing through the underbrush and splashing through the pools. Presently the sounds of its movements died away, and there drifted to Jan only the barking of the hounds, which were evidently still worrying their quarry.
Then it was that a new sound came to the alert ears of the young fugitive —the sound of a man, crashing and splashing among the trees. Looking in the direction of the sound, Jan saw a bright light moving through the forest.
As he was watching the approach of the man with mingled curiosity and fear, Chicma suddenly swung herself into the tree beside him.
“Come,” she barked, “or Cruel One will get us! Follow me!”
Jan understood that by “Cruel One,” she meant Dr. Bracken. All the occupants of their small menagerie world had been similarly named to him by his foster mother. The lion was “Terrible One,” the jaguar “Fierce One,” the snake “Sleepy One,” and the monkeys “Chattering Ones,” words which would have been nothing more than guttural grunts and barks to anyone else, but each of which had a distinct meaning for Jan.
Frightened at the very mention of Dr. Bracken, Jan hurried after the chimpanzee, as she swung from tree to tree, taking a direction opposite that of the hounds and the great beast they were harrying.
Presently, as they moved away among the cool, leafy branches, the sounds made by the doctor died away, and his flashlight was no longer visible. A little later, Jan could not hear the hounds, and the only noises that came to his ears were the natural sounds of the swamp—the hoarse booming of frogs, the chirping of crickets, the humming of insects, and the cries of night birds.
Tired and hungry, Jan besought his foster mother to stop, but she would not do so until the very edge of the forest was reached, and they could no longer proceed without descending to the ground. She then curled up in the crotch of a tree, and the weary youth was glad to follow her example.
Jan was awakened by a call from Chicma. Hot sunlight was streaming down on his face through a rift in the branches. Looking down, he beheld the chimpanzee devouring some berries she was gathering from some low bushes that grew along the bank of a tiny stream which meandered through the marsh.
He leaned over to call to her, and as he did so, felt numerous twinges on his back, neck and arms, which changed his cry to one of pain. His limbs and body were bright red in color and felt extremely hot, while touching them caused a burning sensation that was anything but pleasant. There were many small red bumps, too, which itched intolerably, and these combined with the scratches he had received made the boy more uncomfortable than he had ever felt before. It was Jan’s first experience with sunburn and mosquito bites in such heroic doses.
Hearing his cry of pain, Chicma looked up and called softly to him. At this instant the head of an alligator emerged from the water behind her, and the powerful jaws seized her by the arm. She screamed wildly in anguish. As she was being dragged into the water she gripped the thick roots of a cypress with her other arm and hung on, while the reptile shook and tugged, in an effort to break her hold and drag her into the stream.
Jan, who had been about to make a gingerly descent on account of his many hurts, on seeing this attack on his foster-parent, ignored his own soreness and dropped swiftly from limb to limb until he stood beside her. Then, with a snarl like that of a wild beast, he leaped astride the saurian’s back, and bit, scratched and pummeled the armored enemy with no apparent effect except the damage to his own fists. He sought for a hold on the creature’s head, to pull it away from Chicma, and his hands came in contact with two round bumps on top of the head. In these bumps were soft spots. Plunging the middle finger of each hand into one of these, he pulled backward.
At this, the alligator instantly let go its hold on its victim, and backed, wildly threshing, into the water. For Jan had found its eyes— the two most vulnerable points on its entire anatomy. Blinded, and with every bit of fight taken out of it, the reptile thrashed about in the shallow water, its sole object to escape those gouging fingers and unseat the creature on its back. As a result, Jan was thrown into the water, whence he floundered quickly to the shore, while the alligator, bent only on escape, glided to the center of the stream where it sank out of sight.
When Jan reached the bank, Chicma had climbed up into the tree and was whimpering and licking her wounded arm. He called to her to come down— that the danger from the monster had passed—but she was so badly frightened that she paid no heed to him.
This was Jan’s first battle with anything other than the red-headed dummy of a woman which Cruel One had provided. He had, of course, played at fighting with Chicma many times, for she had, to the best of her ability, instructed him in the arts of defense and offense, but this was his first real fight, and he had won. He had conquered a very terrible monster of which even Chicma was afraid.
