Castaways Afloat!
In the depths
of swamp and jungle in Unknown Africa, CAPTAIN
JUSTICE and his Comrades are
prepared for everything but—Cannibals, black and hungry ones at that!
By MURRAY ROBERTS
The Modern Boy magazine 28 July 1934, No. 338, Vol. 13.
Contributed by Keith Hoyt; digitized by Doug Frizzle,
May 2013.
Midge Gets a Bite!
“STEADY, Len! Haul the wind another
point—so! Good enough—make fast!"
Looking back over one partly
bare brown shoulder with eyes red-rimmed and swollen by the
heat, studying the little catspaws
of wind that ruffled the oily surface
of the water, Captain Justice issued
the orders in his customary quiet, firm manner.
And as Len Connor obediently
hauled on the starboard sheet and
altered the set of the tiny improvised sail, the
castaways' raft swung sluggishly on to its new course.
A strange craft it was that
bore the famous Gentleman Adventurer
and his four comrades across the glossy bosom
of that wide, unnamed African rive r, winding through swamps and jungles in the shadow of gigantic mountains. A clumsy, crazy
affair, but the best the luckless adventurers could contrive with the few materials and the
one single-bladed knife they
possessed between them.
Eight rotting logs, partially
hollowed out by destructive white ants, formed the
hull of the raft, and these had been deftly and strongly lashed together by cords cut from
the parachutes under which Justice
& Co. had made their forced
descent into the wilderness. The
small lug-sail, set on a stumpy "mast," had been fashioned out of
parachute fabric.
Leafy branches, jammed end-on
into the crevices between the logs and interlaced with tough, rubbery vines,
acted as a picturesque and highly necessary awning against the rays of the
afternoon sun.
The raft looked like a
floating patch of vegetation detached from
some larger mass, and liable to become waterlogged at any moment.
But under Justice's guidance the cumbersome
craft continued to bear them away from the
jungle deathtrap into—what? None of them
knew exactly. The five comrades
could only hope for the best.
On the
south bank of the river, half a mile
away, stretches of green-black swamp steamed in the
heat—the home
of crocodiles, mosquitoes, and twisted mangroves. And beyond bulked the dense masses of the
jungle, dark, mysterious, deadly. Over twenty-four hours Justice & Co.had spent amid the stifling, fever-haunted glades, and the experience still lay heavy upon them, like the
memory of a bad dream.
But now that evil region lay
behind them. For every second on the river was bringing the
castaways nearer to the north bank,
above which towered the unknown
mountains. Save for a narrow fringe of trees and grasses skirting their base, these
colossal heights rose sheer and majestic from
the water, banking upwards in superb
array until the fanged summits were
lost in the heat-haze that dimmed the tropic sky.
Huge and formidable though the ramparts appeared, Captain Justice & Co.
nevertheless regarded them as a sort of Promised
Land, after the ghastly confinement
and lurking perils of the bush.
Fierce animals and fiercer tribes might dwell among the
mountains, but up there they would at least stand some
chance of sighting danger before it overtook them;
of finding clear, pure water, and breathing air uncontaminated by germs of
malaria and other dread diseases.
Already the gentle breezes wafting down
from the
heights fanned .their streaming faces
and limbs, and set the raft
slop-slopping along at a faster gait.
Captain Justice, leaving Len
in charge of navigation, stared hopefully up at the
mountain-wall. Not long now, he mused, switching his gaze to the low-lying banks. He sighed wearily; then, his glance falling on his legs and feet, he
scowled.
His scarecrow appearance,
and, worse still, the knowledge that
he could do little as yet to improve it, filled him with disgust.
Gone now was the once-immaculate man who made a fetish of
spruceness and cleanliness. Justice's
pointed beard was bristly and unkempt, scratches and cuts scored his sinewy
back and shoulders where they showed
through the remnants of his
pyjama-jacket, while torn, mud-caked pyjama-trousers arid shooting boots were
all that covered his nether limbs.
Nor were his comrades in any better
plight.
Without food, water, or any
equipment, the five had been cast
adrift by a pitiless enemy from an
aeroplane, in their pyjamas and
without weapons, to float down on parachutes. Thus they
were marooned in this unexplored jungle—doomed
to death by starvation, fever, or wild beasts, and all to satisfy a madman's
craze for vengeance!
Xavier Kuponos, the renegade Greek gun-runner and slaver, was the fiend who had designed this ghastly plan of
revenge, carrying it out with diabolical thoroughness and cunning. The
castaways were lost; buried so deeply in this unmapped stretch of the African wilds that not even Justice could do more
than guess at their present
position.
