CHAPTER XXI—Both Sides of the Wall.
A Mob at the Palace Gate. What the King Heard Through the Wall. Lentala’s Call on Christopher to Save Her. The King Abdicates. Long Live the Queen!
HABIT is the strongest force in animate nature. Though I was shaken, the bent of an urgent purpose remained, and I went forward to it with all the will at my command.
The roar of a mob—that most horrible of sounds—smote my hearing when Christopher and I emerged from the palace into the grounds. A turn in a broad, curving walk through the trees brought the barred main gate into view. It was a massive affair of wood, iron, and bolts, with a small wicket, which was closed.
The king, all alone, wearing his crown and his cloak of state, was awaiting us near the gate. He beckoned us to raise a ladder to the wall. It was done.
“I will presently go up alone,” he said, calm but sad, “and will talk to them. Men have gone for a heavy beam with which to ram the gate. The crowd is densely packed here. That will make an attack on the gate impossible for a time. It is likely that the soldiers will assemble and clear a working space.”
“What can we do, Sire?” I asked.
“Nothing now. The most that I can hope for is to hold the situation until Lentala returns.”
“She has gone?”
“Yes. It was something about the white people. I couldn’t keep her. She was confident we could hold the mob.”
“And your Majesty’s plan———?”
“I will show myself on the wall, and talk to them. At the proper moment I will call you up. If I am stricken down, you and your brother retreat to the palace. Defend it by any means and at any cost.”
His sorrow was too great to be companioned by fear, and it bore an impressive dignity which his haggardness intensified.
“The mob is swelling rapidly,” he said with perfect quiet. “Unless a diversion happens soon, many will be crushed against the gate and the wall.”
Seeing that he stood inactive, I wondered whether he was so numbed as to be incapacitated; but he cleared the doubt.
“If the beam-carriers force their way through the mass, many will be maimed or killed. I am listening to the sounds.”
His coolness and clearness were remarkable. Christopher, unruffled, was studying our surroundings.
“There come the beam-carriers,” said the king. “They are much excited, and are not working smoothly together.... One fell then; he was stepped on and hurt.... Now they are forging ahead. They are blindly ramming the mass before them.... A woman is hurt.”
The king’s back was to the ladder and the wall. He was gazing into space behind me, listening.”... Hark! Yes, that is he,—one of Gato’s captains, a big, strong man, with a great voice. He has just arrived, fighting his way through the crowd, and calling the soldiers, telling them that I have murdered Gato. I have been kind to this man. On the chance of Gato’s being out of the way, he sees his opportunity to step into his leader’s shoes, carry out his plan, and usurp the throne.... The soldiers are rallying. They fight ruthlessly for passage to the captain.... It is bungling, cruel work.”
“Isn’t this the moment for you to appear, Sire?” We had to shout.
“No.”
“Let me go up.”
“No.” He was firm as well as calm. “Wait. The soldiers are unwittingly preparing my moment. I have partisans as well as enemies there. If I showed myself now, it would increase the frenzy. My friends and enemies would at once begin a fight of factions. They could not, would not, hear my voice. I will let the soldiers clear the way.”
We waited.
“Why don’t they scale the wall, Sire?”
“That will come later,—by the soldiers.”
He stood listening. That was trying to my mercurial nature, and almost a mad desire to be over the wall in the thick of the mêlée was straining within me.
The king produced a key, handed it to me, and composedly said:
“That opens the vault containing the cargo from the white people’s vessel, including the arms. If I fall, you and your brother will know what to do in defending the palace. But don’t be hasty. Be merciful if you can. This outbreak will not last long. Violent earthquakes are likely to come again at any moment, and the red fire and purple flame on the summit make me think that there may be a volcanic eruption.”
“What will happen then?”
“The white people will seize the opportunity to escape from the valley,—if they have not already started. That would mean the annihilation of the entire party, for all the Senatras, including the army, would fall upon them. Then my people would be satisfied, and order would be restored.”
My respect for his insight gave his words a crushing force. But what did it mean that Lentala had told Captain Mason to bring the colony out?
I was moving toward the ladder under an impulse to be in action, but a firm grasp fell on my arm. An apologetic look of warning reminded me that Christopher never slept when a beloved one was in danger.
The king had noticed nothing, so deeply absorbed was he. A puzzle was sharpening his senses and wrinkling his brow.
“I don’t understand that,” he said.
“What, Sire?”
“I wish I knew that Lentala was safe.”
“How could she be in danger, your Majesty?”
“Her white blood. It makes her too daring.” He was looking about, but his attitude of concentrated listening returned. “There it is again!” he exclaimed.
“What, your Majesty?”
He did not answer for a while; then, “Do you hear that?”
“Yes.”
“It is a new trouble. It started on the outskirts of the mob, and is drawing nearer.... I can’t make it out.”
He was at the highest pitch of alertness, and was silent for a time.
“Don’t you hear the voice? That is no Senatra! His cries—don’t you hear them, man?... The people are falling away from him in terror.... Don’t you hear?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“They are crying, ‘A demon sent by the Black Face! He will take our children, and the hungry Face will devour them!’ Don’t you hear that?”
