The front of the house gave way under the shower of stones thrown at Philip by the monkeys.—([See page 191.])

Captured by Apes;
OR,
HOW PHILIP GARLAND BECAME KING OF APELAND.

By HARRY PRENTICE.

Author of “The Slate-Picker,” “Captured by Zulus,” etc., etc.

ILLUSTRATED.

NEW YORK
A. L. BURT, PUBLISHER,

Copyright 1892, by A. L. Burt.

THE KING OF APELAND.

Transcriber’s Note: This table of contents has been added as a convenience for the reader.

CHAPTER I.
THE DEALER IN ANIMALS.

Several years ago, or, to speak more accurately, in 1871, Philip Garland, a young man of not more than seventeen years, succeeded his father in the business of buying, selling and training wild animals, making a specialty of those belonging to the monkey kingdom.

Garland, senior, was well and favorably known throughout the country by proprietors of museums, circuses, and collectors generally, and his son found himself the fortunate possessor of an unblemished reputation and an extensive establishment, together with a large capital of ready money, but not a relative to whom he could turn for relaxation from the cares of business.

Philip and his father had led lonely lives, so far as intercourse with other members of the human family was concerned. As a matter of fact they were well acquainted with their regular customers; but these came only in the hours devoted to business, tarried no longer than was absolutely necessary, and probably cared not one whit how these merchants passed their leisure time.

Perhaps this comparative isolation was the cause of Philip’s devoting himself with such assiduity to his profession, if such it may be termed. From his childhood the senior Garland had instilled into his son’s mind the rudiments of natural history, and having the rare faculty of so presenting dry subjects as to make them interesting, he had so thoroughly enlisted the boy’s attention and sympathies that when Master Philip found himself at the head of the establishment he was one of the most enthusiastic students.

Unlike his father, he was a naturalist in the full sense of the word, and devoted himself more particularly to noting the peculiarities and habits of four-handed mammals, otherwise known as the monkey tribe.

In two months after the elder Garland died Philip’s collection was composed principally of apes, he having so reduced the stock by forced sales that nearly every other species of animal, as well as the entire lot of birds, had given way to the tribe in whose habits he was so deeply interested.

As a matter of course, any variety of the monkey-kind are more valuable when their talents for imitation have been developed by the aid of education, and the new head of the house of Garland & Co. made a point of instructing his live articles of merchandise in the most thorough manner.

During every hour of the day, when not engaged with customers, Philip taught the apes to throw somersaults, jump through hoops, dance, play the tambourine, and a variety of similar accomplishments. He also had several so highly educated as to march at the word of command, present arms, fire a musket, fence, or salute in true military fashion.

Quite naturally this reduction of stock to a single and not very rare species of animal caused a corresponding falling off in the number of customers. But for this Philip cared little. His bank account was sufficiently large to admit of his conducting the business after his own peculiar fashion, regardless of whether the balance at the end of the year was in his favor or not; and as the sales were limited so did his stock increase, until, at the time when an old friend of his father’s, Captain Seaworth, master of the good ship Reynard, called in company with his first and second officers at what was now little more than a monkey emporium, to give the young man good advice, he was greatly amused at the proficiency to which these long-tailed animals had been brought.

Among the large collection were four which attracted the most attention; and, as may be supposed, these were the ones upon whom Philip had spent the greater portion of his time in teaching. Two were enormous baboons, strong as giants, and of corresponding ferocity. When their instruction was begun they would oftentimes seize the iron rods which were used in the way of discipline, bending them like straws; and more than once had their teacher battled for his life when these pupils escaped from the stoutly-barred cage. Finally, however, both had been partially subdued through fear, not love, until, with many a grimace and angry gesture, they would obey in a surly manner the orders given.

That these brutes knew exactly what their teacher desired of them was shown even when they refused to do his bidding. Both were well aware when the hour for study had come, and from their movements one would have said they were discussing the question as to whether it was best to learn anything on this particular day or hold out against the master at the expense of a severe flogging.

Philip often said that there was no animal in his collection who understood the human voice better than these same ferocious brutes, and their disobedience was only proof of their vicious natures.

“Those fellows know enough to put me through the same course of instruction, provided they held the iron rod and had the opportunity,” Philip often said to his assistants; and at such remarks the larger of the baboons actually wrinkled his face into what was very like a smile, as if thinking of the glorious time he could have in turning the tables on his not very gentle teacher.

This interesting couple had not inaptly been christened Goliah and Magog.

The other notable members of the collection were quite the opposite, both in disposition and appearance. They were a male and female chimpanzee, young, and not absolutely ill-favored, if one should compare them with the monkey type of beauty. Both were tractable, obeyed every command as readily as the best-behaved children, and regarded their master with an affection which seemed almost human.

Philip had named the male Ben Bolt and the female Sweet Alice, because the regard which each apparently entertained for the other was quite as fervent, in their monkey way, as is supposed to have been that of the lovers mentioned in the song.

These two appeared to be perfectly contented in the Garland establishment. They were not only docile, but seemingly delighted at being able to show their proficiency when Philip taught them new tricks, and the female in particular obeyed the slightest word as readily as any human being could have done. Yet these tractable pupils, who never needed the discipline of the iron rod, had more than their share of trouble in the fact that Goliah was most desperately smitten with Sweet Alice, and would at every opportunity display this fact in a very disagreeable manner.

In his own peculiar fashion it could plainly be seen, even by a casual observer, that this monkey-love was something terrible in its intensity. Whenever, as frequently happened, the two favorite animals were allowed the liberty of the museum, this huge baboon would give proof of the most violent rage toward Ben Bolt, and on more than one occasion had Philip’s iron rod been the only thing which saved the chimpanzee from Goliah’s hideous jealousy. He would shake the bars of his cage in an excess of anger if Ben came near him, and make the most frantic efforts to seize his rival; but thus far the lovers had escaped any serious injury.

Captain Seaworth, actuated by a desire to assist the son of his old friend, decided to purchase, for his amusement during the long voyage he was about to undertake, one of the baboons, and to this end selected Goliah, much to the pleasure of Philip.

His officers, following the example of their commander, also made overtures for the purchase of Ben Bolt and Sweet Alice, together with four other less intelligent but well-mannered apes of the collection.

For some time Philip was undecided whether to part with the two chimpanzees, whom he looked upon more as pets than articles of merchandise; but yielding to persuasion and promises that they should not only be cared for tenderly, but kept far from the ill-favored Goliah, he finally consented.

It seemed as if the chimpanzees understood that they were about to be separated from their kind master, and in every way by which it is possible for brutes to show grief they displayed it, until the animal dealer was forced to leave his establishment during the transfer.

Of Captain Seaworth’s intended voyage Philip already knew, as did that portion of the public who make a practice of reading all the daily newspapers.

