CHAPTER XXIII.—The Great Catastrophe.
A Powerless Ruler Confronts a Mutiny. Death of the Sovereign Demanded. The Army Under My Command. Christopher’s Sacrifice. The Final Cataclysm.
AFTER a hard run, I laid Mr. Vancouver across Hobart’s shoulder. There was no need to urge all speed to the colony. I turned back to meet the pursuers, and ran swiftly until I encountered the foremost. Before they had seen me I dropped to the ground and was diligently examining it when they came up and halted, others running behind.
“Which way?” inquired the first.
“Stand back!” I said. “I have the trail.”
They obeyed, but my knife was ready for a contingency. I pretended to lose the signs, but found them again, followed a few paces, and announced that the fugitives had turned there and headed for the trail. “That will bring them into a trap,” I added, “for people are still coming up the trail to the clearing. I will follow the runaways and give the alarm. You men spread up and down here, for they may double back. When others come from the clearing, turn them all back, for they will spoil the trail and I never can find it again. Then you too go back if you don’t hear from me very soon. Send a man at once to the priest, and tell him to hold the people there, and to order up more wood and prepare for the sacrifice. I am a Suminali man and can trail like a dog.”
I was turning away, but paused, to make sure of them. “Have you heard the news from the palace?” I inquired.
“No.”
“The king has given the crown to Lentala, and the command of the army also.”
It surprised them. “Where’s Gato?” asked one.
“He disobeyed the king, and is dead,” I answered. “Tell the news to the priest. Spread it among the crowd.” It was on my tongue to add that the queen would soon appear with the army and disperse the crowd, but there were dangers in it, and I held my peace. Sufficient for the present that I had stopped the pursuit.
On arriving at the road to the clearing I found a commotion, and learned that the army was rapidly approaching. The people did not know how to take that news,—whether it meant a forwarding or a breaking up of the sacrifice.
There came a scrambling of stragglers to escape the army, which advanced on the trot, Christopher running in front. He saw me, wheeled, and raised his hand. I knew that his glance at my face had told him the whole story. My heart swelled to see Lentala, borne aloft in an uncanopied crimson velvet palanquin emblazoned with the royal insignia. Her dress was the one she had worn at the feast, with the addition of the crown. In her hand she carried a naked sword, fine and lean.
“Make way for the queen!” at intervals shouted a man running ahead of the queen and behind Christopher.
On seeing Christopher’s signal she raised her sword, and the palanquin halted. She was anxiously watching the glow from the altar fire, but her glance discovered me, and a surprised joy sprang to her face.
“Am I too late?” she called in English.
“No, your Majesty. All is well.”
“Choseph!” she chokingly cried, throwing her sword away and seizing both my hands.
It was a public scandal. The soldiers stared.
I gave her a warning look, and said, “Your Majesty!”
She drew away with freezing dignity. A soldier picked up her sword, wiped it as he would a baby’s face, knelt, and handed it to her. She slammed it angrily into its scabbard, gave me a crushing glance, and opened her lips to speak, but I drove the words back by suddenly dropping in an obeisance. I would have given a good deal to see her face in the long pause before she bade me rise. My face was grave as I met her angry, suspicious gaze.
“This is no time nor place to make fun of me,” she cuttingly said.
“I beg your Majesty’s pardon.”
She was studying me. “You have seen Annabel, I suppose?” she inquired.
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“And talked with her?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“You—were glad—to see each other?”
“Very, your Majesty.”
“She is as lovely as ever?”
“Quite, your Majesty.”
She examined the splendid jewel in the head of her sword-hilt, looked up with a composed face, and demanded that I tell her what had happened. I did so, and she beamed, forgetting Annabel.
“I’ll take the army to the clearing,” she said, “put a stop to the nonsense, and send the people home.”
She said it confidently, either ignoring the danger or ignorant of it. Evidently her purpose was the protection of the colony, but I surmised that some power greater than hers would be required. Christopher had been standing near, a silent listener.
Her imposing arrival had a strong effect on the restless mob as in the cross-light of the moon and the altar fire she stood up in the palanquin and raised her sword for attention. She told them of her crowning, made a plea for their confidence, and commanded them to go home. But she said nothing about a sacrifice.
No sign of obedience appearing in the crowd, she gave me a glance that sought guidance. I knew that the moment was critical and the risk great, but it seemed the only recourse. I glanced at the army. She understood, hesitated a moment, and ordered the soldiers to clear the place. A slight movement and a buzz ran through the ranks, but there was no forward movement. Then rang a cry, instantly taken up till it became a roar:
“Sacrifice! Sacrifice!”
