CHAPTER VI.
Finding a volcano.—New peril to which I am exposed.—The merchant is recognised by his old merchandise.—Three guttural cries.—The living garland.—It swings to and fro, and then performs a furious rotatory movement over the crater of a blazing volcano.—My thoughts at this moment.—I am flung to the ground, and swoon away.—On recovering, I am ushered into the presence of Karabouffi the First, whom I find transformed into a bird.—Monkey scribes and living telegraphic communication.
At the summit of the cone which I had just reached a most extraordinary spectacle awaited me. Myriads of apes, silent and immovable until they perceived me, hovered round the crest of the crater of a little volcano, which had evidently not been in a state of eruption for a considerable period.
The flames which it belched forth were, I found, the result of a formidable combustion fed by troops of these creatures, who were busily engaged in throwing into this yawning gulf branches after branches of maple-trees, shrubs torn up by the roots, and heaps of long dry leaves, which they passed from one to the other with incredible rapidity, just as sailors when loading a ship pass from hand to hand the multitude of packages which have to be transferred from the quay to the hold. The fuel, consisting of branches, roots, bark, and leaves, which they were flinging into the opening of the craters came, as I discovered, from a distance. The destruction of trees, and the passage from hand to hand of boughs and bark stripped from them, went on without ceasing. The inexhaustible fire, like the indefatigable arms in motion, never once appeared to slacken. It was almost enough to turn one’s brain to observe the flames lightening up from below thousands of shining eyes, twinkling like electric sparks; to see the agitated beards, the perspiring bodies, the shrivelled countenances, and the twisted legs; to see the hairy arms extend themselves, receive their burthen, and cast it into the crater; and to see, moreover, arranged in an immense circle around these panting workmen, thousands upon thousands of spectators, grave and serious-looking as dervishes adoring fire.
But whom could these horrible apes have seen practise this organised work of destruction, that, following the example set them, they should now continue it as though without the power to desist, like machines which know not how to stop after they have once been set in motion? Chance enlightened me on this point some time afterwards.[1]
[1] Polydorus Marasquin would have been less surprised to see apes act together with this unison of will and thorough unanimity of idea, which seemed to him to belong exclusively to the faculties of man, if he had read the following passage from Kolo’s Description of the Cape of Good Hope:—“This is the manner in which the apes pillage an orchard, a garden, or a vineyard. They set forth on these expeditions in troops; one detachment enters the inclosure, whilst another remains on the watch to give notice of the approach of danger. The remainder are placed outside the garden at a moderate distance from each other, so as to form a sort of line, which stretches from the place of pillage to that appointed for the rendezvous. When all have taken up their positions, the baboons commence the work of pillage, and throw to those who are in waiting just outside the garden the melons, apples, pears, &c., as they gather them; these apes, in their turn, throw the fruit to those stationed nearest to them, and so they are passed along the entire length of the line, which generally ends on the summit of some mountain. If the sentinels perceive any one approaching, they utter a particular cry, at which signal the entire troop will scamper off with astonishing rapidity.”
I have said that all these apes were silent as the grave until they caught sight of me. No sooner, however, did they perceive me than this silence was broken. Callot’s necromantic pencil, or rather his diabolical graver, which gave to us “The Temptation of St. Anthony,” is necessary to depict what happened to me at this ineffaceable moment of my existence.