Under the auspices of a corporation made up of coffee merchants in New York and its vicinity, the Reynard was bound for one of the many islands of the Malay Archipelago, there to found a colony for the purpose of raising coffee on a gigantic scale. The captain’s orders were to consult with the agents of the corporation at Batavia, who would make a selection of some land near Borneo which could be leased or purchased, there landing the laborers, and directing their movements until the enterprise should be well begun. After that, Captain Seaworth would proceed in accordance with such instructions as might be received from home.

Thus it was a long voyage that these dumb members of Philip’s establishment were to take, and it is little wonder that he feared for the safety of Ben Bolt and Sweet Alice while on shipboard with the ferocious and mighty Goliah.

If the young merchant had had the slightest idea of the wicked cunning in the breast of the huge baboon, it is safe to say he would never have consented to sell him to a friend such as Captain Seaworth; and, also, could he have known how much suffering this same animal would cause him in the future, Goliah’s career might have been ended very suddenly by a pistol-ball. Then the reasons for the writing of this story could hardly have existed.

“Treat the animals well, but let them know you are the master,” Philip said to the captain on the day the latter made his final visit to the establishment. “They have considerably more intelligence than is generally credited to them, and I oftentimes imagine they understand very much of ones conversation.”

Philip really believed that this species of animal comprehended many words; and it was destined that his experience in the future, although covering but a short space of time, should eclipse all he had thus far learned from books or by observation.

CHAPTER II.
MAGOG’S REVENGE.

Within an hour from the time Captain Seaworth and his officers had taken their purchases to the ship, it was apparent to every employe of Garland & Co.’s establishment that the baboon, Magog, was in a towering rage.

Had he been able to speak he could not have indicated more plainly his anger at being thus separated from his old companion; and after that time it was dangerous for either Philip or the attendants to approach within reach of the cage.

His fury increased with time, until the most venturesome of museum proprietors would have hesitated to receive the huge brute as a gift, for a wounded tiger could not have been more intractable.

Many times before six months had elapsed did Philip contemplate killing the ferocious captive; but on every occasion when he had almost decided so to do, the hope that he might succeed in taming him prevented the commission of the deed.

It was seven months from the day the Reynard left port when Philip made his last attempt at subduing Magog. On this afternoon he allowed the ferocious ape to come out into the exercise-hall of the animals’ quarters, and before the lesson was well begun a number of old customers arrived, causing the merchant to return the captive hurriedly to his cage. In his desire to make haste the usual precautions were neglected, and Magog’s eyes twinkled with satisfaction as he noted the insecure fastenings of his prison.

During the remainder of that day he was unusually quiet, and the keepers wondered not a little as to the cause of his remarkable docility, for there was hardly an hour since Goliah had been taken away during which he did not make the most frantic efforts to escape.

When Philip conducted his customers through this particular portion of the establishment Magog was sitting contentedly in one corner of his cage, and the merchant said, in a tone of pride:

“There is a baboon that has given me more trouble than all the rest of the collection; but I am fast subduing him, and soon we shall have no more tractable performer than he. Three months from now I will show you this fellow transformed into the most agile and willing acrobat.”

Again Magog’s eyes twinkled, as if he understood the remark and was content to bide his time until the plan of revenge which, perhaps, had been maturing in his mind so long, should be ready for execution.

The wily ape had not long to wait. On that very night, when the attendants vacated the large hall, which was lined on every side with cages, they left one gas-jet burning, according to custom, and firmly barred the door on the outside. This was the opportunity Magog desired.

The bolt of his cage was so insecurely fastened as to be very easily slipped back; and as if he understood that the slightest unusual sound might betray his purpose, he stole softly into the hall, looked about him in every direction until satisfied he was the only one free, and then turned on the gas, as he had often seen Philip’s employes do.

A wisp of straw from his own cage served the same purpose as a torch such as was generally used for lighting the other jets, and in a few moments he had the place brilliantly illuminated, but not in such a thorough manner as satisfied him.

More straw was at hand. He pulled armfuls from every cage, heaping it high, until his own was nearly filled, and then, with a savage cry of what might well have been mistaken for pleasure, applied the torch to this inflammable material.

In a few moments the entire room was in flames, and the vengeful baboon, leaping from one point to another regardless of his own injuries, was scattering fire here and there, until any effort at saving Garland & Co.’s establishment would have been useless.

When the morning sun arose Philip found himself without employment. All of the monkey tribe upon whom he had devoted so much time and attention were now as thoroughly roasted as any African epicure could have desired; and among these possibly savory bodies reposed that of Magog, whose revenge had culminated in his own death.

Philip was still young. He had plenty of money at his command, and there was but one desire in his heart, viz.: to rebuild and restock an animal emporium which should far excel the one destroyed.

But this could not be done by remaining in New York.

Thus far he had been the largest dealer in animals in the country, and the combined stock of all the others put together would not have sufficed to form such a collection as the one just burned; therefore it was necessary he should search among the jungles and in the forests for the various specimens of that tribe toward whom all his studies had been directed.

When one has almost unlimited means at his command, to desire is to accomplish, providing energy is not wanting, and Philip Garland lost no time in carrying out what had now become his sole aim in life.

The bark Swallow, four hundred tons burden, was advertised for charter, and with her owners the young merchant made a bargain for the exclusive use of the craft during a period of three years.

Then came the labor of preparing cages, putting in stores, fitting the hold for the reception of the strange passengers whom it was proposed to bring back, and otherwise making the many arrangements necessary for such a cruise.

In due course of time all this was performed, and eight months from the day the Reynard left port with the choicest portion of Garland & Co.’s collection on board the Swallow was towed down to Sandy Hook. From there, spreading her white wings, she sped away toward the Malay Archipelago, from whence she was to proceed, in case a sufficient number of animals and birds were not procured there, to the southernmost point of Africa, on her return home.

Of the voyage out it is hardly necessary to speak. The first stop was at the Ascension Islands for water, and then, passing on within sight of St. Helena, they made the Cape of Good Hope.

It had not been Philip’s intention to take on any animals at this point until his return; but the agent of a Hamburg firm had just come down to the coast with a rare lot, which he offered at prices so exceedingly low as to make it an object to keep them on shipboard during the entire voyage.

The collection was made up of a black two-horned rhinoceros, three lions, two panthers, and three serpents.

The agent had expected to find the firm’s ship in port; but through some misunderstanding or disaster she was not there, and it became necessary for him to dispose of the stock at any price rather than remain an indefinite length of time for the vessel, which might never come.

Philip soon effected a trade upon such a basis that if he should save either of the animals until his return home the venture would be a paying one, and the transfer of these unwilling and unwieldy passengers was at once begun.

The rhinoceros was confined in a pen of wood and iron just abaft the foremast, where he had very little room to spare, and immediately after coming on board the huge brute appeared as docile and contented as could have been desired.