ALL five had long abandoned
hope of rescue by their loyal
followers in the great airship
Flying Cloud. Only their own
toughness, nerve, and resource had enabled them
to survive and keep their peckers up
so far.
On the
other side of the
raft huddled Professor Flaznagel, the
world-famous scientist and inventor, patiently plaiting wide, floppy hats out
of the heap of rushes beside him. From conducting delicate and astounding experiments in
his marvellously equipped workshops to hat-making on a wild African
jungle-river was a far cry for such a genius. Yet the
gallant old scientist, worn out and still feeling the
effects of his gruelling parachute jump into the
jungle, stuck to his task with characteristic skill and determination.
He, too, wore the remains of a silk pyjama-suit. His feet were
encased in sandals made of parachute harness, and a soiled bandage covered his
shaggy mane of white hair.
Next to him, in the centre of the
raft, squatted the genial,
bald-headed Irish heavy-weight, Dr. O'Mally, Justice's second-in-command, puffing in the
heat, but keeping a watchful eye on young Midge. And that chirpy, red-haired
youngster, hungry and optimistic as ever, was fishing!
Midge's line was a length of
parachute cord. His hook consisted of a big thorn, and for bait he was using a
piece of very dead and very smelly lizard.
Turning a deaf ear to Len's
chaff and O'Mally's advice, Midge had been endeavouring to catch a meal for the past half-hour—without success.
Suddenly, as Justice passed
another quiet-spoken order to Len, the words were drowned by a triumphant howl.
"A bite! Gotcher!"
yelled Midge, rising excitedly to his knees as a scaly form flashed green,
gold, and silver on the surface of the river. Eagerly he hauled in his line, his
pinched, freckled face aglow with enthusiasm. Len and O'Mally greeted the event with derisive cheers.
But the
diminutive youngster's luck was still out.
Right against the raft there
came a violent swirl in the water. A
hideous snout appeared, and there
came the clash of savage jaws and an
ugly grunt as another fisherman
snapped at the prize. Next moment the
line broke. Midge promptly fell over
backwards, performing a complete somersault before finishing up with both feet in
O'Mally's face.
"Och, misery and
murder!" bellowed the startled
Irishman, shoving him off vigorously. "Away with ye, ye clumsy little
pest! Sure, you've flattened my nose entirely!"
"Blow your silly
nose!" snorted the pugnacious
and exasperated Midge, glaring around for the
marauder that had robbed him. "Sufferin' cats, did you see that? A real
whopper—the biggest fish I've ever
hooked! What snaffled it? What blinkin' bandit grabbed my fish?"
"One of the gentry who own all the
fishing rights in this river," Len replied dryly, jerking a significant
thumb towards the crocodile swamps.
"Never mind. Have another shot,
and yank the next one out
quicker."
"I'll bet there won't be any next one!" grunted Midge,
though he hastily threw over a second line, freshly baited. Moodily he watched the hook sink. Ten seconds later a tremendous tug on
the line wiped the boy's scowl away as by magic.
" 'Nother bite!" he yelled. "Quick,
everyone—shout like mad! Jump in the
river, doc, and scare the crocs away!
By thunder, I'll land this one!"
Which the
youthful fisherman did. Wasting no time in "playing" his catch,
Midge lay back on his line, and, with O'Mally's help, unscientifically but
successfully yanked a second monster from
the river—a rainbow-coloured beauty,
with crimson-spotted gills and lashing tail. For several moments it flapped and twisted all over the craft before Justice ended its struggles with a
well-aimed jab.
Jubilantly Midge thumbed his
nose in the direction of the swamps.
"Bats! Stung you that
time!" he crowed.
As the
youngster stooped to pick up his prey, Dr. O'Mally collared it, neatly sliced
it open, and made a brief examination before passing the
fish over to Flaznagel. The latter, after inspecting it, frowned and shrugged.
Next instant Midge nearly exploded with wrath as his hard-won prize was tossed
back into the water!
"Hey! What the—why the——My
fish!" he howled, staring blankly at the
ripples.
"Poisonous as strychnine!"
grunted O'Mally; and that, for Midge, was the
last straw. Clutching at his fiery locks, the
boy stamped about till the raft
rocked again.
"Weepin' willows, what
a country!" he spluttered. "Suffering cats, if only I had my
hands on the swab who dumped us down
here! If Mister Botten Kuponos was here I'd bait my blinkin' hooks with him!
Moaning moggies, I'd—"
Captain Justice, turning from another
survey of the north bank,
interrupted the raging Midge with a
quick but soothing gesture.
"Never mind the fish, lad—we'll be hunting better food soon. And
never mind Xavier Kuponos, either,
for we'll get even with that skunk one day!" he added, with a
sudden, fierce glint in his eyes. "Meanwhile, here's a good spot to land
at last."
