Chapter 29 - Ran Away to Sea by Mayne Reid
We both fell asleep almost instantaneously, but I am unable to say how long we continued to sleep. It did not seem more than five minutes, and then we were awakened by a noise, that was loud enough and disagreeable enough to have waked up the dead. It was one of the strangest noises I had ever heard in my life; and neither of us could make out what was causing it, though there could be no doubt it proceeded from some kind of animals.
At first we thought it was wolves, or rather hyenas and jackals—since these are the wolves of Africa—and some of the sounds resembled the voices of these creatures, with which we were already acquainted, from hearing them every night around the barracoons of King Dingo, and along the banks of the river. But there were other sounds of a different kind—shrill screams, and calls like the mewing of cats, and now and them a chattering and gibbering that bore a resemblance to the voices of human beings, or, more correctly, to the ravings of maniacs!
Evidently there were many creatures making these noises; but what sort of beings they were, neither my companion nor I could form any conjecture. The sounds were harsh and disagreeable—every tone of them calculated to produce terror in those who might listen to them,—and they terrified us as soon as we were awake to hear them.
Both of us sprang instantly up, and looked around in affright, expecting every moment to be attacked; but although we could hear the noises on every side, we were as yet unable to see who or what was making them. Our fire glimmered faintly, and enabled us to see only to a very short distance around us; but in order to get a better view, Ben mechanically kicked up the half-burnt sticks; and then a bright blaze was produced, which lit up the whole space shadowed by the branches of the baobab.
As yet we could see nothing—for the noises proceeded out of the thick darkness beyond; but we could perceive that they came from all sides—from behind as well as before us. Whatever creatures they were that were uttering these horrid sounds were not all in one place; they were everywhere around the great tree; we were in fact surrounded by a large host of them—completely encompassed.
The sounds now appeared to grow louder and nearer; and as we stood gazing out into the darkness, we began to perceive certain bright spots, that scintillated and sparkled like jets of moving fire. These spots were round and a greenish lustre; and as we looked upon them we were soon able to tell what they were—they were eyes!
Yes, they were the eyes of some animals, though of what sort we could not guess. That they were fierce creatures, perhaps beasts of prey, we had every reason to believe. Their wild cries, and the manner of their approach proved this; for they were approaching—every moment drawing nearer and nearer.
In a very few seconds they had got so close, that we could see them distinctly enough, and no longer conjectured about what kind of animals they were. I knew them as soon as the light enabled me to get a view of them. I knew them from having seen some of their kind in a menagerie, and my companion was even better acquainted with them—they were baboons.
The discovery did not in any way tend to allay the apprehensions which their voices had created. Quite the contrary was the effect produced. We both knew well enough the fierce disposition of these brutes—any one who has ever witnessed their behaviour in the cage must be acquainted with the fact, that they are the most spiteful and savage creatures that can be imagined, and exceedingly dangerous to be approached. And this, too, after being tamed and constantly receiving kindness from the hand of man! Still more dangerous when in their native haunts—so much so, that the woods which they inhabited are never traversed by the natives without great precaution, and only when several persons well-armed go together.
Now both my companion and I were well acquainted with these facts; and to say that we were scared, when we saw the baboons approaching our place of encampment, is only to declare the simple truth. We were scared and badly scared too—quite as much terrified as we had been by the sight of the lion.
We saw, moreover, that these baboons were of the largest, and most dangerous kind—for there are several different species of baboons in Africa. These were the hideous “mandrills,” as we could tell by their great swollen cheeks, of purple and scarlet colour, that shone conspicuously under the light of our fire. We could distinguish their thick hog-like snouts, and yellow chin-beards as they advanced; and we had no doubt about what sort of enemy was before us.
Had there been only one or two of these hideous brutes, an attack from them would have been dangerous enough—far more so than an encounter with hyenas or fierce mastiff dogs, for the mandrill is more than a match for either. But what was our dismay on perceiving that the brutes were in great numbers—in fact a whole flock or tribe was on the ground, and advancing towards us from all sides. Turn which way we would, their eyes were gleaming upon us, and their painted faces shining under the blaze. From all sides came their cries of menace—so shrill and loud that we could not hear our own voices, as we spoke to one another!
About their design there could be no doubt: they were evidently advancing to attack us: and the reason why they did not rush forward at once may have been that they had some dread of approaching the fire; or perhaps they had not yet made up their minds as to what sort of enemies we were.
It was not likely, however, that the fire would keep them off for any long period of time. They would soon become accustomed to it; and, in fact, every moment they appeared to gain confidence and drew nearer and nearer.