In fact, the entire collection had been brought from the shore without the slightest difficulty, and after a stay of only two days the Swallow set sail, making an offing about sunset.

When darkness settled down over the waste of waters the new passengers began to make their presence known, and from that time until morning no one on board could have entertained the slightest doubt as to the nature of this partial cargo, for the howls, roars, yelps and screams would have drowned the shrieking of the wildest tempest.

CHAPTER III.
A TERRIBLE NIGHT.

With the setting of the sun the wind came in fitful gusts, betokening a storm, if not a hurricane.

During the first few hours of darkness the rhinoceros did not join in the concert begun by the other animals; but as the wind increased in violence, and the sea became more choppy, causing the bark to reel and stagger under the heavy blows, the deck-passengers became decidedly uneasy. When the lions were not roaring, or the panthers screaming, the thick-skinned captive would utter a loud “woof,” and make such an attack on his cage that the watch on deck were ready to leap into the rigging at the first sign that he was succeeding in his efforts.

Each animal had been captured singly, and all were full-grown and dangerous. The near presence of the men, the sight of each other, and the violent motions of the bark, alarmed every one. Even the serpents were wide awake and vengeful; but the rhinoceros was furious with rage. He raked his great horn back and forth across the bars of the pen whenever any one went near him, and in a dozen ways gave evidence of his strength.

Most probably the unusual motion made every member of the collection seasick, and as the malady increased so did their rage. Philip knew that during the first forty-eight hours the danger would be greatest, and he kept a watchful eye upon the noisy passengers. After they had gotten their “sea-legs” on, as sailors express it, there would be no more possibility of trouble than under the same circumstances ashore, and to get them safely through this period of probation was now his only care.

About a quarter of an hour before midnight, when all the watch on deck save the man at the wheel were forward, the rhinoceros leaned heavily against the side of his cage just as the bark buried her bow in a green wave, which, curling over the forecastle, swept every movable thing aft. Immediately following this came a great crash, startling the already frightened crew.

The mighty plunge of the vessel, together with the weight of the animal on the bars of the cage, had crushed them like pipe-stems, and the huge monster emerged from the ruins fully prepared for mischief.

A more dangerous and vindictive creature than a black rhinoceros cannot be found. He is in the sulks nearly all the time, and while under such influence or humor will charge an elephant or a lion without fear of the result. The first thing which comes in sight is attacked, and he never cools down so long as there is anything on which to wreak his vengeance.

It was as if the tossing of the vessel served to excite his anger still more, and he made desperate lunges here and there at the nearest inanimate objects, sometimes being thrown from his feet as the bark rose or fell; and, again, splintering into fragments such lighter articles as the hen-coops, the captain’s gig, which was stowed on deck, and the crates containing fresh vegetables taken on board at Cape Town.

At the first intimation of this danger, which was more imminent than the threatening elements, the sailors leaped into the rigging, and for ten minutes the monster had the deck nearly to himself.

After having fallen several times the old fellow looked about, as if studying how he could soonest recover his sea-legs, and when that brief time of apparent thoughtfulness had passed he was as steady as a sailor. The rise and fall of the bark, abrupt and sharp as it was, caused him to slide to and fro, but he never lost his equilibrium.

After thus regaining control of his unwieldy body, the first thing which attracted his attention was the cage containing the serpents. With one mighty rush he tossed it in the air, and as it came down the three hissing occupants glided in different directions, one climbing over the cage containing the panthers, the second going on to the bowsprit, and the third darting into the forecastle out of sight.

The lions and panthers immediately raised a terrible din, which, with the roaring of the gale, made the confusion most deafening. The big beast cleared his horn of the fragments of the cage hanging to it, and then struck that containing the panther.

These animals were liberated in an instant. One ran aft into the long-boat, which hung on the davits, crouching under the thwarts; and the other, cowed for the moment, but ready for mischief, retreated to the lee-scuppers.

Without so much as glancing at the panthers, the rhinoceros dashed at the pen of the lions, smashing it into kindlings.

The largest of the three captives sprang upon his adversary’s back as he shook himself free from the fragments, and perhaps his sharp claws inflicted some injury, but not enough to check the fury of the beast, who chased the second one aft to the quarter-deck.

The third lion disappeared in the forecastle; and never was a watch below awakened more quickly or more thoroughly than were those who came tumbling up, half-dressed, terrified, and not knowing in which direction safety might be found.

No ship’s crew ever were in a stranger situation. It was high time sail should be shortened, the mate in charge having delayed this work until both watches should be on deck; and with these enraged animals virtually in possession, the bravest sailor would hardly have dared to leave the rigging.

The helmsman remained at his post of duty despite the fact that the panther was in the long-boat behind him, and it was his shrieks that called Philip, the captain and second officer from the cabin.

Hardly did they emerge from the companion-way when the lion which had attacked the rhinoceros came bounding aft, and the three men fled below again, the helmsman following them and closing the hatch behind him.

To leave this place of refuge immediately meant death, while by remaining in it destruction seemed equally certain. Yet, strange to say, the gallant vessel sped before the wind as if a steady hand guided her movements; and five minutes later, Philip, accustomed from infancy to such animals, had burst his way out through the deck-window of the cabin.

As a matter of course there were plenty of heavy guns and ammunition on board; and with a Manton rifle and explosive shells, he sheltered himself behind the foremast, where he immediately opened fire on the nearest brute.

While he was making every effort to draw the rhinoceros toward him, in order to get a fairer mark, the lion on the quarter-deck leaped into the long-boat upon the panther. In the merest fraction of time the two were bounding over the thwarts and tumbling about in the wildest fashion, the boat rocking to and fro as if it would upset, the screams and roars of the struggling beasts drowning all the other horrible noises.

This fight attracted the attention of the rhinoceros, causing him, despite Philip’s endeavors, to make his way aft, where he came across the lion who was skulking in the scuppers. To drive the king of beasts back toward the wheel was not difficult for the huge monster, who was now so blinded by rage that he made a direct dash at the cabin-door.

No wood ever grew that could withstand such an assault, and as the rhinoceros forced his way into the saloon the captain and second mate took refuge in the steward’s pantry, where they were even closer prisoners than before.

Straight on the charge was continued!

The dining-table was overturned, the chairs swept from their fastenings like so many things of straw, and as the after-end of the cabin was reached the bark rose to a huge wave. As a matter of course this gave an additional impetus to the enormous animal, and with a crash he plunged directly through the bulk-head, which formed what might be termed a deck-lazaret, where he was held fast by the heavy timbers despite his furious struggles. This gave the imprisoned ones in the pantry an opportunity to escape, and they reached the deck just as Philip, running to the wheel, opened fire on the animals in the boat.