Lentala sprang to the ground, waved the palanquin-bearers away, and with a free sword confronted the soldiers, her head high, her eyes flashing. I knew she realized that there was but one way out of the desperate dilemma, and that she was casting about to find it without a confession of failure. Clearly she knew that, although old Rangan had deeply planted a sense of loyalty in the soldiers, she was hampered both by a want of experience in handling them and by the pressure of the mob behind her, which was swelling its demand for a sacrifice to a mutinous outbreak that the soldiers would have no spirit to meet, they being in sympathy with the movement. It became necessary for me to act.
I sprang forward and prostrated myself before her.
“Rise,” she said, extending her sword over me.
When I had come to my feet she gave me her sword, and said, her voice ringing clear and far:
“I must go among my people and quiet them. You were King Rangan’s friend; you are the man who threw Gato from the wall,—Gato, who had been unfaithful to his sovereign. I give you command of my army while I go among my people.”
I took her sword and promptly faced the bewildered ranks as Lentala drifted away; but not until I had seen that Christopher was observing; he would understand that I had turned her over to his protection.
It was fortunate that on the beach and during the march to the valley I had closely observed Gato’s method of handling his men. They were crude soldiers and their drill was childish, but my training knew the value of discipline to any extent, and I remembered Gato’s tactics. More important than any evolutions that they knew was the spirit of the one commanding them.
I rapped out an order for company formation, as the men were in loose order. As I had expected, some of them stared at me and the others at the rapidly growing mob spirit before them.
It should be explained that Gato’s organization was wholly different from that of civilized nations. While the men composing the army came nearly to half the number of a modern regiment, and while some rude idea of subsidiary groupings had been observed, the absence of actual experience in warfare had made the organization hardly more than a stolid, pompous mob, and the under-officers little besides repeaters and enforcers of the general orders. All officers were merely the “general’s” staff.
I did the best I could with such a machine. Upon repeating my order in a still sharper tone, and seeing only an uneasy, tentative pretense of obedience, I sprang toward the officer whom I may call the lieutenant-colonel, stung his cheek with the flat of my rapier, and sent him spinning down the ranks. Another officer instantly found himself treated to a similar slap, and another, as I continued to shout the order. The fourth, a sullen brute, took the blow without wincing, and in both hands began to raise his sword to cleave me. He never knew what it was that sent his blade clattering to the ground; and his attention at once became engaged in a spouting rip in his arm. That brought the staring regiment to its senses; the under-officers all sprang to their duty.
Then, charging up and down the front rank while I raked the stomachs of the soldiers with my sword, I ordered platoon formation. Under other circumstances it would have been amusing to see the officers scrambling for minor commands not already occupied. Evidently there had never before been such sprightly movement required of them; my rapier continually flashed, and men winced when it came near.
Having thus secured control, I was in a dilemma.
My purpose was to face them about, so that they should not see the turbulence rapidly increasing in the mob; but that would bring them facing the altar fire, which was burning emptily, reminding them that the people had been cheated. But there was no choice; I must be where I could face the storm breaking over Lentala and Christopher. There was no time for marching to secure a back-presentation to the mob; I must risk the awkwardness of a reverse formation.
The command to about-face was promptly obeyed, and the soldiers appeared to be surprised on finding me again before them. It was necessary to keep them absorbed in maneuvers, which, of the simplest kind, such as they could understand, I immediately put in force.
This did not distract my attention from the turbulence centering about Lentala. I saw the densely packed and highly excited mob crowding her; I heard the shouts for a sacrifice, the calls to the army to join the rebellion; I heard her clear, steady voice; I saw now and then glimpses of Christopher standing as a rock behind her; and all the time my sword was swinging and my orders were keeping the army at work. It would be but a matter of time when I might turn it to the service of the queen, but the danger was pressing alarmingly.
Of a sudden there was a commotion about Lentala. Before I could turn over the command to the officer next in rank and go to Lentala’s rescue, Christopher, bearing her on his shoulder, broke through the mob, skirted my left flank on the run, and bounded toward the altar, the flames of which had sunk almost to a mass of glowing coals, exceedingly hot. Without attempting to comprehend his movement, but seeing that he had brought the queen behind the army for some purpose, I instantly opened the order of my men, commanded swords drawn, and cried:
“The queen’s army to her defense!”