Justice rose, one arm
outstretched.
"Haul up again,
Len!" he commanded cheerily.
"Now, lads, out poles, and stand by to get ashore!"
A Sinister Sentinel!
THE castaways jumped to their feet, Midge, O'Mally, and Justice himself
snatching up the long and fairly
straight saplings which the captain
had laboriously hacked off and sharpened at one end.
These they
plied vigorously while Len tended the
sail, driving the butts deep into the soft river-bed as the
water shoaled. Thus propelled, the
raft swung about, and began gurgling and clucking its tardy way into the mouth of a V-shaped inlet that cut back
shore-wards between banks of reed-crowned mud.
"Let go the sheets, Len! Keep your eyes open,
everyone!" snapped Justice presently, as the
heavily laden craft fouled a submerged snag. Weeds rustled the side, a swarm of whining insects whirled into the air. "Shove, O'Mally—now your side, Midge! Good
man! E-easy, all!"
To the
last strenuous thrust of the
punt-poles the raft eased itself
over a small mud-bar and drifted on slowly of its own accord. The crew, leaning
on their staves, wiped the sweat from
their eyes, the
better to study the landfall ahead.
A shelf of noisome mud, sun-baked on top but treacherously soft
underneath, divided the shoal-water
from the
bank. As the raft approached, slimy,
iridescent river-snakes wriggled out of sight, and a small flock of
flamingoes rose leisurely from the weeds on rose-tinted wings, trailing their dangling legs behind them.
Midge watched them hungrily, a pensive look crossing his face as
he saw the great birds settle again
not far away, until the sudden jar
as the raft barged into the mud turned his thoughts to more immediate
problems.
Beyond the
oozy margin the bank of the river rose steeply. But in Midge's judgment at
least there was no need to jump from the
raft and risk a fall back into the
mire. For close to the brink the willowy trees grew thickly, and, as usual, their drooping branches were festooned by vines that
dangled into the water like brightly
twisted ropes.
"Yo-heave-ho! Here's
where we do a grand trapeze act and swing ourselves safely ashore!"
remarked the youngster, and he reached
out with his pole to hook one of the
pliant creepers nearer.
A split second later—swish!
With terrific force something whistled past his red head! A frantic hand
jerked him backwards, and Captain Justice's voice rang out, sharp with loathing
and alarm.
"Look out! Duck—lie
flat!"
Midge's blood froze as though
liquid ice had been injected into his veins. Even as he fell prostrate, he
caught a glimpse of a vicious triangular head darting through the air at the
end of a long, supple, spotted body. Again Justice's stave lashed out, the shrill whistle of the
stroke ending in a soggy thwack, and Len, whipping up Midge's pole, hastened to
his leader's aid.
Desperately the pair struck and struck again at the writhing python, slashing into it with blows
that would have cracked a man's skull. But all the
effect they had was to make the battered serpent recoil on to its branch.
Sluggishly it hauled itself higher into the
trees until only the rustle of
leaves marked its sinuous passage.
Satisfied that the terrible foe had been beaten off, Captain
Justice sank down on the raft,
exhausted by the heat and the mad activity of the
last awful seconds.
Midge was almost overcome by the
narrowness of his escape. So perfect was the
python's protective colouring, and so guilefully had it camouflaged itself into
a limp, hanging vine, that he had actually flicked it with his pole, arousing the fearful reptile to fury.
Trembling, the boy sat back, feebly patting himself all over.
Professor Flaznagel, whose
curiosity no shock could subdue for long, hitched up his big horn-rimmed
spectacles and blinked rapidly at the
tree-tops.
"A half-grown but
remarkably dangerous member of the
family Python sebae," he announced. "H'm! I would most emphatically
advise you to select some less harmful
apparatus for your—er—trapeze act next time, you foolish and impulsive youth!"
"Lucky for you that the brute was feeling pretty torpid after a recent
meal, my lad!" Justice added breathlessly. "Those beggars strike with
the speed of light when they're in proper fighting trim. Are you hurt at all?"
"Hurt! Jumping jamjars,
of course not!" Midge's outraged squeak was proof that he was more
frightened than damaged. "Suffering cats, what a country!" he
repeated feverishly. "For Pete"s sake let's get ashore—only you go
first, Fatty O'Mally!"
"Faith, and so I will,
ye windy worm!" retorted the
valiant doctor.
Gathering
himself together O'Mally gained the bank by a mighty leap, and, clinging to the swaying creepers, drew himself up to the brink. Thence he thrust back his staff to help
Professor Flaznagel ashore, and Midge, after sundry nervous glances all round,
followed. But Len, in response to a word from
Captain Justice, remained behind.