His chest swelled with pride as he strode stiffly up and down the muddy bank, calling the alligator all manner of disagreeable chimpanzee names, and inviting it to come back for more punishment. He tired of this presently, when the reptile did not reappear, and set to work to still the craving of his empty stomach by plucking and eating the berries which grew in profusion thereabout. He quickly learned to distinguish between green and ripe berries.
Jan’s victory over the alligator made him feel superior to the ape —and whereas he had previously believed her greater than himself, both mentally and physically, he now knew, instinctively, that this was not the case. His man mind had begun to assert itself—to take its natural place in the scale of creation. He was stronger and braver than Chicma, and a greater fighter. She might betray her weakness and inferiority by whimpering, but as for him, no matter how great the pain, he would henceforth suffer in silence.
They traveled without food until late in the afternoon, when they came to the lonely cabin of one of the dwellers in the swamp. After reconnoitering to make sure that there was no one about they raided a garden which yielded sweet potatoes, celery, lettuce and tomatoes, with some luscious grapefruit off a nearby tree for dessert.
When they had eaten their fill, they resumed their journey, traveling toward the reddening disk of the setting sun. But they had not gone far when there came to the ears of Jan a strange and fearful sound. It seemed to him an incongruous combination of whispering and roaring, and his active young imagination immediately set to work to picture the monster that could make so voluminous and terrible a sound.
He hesitated, fearful of venturing farther in the direction of the noise but as Chicma advanced unperturbed, and as he now felt himself braver and greater than she, he marched on beside her with no outward sign of the trepidation he felt.
It was not long before they came to what was to Jan a most amazing sight. It was a broad, curved beach of gleaming white sand with white-crested waves rolling in, dashing a fine spray high in the air and leaving a line of silvery spume at the point where they receded.
Chicma walked out upon the smooth white sand, and turned to the left. Jan, perturbed but resolute, walked beside her. The sand felt soft and pleasant to his injured feet, and it was not long before he gathered sufficient courage to walk out into the spume. This felt exceptionally pleasant until the salt began to smart his wounds, whereupon he imagined that the sea was becoming angry with him, and quickly retreated to the dry sands.
The sun was just disappearing into the evening mists with a last blaze of blood-red glory when they arrived at the bank of a small rivulet that flowed into the Gulf. A few coconut trees adorned its banks, and Chicma instantly climbed one of these, throwing a half dozen large nuts to the ground. She then descended and Jan, always quick to mimic followed her example as she tore the fibrous covering with her sharp teeth.
When she had uncovered the end of the inner shell she broke this open with a stone and eagerly drank the liquid it contained. Jan also picked up a stone and bashed in the end of his coconut. He tasted the milk gingerly at first, then drained it with great relish. He was discovering more good things all the time in this strange outer world which had been withheld from him for so long.
But there was more to come, for Chicma, removing more of the fibrous outer wrapping, proceeded to break off pieces of the inner shell and devour the white, tasty nut meat that adhered to it. Jan did likewise, and found another delight.
But Chicma did not open a second nut, for there suddenly sounded above the roar of the surf, an ominous rumble accompanied by a white flash, far out over the Gulf. Calling Jan to follow her, the chimpanzee hurried into the thickest part of the underbrush in the coconut grove, and there crouched, shivering with her fear of the lightning.
Jan could not understand this fear. Unperturbed, he looked out over the Gulf in the direction of the noise. The rumblings were becoming louder, and the flashes brighter. The last red glow of sunset was being swallowed up by a tumbling mass of blue-black clouds. But these things were, to him, rather commonplace, for he had often seen approaching thunder clouds through the high windows of the menagerie, and several times had viewed them from the stockade.
What principally attracted his attention was a most puzzling thing on the surface of the water. It appeared to have a pair of large, white wings, placed one in front of the other, which did not flap like those of birds, but were held more or less rigidly, straight up in the air. He was astonished to see one of the wings swiftly disappear, followed in a moment by the disappearance of the other. On the back of the thing were tiny moving creatures that looked, at a distance, to be much like Cruel One.