The command was taken up by every subordinate officer. Again the men found me facing them as the mob came howling at my back; but the double line stood firm as an interposing wall before the queen. Then I knew that I had them in hand, but I dared not risk a charge, and I must see what Christopher was doing. The tumbling mob halted before the drawn swords.
When Christopher reached the altar he stopped and turned, he and his burden making a striking silhouette against the red heap of coals. She appeared unconscious, for she hung limp over his shoulder, her arms pendent. The halting of the mob and Christopher’s pause aided his unexpected dash in sending a hush on the crowd. In the midst of it rose Christopher’s voice for all to hear:
“We’ll sacrifice the queen! The queen!” With that he flung her to the ground and began savagely to tear her outer skirt into strips, with the obvious purpose of binding her.
The scene was clear to the mob through the open ranks of my men. I was no less appalled than were the savages at the audacity of the move and Christopher’s ferocious method of procedure. And I made no attempt to keep the soldiers from turning their heads to see. My task was instantly to find my cue in the drama that Christopher was playing. It came before I was ready. As Christopher, after the binding, which required but a moment, was carrying Lentala up to the pyre, she began to struggle, and called:
“My soldiers, save me!”
I bounded through the ranks as I gave the command to about-face and forward double-quick. But I outran the soldiers, struck Christopher down with my sword, and caught Lentala as she was falling. The shortest instant was needed to cut her bonds, but that was sufficient for me to lose control of the situation. Christopher’s splendid ruse had succeeded in saving the queen from the mob, and I knew that nothing concerning himself mattered beyond that. Indeed, I have always thought that he deliberately chose the time to give his life for her sake.
As the old king had said, the natives were children, and the sudden revulsion of feeling in favor of the queen was more even than the soldiers, who had a little discipline, could calmly bear. A wave of passionate devotion swept over them. It was only a mob that I faced with my sword as I stood before Lentala. Christopher was lying face downward on the ground as he had fallen. I knew he was unhurt and free to make a fight for his life. None could have realized more clearly than he that the mob would take vengeance on him, but none could have better understood that his resistance might imperil the queen. He had simply made the bold play for her sake, had won, and then lain down to die.
I could not bear that, nor could Lentala, who comprehended. Without hesitation she left me and bent over him, to receive the blow, and was careful that he should not know her purpose. I did what I could, shouting, commanding the soldiers to form, waving my sword menacingly. It had a staying effect, and I cannot now say with certainty that it would have failed.
Suddenly, with a sickening sensation, I felt the earth tremble beneath my feet. A strange sense of dizziness, of reeling, made my movements waver. The soldiers also were staggering, and their purpose to rend Christopher appeared to be relaxing; but nothing could withstand the pressure of the mob behind them. I had barely time to snatch up Lentala and cut a way back to the altar before Christopher, whose glance found Lentala and me safe, began to rise as the lurching horde hurled itself upon him.
In a staggering run, nearly tripped at every step, I bore her to the edge of the clearing, on the side toward the colony, and hid us both in the shadows. When I had picked her up she buried her face in my shoulder and clung to me with both arms round my neck.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A volcanic eruption.”
“Where’s Christopher?”
I put my hand on her lips, and she trembled as she clung closer. She was silent as the earthquake increased in violence, and presently asked:
“Do you see it, Choseph?”
I had been observing it since we were seated. “Yes. It is at the river passage. The mountain appears to be blown out there, and———”
“Stop!” she cried, holding me closer.
Undoubtedly the eruption had occurred at the boiling cauldron that we had passed under the mountain. Its first violence was already spent, and the earthquake was subsiding; but I reflected that the water from the valley stream and from the crimson fall must be pouring into the hot interior, and that the end was not yet.
The ejecta of the outburst were already falling about us from the great height to which the explosion had thrown them. Hot stones of all sizes rained. Had not the forest been damp, it would have broken into flame at a thousand places.
The writhing savages in the clearing were but dimly visible. No definiteness came out of the mass still crowded and heaped where we had left Christopher. All sufficiently near for me to see sat staring at the Face, which was now clearly taking its vengeance; all were moaning and howling, and prostrated with fear.
A deep-red flame rose with a rushing noise from the seat of the eruption as renewed rumblings and roarings came from the quivering ground. The rising flame plunged into a rapidly spreading canopy of smoke and ashes from the initial explosion. The hither edge of the vast cloud was wan in the moonlight, but the under surface reflected the crimson of the flame. All things adopted that dreadful hue. The green foliage took it on as the muddy purple of decay; the brown faces of the natives looked as if beaten to a pulp.