To the
surprise of the three on land, their comrades
began to pole the raft out into the stream again.
"Begorrah! What's the game, Justice?" exclaimed O'Mally, knitting
his brows. For answer Justice smiled and held out both hands.
In one, he swung a leather sling, which he had fashioned out of the remnants of the
parachute harness in the intervals
of conning the raft across the river. And in the
other he hefted one of the half-dozen stones he had found on the south bank. At the
same time, the captain jerked his
head downstream in the direction of the flamingoes and uttered the
one magic word:
"Grub!"
Justice muttered an order to
Len to punt away, then laid himself
flat beneath the awning of branches.
Len's lusty drives sent the raft
bobbing out of the inlet again. But
as soon as the craft began to drift
downstream in the grip of the slow current, he, too, ducked out of
sight.
"What the dickens—"
On shore, O'Mally and
Flaznagel exchanged puzzled glances, frowning uneasily, until Midge, peering
through the network of vines, gave a
sudden gleeful chuckle.
"I've got it!" he
exclaimed. "The skipper's going bird-nesting! Whoopee! Eggs for tea—and
maybe a fine fat flaming-hoho into the
bargain! Look!"
Amid the
rushes and weeds on a larger bank lower down the
flamingoes' nests jutted up like small conical hillocks of mud, each with a
hen-bird fussing around it. Shrill squawks sounded from
the males as the
raft slipped towards them, but so
well had Justice and Len concealed themselves
behind the leafy branches that the gawky, stork-like creatures obviously suspected
no danger from human foes. Although they craned their
long necks, snapping heavy curved beaks menacingly at the
lumbering craft, none made any attempt to fly,
":Ready with your pole, Len!"
Captain Justice sprang up
with a swiftness that made even his comrades
start. His right arm whirled back in a wide, smooth arc. Simultaneously a
deafening outcry echoed across the
river, and a vivid flash of crimson plumage dazzled the
eye. With a crashing and a flapping of brilliant wings, the
panicky flock soared aloft—all save one!
"Got him! Good shooting.
Skipper!"
Exultantly, Midge's piercing
yell rang out as one of the birds
dropped floundering in the water,
brought down by Justice's deftly slung missile. Another
moment and Len had dispatched the quarry with a blow of his stave, while Justice,
dropping his sling, poled the raft
right into the bank.
At the
cost of much labour and some risk,
he waded gingerly through the reeds,
helping himself to an egg from each
of the nearest clump of nests. That
done, and with the booty safe
aboard, the hunters punted
triumphantly back into the inlet,
where willing hands helped them
ashore.
Captain Justice's face wore
its old quizzical smile as he contemplated the
"bag." "Not very sporting, I'm afraid—potting at sitting birds!"
he said. "Still, hungry castaways can't be too particular, so—"
“Blow being
sporting!" interrupted Midge, busily gathering
dry sticks together. "Quick,
professor, gimme your giglamps to start a fire with, and Len, dip those dried gourds
into the water, will you? I don't
know what boiled flamingo eggs taste like, but I jolly soon will."
To Midge's intense dismay,
Captain Justice speedily put a stop to the
youngster's preparations for an immediate meal.
"Sorry, lad, you'll have
to tighten your belt a little longer. We've got our supper, and that's all I
wanted from this infernal
river," Justice said quietly, slinging the
flamingo over O'Mally's brawny shoulder and dividing the
eggs between himself and the others. "We'll eat when we're on higher and
healthier ground, so the sooner we
start our climb the better. Come along—march!"
So saying, the intrepid adventurer took the
lead, his comrades bunching close
at his heels, ever on the alert for
danger. River and jungle were behind them.
And although each was uncomfortably
aware that vigilant eyes, human and animal, might well be watching them from
the heights, the
courageous party tramped on—en route for the
mountains at last!
Black Hunters!
"LISTEN! Stop a second,
captain—there's something mysterious on here! Hark! What's that
noise?"
Len gasped out that startled
question some two hours later—two of
the longest, most gruelling hours
Justice & Co. had ever endured.
For most of that period the castaways had been climbing—scrambling,
crawling, clawing their way over hot
granite boulders, and slipping painfully on beds of loose stones that rattled
down in miniature avalanches behind them.
After some
hesitation, Justice had decided to invade the
mountains by way of a long, low spur, whose jagged crest still loomed up about a hundred feet above them. But though the
slopes had not looked too steep and difficult from
the river-bank, they had flattered only to deceive.
The heat, too, thrown back from sun-baked rocks, was terrific, while every so
often the climbers were balked by
clumps of parched and stunted thorns, bristling with strong, cruel spikes, the perching-place of gorgeous butterflies and venomous winged insects.