Jan did, not know that what he had seen was not an animal, but a Venezuelan schooner, which had scurried to anchor behind a sheltering point of land and then lowered sail, in order to escape the fury of the coming storm. Nor had he any means of knowing that one of the figures on the deck had been scanning the shore with binoculars and had seen both Jan and Chicma—a naked boy and an African ape—here on the western coast of Florida.
A short time after Jan crouched down beside the cowering Chicma, the storm broke.
Captain Francesco Santos, commander and owner of the schooner Santa Margarita, brushed back the straggling hairs of his small, coal-black mustache, inserted a cigarette between his coarse lips, and lit it.
Filling his lungs with tobacco smoke, he exhaled slowly and as he did so, addressed Jake Grubb, his powerful, blond bearded first mate, who was peering at the shore through a pair of binoculars.
“Por Dios, Señor Grubb! You seem to ‘ave locate’ sometheeng that ees of more interest than the coming storm. May I ‘ave the look, also?”
“I seen it, but I don’t believe it,” replied Grubb, handing his binoculars to Santos.
Santos turned the glass in the direction indicated, and focused it to suit his vision.
“Son of wan gun, señor!” he exclaimed. “It ees not the Bacardi, for I see them also, and me, I drank tequila.”
“What are they a doin’ now, captain?”
“The ape ees just take what you call the duck into the bushes. The boy ees stand there and look at us. The ape ees scared, but that boy, he’s not afraid of notheeng, I tal you.”
A particularly loud clap, of thunder, followed by the spatter of raindrops and a violent tilting of the schooner as the storm broke, sent both men scurrying for cover. Once inside the cabin, Santos lit another cigarette and got out his bottle of tequila, while Grubb resorted to his pipe and his rum.
“What would you think, captain, if I told you I had an idea for makin’ some easy money?” asked Grubb, refilling his glass and sucking at his pipe.
“I would be delight’, señor, if I, Francesco Santos, could thereby make what you call the honest penny.”
“I believe,” said Grubb, “in takin’ what the good Lord provides. Over there, hidin’ in the bushes, is some kind of a big African ape. It may be a gorilla or it may be a chimpanzee, but I know from its looks that it’s one or the other. It must have got away from some circus, because apes like that don’t run wild anywheres except in Africa. People were payin’ good money to see that critter, and they’ll do it again. I traveled with a street carnival for one season, and barked on a side-show door with a circus, so I know something about the racket. If we catch that ape, bring it aboard, and build a cage for it, we kin turn this schooner into a showboat. Or we kin buy a tent, travel from port to port in ease and style, and stay in each place as long as the dough rolls in. There ain’t no limit to where we kin go, what we kin do, or how much we kin make.”
“Carramba! That sound pretty good, amigo. One hour before daylight, then, we leave for the shore weeth nets and ropes. I dreenk to our success amigo.”
“Down the hatch,” replied Grubb, as he tossed off his drink.
Chapter 4. Captured
Jan was awakened by a low cry of warning from Chicma. Then he heard the sound of human voices. The darkness had passed, and a pink glow heralded the coming of the sun.
The voices grew louder—closer, and there were crashing sounds in the underbrush all around them. As these drew nearer, Chicma, calling softly to the boy to follow, made a sudden rush to break through the narrowing circle.
As she leaped out of the bushes, the ape tried to dart between two men who stood about ten feet apart. One was a swarthy fellow with a small mustache. The other was jet black, and gigantic in stature. But as she ran forward, the two suddenly lifted a net which they had been trailing between them, and in a moment she was struggling in its meshes which the two men drew tighter and tighter around her.
Bewildered by the strange sights and sounds, Jan dashed off into the undergrowth, but when he saw that Chicma had been caught he paused, hoping to see her break away. As it became increasingly evident to him that she would not be able to do this unaided, he snarled like an enraged animal—then charged.
The two men were bending over Chicma as she thrashed on the ground, attempting to put ropes on her. Four others, three with brown skins and one with a bushy yellow beard, were running toward them carrying nets and ropes. Paying no heed to these reinforcements, Jan leaped on the back of the man nearest him—the swarthy fellow with the little mustache—and growling and snarling like a jungle beast, attacked him with teeth and nails.