One discharge of the weapon point-blank at the beasts, who had grappled and were rearing up from the thwarts, together with the rocking of the frail craft, caused the combatants to topple over the rail, and two of the disagreeable passengers were stricken from the list.

At this moment one of the crew shouted that a panther, a lion and two of the serpents were in the forecastle; and for the captain and second officer to imprison them by closing the hatch was but the work of a moment.

That the rhinoceros could do little or no damage while in his present position Philip understood from what he had been told, and he turned his attention to the remaining lion, crouching near the water-butt, while the carpenter attacked the snake, who was making his way up the mainmast.

This last passenger was disposed of in short order, but not until he had been chopped into many pieces; and during such carving Philip succeeded in implanting a lucky shot directly in the heart of the lion, which effectually ended this portion of the struggle.

The crew paid no further attention to the other animals, but bent all their energies to saving the gallant craft which had, unattended, borne them on so bravely in the face of the gale. With nearly every member of both watches in the rigging the work of shortening sail was quickly performed; and, as the bark rode more easily over the mountainous seas, Philip and the captain went below to still the struggle of their unwieldy cabin passenger.

It required a dozen shots from the heavy rifle before the huge and helpless brute gave up his life. The work of removing the body could not be attended to during the hours of darkness, neither was it deemed advisable to make any effort at cleaning the forecastle. It would be “all hands on deck” till morning; but that was a minor consideration in view of the fact that they had escaped so many dangers.

After barricading the forecastle hatch with chain-cables and other heavy articles which would resist any pressure from within, the crew spent the remainder of the night listening to the sounds of conflict. They could hear the hiss of the serpents, the screams of the panther, and the growling of the lion until nearly morning, when all became silent. The animals were either dead or had concluded to suspend hostilities for awhile.

CHAPTER IV.
THE WRECK.

With the rising sun the wind abated, and when it was sufficiently light all hands set about the task of cleaning ship.

To remove the huge animal from the cabin it was necessary to literally chop him in such pieces as could be readily handled, and two hours elapsed before the last fragment had been thrown overboard to the following sharks.

Then all hands, save the man at the wheel, armed with cutlasses, rifles and capstan-bars, gathered around the forecastle hatch as it was pushed back.

A terrible stench arose, but no sound was heard. After five minutes Philip descended the ladder with a revolver in each hand; but no enemy confronted him. There had been a general battle, during which the beasts were mangled and torn in the most horrible manner, while the serpents were literally cut in pieces.

Not until twenty-four hours had passed was the bark free from odor, blood, and other evidences of the conflict; and during the week which followed the carpenter and his assistants had quite as much as they could do to repair the injury done the cabin.

Philip’s venture had not proven a paying one; but in view of what might have happened he was only too well pleased to be rid of his dangerous merchandise. As he thought of this, the first speculation since Magog destroyed the establishment, and reflected upon the result of it, there came into his mind a fear that it might be the beginning of a series of misfortunes.

Of course such superstitious fears were more than childish, and he struggled manfully but unsuccessfully to put them far from him.

That which had just occurred, however, was but a foretaste of what might be expected when there was a full cargo of animals on board; and in the forecastle the sailors discussed the possible fate of all hands during the homeward voyage.

“I’ve been in ships what was becalmed week in an’ week out for two months, with never a cat to throw overboard,” old Tom Bixbee said, as the watch below were reviewing the events of the past few hours, “but I never struck on anything like this craft. Talk of havin’ a drownded man as shipmate! Why, that’s nothin’ compared to what’s goin’ to happen on this’ ere barkey when she turns her nose toward home. If there’s ever a chance of showin’ my heels to the Swallow in this ’ere benighted place we’re bound for after more jest like sich as we had last night, you’ll see precious little of me!”

And Tom’s opinion was very much the same as that entertained by every member of the crew.

As the bark continued on with favoring winds through the Indian Ocean, never a day passed but that some one of the sailors had a particularly harrowing tale to tell of ghost-infested ships, and the conclusion to each would invariably be:

“But they couldn’t hold a candle to a craft like this what’s goin’ to take on board sich a crowd as we left Cape Town with.”

Sailors on a long voyage have plenty of opportunity for strengthening their strong belief in the supernatural, and in this case the reasons for misgivings were so real that it is little wonder all hands, from the boatswain to the cook, were in a state very nearly bordering on insubordination when the Swallow entered the Straits of Sunda, bearing to the westward on a course to the Celebes.

Perhaps it was because of this mutinous condition of the men that the bark was not kept true to the needle, or, again, it may have been that the captain was at fault in his navigation. At all events, on the morning of the fourth day after leaving the straits, while sailing over a mirror-like sea and under cloudless skies, the Swallow brought up with a terrific crash against a sunken reef.

In an instant all was confusion. Orders were not obeyed as promptly as should have been the case, because the sailors had settled in their minds that this was an incident to be expected during such a cruise, and for several moments the bark pounded and thumped upon the rock until, without the aid of her crew, she slipped off into deep water again.

As a matter of course, the first thing after this hidden danger had apparently been passed in safety was to sound the well, and to the dismay of Philip, if not of the insubordinate crew, it was learned that the bark was leaking.

The damage done was something even more serious than the starting of a timber, as could be told from the fact that in half an hour the depth of water in the hold had increased from four to nine inches.

At that rate it was only a question of a few hours before the vessel would founder; but it was possible the injury might be so far repaired as to admit of her reaching some island on which she could be beached, and the men were stationed at the pumps while the carpenter and first mate went into the hold.

Tom Bixbee boldly announced that in his opinion the best thing they could do would be to “save their own precious selves, an’ leave the old barkey to sink if she wanted to;” and this advice might possibly have been followed, owing to the frame of mind in which the crew were, if the officers and Philip had not assumed such a determined front.

Almost at the point of revolvers were the men forced to labor at the pumps; and as if this disaster was not enough to dishearten Philip, the elements began to play their part in wrecking the craft which had come so far for such a strange cargo.

In two hours the breeze from the south had increased to a gale. The sea suddenly rose very high, and with all the light canvas stowed, the sinking vessel was headed toward the coast of Borneo under storm-sails only. There was little hope in the minds of the most sanguine that she could float much longer; but yet the only chance of safety was in making land.

Some time previous the carpenter had made his report privately to the captain; but the crew understood very well from the expression of his face how imminent was the danger which threatened.

The damage was so near the keel that it could not be gotten at without removing the ballast, a task which was impossible of execution owing to the rapidity with which the bark was settling.

“She would be at the bottom before we could so much as come at the leak,” the first mate said; and it was owing to his report that the Swallow had been headed for the coast.

The wind increased hourly, and in addition to the water which came through the shattered hull, large quantities were taken over the rail.