Progress had proved
heart-breakingly slow, and was rendered slower still by the
frequent long rests imposed upon the
heroic five by giddiness and hunger. Elbows, shins, and knees were skinned raw
by constant falls, muscles ached dully, the
soles of their feet felt as though they had been roasted over slow fires.
The unbroken silence, the ever-present spectacle of vast, impregnable
cliffs above them, and that ghastly
feeling, from which only veteran
mountaineers are free, that the
whole stupendous pile might topple over and crash down upon them at any moment,
tortured their already lacerated
nerves.
Midge, for one, felt as he
imagined an ant must feel just before a massive foot smashes down to crush it
out of existence.
Yet, with uncomplaining fortitude, the
youngster and his companions had followed
their leader, taking turns to assist
Professor Flaznagel over the rougher
places and steeper ledges. For Captain Justice had spotted a definite
objective.
Far above them, at a point where the
ragged spur ran out from the parent mountain, the
mouth of a cave showed like a small black patch against the
red-brown mass.
The climbers were making their way hopefully towards this likely camping-site
when Len Connor uttered his warning.
Halting suddenly, Captain
Justice's young wireless operator raised a hand, tilting his head back sharply.
The others also listened, and
gradually puzzled frowns deepened on their
faces.
"Bedad, that's
queer!"
O'Mally cupped a hand to his
ear as he, too, heard the sound that
had brought Len to a standstill.
Faint and elusive, a strange,
vibrant booming quivered on the air, quickening at times to a staccato
beat, then blurring once more into a
monotonous rumble, haunting and curiously sinister! In vain the comrades strained their
ears, trying to discover whence the
eerie muttering came; but the slumbrous
echoes among the crags baffled their efforts. Now the
sound seemed to float from somewhere in the
very heart of the rock, close at
hand, then from
different directions at once.
Midge shivered, suddenly
filled with vague misgivings. O'Mally thrust out his under lip, cocking a
dubious eye at the evening sky.
"Thunder, d'ye
think?" he asked. "Faith, that coppery haze up above looks plaguey
threatening, now I come to look at
it! Yon rumbling might be—"
"Drums!" Captain
Justice exclaimed, almost to himself. But his comrades
heard plainly enough, and the effect of that word was electric.
"Drums?" Len
stiffened, his eyes raking the
boulder-strewn slopes, "By gosh, if I didn't think so myself, only it
seemed cock-eyed! You're right, though, skipper—signal-drums or war-drums! And
any sort of drums out here mean—"
"Natives!" said
Justice, in the same tense voice.
There on the naked rock the
castaways looked at each other
soberly.
Natives! Ever since the jungle had engulfed them,
all had wondered uneasily if this back-o'-beyond was inhabited by human beings.
And now—now their questions were
answered!
BEYOND all shadow of doubt, the distant muttering they
could hear issued from native drums,
beaten by sticks or human fingers. The longer they
listened the more menacing that ominous rumbling sounded.
"Natives, sure
enough!" Captain Justice broke a strained pause that had threatened to become endless. "And," he added grimly,
"whatever natives we find in this wilderness will prove hostile to white
men. Kuponos warned us of that—the
hound! Now, the question is, are they drumming out news of our arrival or—"
The celebrated gentleman
adventurer broke off. There was no need to complete
the sentence. The others understood.
"That's a question we
can't answer yet," Justice went on calmly. "Hurry, now, lads. Up to the top of this spur and on to the cave as fast as you like! Whether there's
a tribe after us or not, I want to get under cover."
“And how!" murmured
Midge, as he lurched to his feet.
Fighting against exhaustion
and the pangs of hunger, the weary little party carried on, spurred to
greater efforts by their discovery.
The ugly, mysterious drumming followed them
still, but though they half expected
such a calamity, no yelling enemies swarmed out of hiding to attack them.
They toiled up the last hundred feet of that grilling climb. Then,
motioning his friends to remain quiet, Justice crawled on alone over the crest of the
spur.
Suddenly, after one swift
glance ahead, the captain froze. In
a flash his muscles relaxed, his head dropped. Face downwards he sprawled,
motionless as the rocks around him.
For the
next few seconds that dragged like eternity the
adventurer lay prone, anxiously watched by the
dumbfounded four below. Then, very slowly and cautiously, Justice raised his
head again, propping his chin on the
back of one lean hand.
Right before him, on the inner flank of the
spur, the rock-face slanted down to
a narrow ledge, about ten feet below the
ridge on which he lay. A mere shelf it was, ending in a tip-tilted brink above
an abyss. One end of it ran into the
mouth of a snarling ravine, while the
other gave out on to a gorgeous
mountain glen, carpeted by green grasses and gemlike flowers, walled in by
frowning buttresses of rock.