There came another light, and it woke a more insidious terror. Striating the crimson column and issuing snakily from many independent orifices distributed over a wide area of the valley rim, was the purple flame. And now the most wonderful of all was the great Face itself. The crimson light caught it in profile, and thus so sharpened its features as to make it seem a living monster of inconceivable ferocity. Nor was that the worst. The purple flame again issued from below the face with a great augmentation. In rising and spreading it cast a thin veil over the visage, making it ghastly.
The falling of heavy stones ceased, but the more numerous small ones began to pelt us. I drew my coat round Lentala’s head, and broke tree-branches within reach to shield her body, for the stones had a vicious sting.
The heat was growing, both by radiation from the crimson column and by reflection from the canopy. Flames were leaping from the forest near the eruption, for the heat was drying the leaves.
As the ground opened in many seams under the strain, steam found numerous issues on the front of the opposite valley wall, near the Face. The quaking of the earth deepened; the moans of the natives became cries of frenzy.
“Is it growing worse, Joseph?”
She had been Beela since the scene at the altar, and I had nearly forgotten Lentala. It was sweet to feel her breath on my neck as she clung like a frightened child.
“Be brave,” I said. “Remember, we came safely through the passage.”
“I will, Joseph,” but I felt a sob against my breast.
The increasing heat began to make wild mischief in the air. Little whirlwinds had been rising, twirling leaves upward. All at once they ceased, leaving an ominous calm. Then came a rushing, swirling roar, with the crashing of trees,—the noises of a tornado. I looked round. Nearly in a line with the moon rose a spinning column bearing upward dismembered trees, liberating them far above, and sending them down destructively. This monster, whose seizure would mean death, was mounting the slope in its approach to the volcano, and seemingly would sweep the clearing in its passage. I did not know what to do, and did not wish Lentala to see what was coming, but I must unconsciously have given an alarming sign, for she silently caught her breath and tightened her hold.
As I was looking about in helplessness, an extraordinary vision of tatters and despair staggered toward us out of the forest, peering about. Her staring eyes found me, and she stopped in fear.
“Annabel!” I cried.
Lentala sprang to her feet, her terror gone, and stared for a moment; then, springing forward, she took Annabel in her arms before I had reached her.
“Where is my father?” begged Annabel, recognizing us both.
“He is safe with Captain Mason at the colony, dear,” Lentala sweetly answered.
I confirmed the news, and because she was much more deeply shaken than Lentala, I took her to myself and made her sit on the ground. I seated myself beside her, took her hand, and told her cheerful things about her father and Mr. Rawley. She had become suspicious and left the colony to search for her father before Captain Mason’s return with him.
She was quietly sobbing in gratefulness. A woman’s gentler offices were needed now, and I looked round for Lentala. To my astonishment she had disappeared. That alarmed me. In looking about for her without leaving Annabel I discovered that the tornado had torn away the trees on the opposite side of the clearing, and was breaking to pieces after tumbling into the valley; but I could not guess what havoc, if any, it had wrought in the clearing, and a profound uneasiness on Lentala’s account made my duty to care for Annabel irksome. Even at the best, the collections of the tornado were falling about us and on the clearing, and an increase of the dismal howling indicated cruel results, in which both Lentala and Christopher might be involved. And the danger to Annabel and me was great. I did what I could to protect her from the merciless rain of riven timber.
It had been impossible for me to abandon hope on Christopher’s account. Even though I believed that he had lain down in perfect content to give his life for Lentala, the eruption had offered him an opportunity for which he must have been ready. If he was alive and anywhere near the zone of Lentala’s danger, she would be cared for. I could accept no other faith than that he was.
Annabel reasonably secure and quiet, I noted the progress of the catastrophe, knowing that Christopher would let me hear from him soon, if at all. The trembling of the ground had become remittent and more violent. The cries of the natives were falling to despairing moans. The tripping ground had made their flight impossible, even had fear not paralyzed them. Besides, the effect of the weird light on the Face was sufficient to hold them in a fascinated helplessness.