About three o’clock in the afternoon a heavy sea washed away the port bulwarks fore and aft, completely flooding the decks, forecastle and cabin. The port quarter-boat was crushed like an egg-shell, leaving a few splintered fragments hanging in the davits, swinging to and fro in what the crew fancied was an ominously suggestive manner.

Then the sailors mutinied in downright earnest. With Tom Bixbee as the spokesman they declared it was useless labor to attempt to sail what was hardly more than a wreck, and that their lives were imperiled by remaining longer on board.

“The only chance we’ve got of saving a single soul is by sticking to the bark!” the captain shouted. “We are hardly fifty miles from the coast, and she can be kept afloat long enough to make that distance with this wind.”

Again by a liberal display of weapons the men were forced to return to the pumps; but at sunset the water had gained upon them so steadily that the doomed craft began to settle and roll heavily in the cross-seas.

At this moment, when even the captain was disheartened, the starboard pump choked, and with only the port one serviceable it was no longer reasonable to think of keeping her afloat.

As the captain and Philip, both of whom had been on deck continuously since the hidden reef was struck, turned to go into the cabin for the purpose of saving such valuables as could readily be taken away, the men became like demons.

There were only two serviceable boats remaining since the gig had been destroyed by the rhinoceros and the port quarter-boat carried away in the wreck of the bulwarks, therefore the possibilities of taking off the entire crew seemed limited.

Fully aware of this fact, the men took advantage of the captain’s temporary absence to abandon the ship, without regard to supplies of food and water, and despite the threats of the other officers.

The long-boat was stove in the launching, owing to the absence of discipline, and the starboard quarter-boat nearly swamped as she was dropped heavily by the unreasoning men.

When the captain came on deck the crew had taken to the boat, already half-filled with water, and were some distance from the sinking bark.

It would have been useless to force them to return, even if such a thing was possible, for the little craft could not approach the foundering bark in the teeth of the gale without being stove to pieces, and the four officers and Philip stood gazing at the rapidly retreating boat with despair written on every feature of their countenances.

This was the culmination of disasters, and from it there appeared to be no way of escape.

They could do but little toward providing for their own safety. It was simply a question of whether the wreck would float until some friendly craft could be sighted; and this was answered within two hours from the time the crew abandoned her.

While the five despairing men were busily engaged constructing a raft of such materials as could be hastily gathered from the wave-swept deck, the Swallow gave a mighty lurch to port; then rising on her stern-post, as if endeavoring to escape from the doom which was now so close at hand, she settled to starboard with such rapidity that those on board had not even time to throw over the timbers they had partially lashed together.

Fortunately, so far as Philip Garland was concerned, he had been hurled beyond the whirlpool caused by the foundering vessel, and as he struck out, instinctively rather than because of hope, his hands came in contact with the fragments of the quarter-boat.

Dazed by the shock and blinded with the driving spray, he grasped with the clutch of a dying man the frail timbers, and heeded not the black clouds which opened to belch forth fire and peals of thunder.

The shrieking wind tossed the wreckage upon the angry, white-crested waves which gleamed like the fangs of some devouring monster, and the rain descended in torrents.

CHAPTER V.
ASHORE.

When Philip Garland again fully realized his situation he could hear, above the roar of distant thunder, a continuous rumbling noise. Although never having traveled on the sea very much, he understood that this dull booming was caused by the surf, and he thought that the supreme moment had come.

Then he heard a deafening crash, from what cause he knew not. It was as if a violent blow had been delivered full upon his head, and consciousness again deserted him.

On opening his eyes it seemed as though he had been awakened from a profound sleep. The sun beamed down from a blue, cloudless sky. He raised himself and saw the ocean at his feet, but it was as placid as a lake.

He was lying on the wet beach, hardly three feet from where the waves were rippling over the sand with a musical murmur, which afforded a vivid contrast to their wild shrieking of the previous night.

Looking around on every hand, not a vessel, boat or human face was to be seen. He was alone, so far as could be told from his limited range of vision, upon an uninhabited island.

The ill-fortune which began with the destruction of his establishment by Magog had surely spent itself in thus throwing him upon this tiny speck of land on the vast ocean, where, if any one should come, it would most likely be those more implacable than the elements.

Philip knew, through books and from conversations with the captain of the Swallow, that since passing through the Straits of Sunda they were in the immediate vicinity of pirates from Sooloo or Magindinao.

Even the less warlike natives of the Archipelago were to be feared, for he remembered at this moment better than ever before the writings of an old traveler, who says:

The inhabitants of these islands exceed every other people in cruelty. They regard killing a man as a mere jest; nor is there any punishment allotted for such a deed. If any one purchases a new sword and wishes to try it, he will thrust it into the breast of the first person he meets. The passers-by examine the wound, and praise the skill of him who inflicted it if he thrust in the weapon direct.

In this particular portion of the sea, where Philip had every reason to suppose he was, the pirates have literally paralyzed trading on the water.

Every year these scourges of the Archipelago wander in one direction or another, rendezvousing on some uninhabited island, carrying devastation to all the small settlements around, robbing, destroying, or taking captive every one they meet. Their long, well-manned proas escape from the pursuit of sailing vessels by pulling away right in the wind’s-eye; and the warning smoke of a steamer generally enables them to hide in some shallow bay, narrow river, or forest-covered inlet until the danger is past.

Even while the Swallow was at Batavia information had been received from Banda to the effect that the pirates were in the vicinity with a fleet of fifteen proas, attacking and destroying the villages, and carrying away women and children as slaves. Men they seldom or never hold as prisoners. The thrust of a knife or a blow on the head with the butt of a musket serves to rid them of a troublesome captive.

Two days before the wreck the Swallow spoke a proa which had been attacked forty-eight hours previous. Three of the crew escaped in their small-boat and hid in the jungle of a neighboring island, while the pirates killed the remainder and plundered the vessel.

These men reported the force as numbering sixteen large war-boats, and the only blow struck by the traders in their own defence was when the fleet set sail, leaving a prize-crew of three on the dismantled proa. The captain, driven to desperation by his loss, swam off from the shore armed only with his parang, or long knife, and coming upon them unawares made a furious attack, killing one and wounding the others mortally.

Knowing all this, it is not to be wondered at that Philip was filled with dismay on finding himself alone upon an inhospitable shore.

One does not willingly submit to the embrace of death, however, and before resigning himself to what now seemed the inevitable he resolved to make a last effort for life.

With this purpose in view he started toward the interior, but after traveling a few moments his legs refused to obey his will.

The exhaustion caused by the previous night’s exposure and the intense heat so far prostrated him that he fell half-fainting at the foot of a palm-tree, whose cool and refreshing shade served to revive him so far that in a short time he closed his eyes.

When he awoke the sun was low in the heavens. He must have slept fully eight hours.

His limbs were yet weary, and his eyes heavy from the profound sleep. In order to dissipate the lethargy which hung over him he arose to his feet, walking rapidly forward.