Justice could not gauge the extent of this smiling valley; nor did he waste
time in trying. After that first sharp, all-embracing glance, his eyes flashed
back to the ledge—and remained there, fixed and wary!
Out of the
ravine, racing for dear life, with head flung back, darted a giant native—one
of the most magnificent specimens of
humanity Justice had ever clapped eyes on.
Close behind him, running
mute but with glittering throwing-spears poised over their
massive black shoulders, followed three hunters, straining every nerve as they tore out on to the
dizzy ledge.
It was a dramatic scene; an
evil yet thrilling cameo of life in those gaunt mountains. And Justice had seen
it in the nick of time!
His finger-nails dug deeply
into the palms of his hands, and a
suffocating feeling of excitement, repugnance, and alarm surged through him as
he watched. No sound broke the
stillness, save the soft patter of
flying-bare feet on the rock, and, once,
a sharp indrawn breath as the
runaway gathered himself for another dashing spurt.
Agile, sure-footed, hunters
and hunted sped silently across the
sheer scarp, with Justice, an unseen spectator, holding his breath till his
lungs filled to bursting-point.
Fully six-feet-six in height the fugitive stood—lithe,
slim-waisted, graceful as a deer. His head, crowned by black kinky hair, was
small and well shaped, his features clear, bold, and scornful.
The westering sun cast a
glossy sheen over his smooth, golden-brown skin, beneath which the elastic muscles swelled and rippled as he ran. A
tawny leopard's skin, secured by a copper clasp, revealed rather than hid his superb breadth of shoulder and
depth of chest.
Onwards and upwards he tore,
his long, raking stride making light of the
slope. Yet, fast as he was, his three determined pursuers, hideous as their quarry was handsome,
stuck to him grimly, never faltering for an instant.
Squat, brawny negroes they were, naked save for beaded loin-cloths, and
each as black as the ace of spades.
Their short but tremendously powerful legs ate up the
track, their flattened,
rage-distorted faces looked worse than those of fiends seen in a dreadful
nightmare.
The Battle of the Ledge!
NOT a sound escaped from the
hunters' lips as, with eyeballs rolling, woolly hair bristling, the grisly trio raced along the
lofty trail like wolves to the kill.
Fresher and stronger than the
fugitive, they cut down his lead
gradually, relentlessly.
"Ah!"
A gasp escaped Captain Justice, fetching his comrades swiftly but cautiously up on to the crest beside him. Even as they
reached his side the golden giant
stumbled beneath them, and the leading black hurled his javelin, uttering a
blood-curdling howl at the same
instant.
The hunt ended there and then!
Flung with terrific force and
skill, the weapon streaked through the air, straight to the
mark. It struck the runner fairly
behind the left shoulder, and the slender blade, piercing him through, jutted out
redly between the muscles of his
arching breast.
Staggered by the impact, the
stalwart native reeled on to the
very brink of the ledge, where, for
a sickening moment, he swayed
groggily.
Then, recovering, he turned
savagely at bay, swinging back his own short, three-pointed spear as the screaming blacks rushed him.
And forthwith Captain Justice
& Co. cleared for action with a roar!
It was no part of the castaways' programme to butt into tribal vendettas!
Their plan had been to sneak through the
mountains as unobtrusively as possible. But three black devils hounding a
wounded man was more than they could
stand.
Almost unconsciously, Justice
snatched up a loose rock, half as big as his head. Once having got it in his
hand, however, the captain slammed
it down with deliberate accuracy and vim!
Crack! Full on the forehead of the
foremost black thudded the missile, and
without so much as a groan the
savage threw up his hands, lurched over the
edge of the shelf, and went whirling
down into space. It was as if a bombshell
had burst! His fellows checked, recoiled, stared frantically upwards.
Strangled yells broke from their throats
at sight of the five ragged whites
glaring down at them from the crest.
Their thick lips parted in a grimace of fear, displaying betel-reddened teeth,
filed to dagger-points.
"Cannibals!"
snapped Justice; and the sound of
his voice startled the two blacks into
a fresh paroxysm of terror.
So silently and unexpectedly
had Justice & Co. entered the
fight that the superstitious blacks
clearly regarded them as
apparitions—evil ogres sprung from the rock. Nor did they
have much chance to recover from the numbing shock.
Forgetful of their quarry, the
stricken pair cringed back, thrown into helpless panic. And suddenly, swift as
thought, a long arm flicked lout, an iron-pronged trident struck home—and the
battle of the ledge was over!
Pierced to the heart, the
nearer black toppled backwards to join his leader in the
chasm below, while the survivor fled
screaming, with stones flung by O'Mally and Len singing past his ears.