“Something of it, Sire.”
“The people are stricken with fear.... The women are fighting to escape. Don’t you hear their screams?”
“Yes, Sire. Isn’t it time to mount the wall?”
“No. There is no foreseeing what this diversion will accomplish.”
There was a pause.
“He is advancing toward the gate, bellowing. Surely you hear him?”
“Yes, Sire.” My heart bounded, for I recognized the voice.
“He is crying in English, ‘They brought me out to eat me!’ He thinks we are cannibals!” exclaimed the king, aghast.
“All the white people in the valley think so, your Majesty.”
He blazed with resentment, but his attention was again concentrated on the proceedings without.
“He is calling me the chief of the cannibals,” resumed the king, “and is fighting his way to the gate. He shouts that he must be the first to enter, and that he will find me and strangle me.... He is a maniac. The natives have a horror of that malady. The noise is subsiding. Don’t you notice?”
“Yes, Sire; and now I will rescue the madman.”
I started for the ladder, but with a fierce grip the king withheld me.
“Would you be a fool and spoil everything?” he shouted in a sudden fury.
He was again composed and listening. “Wonderful!” he said. “Some of the men, seeing how easily he clears the way, are hailing him as a leader. They are not the soldiers.... The beam-bearers are advancing again, for the madman is opening a passage. They carry the beam on their shoulders.... They are gradually approaching the gate. Don’t you hear the lunatic shouting?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“A considerable body of soldiers must be massed at the gate, awaiting the bearers, but they are silent. They must be consulting what to do. They are drawing their swords.”
“Sire!” I cried; “I won’t let that happen.”
“Wait,” he peremptorily commanded. “What is that?” He was listening more breathlessly than before. “Strange!... Strange!... It——-”
“What is it?” I demanded in a rage of impatience.
“I don’t understand,” he resumed after a pause. “What can make it? There is no earthquake. Did you feel one?”
“No, Sire. But I can’t———”
“Wait.” His clutch was on my arm. “Surely it can’t be the white people from the valley!”
He reeled, and I seized the instant to spring upon the ladder. But I had forgotten Christopher. He turned me round to face the king.
The stricken monarch was standing in a tenseness sprung from unnamable fears. But he started as something new fell on his hearing.
“No,” he said, “not they. Something else. They are growing more quiet.... It is a woman.... They are hailing her. She speaks. Don’t you hear her voice?”
I could hear only a blur of noises.
“She is shaming the women.... And sending them away.... She is my friend!... Do you know the voice?” He seized my arm and gazed into my face.
“No, Sire.”
“She is fighting her way through the men.... She calls them fools, cowards, ingrates.... They are dazed.... Only one woman on all this island would have the courage to do that.”
“Sire, if you———”
“She is calling, pleading; she is saying that I am the kind, wise father of them all.”
I turned to Christopher, and found a startling transformation. No longer was he the dull, patient, waiting man. Every nerve was strung.
The king’s mouth was open; his eyes bulged; his clutch on my arm tightened.
“Listen!” he commanded. “She is———”
“Sire, you must mount the wall. We must rescue her!”
“No, no! She is in little danger. May the gods give her strength!... Hush! What is that?... They are going forward with the beam. She is standing erect upon it.... Did you hear that?”
“What, Sire?”
“The soldiers are advancing with drawn swords.”
With a violent effort I broke the king’s grasp and sprang for the ladder, but a giant hand fell on my shoulder and thrust me back. Above the subsiding din rose a clear, unterrified call from without:
“Christopher! Christopher!”
He had been waiting for that. His answer rang keen and far, and he leaped upon the ladder.
“Come when I call,” he said to us.
In a moment he was on the wall. In another he had deliberately sent the ladder crashing to the ground. He studied the outer scene a moment, crouched, and sprang into the maelstrom.
Five thousand throats opened at the spectacle.
“The gate, Sire! Give me the gate key!” I shouted.
“No! It would be death. The ladder!”
I knew that Christopher must have acted intelligently in throwing the ladder. Had he done it merely to delay our ascent? When it was up, the king interposed before my clutch at the rungs.
“Your king first,” he said.
“Mount then, Sire, in heaven’s name,” cried I, cursing inwardly at the delay and my own impotence.
“Stay below until I summon you,” said his Majesty.
“Your appearance at this time may bring ruin to us all.”
Vaguely realizing that he was in the right, I gritted my teeth and waited.
Meanwhile, what was happening to Christopher and Lentala in that swirl of blind mob passion beyond the wall, and what meant the groans of men and the clang of metal? Christopher might save her life until the king should create a diversion, but what could a man do for himself, with a hundred swords at his breast?
As with dignity and deliberation King Rangan stepped upon the broad top of the wall, the afternoon sun came forth in imperial splendor, and wrapped him in its glory. He slowly faced the mob, raised his hand, and held it firmly aloft.