Suddenly from the thicket directly in front of him he heard what sounded very like a human voice crying “Wawk, wawk, wawk!”

This was so nearly a command in his own language that Philip ran forward eagerly, fancying for the moment that he was about to see a white man, when the whirring of wings and a quick passage of gorgeous plumage against the dark green foliage told he had made the acquaintance for the first time of a great Bird-of-Paradise, which is to be found only in this portion of the world.

It was a large male, radiant in all the brilliant plumage which renders its skin such a valuable article of merchandise. The wings and tail were of a rich dark brown, the breast a deep violet, and the head and neck of a delicate yellow, the feathers being so short and close set as to resemble velvet. The lower part of the eyes was a vivid green, while the back and feet were pale blue.

The two middle feathers of the tail were what gave a striking appearance to this winged beauty. They were nearly a yard long, the extreme ends curving into a complete circle.

Never before had Philip seen even the skin of one of these rare birds, and forgetting all his troubles, he watched its flight in mute admiration.

It was to be his good fortune, while in this wretched condition of both body and mind, to see what few except the natives of the Archipelago have ever had the pleasure of witnessing-a party of feathered dancers all clad in the same gorgeous plumage as the one he had just startled.

Pushing forward softly among the foliage to catch one more glimpse of those curling orange feathers, he saw a dozen or twenty full-plumaged males on a stout limb, raising and dropping their wings, stretching their necks, and vibrating their delicately-tinted coats as if really engaged in some species of terpsichorean festivities, while now and then they darted from branch to branch until it appeared that the entire tree was filled with waving plumes.

It is at such a time as this that the bird-hunter secures his richest prizes, and with comparative ease.

When the Malays find a tree which the birds have fixed upon as their dancing-place, a little shelter of palm leaves is built near the trunk among the branches, and in it before daylight the hunter hides himself, armed with a bow and several arrows which terminate in a rough knob. At the foot of the tree another hunter is concealed. When the dance has begun the native above shoots his blunt arrow with such force as to stun the bird, who is secured and killed by the one on the ground without its plumage being injured by a drop of blood. The others pay no attention to this sudden disappearance of their companion, and the slaughter is continued until the greater number of the birds are slain.

Philip gazed at this rare and beautiful sight nearly a quarter of an hour, and then, as if suddenly remembering his own necessities, he pushed forward once more among the matted and tangled underbrush.

Before twenty yards had been traversed the glimpse of a moving object among the trees caused him to utter a cry of joy. He had seen that which bore close resemblance to a human form, and quite naturally he believed it to be some inhabitant of the island.

Running at full speed, urged to put forth every effort by the belief that he would soon find aid, food and shelter, no inconsiderable distance was traversed during the next ten minutes. To his most intense surprise, however, he failed to see again this figure which had so raised hope, or even to discover in what direction it fled.

Disheartened, and fancying his eyes had deceived him, he continued to make his way forward; but not with the same energy as before. He became like one who toils without hope of a happy conclusion to the labor.

Courage revived again however when, on emerging from the thicket of palms through which he had been making his way to a more open portion of the forest, the same figure stood revealed to view.

Philip now watched with the utmost attention, and was surprised at the wonderful celerity of the stranger’s movements. He disappeared and then appeared again, passing from one point to another much more rapidly than any person could have run, and in many ways gave such evidence of fear that the shipwrecked young man advanced yet more boldly.

Upon arriving at the place where the supposed native had last been seen, Philip was startled, almost frightened, as the object of his search suddenly descended from the top of a tree at his very feet.

It was an ape!

With one bound the animal mounted the tree again, then leaped down, and finally placed himself immediately in Philip’s path, as if to prevent him from proceeding.

One trained as Philip Garland had been could feel but little fear of such an animal. He broke a branch from the nearest tree, and raising it with a threatening gesture stepped forward.

This movement aroused the animal to anger. He retreated a few steps, uttering loud, shrill cries, which were evidently intended as signals to his companions in the vicinity; and, as a result, troop upon troop of apes came from every side through the openings in the forest. They were of all colors and sizes, and clambered up the trees, ran along the branches like squirrels, or, taking a stand about the stranger, threatened him with their glances and gestures as they uttered hissing cries, or gnashed their teeth with such a deafening noise that the traveler grew positively bewildered.

Better than any one else did Philip understand the vicious nature of these animals when gathered in such numbers, and he knew full well that to save his life retreat was necessary.

This thought came too late, however. On every side were closely-packed ranks of apes, some of whom appeared to be as strong as gorillas, and the first movement toward escape might be the signal for his death.

Philip had in his pocket a small revolver, placed there during the mutiny on the Swallow; but of what avail would it be to kill five of his adversaries when they could be numbered by hundreds, and had hemmed him in so closely?

An attempt at flight would be as foolhardy as any effort toward intimidation. The only course which could be pursued with the slightest chance of success was to remain silent and motionless.

With one hand inside the breast of his coat, clutching the weapon he was resolved to use only when death seemed inevitable, he stood immovable as the animals crowded nearer.

At this juncture the outer circle of apes began to chatter, as if they were discussing some new aspect of the affair which had presented itself, and a moment later the entire party suddenly began to leap to and fro, making the most hostile demonstrations.

The branch which Philip had broken from the tree was lying on the ground directly at his feet, and with a quick movement one of the animals seized it. Before he had time to place himself in a position of defense, or even to draw his weapon, the ape showered blow after blow on his arms, legs, face and head in such rapid succession that he could not avoid them.

It was difficult to remain passive under such a castigation, and also very humiliating, for one whose business had been the training of monkeys, to receive punishment from members of the same tribe he had so often flogged; but under the circumstances there was no alternative.

At the first blow the apes gave way, much as a party of men might who form a ring for two pugilists, and from their points of vantage evinced the most profound delight. A crowd of boys could hardly have shown more pleasure at the flogging of some obnoxious pedagogue and Philip’s anger almost blinded his prudence.

During fully ten minutes the punishment, was continued without intermission, and it might have resulted fatally to the unfortunate animal-trader if he had not bethought himself of past experiences, when he was master and apes were forced to receive his blows.

Around his neck he wore a blue silk handkerchief after the fashion of sailors, and this he untied quickly, throwing it among the crowd of spectators, knowing full well that any bright color will attract apes more readily than food or noise.

In an instant the decorous assemblage had resolved themselves into a shrieking, howling mob. They rushed toward the one who had been so fortunate as to secure the prize, each trying in turn to seize it, chattering and screaming until the din was absolutely deafening. He who had played the part of castigator followed the example of the others, and from a friendly contest it soon became a veritable fight, during which there was but little question that the object of their desires would be torn into shreds.

This was Philip’s opportunity. Not one of the combatants was paying the slightest attention to him, and after stealing softly through the foliage until the apes were shut out from view, he ran toward the interior of the island at full speed.