Suddenly, as the clatter of metal and the
thump of a heavy fall sounded below. Justice and Midge went shinning down on to
the ledge at breakneck speed.
Justice cried out to O'Mally
to follow, the instant his feet
touched solid rock again. For now that the
danger had passed the golden-brown
giant, weakened by pursuit and loss of blood, had collapsed.
Sprawled out, the handsome
native lay across the ledge, with the spear-shaft sticking up out of his back and one
leg doubled under him. He stirred slightly, fumbling weakly for his curious
weapon when the rescuers bent over
him. But Justice, with a quick gesture, gently pressed his arm down and raised the limp, black head.
Two dark brown eyes stared
defiantly into the adventurer's, and
the trident rattled again as the wounded warrior shuddered and tensed his muscles
suspiciously. But, after a piercing scrutiny of Justice's face, he seemed to
realise that the mysterious
strangers around him were friends.
His breast heaved in a deep
sigh, and he relaxed heavily into the
captain's arms.
Dr. O'Mally climbed down,
crimson with exertion. He shoved Midge aside, then
bent to make a careful examination of the
giant's grievous wounds. Wonderingly the
man looked on while the Irishman
unfastened his leopard skin and stooped closer still. There was an expression
of mingled wrath and relief on O'Mally's rubicund countenance when, after
several long minutes, he raised his head again.
"Glory be, it is not
poison as I feared!" he announced, flicking the
spearhead contemptuously. "The poor fellow's mighty lucky in a way, for
this skewer has drilled him cleanly through the
muscles without touching an artery.
"All the same, 'tis a plaguey hurt those black imps o'
Satan have done the fine lad—though
he looks healthy and strong enough to get over anything! Och, now, if only I
had my first-aid case—"
"Well, you haven't! We
have nothing, and must do our best with that!" snapped Professor
Flaznagel bitterly.
Captain Justice stood up,
clinging with one hand to the wall.
He cast a keen, sweeping glance towards the
ravine, and ordered Len up to the
crest again to keep a good look-out in case any more of the
blacks appeared. Then he exchanged a significant look with Dr. O'Mally, who
nodded.
"I fear this is goin' to
hurt ye, me brave bucko!" he muttered, raising the
native carefully into a sitting position. "But sure, we must have this
spear out quick, so ye'll just have to grin and bear it. Right, Justice—now!"
Midge, who had been quietly
studying the superbly built stoic,
clenched his fists hard as the rough
surgical operation began without instruments or anaesthetic.
But, coolly and deftly, Justice and O'Mally went to work, while the giant sat perfectly quiet, with eyes gazing into
nothingness.
Dr. O'Mally pinned his supple
wrists, and suddenly Justice drove the
spear in deeper from behind. Then,
exerting the full strength of his
steel-fingered hands, he snapped the
shaft with a sharp, dexterous wrench.
Whereupon, O'Mally, wrapping
his rush hat round the blade,
tugged, strained, and panted till he toppled backwards—and the rest of the
broken weapon pulled clear!
Midge had had to turn his
head away. But though the torture
must have been excruciating, never once did the
golden-brown Hercules groan or stir. Patient, seemingly indifferent to pain, he
endured it with a hardihood amazing as it was heroic.
Only the
slight stiffening of his lips and a greyish pallor under his cheekbones
betrayed the agony he suffered.
Impulsively, Midge wheeled and gripped the
man's huge right hand when at last the
spear had been extracted.
"Suffering cats, old
hoss!" gasped the youthful
hero-worshipper. "I don't know who you are, or where you come from,
but you're a blinkin' Trojan! Golly, if that had been Me—"
"Ye'd have yelled blue
murder—and so would I!" grunted O'Mally. "But hold your whisht now, there's more to be done. Nay, Justice, 'tis no use
plugging the wounds yet, for they'll have dirt in 'em, like as not. We must strap
him up tight to stop the blood, then carry him along till we find water to wash
'em."
Doffing his capacious pyjama
coat, the doctor ripped off a wide
strip, the native watching him with
softly glowing eyes. At last, with his shoulder tautly bandaged, he was
assisted up by Justice and O'Mally, and, for the
first time, a faint smile flickered across his proud, impassive face. His sound
hand twitched slightly. He smiled again as Midge, interpreting the gesture aright, eagerly passed over the trident.
So tall was the native that he overtopped even the lanky professor by a good three inches as he
stood upright, leaning on his pronged spear. Justice & Co. regarded him
with frank admiration, marvelling at his splendid physique and pluck.
Who was he, and from what unknown race had he sprung? they wondered—Professor Flaznagel most of all! There
was no trace of the negro about him,
either in nose, lips, or cheekbones.