But the yellow-bearded giant ran up behind him and pulled him off.
Quick as a flash, Jan turned on this new enemy and sank his teeth into the hairy forearm. With an exclamation of pain and anger, the big man jabbed a huge fist into the boy’s midriff, causing him to let go his hold and gasp for breath. The fist flashed out a second time, colliding with his jaw, and Jan’s whirling senses left him.
Jan did not know when he was bundled aboard the ship, nor could he know that his jailer of sixteen years, Dr. Bracken, had resumed his trailing, after daybreak, just a bit too late. The signs of struggle and capture were plain enough, and Bracken furiously followed the tracks down to the shore, where the marks of a boat’s prow were etched deep in the sand. Looking out across the bay he saw a small schooner flying the flag of Venezuela. He could not make out her name. Even as he looked, her sails were raised and her anchor hoisted. Then slowly, gracefully, the vessel sailed around the point and southward. The half- maddened doctor knew that for the time being, at least, his vengeful pursuit was balked.
When Jan recovered consciousness once more, he was in a strange half-dark place of queer sights, sounds, smells and motions. There was a thick collar around his neck, fastened by a heavy chain to a large ring in the planking behind him. A little way from him; and trying to reach him, but held by her chain in a similar manner to a ring on the opposite side of the space they occupied, was Chicma.
She called softly to him, and when he answered, seemed satisfied by the assurance that he was alive, and quit tugging at her chain.
Through the cracks between the boards on, which he lay, and which constantly lurched under him with a motion that gave Jan a most unpleasant feeling, he could hear the swishing of bilge water, which stank abominably. Some mildewed excelsior had been scattered over the planking, and the sour odor of this only increased the wave of nausea that swept over him.
For hours that seemed interminable, he lay there, constantly swayed by the lurching of the ship, and suffering in silence.
Then a hatch was raised there was the sound of voices and footsteps descending the ladder, and the swarthy man with the little mustache, came through the door. Just behind him was the huge individual with the yellow beard.
Jan instinctively hated all men with beards because Dr. Bracken was bearded. And to top this instinctive dislike was the fact that this particular bearded man had injured him.
The two men were talking. But Jan, of course, was unable to understand them. The fact that they were looking at him, however, was enough. He growled menacingly.
“I’ll be hanged if that kid ain’t wilder than the chimpanzee,” said Jake Grubb. He walked closer to Jan and held out a hand placatingly. “Come here, boy. What’s yer name?”
Jan bared his teeth with a fierce snarl, and snapped at the hand which was hastily withdrawn.
“Blood of the devil!” exclaimed Santos with mock-consternation. “Look out, señor. You will be devoured.”
“You know, captain, I b’lieve this kid’ll make a better drawin’ card than the ape,” said Grubb. “We kin show ‘em in a cage together—the African wild man and the African ape. We’ll have to make the boy some kind of a breech clout or skirt out of hide.”
“So amigo? And who weel persuade heem to wear it?”
“I’ll make him wear it or break his back,” replied Grubb.
Chapter 5. The Rope’s End
For many hours, Jan lay on the floor, rising only to drink at intervals from a pan of water which the men had gingerly slid into his cage.
But the sea grew calmer, the rocking of the craft became less violent and gradually his seasickness left him. And he grew very hungry.
Although Chicma had been fed several times during this period, Jan’s original ration remained untouched; and he was given nothing more to eat. A huge black man—the one who had helped to capture the chimpanzee— had come in once and refilled his water pan for him. Jan had growled at this giant as he had at the others, but the man had talked softly, soothingly, to him, and had been very deliberate in his movements, so the boy had made no attempt to molest him as he poured the water into the pan from the pitcher.
With his appetite back and his sickness gone, Jan drank the last of the water which the black giant had left for him. Then he ate the bananas set before him—a fruit of which he was very fond. But the cold chili burned him with its pepper, and he quickly spat out the first mouthful. But the smell of the meat in it urged him on. Scooping up another mouthful, he chewed it rapidly, and swallowed it. This mouthful seemed to bite him a little, but not nearly so much as the first. Quickly he finished the contents of the bowl.