What was to be done? Against such a host we could not defend ourselves, not for five minutes, had we been armed ever so well. The powerful brutes would have pulled us down in the twinkling of an eye, and torn us to pieces with their strong hog-like tusks. Defence would be idle—there was no other mode of escape than to endeavour to get away from the ground.
But how? to climb up into the tree would not avail us, though it had saved us from the lion. These mandrills could climb better than we; they would soon overtake us, and tear us to pieces among the branches.
We next thought of running out into the open ground, and escaping by flight. Probably we should have made the attempt, but turn which way we might we saw that the baboons were in the way—a complete circle of them had formed around us, several ranks deep; and had we attempted to pass through them, it was plain they could have seized upon us and dragged us down. In short, we were surrounded, and our retreat cut off.
We were fairly at a stand, and could think of no means of escape. And yet to remain where we were, was to be attacked to a certainty; for every moment the threatening ranks were closing around us—still continuing to utter the same horrid cries—which, probably, were partly meant to terrify us, and partly to encourage each other in the outset. I am very sure that but for the fire—which was no doubt a strange sight to them—they would not have wasted time in the attack, but would have sprung forward upon us at once. But the fire, which they still appeared to regard with some degree of suspicion, held them back.
Perceiving this, my companion bethought him of a means of farther putting them in fear; and, calling me to follow his example, he caught up one of the blazing faggots, and, rushing out towards the nearest, waved the brand in their faces. I did as I saw him, only going towards the opposite side of the circle of our assailants.
The manoeuvre was not without its effect. The baboons retreated before this odd species of assault, but not so precipitately, as to leave any hope of our being able to drive them off altogether. On the contrary, as soon as we stopped they stopped also; and when we returned towards the fire to exchange our brands for others, they followed us up and came as close as ever. They grew even more furious and noisy—for the fact that we had not injured any of them taught them to look upon our firebrands as harmless weapons, and no longer to be dreaded.
We repeated the manoeuvre more than once; but it soon ceased to inspire them with fear; and we had to wave the torches before their very snouts before we could cause them to turn tail and run from us.
“This way won’t do, Will’m,” said my companion, in a voice that told his alarm, “they won’t be run off, lad! I’ll try ’em with a shot from the old piece—maybe that’ll send ’em a bit.”
The “Queen Anne,” was loaded, as usual, with small shot; and we had thought of firing at them when they first came up; but we knew that the small shot would only sting them, without doing any real injury, and, consequently, render them more furious, and implacable. We had, therefore, abstained from firing the gun, until we should try the effect of the firebrands.
Now, however, Ben was determined, that at least one of them should pay the forfeit; and I saw him pushing the ramrod into the gun—just as we had done when loading for the lion.
In a few seconds he had got ready; and then stepping forward till he stood near the line of the threatening mandrills, he pointed the piece at one of the largest and fired.
A scream of pain announced that he had aimed well; and the great brute was seen sprawling over the ground, and struggling in the agonies of death—while a crowd of its companions rushing from all sides gathered around it. At the same instant I had fired the pistol and wounded another of them, which also became the centre of a sympathising group, Ben and I, after firing, ran back to the fire. It was impossible to reload the gun—since the ramrod was now sticking in the body of the baboon—but, even had we been in possession of a dozen ramrods, we should not have found time to use them. The effect of our shots, fatal as they had been, was the very reverse of what might have been anticipated. Instead of intimidating our assailants, it had only increased their courage; and now, forsaking their fallen comrades, they returned to the attack with redoubled rage and with evident determination to close with us without more ado.
We saw that the crisis had come; I had seized one of the largest of the firebrands, and my companion held the musket clubbed and ready to deal blows around him. But what would these have availed against such numbers? we should soon be overpowered, and dragged down—never more to regain our feet—but to be torn to fragments by those terrible teeth, gnashing and threatening all around us.
And this would most certainly have been our fate, had not that moment offered a means of escape from our perilous position.
A means did offer itself, and it was odd we had not thought of it before.
Just as we were at the height of despair—expecting every moment to be our last—our eyes chanced to turn on the dark doorway that opened into the side of the tree—the entrance to the chamber of the dead. It was still open—for we had not returned the bark slab to its place, and it was lying where we had thrown it on the ground outside. Both of us noticed the doorway at the same instant, and simultaneously recognised in it a means of escape—for both shouted as with one voice and rushed towards it together.
Narrow as was the entrance we passed quickly through. A rabbit could scarce have glided more rapidly into its burrow; and, before any of the pursuing mandrills could lay a tooth upon our skirts, we had got inside, and were once more in the company of the skeletons.