Best Fantasy Stories

Chapter 4 THE SIGHT OF HUMAN BEINGS

Chapter 4

THE SIGHT OF HUMAN BEINGSThe sight of human beings, thus unexpectedly found, filled us

with strange feelings—feelings which I cannot explain. The country

was still iron-bound and dark and forbidding, and the stream ran on

in a strong current, deep, black as ink, and resistless as fate;

the sky behind was lighted up by the volcanic glare which still

shone from afar; and in front the view was bounded by the icy

heights of a mountain chain. Here was, indeed, a strange country

for a human habitation; and strange, indeed, were the human beings

whom we saw.

"Shall we land?" said Agnew.

"Oh no," said I. "Don't be hasty. The elements are sometimes

kinder than men, and I feel safer here, even in this river of

death, than ashore with such creatures as those."

Agnew made no reply. We watched the figures on the shore. We saw

them coming down, staring and gesticulating. We drew on nearer to

them till we were able to see them better. A nearer view did not

improve them. They were human beings, certainly, but of such an

appalling aspect that they could only be likened to animated

mummies. They were small, thin, shrivelled, black, with long matted

hair and hideous faces. They all had long spears, and wore about

the waist short skirts that seemed to be made of the skin of some

sea-fowl.

We could not imagine how these creatures lived, or where. There

were no signs of vegetation of any kind—not a tree or a shrub.

There were no animals; but there were great flocks of birds, some

of which seemed different from anything that we had ever seen

before. The long spears which the natives carried might possibly be

used for catching these, or for fishing purposes. This thought made

them seem less formidable, since they would thus be instruments of

food rather than weapons of war. Meanwhile we drifted on as before,

and the natives watched us, running along the shore abreast of us,

so as to keep up with the boat. There seemed over a hundred of

them. We could see no signs of any habitations—no huts, however

humble; but we concluded that their abodes were farther inland. As

for the natives themselves, the longer we looked at them the more

abhorrent they grew. Even the wretched aborigines of Van Dieman's

Land, who have been classed lowest in the scale of humanity, were

pleasing and congenial when compared with these, and the land

looked worse than Tierra del Fuego. It looked like a land of iron,

and its inhabitants like fiends.

Agnew again proposed to land, but I refused.

"No," I said; "I'd rather starve for a week, and live on hope.

Let us drift on. If we go on we may have hope if we choose, but if

we land here we shall lose even that. Can we hope for anything from

such things as these? Even if they prove friendly, can we live

among them? To stay here is worse than death; our only hope is to

go on."

Agnew made no reply, and we drifted on for two hours, still

followed by the natives. They made no hostile demonstrations. They

merely watched us, apparently from motives of curiosity. All this

time we were drawing steadily nearer to the line of lofty

mountains, which with their icy crests rose before us like an

inaccessible and impassable barrier, apparently closing up all

farther progress; nor was there any indication of any pass or any

opening, however narrow, through which the great stream might run.

Nothing was there but one unbroken wall of iron cliffs and icy

summits. At last we saw that the sloping shores grew steeper,

until, about a mile or two before us, they changed to towering

cliffs that rose up on each side for about a thousand feet above

the water; here the stream ran, and became lost to view as

completely as though swallowed up by the earth.

"We can go no farther," said Agnew. "See—this stream seems to

make a plunge there into the mountains. There must be some deep

canyon there with cataracts. To go on is certain death. We must

stop here, if only to deliberate. Say, shall we risk it among these

natives? After all, there is not, perhaps, any danger among them.

They are little creatures and seem harmless. They are certainly not

very good-looking; but then, you know, appearances often deceive,

and the devil's not so black as he's painted. What do you say?"

"I suppose we can do nothing else," said I.

In fact, I could see that we had reached a crisis in our fate.

To go on seemed certain death. To stop was our only alternative;

and as we were armed we should not be altogether at the mercy of

these creatures. Having made this decision we acted upon it at

once, for in such a current there was no time for delay; and so,

seizing the oars, we soon brought the boat ashore.

As we approached, the crowd of natives stood awaiting us, and

looked more repulsive than ever. We could see the emaciation of

their bony frames; their toes and fingers were like birds' claws;

their eyes were small and dull and weak, and sunken in cavernous

hollows, from which they looked at us like corpses—a horrible

sight. They stood quietly, however, and without any hostile

demonstration, holding their spears carelessly resting upon the

ground.

"I don't like the looks of them," said I. "I think I had better

fire a gun."

"Why?" cried Agnew. "For Heaven's sake, man, don't hurt any of

them!"

"Oh no," said I; "I only mean to inspire a little wholesome

respect."

Saying this I fired in the air. The report rang out with long

echoes, and as the smoke swept away it showed us all the natives on

the ground. They had seated themselves with their hands crossed on

their laps, and there they sat looking at us as before, but with no

manifestation of fear or even surprise. I had expected to see them

run, but there was nothing of the kind. This puzzled us. Still,

there was no time now for any further hesitation. The current was

sweeping us toward the chasm between the cliffs, and we had to land

without delay. This we did, and as I had another barrel still

loaded and a pistol, I felt that with these arms and those of Agnew

we should be able to defend ourselves. It was in this state of mind

that we landed, and secured the boat by means of the

grappling-iron.

The natives now all crowded around us, making many strange

gestures, which we did not understand. Some of them bowed low,

others prostrated themselves; on the whole these seemed like marks

of respect, and it occurred to me that they regarded us as superior

beings of some sort. It was evident that there was nothing like

hostility in their minds. At the same time, the closer survey which

I now made of them filled me with renewed horror; their meagre

frames, small, watery, lack-lustre eyes, hollow, cavernous sockets,

sunken cheeks, protruding teeth, claw-like fingers, and withered

skins, all made them look more than ever like animated mummies, and

I shrank from them involuntarily, as one shrinks from contact with

a corpse.