His stomach filled, Jan was stretching out in his excelsior when he heard the voices of men descending the ladder.
Tensely alert, he sat up as two men entered the room. The foremost was the yellow-bearded white man he had learned to dislike so intensely. Behind him walked the giant Negro. The white man carried a short stout rope and a roll of leather. The Negro carried a pitcher, with which he refilled the pans of Chicma and Jan while the first mate unrolled his leather bundle.
“Now, Borno,” said Grubb, “I’ll show you how to dress up this kind. Might have to dress him down before I dress him up, but that’s all in a day’s work.”
“Oui, m’sieu’,” acquiesced Borno, who was a Haitian Negro, and actually though not nominally the second mate of the Santa Margarita. “Oui, m’sieu’, I watch.”
The leather which Grubb had unrolled was a short skirt, slightly resembling a Highlander’s kilts, and attached to a stout belt. Holding this spread out in his two huge hands, he slowly advanced toward Jan, who backed away with a snarl.
“Needn’t to act thataway. Ain’t goin’ to hurt ye none,” said Grubb. But his actions belied his words, for he made a sudden spring, clasping the belt around the boy’s waist, and lifting him from the floor.
Squirming, kicking, clawing, Jan was soon dangling with the belt beneath his armpits, still unbuckled. With cat-like quickness, he doubled up and bit clear through one of Grubb’s hands.
Roaring a blood-curdling oath, the first mate dropped him and backed away, nursing his wounded hand. Then, flinging down the leather skirt, he caught up the rope he had brought.
Jan did not cower as the big man advanced toward him, but strained at his chain in his endeavor to reach his enemy. Standing just out of his reach, the mate brought down the end of the rope with a skill that came of long practice, and a little stream of blood trickled downward, from the welt it made in Jan’s tender, sunburned skin.
Again and again he swung the cruel rope, blood spurting from a new welt at each blow. But not so much as the slightest whimper escaped the lips of Jan. Instead, he strained at his collar until it nearly choked him in his attempts to reach his cruel foe. And in his glittering eyes was the light of a killing frenzy.
Aroused by this mistreatment of her foster child, and by the smell of blood, Chicma also was tugging at her chain, endeavoring to go to the boy’s rescue while voicing her anger in forceful chimpanzee invective, and gnashing her powerful teeth until her pendulous lips and hairy chest were flecked with saliva.
Borno watched the proceedings calmly at first, but when the body of the boy was a mass of bloody welts and his spirit remained unbroken, his eyes glittered with a light that echoed the look in those of Jan, and his thick lips compressed in an expression of disapproval.
“Zis is too much for Borno,” he growled at the mate, and went up on deck.
Chicma, who had been jumping up and down, now turned, and grasping her chain in both front paws, braced her hind feet against the wall and pulled. Jan, who was as quick to see the advantage of this means of leverage as he was to imitate, followed her example. He was stronger and heavier than the ape, and the staple which held the ring pulled out, dropping him on his bloody back on the rough planking.
More amused than perturbed by this incident, Grubb laughed and cut at the boy’s unprotected chest and abdomen with his bloody rope.
But it was only for an instant that Jan remained on the floor. With lightning quickness he rolled out of reach, then leaped to his feet and faced his tormentor. Grubb instantly followed him, and had his rope upraised for another blow when Jan seized the heavy chain which hung from his collar and, imitating his attacker, swung it back in retaliation. It caught the first mate a terrific blow across the face, half stunning him for an instant. But before Jan could swing it a second time the man leaped for him.
Unhampered now by the chain, it would have been easy for the youth to dodge beneath the extended arms. But he had no thought of flight. Instead of attempting to escape, he leaped on the back of his enemy. There flashed to him, at this instant, the memory of the manner in which he had vanquished the alligator. And he did not doubt that this new enemy might be overcome in the same manner. Lightning-quick to act on any impulse, Jan found the two soft vulnerable spots and plunged in gouging fingers.