It must not be supposed that Philip’s flight through the thicket was attended with no more inconvenience than would be the case in an American forest. Almost every shrub and tree was infested with small black ants, and as the fugitive brushed past they loosened their hold on the foliage to literally take possession of his body.

Before running a hundred yards his face and neck were covered, and he could feel them on every inch of his skin, as they bit with a sharpness which seemed like the prick of a huge needle.

In addition to these pests, which were very painful, there was a species of blue-bottle fly, so numerous that the buzzing sounded like the humming of bees; and when they alighted on Philip’s body it was with difficulty he brushed them off, for their legs seemed to contain deposits of glue, which held them firmly in place until sometimes it was necessary to actually dismember them.

His skin soon became a mass of blotches, for the poison of the insects caused the wounds to swell like boils, and it was no longer possible to distinguish his features.

CHAPTER VI.
DISAGREEABLE NEIGHBORS.

Philip continued his flight, regardless either of fatigue or the insects, through the brambles which tore his flesh until, on passing half-around a slight elevation which was covered with a greenish white moss, he came upon a lake fully a mile in length, and bordered by tall trees.

As nearly as could be judged he had traveled at least three miles, and in this secluded and lovely spot, which was so surrounded by foliage as to render it impossible for him to peer into the thicket further than two or three feet, it surely seemed as if he was safe from his late tormentors.

The sensation of thirst was by this time so intense as to be almost painful, and the sight of the clear, sparkling water revived his spirits to a wonderful degree.

Running forward eagerly, he knelt on the soft turf at the edge of the lake, and remained in that position ten or fifteen minutes, drinking at intervals like one at a feast who is satisfied but delays leaving the festive-board because of the enjoyment of looking at the delicacies.

With his thirst assuaged Philip’s hopes revived. He believed it would be possible to avoid the apes on an island of such extent as this appeared to be; and when he finally raised his head it was to look about him for the purpose of deciding in which direction he would find refuge and shelter for the night.

As he did so, however, a cry of dismay burst from his lips. On either hand for a distance of many yards were the very apes from whom he was trying to escape. All were kneeling as he knelt, and raising their heads exactly as he raised his, with the water running in streams from their muzzles.

No doubt they followed him through the thicket, or made their way overhead among the branches; but since the stick with which he had threatened them was not in sight, all idea of punishing the intruder was forgotten. Their faculties of imitation proved greater than the love for mischief, and thus, while he congratulated himself upon having escaped, they had gathered noiselessly around him.

However dangerous the animal-trader’s position, he could not restrain a loud burst of laughter at the grotesque scene before him; but his mirth was very quickly turned to surprise when he heard the sounds of his own voice echoed from five hundred pairs of lungs.

This mockery aroused still further his mirth, and he laughed yet louder, the apes redoubling their efforts until it seemed as if each hairy throat was swollen almost to bursting.

It was an orchestra of the tropics with a leader who had no pride in the achievements of his subordinates.

As Philip sat up on his heels so did the animals, and with their heads raised high in their effort to emulate what they possibly thought was a song, a bright blue object around the throats of fifteen or twenty of the larger apes attracted the shipwrecked boy’s attention.

It was hardly probable that the long-tailed denizens of the woods were educated to the fashion of wearing neckties, but yet there could be no question that these select few had on such an article of adornment. Not until after several moments did Philip understand how prominent a part his own neckerchief was playing in the scene. Each of the apes thus decorated had secured a fragment of the cravat, and, true to their imitative instincts, tied it around his neck.

Now that his strange companions were in apparently such a friendly mood, Philip thought it possible, by abstaining from any threatening movements, to get on with some degree of comfort, even though they still continued to surround him.

To sleep just then was out of the question, for the smaller members of the party were yet struggling to laugh, and he looked around for something with which to appease his hunger, which had increased very decidedly since his thirst was satisfied.

He gazed scrutinizingly along the borders of the lake, hoping to see at least some fresh-water mussels. The apes did the same, although probably not with a similar hope.

His eyes roamed among the foliage. So did those of his companions. He saw on a number of trees near the water fruit of a bright yellow color, resembling a crab-apple in shape. If the apes observed the same they made no mention of the fact.

The trees were at least two hundred feet tall, with branches shooting from their very tops, and to climb up these smooth trunks, where there was not the slightest support for either hand or foot, was an utter impossibility.

To throw a stone so high with any degree of accuracy would be rather a difficult matter; but yet Philip resolved to try it. The shore of the lake in certain places was covered with small, sharp, flint-like stones, and thus there was plenty of ammunition at hand, even if he should be forced to try very many times before succeeding.

The first shot was not a success. The stone, after striking the trunk of the tree a few feet below the branches, bounded among the foliage with a loud noise.

The apes, who had been intently watching all his movements, hardly waited until the stone reached the ground before the entire party gathered armfuls of stones and began to fling them at the topmost branches, causing the leaves and fruit to fly in every direction.

The smaller animals, who could not send the missiles so high, formed a chain, and passing the ammunition from hand to hand, supplied those who were more skillful, until that particular portion of the forest was almost entirely denuded of its foliage.

Impelled by his hunger Philip seized a handful of the small fruits, which were evidently a species of guava, and began to eat eagerly.

At that instant the army of stone-throwers ceased their labor as each gathered a supply of fruit, and began eating exactly as did their human companion. When he raised one of the guavas to his mouth they imitated his exact movement. When he chewed they worked their jaws most industriously. When he ejected a seed from his mouth a perfect shower of seeds fell upon the sand. If he threw away a stem they repeated the action; and when, by chance, he made a smacking noise with his lips, the shore of the lake resounded with such a snapping and clattering of jaws as would have caused the “end-man” of a minstrel troupe to grow exceedingly green with envy.

The abundant harvest which, when it was first gathered, gave promise of supplying Philip with food for many days, was disposed of in a very few moments. Before his hunger was satisfied the last guava had disappeared, and the army of apes looked up expectantly, wondering what was to be the next move in this queer sport.

It may seem comical to have one’s every gesture repeated by four or five hundred long-tailed, human-like animals, but it soon becomes annoying, to use the mildest term.

During fully fifteen minutes Philip sat silent and motionless, not daring so much as to raise his finger lest ten or twelve hundred fingers should be pointed toward him; and his companions observed the same immobility.

The approach of night, which comes on so rapidly in the tropics, gave him plenty of food for reflection as he sat there surrounded by his statue-like companions. To remain in the forest during the hours of darkness with such a following was something that filled him with dread, for it was impossible to say at what moment their capricious fancies might lead to another attack, and he racked his brain in vain for some answer to the vexed question.

He had every reason to believe that during the next day he should find human beings who, however unfriendly, would at least relieve him of this throng of attendants, for the island was apparently so large that it seemed hardly probable it was uninhabited. Thus, according to his belief, the only difficulties to be encountered were from this time until morning.