He had been seen before assuming the impressive attitude, and a mighty shout of mingled adoration and derision arose; it continued jarringly till he raised his hand; then gradually it fell into the deep roar of breakers after a storm, and thus faded to a silence broken only by the rumble of distant hordes moving on the palace. The king swept the multitude with his gaze, and spoke:
“Your king has grown old in service to his people, and now———”
“Gato! Gato! Give us Gato!”
“Every true subject of mine holds his life at the service of his king.”
“Give us Gato!”
The king stood in an iron silence.
“Show us Gato! We must see him! We must have him!”
Rangan raised both arms, and a hush fell.
“Very well,” his deep voice rang out. “You shall have Gato.”
Before I could recover from my surprise he turned to me, tossed me a key, and in a manner that showed his perfect seriousness, ordered me to bring Gato immediately.
“Is all well with my brother and Lentala, Sire?” I begged.
“Yes, but go at once!”
I dashed through the grounds and the palace to the dungeon door, which upon reaching I flung open, and, unable to see within, said sharply:
“Bring Gato.” An echo as of emptiness buffeted my voice. “Be quick!” I called.
A stir began to rise. “What is going on?” stole a voice.
“Bring Gato!” I shouted, with a fury in my voice that brought immediate response.
The shadows took dim shapes, stooped and lifted something heavy, and shuffled hastily toward the door.
“On my shoulder!” I rapped.
They laid him across. I slammed the door, locked it, staggered up the steps, and arrived at the foot of the ladder.
The king was still addressing the mob, but his glance fell upon me in answer to my call.
“Bring him up,” he commanded. Again turning to the crowd, he said: “Gato is here. You shall see him; you shall have him. From him you will learn what it means to betray your king.”
I was nearly at the top of the ladder, which sagged and cracked under the double weight. The king made a detaining gesture toward me.
“Where is the ladder that I ordered?” he asked of those without.
“Here, Sire,” answered a liquid voice that ran sweetly over the wall and into my heart.
“Place it, you men. Good. Now you shall have Gato.”
I clambered upon the top.
“Stand him up to face the people,” directed the king for all to hear.
I dragged the stiffening Gato to his feet, and, my breast against his back and my arms locked round his body, turned him to the crowd. An inability to credit the senses held them dumb at first. They looked from one to another, horror in their eyes. His Majesty was calmly observing; then he spoke in the awed silence, and his voice carried grief and pity.
“You have called for Gato. Behold him! The gods have long, swift arms for those who strike at your king and you, O my people!”
A groan swept over the multitude; it passed, leaving a stillness inconceivably impressive.
“You wished to see Gato; you have seen him. You demanded him; you shall have him.” He gave me an order.
I raised Gato aloft, and started toward the gate, where the soldiers were massed. In a loud voice the king cried:
“Unfaithful soldiers of the king, take your leader!”
I hurled Gato down among them. The heavy body struck something,—I did not see what. Lentala was standing between the soldiers and the gate. Neither Christopher nor Mr. Vancouver was anywhere visible. The people, including the soldiers, were smitten deeply.
“Lentala!” rang the king’s voice.
A way to the foot of the ladder opened, and the king gave her a hand at the top. Deep sadness was in her eyes, as she turned them for a moment upon me.
The king, still holding her hand, reached for mine also. Standing thus between us, he addressed the throng:
“My people, these two and the one who leaped from the wall have been tried as by fire. They would die for their king if he but gave the word. You have seen Gato. Behold these!”
He gazed on the cowed soldiers, and resumed:
“Soldiers of the king, did I but raise my hand, thousands of my loyal and loving people would rend you where you stand. What should be done, my children,” turning to the mob, “to honored and trusted sons who would steal upon their father to strike him down with an assassin’s knife?”
A murmur which rapidly swelled, and a stir which began to seethe, warned the king.
“Peace!” he cried. “A king can forgive. My soldiers were never bad at heart; they were led away. Soldiers of the king, raise a hand in token of your loyalty.”
Every one obeyed. Besides those at the gate were many throughout the crowd.
“Your faithless leader gone, I appoint Lentala, my daughter, as commander of the army.”
There was a craning of necks. The soldiers made no concealment of their surprise, but in their gratitude for the king’s pardon shouted their acceptance.
The king laid his hand on Lentala’s head.
“I now make this proclamation: I am old and broken, and the grief of this day has brought me near the end. To this one, true and wise, brave and devoted, so deeply loved and trusted by us all, I resign the ruler-ship of my people.” He removed his crown and cloak, and placed them on her. “Obey her as you love her, and peace and security will abide with you. This is your ruler henceforth.” He raised both arms, and, after a pause, cried, “Obeisance and greetings to Queen Lentala!”
A thrill ran through the gathering, and all sank to the ground. I was on my knees at her feet, pressing her fingers to my lips and trying to speak.
“Joseph!” she scolded under her breath, giving my hand a little squeeze; “don’t do that! How can I cry when you are so absurd!” Tears were falling from her lashes. She turned, put her arms on the king’s shoulders, and bowed her head, while mighty salvos of huzzas rent the skies.