With a shriek of anguish, Grubb seized the boy and flung him over his head. But swift as his action had been, it was far too slow to save his eyes from torture.
Unhurt by his fall, Jan sprang to his feet to face a totally changed enemy. Instead of menacing him with the cruel rope, the mate was now holding his hands over his face and groaning. But such conduct only added contempt to Jan’s hatred. Again he swung his heavy chain, cutting Grubb across his unprotected middle.
With a shriek of fear, the mate groped for the door, and hastily climbed the ladder. But Jan, his anger unsated, followed him, relentlessly swinging his heavy chain.
When Borno, having sickened at the sight of the cruelty practiced on Jan reached the deck, he found Captain Santos scanning the horizon with his binoculars.
“‘Ave you dress the boy so soon?” Santos asked, as he struck a match on the side of the cabin.
“Non, m’sieu’ le capitain,” replied the Negro respectfully. “I theenk you better stop M’sieu’ Grubb from use zat rope. Zat boy he’s never geeve up until he dead. Borno know.”
Santos laughed nastily. “You lak the young devil pretty well, heh? You don’t lak to see heem hurt. Well, I tal you sometheeng. Thees Grubb knows hees beesiness. He’s ‘andle many men—‘undreds, thousands. He’s ‘andle man or boy wan time, that wan nex’ time ees do what Señor Grubb tal heem.”
They both whirled at a sudden sound.
“Nombre de Dios!” Santos cried. “What ‘as ‘appen to you, señor?”
But Grubb, who had just emerged from the hatchway, blood streaming down his face, neither saw nor heard them. Shrieking his fear and anguish, he ran aimlessly hither and thither across the deck. And following him grimly, relentlessly, was Jan, bloody but unconquered, swinging his heavy chain regularly and effectively.
At each thud of the chain Grubb tripped over a coil of rope and shrieked and ran. Once he fell. But he was on his feet again in an instant, running as if the very devil were after him. Santos and Borno sprang forward to rescue the mate. But they were far too slow. Before they shad taken a dozen steps they saw him blunder against the rail and pitch overboard.
Both men instantly hurried to the rail, Santos hastily snatching a life preserver while he watched the water for the mate’s reappearance. His head bobbed up, and the captain cast the circle of inflated rubber. But the mate could not see it.
Following the ship at a pace that matched its own, several large sail- like fins protruded from the water. The two men saw them converge toward the struggling human figure.
“Maria Madre!” exclaimed Santos. “Sharks! It ees the end!”
One fin, nearer than the others, suddenly disappeared. The bobbing head went down with a final, despairing shriek. There was a flashing and darting hither and thither of other fins and the water was churned to a pink foam.
Both men had, for the time, forgotten the presence of the red-haired youth. They found him lying unconscious beside the rail in a pool of his own blood, the heavy chain still gripped in his fingers.
Borno lifted him as tenderly as if Jan had been his own child.
“Maitresse Ezillee,” he prayed to his Voodoo goddess, “give zis boy hees life, hees health.”
Gathering Jan to his broad black bosom, he carried him down the ladder and gently laid him on his bed of excelsior.
Chapter 6. Hurricane
Weakened by the terrific loss of blood from his many wounds Jan did not recover consciousness for some time. When he did, he noticed that beneath him there was some thing softer and more pleasant to lie upon than he had ever felt in his life before. Borno, who squatted near him watching anxiously, had brought one of his own blankets to throw over the rough excelsior.
As Jan opened his eyes, Borno talked soothingly to the youth, who lay there, too sick to show either resentment or appreciation. Presently the Negro, who knew from experience the thirst that comes to the severely wounded, proffered the pan of water. Jan made a feeble effort to sit up, but his head swam and he sank back.
His huge hand gentle as that of a woman, Borno helped the youth to raise his head and held the pan to his lips. Jan drank eagerly, deeply—then looked his thanks at the big Negro and lay back once more, closing his eyes.
Borno rose and quietly left the room. Mounting the ladder, he met Santos
“Pardon, m’sieu’, but I don’ theenk zat boy need to be chain’,” he said. “He’s ver’ seeck boy.”