The volcanic pillar of fire had shortened, for the still spreading canopy was thickening downward. The roar was louder, with occasional detonations from lateral explosions which smashed the mountains environing the western end of the valley and made a still wider breach in the opening blasted by the first outbreak. The purple flame had found new exits, lending the opposite valley wall a cadaverous light, and, with the spreading flame issuing from below the Face, giving the horrible visage an unspeakable hideousness.
Worse than all that had gone before came next. The canopy suddenly effaced the moon, and looked like an enormous mushroom on a blood-red stem. Violent gusts of wind fell here and there with a rending force, working havoc in the forest and among the natives. Now and then rose a sharp solitary cry from one struck by a falling stone or spattered by blistering mud. At times a swarm of cries rang from the dip of scorching gases. Clouds were gathering. Lightning flashed between them and the canopy; the crash of near thunder swelled the tumult. I tried not to think of the colony.
“Where is Lentala?” cried Annabel in my ear, rousing out of a half-stupor.
“She has gone to the clearing,” I ventured.
“Go and find her,” urged Annabel in fright, forcibly withdrawing from me.
“How can I leave you?”
“I am safe here, and will wait for you. Go!”
I obeyed, staggering into the clearing and falling over the kneeling or prostrate savages. My heart presently gave a bound of joy; for, working side by side, fearless and devoted, were Lentala and Christopher, apparently unhurt, and doing all they could to pacify the frantic natives, encouraging them, binding their wounds, and sending them to the service of others, thus rapidly starting centers of control and help that enlarged with magical rapidity. I came near, but the two who were dear to me did not observe, so intent were they on their duty. I had never seen so lovely a look on Lentala’s face, and I determined to let no foolish barrier stand between us thenceforth. Christopher saw me first, but gave no sign whatever. Then Lentala, and there was a divine light in her startled, happy face.
“You came to me, didn’t you, Joseph?” she said, seizing my hand.
“Annabel discovered that you were gone, and sent me to find you.”
Her face went blank, and she dropped my hand. Terrible though the moment was, her childishness angered me. It was no time for coquettish discipline.
“She wants your Majesty,” I said. “Shall I bring her to you?”
Her eyes flashed, but she replied, “Take me to her.”
I tried to take her hand, in order to lead her, for the ground was rolling and there were unpleasant things to see on the way in the red glare; but she walked alone and as steadily as I. As we approached the trees there came a sickening heave different from the earth-movements before. Christopher sprang past us toward Annabel, shouting:
“Down—on your faces!”
I seized Lentala and lurched ahead, but before we had quite reached Annabel and Christopher we went down in a blazing crash.
“Shake yourself up, sir,” came in a thin voice from a great distance.
I could open my eyes but a moment under the vigorous shaking that Christopher gave me, for slimy, warm drops were falling on my face; but I had met the darkness that the blind know. A painful throbbing made my head roll as Christopher dragged me to shelter and propped me against a tree.
“Where are we?” I asked. My groping hands found a prone body at my left. I opened my eyes, and the world was blotted out.
“Keep still, sir.”
“Are they both here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Alive?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Choseph!” came feebly from the body under my hand.
My arms went round her and drew her up.
“Where’s Annabel, Christopher?” I asked.
“On your right, sir.”
“Unconscious?”
“Yes, sir.”
Lentala lay collapsed in my arms. The rain of mud from the canopy pattered and splashed about us. The ground was still, and there was hardly a sound except the slimy drip.
“The volcano has stopped, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
I asked the next question in the conviction that I had been stricken blind: “Is there any light at all?”
“No, sir.”
Lentala clutched me. “I’m glad, Choseph! I thought I was blind.”
“What happened, Christopher?” I asked.
“The world blew up, sir.”
“What then?”
“Darkness.”
The rain had extinguished the forest fires, and the sirupy drip was mingled with the hissing of hot stones. There was nothing to do but wait. Wails began to creep out of the silent clearing. Lentala drew away.
“Poor children!” she said. “I can teach them better now. There’s a good life ahead for me here.” Clearly she was thinking of nothing else, and she said it with a simple earnestness. During all these dark months her every plan and act had been for her own and our escape from the island. I had thought that she accepted the crown as a temporary expedient to restore order and save the colony; but now I knew that, while she still intended to send us safely away, she had severed all other bonds and would give her life where it was most needed. The conduct of the people during the eruption had given the finishing touch to her decision. It was the putting away of all her hopes and dreams; it was the dismissal of me.
I sat a moment in a desolate silence, and found her hand. She returned my clasp, but it was different from any she had ever given me before. It grew firmer, imparting a silent message of finality.