His features were clear-cut and regular, handsome
as a god's!
"By th' powers, there's enough of ye, my friend!" O'Mally said
softly, gazing up at the strapping
warrior. "And, faith, ye must be as strong as a lion even to stand up
after what ye've been through! But, come,
ye need water now, and plenty of it. Justice, we might find a stream in yonder
valley, so—"
That was as far as the doctor got. His words ended in a grunt of
perplexity.
For suddenly the giant shook himself like a dog, and seemed to
grow taller still. Fresh life and vigour flowed back into his body, as though
by a deliberate effort of will power he had tapped some
untouched reservoir of strength and stamina within him.
His chest arched itself
again, the brown eyes glinted, and
gravely he stared down at the
bandage, flexing the corded muscles
of his forearm. And what followed left Justice & Co. petrified with
astonishment!
Evidently recognising Captain
Justice as the castaways' leader, the warrior suddenly reached out and grasped his
hand. Then, with simple dignity, he bowed and laid it upon his own black head.
A brief sentence, uttered in a deep, sonorous voice, boomed
out on the evening air.
And with that the mighty stranger went!
In one long, lithe stride he backed away, bent his head again, then turned and began stumbling off towards the valley, his left arm pressed close to his side,
his right hand twirling the trident.
Justice & Co. made not the
slightest attempt to stop him. Utterly bewildered by such an action on the part of a badly wounded man, they simply stood and gaped.
"Hi! Ye daft madman, come back!" roared O'Mally at last, finding his
tongue after a struggle. "Your wounds, man—ye'll open 'em! Och, burn it,
never have I had a patient run away from
me so fast before! Come back, ye big
spalpeen, come back!"
But the
injured warrior paid no heed. Staggering now and then,
he ran on down the sloping ledge,
not stopping until he had gained the
steep entrance to the valley, where
he turned to face the comrades once more. For a moment
he stood gazing back at them
steadfastly, a statue of bronze in the
level sun-rays. His trident swung up in a farewell salute, then, suddenly, he was gone—vanishing as though the ground had opened and swallowed him!
Len Connor, perched up on the ridge, let out a long, gusty sigh.
"Well! If that don't
beat it!" he exclaimed shakily. "Talk about a giddy land o' mystery!
I've often heard that natives can stand more punishment than we can, but for
triple-distilled strength and grit, that fellow's got 'em all licked! Who on
earth can he be?"
"A scout, possibly—or a
lone hunter," Justice hazarded slowly. "And those black fiends are
his tribal enemies, I'll bet. By James, though, the
whole affair is a mystery—like those confounded drums!" The captain
listened for a second or so to the
distant throbbing, and shook his head worriedly.
"As for us, lads,"
he added grimly, "we seem to have made a friend, but I'm afraid we've made
enemies, too, seeing that one of the
beggars got away! I'm glad we butted in in time to save that hero, but unless
we keep our eyes peeled, we stand a fine chance now of having his pretty
playmates with the sharpened teeth
round our necks!"
Midge sniffed. Now that all the excitement was over as far as he was concerned, the freckled grub-enthusiast's thoughts had returned
to their usual channel.
"Blow the black blighters!" he growled. "All I
know is that there's a fat
flaming-yoyo up beside Len, and some
hefty eggs that are probably sun-baked by now. So, if those plug-uglies want
me, my address will be care of that cave up there,
and all I hope is they don't start
any rough stuff till I've fed. And that won't be till morning now, 'cos the sun's going, so we can't start a fire! Oh, what
a country!"
Dr. O'Mally smote him a
buffet that made the lad's teeth
rattle.
"Cheer up, misery!"
he cried encouragingly. "Begorrah, we've come
so far, and since we're not dead yet we'll go farther,
black cannibals or not! Hoist your slacks, professor! I'll give ye a bunk up!"
And so the
comrades wearily resumed their laborious climb to shelter—lost, practically
defenceless, and with the sure
knowledge that savage foes, as well as one possible friend, knew of their presence in the
wild mountains. It was a prospect that tested the
courage of Justice & Co. to the full!
Justice & Co. have
taken a big step towards safety, but they've
a long road to travel yet—a
road that shrieks danger at every footstep! Share the
perils and adventures with them
again Next Saturday!
NEXT Part 5
The Juggler of Notre Dame
Not comprehending
that this simple man was offering his only talent and learning to God, the Elders thought it a sacrilege. The Prior knew
that Barnabas's heart was innocent but thought he had fallen into insanity.
They were preparing to drag him from
the chapel when they saw Mary, the
Mother of God descend the stairs of the
altar, take her blue mantle and wipe the
perspiration from Barnabas's
forehead.