But how and where should the night be passed?

CHAPTER VII.
A SINGULAR DISAPPEARANCE.

The length of time which Philip remained motionless caused the apes to show signs of the greatest discontent. In their monkey minds there was no sport in thus sitting like statues, and two of the largest decided to make matters more agreeable to themselves if not to their human companion.

He continued to sit under the shade of the palm-tree where the feast had been brought to such an abrupt conclusion by the rapid consumption of the eatables, and these two leaders approached in a manner which was evidently friendly, but at the same time most inquisitive.

They first smelled of him, touched his hands, face and hair, and proceeded on the work of examination down to his feet, where they suddenly discovered that the shoes were not a portion of his body.

With a scream of delight one of the examiners removed the foot-covering, and then evinced the most profound astonishment at being able to take off the stockings also.

The shipwrecked man’s toes next attracted his attention, and he amused himself by moving them back and forth, evidently wondering why this stranger should be formed almost as perfectly as himself.

The other ape, chagrined at not having made as important a discovery as his companion, now gave the most profound attention to Philip’s trousers, catching hold of the lower portion and attempting to pull them off.

How to check these investigations, which might be more than inconvenient when the main body of apes should consider it their duty to take part in the operation, was what Philip could not decide, as, when he stood in the midst of the throng during the first meeting, he dared not make any threatening gestures; and it is very probable he would speedily have been disrobed had not several of the spectators strenuously objected to the two leaders monopolizing all the sport.

This objection was first shown when a dozen of the party began pulling at Philip’s coat and vest, some even going so far as to fancy his hair might be easily removed, and dragging out large handfuls by the roots. Before five minutes had elapsed another squad marched up to perform their part in the entertainment.

Owing to the inability of all to participate in the sport, these last seemed to consider it a solemn duty to prevent their companions from enjoying themselves, and then ensued a rough-and-tumble fight in which Philip certainly played the part of “under dog.”

They screamed, tugged, pulled, and yelled over his prostrate body without either side gaining the mastery, and although he received many bruises and scratches, it was preferable to being entirely disrobed, or to seeing his garments decorating the bodies of his antagonists or companions, whichever we may call them.

Had he remained immovable much longer his clothes would speedily have been torn into shreds by the yelling, scrambling crew around him; and to lose this artificial covering in a forest through which one could not walk without being seriously wounded by the brambles would be almost as fatal as a desperate encounter. Therefore, for the first time since meeting these strange inhabitants he decided to stand upon the defensive.

By dint of much pushing and pulling, and at the expense of many scratches, he succeeded in extricating himself from the combatants, but only to be confronted by a fresh force of assailants, who were lingering on the outside of the struggling crowd. These, following the example of their leaders, seemed to consider it the proper thing to engage him in battle, and in a very few seconds it became absolutely necessary to defend himself with force.

“It’s death if I don’t shoot, and it can be no worse if I kill four or five; besides, the report of the revolver may frighten them,” he said to himself as, backing against a gigantic palm-tree, he drew and leveled the weapon directly at the foremost ape.

His position at this moment was most critical. That he would be torn in pieces as had been his cravat, after shooting the first ape, seemed inevitable; but he said grimly, between his set teeth:

“It is better to die while fighting than to yield without a struggle,” and he took deliberate aim.

Another second and the weapon would have been discharged, unless, indeed, as was quite possible, its long immersion in the sea had rendered it useless.

Just as he was on the point of pressing the trigger a terrific shriek, such as it would hardly seem could have come from any pair of lungs, however vigorous, was heard some distance in the rear, and was prolonged until the echoes sent it rolling down the lake like detonations of thunder.

Philip stared about him in alarm, trying in vain to discover the meaning of this strange noise, and to his great astonishment the crowd of apes started with the rapidity of the wind in the direction from which the shriek had come.

On every hand among the foliage could be seen for one brief second the disappearing tails of his troublesome companions, and then he was left alone, the tumult in the distance growing fainter and fainter, as this army of animals dispersed at the highest rate of speed, until finally all was hushed and still.

He was alone on the border of the lake. Silence and solitude had in the twinkling of an eye replaced the frightful tumult, and the shadows of night were closing rapidly around him.

Utter despair gave way to hope. Now that he was alone, the possible dangers to be encountered in the forest during the hours of darkness were as nothing compared to the relief he felt at having lost sight of the grinning, chattering apes.

It might be possible to find human beings before the mantle of night had been fully spread over the land, and he made his preparations for continuing the tramp as calmly as if his life had never been threatened. The most important task was to regain possession of his shoes and stockings, for without them it would be a matter of impossibility to walk a hundred yards, and he began the most careful search on the scene of the late encounter.

When, after not more than five minutes’ hunt, the missing and highly necessary articles were found, he accepted it as a good omen, and was almost convinced that he would soon have food and shelter among human beings. This belief was strengthened by the terrific shriek which brought the battle of the apes to such a sudden end. He felt positive that the noise had been made by some contrivance of man’s, although why the apes rushed directly toward it was what he could not explain.

From among the branches cut off when the animals were bombarding the trees he selected the stoutest one as a cane, as well as an additional weapon of defense, and then started around the lake, hoping to find the outlet, which must necessarily flow into the sea, before it became necessary to halt for the night.

At this place, if anywhere, would he come upon the inhabitants of the island; and as his late tormentors might return at any moment after sunrise—it was hardly probable they would do so during the night—time must be economized at the risk of meeting with wild animals in the jungle.

Following along the shore of the lake for fully half an hour, he met with no obstacles save where the foliage came in a matted tangle close to the water, and then the sound as of a cascade fell upon his ears.

He had arrived at the destination set; but not content to remain here, although the darkness was almost impenetrable, he continued on down the bank of this waterfall until arriving at a second, ending in a basin from which, contrary to his expectations, flowed a stream of considerable size.

It was evident the coast was further away than he had fancied; and weary in limb as well as sore in body he halted for the night.

The sleep that came to his eyelids was neither profound nor refreshing. He made for himself such a bed as could be formed of leaves and moss; but on lying down, the strangeness of his surroundings and the fear of what might be lurking in the darkness prevented his eyes from closing many moments at a time.

It was a relief rather than otherwise when the surrounding objects began to stand out from a background of violet, and he knew the coming day was sending heralds abroad to announce its near approach.

A welcome breeze, the accompaniment of sunrise, swept across the jungle, cooling his fevered brow, and the fact that it was not heated caused him to believe the sea but a short distance away. As he arose to his feet, following the conformation of the stream, the thicket became less dense, and the foliage so scanty that one could see many yards ahead, until, when the sun showed itself above the horizon, not two hundred yards off the waves of the boundless ocean were revealed to view.