“Weeth our own eyes we saw what he did to Señor Grubb,” replied the captain. “Me, I would rather see el tigre loose on my ship.”
As Santos’s native language was Spanish and Borno’s Haitian Creole, the common ground was English, which both understood fairly well, as did the members of the mestizo crew, who were from Jamaica and Trinidad.
“Zat boy ees need planty sunlight—fresh air,” persisted Borne, “or he’s gone die.”
“Maybe you like to make the cage for heem on deck,” suggested Santos. “Then we can take off the chain.”
“I make ze cage, m’sieu’,” promised Borne eagerly.
And so it came about that in a few days, during which the Santa Margarita had sped steadily southward, Jan and Chicma were installed in an airy, sunlit cage on the deck, where they could breathe the fresh salt breeze, uncontaminated by the scent of bilge water, mildewed excelsior, and the lingering ghosts of previous smelly cargoes which haunted the hold.
Borno insisted on not only feeding, but personally attending to the wants of the boy and ape. And both soon became so friendly toward him that he could enter the cage without fear of attack, although if Santos, the steward Audrey, or any of the others approached the bars they met with unmistakable signs of hostility.
From the start, Borno attempted to establish communication with the boy through speech, using broken English rather than his Haitian Creole, as it was the language spoken on the ship. Failing in this, he resorted to simple words and signs. It was not long before he found that Jan only knew four words: his own name, that of Chicma, and “Mother! Kill!”
The big Negro then set out to teach him to speak, and with considerable success. Despite his former lack of human association, Jan had a quick, bright mind, and once he discovered the purpose of the Negro’s patient drilling, was eager to learn. Each day he added a few words to his meager vocabulary, which, when Borno was away, he took great pleasure in repeating over and over again to Chicma, much to her puzzlement.
From a number of tanned jaguar skins, which had been rejected by New Orleans fur buyers because of shot holes and other imperfections, Borno fashioned three garments. Understanding the imitative nature of Jan and Chicma, he entered the cage and put on one which he had made for himself. He did this several times before Jan followed his example and donned the garment which Borno had given him. Several days later Chicma also put on her jaguar skin. And within two weeks all were wearing them.
Borno tried taking his off, but this wouldn’t work, for each time he did this the youth and ape promptly removed theirs. So he was forced to go about in his primitive attire, much to the secret amusement of the other members of the crew—secret, because they all feared the mighty thews of the giant Negro.
The captain said that as soon as they made port the exhibition would commence. Borno was to represent an African savage who had assisted in the capture of the chimpanzee and wild boy in their native haunts. Santos was composing a colorful and highly imaginative ballyhoo to be used as soon as he could get a tent erected in the first South American port.
But before they could make port there was an unforeseen occurrence which the carefully laid plans of the embryo showman had not included.
Borno was returning from feeding his two charges, when he encountered Santos, very much agitated. The sails were flapping idly—barely moving the ship through the water.
“Peste!” he said. “I don’ like! That damn’ barometer she’s drop to beat hall”
“I sink a storm ees come, man capitain,” replied the Haitian. “Borno smell it in ze air.”
“Me, I know it too damn’ well,” said Santos, savagely flinging his cigarette butt overboard. “Another day and we would ‘ave made the port, but now —I don’ know.”
The storm struck two hours later, and so terrific was its force that, despite the fact that every bit of canvas except the jib had been tightly reefed, the foremast cracked and went by the board with the first impact. Santos ordered a small staysail rigged in front of the mainmast, but it was instantly torn to shreds and a seaman was lost.
This threw the ship completely out of control, had any slight measure of control indeed been possible in the swirling, foaming, roaring maelstrom of wind and water that followed.
A helpless plaything of wind and waves, the schooner twisted, turned, rose and plunged, cavorting obediently at the whim of its undisputed master, the storm. The decks were constantly awash, and despite the battened hatches much water leaked into the hold.
Penned in their cage, which was lashed to the mainmast, Jan and Chicma were overwhelmed by wave after wave of seething water. Jan nearly strangled on the first one, but after that learned to do his breathing during the intervals when his head was above water. Chicma seemed to know such things instinctively.