Agnew, however, was very different, and it was evident that he

felt no repugnance whatever. He bowed and smiled at them, and shook

hands with half a dozen of them in succession. The hand-shaking was

a new thing to them, but they accepted it in a proper spirit, and

renewed their bows and prostrations. After this they all offered us

their lances. This certainly seemed like an act of peace and

good-will. I shook my head and declined to touch them; but Agnew

accepted one of them, and offered his rifle in return. The one to

whom he offered it refused to take it. He seemed immensely

gratified because Agnew had taken his lance, and the others seemed

disappointed at his refusal to take theirs. But I felt my heart

quake as I saw him offer his rifle, and still more when he offered

it to one or two others, and only regained my composure as I

perceived that his offer was refused by all.

They now made motions to us to follow, and we all set forth

together.

"My dear More," said Agnew, cheerily, "they're not a bad lot.

They mean well. They can't help their looks. You're too suspicious

and reserved. Let's make friends with them, and get them to help

us. Do as I do."

I tried to, but found it impossible, for my repugnance was

immovable. It was like the horror which one feels toward rats,

cockroaches, earwigs, or serpents. It was something that defied

reason. These creatures seemed like human vermin.

We marched inland for about half a mile, crossed a ridge, and

came to a valley, or rather a kind of hollow, at the other side of

which we found a cave with a smouldering fire in front. The fire

was made of coal, which must exist here somewhere. It was highly

bituminous, and burned with a great blaze.

The day was now drawing to a close; far away I could see the

lurid glow of the volcanoes, which grew brighter as the day

declined: above, the skies twinkled with innumerable stars, and the

air was filled with the moan of rushing waters.

We entered the cave. As we did so the natives heaped coal upon

the fire, and the flames arose, lighting up the interior. We found

here a number of women and children, who looked at us without

either fear or curiosity. The children looked like little dwarfs;

the women were hags, hideous beyond description. One old woman in

particular, who seemed to be in authority, was actually terrible in

her awful and repulsive ugliness. A nightmare dream never furnished

forth a more frightful object. This nightmare hag prostrated

herself before each of us with such an air of self-immolation that

she looked as though she wished us to kill her at once. The rough

cave, the red light of the fire, all made the scene more awful; and

a wild thought came to me that we had actually reached, while yet

living, the infernal world, and that this was the abode of devils.

Yet their actions, it must be confessed, were far from devilish.

Everyone seemed eager to serve us. Some spread out couches formed

of the skins of birds for us to sit on; others attended to the

fire; others offered us gifts of large and beautiful feathers,

together with numerous trinkets of rare and curious workmanship.

This kind attention on their part was a great puzzle to me, and I

could not help suspecting that beneath all this there must be some

sinister design. Resolving to be prepared for the worst, I quietly

reloaded the empty barrel of my rifle and watched with the utmost

vigilance. As for Agnew, he took it all in the most unsuspicious

manner. He made signs to them, shook hands with them, accepted

their gifts, and even tried to do the agreeable to the formidable

hags and the child-fiends around him. He soon attracted the chief

attention, and while all looked admiringly upon him, I was left to

languish in comparative neglect.

At length a savory odor came through the cave, and a repast was

spread before us. It consisted of some large fowl that looked like

a goose, but was twice as large as the largest turkey that I had

ever seen. The taste was like that of a wild-goose, but rather

fishy. Still to us it seemed delicious, for our prolonged diet of

raw seal had made us ready to welcome any other food whatever; and

this fowl, whatever it was, would not have been unwelcome to any

hungry man. It was evident that these people lived on the flesh of

birds of various sorts. All around us we saw the skins of birds

dried with the feathers on, and used for clothing, for mats, and

for ornaments.

The repast being finished, we both felt greatly strengthened and

refreshed. Agnew continued to cultivate his new acquaintances, and

seeing me holding back, he said,

"More, old fellow, these good people give me to understand that

there is another place better than this, and want me to go with

them. Will you go?"

At this a great fear seized me.

"Don't go!" I cried—"don't go! We are close by the boat here,

and if anything happens we can easily get to it."

Agnew laughed in my face.

"Why, you don't mean to tell me," said he, "that you are still

suspicious, and after that dinner? Why, man, if they wanted to harm

us, would they feast us in this style? Nonsense, man! Drop your

suspicions and come along."

I shook my head obstinately.

"Well," said he, "if I thought there was anything in your

suspicions I would stay by you; but I'm confident they mean nothing

but kindness, so I'm going off to see the place."

"You'll be back again?" said I.

"Oh yes," said he, "of course I'll come back, and sleep

here."

With these words he left, and nearly all the people accompanied

him. I was left behind with the women and children and about a

dozen men. These men busied themselves with some work over

bird-skins; the women were occupied with some other work over

feathers. No one took any notice of me. There did not seem to be

any restraint upon me, nor was I watched in any way. Once the

nightmare hag came and offered me a small roasted fowl, about the

size of a woodcock. I declined it, but at the same time this

delicate attention certainly surprised me.

I was now beginning to struggle with some success against my

feelings of abhorrence, when suddenly I caught sight of something

which chased away every other thought, and made my blood turn cold

in my veins. It was something outside. At the mouth of the cave—by

the fire which was still blazing bright, and lighting up the

scene—I saw four men who had just come to the cave: they were

carrying something which I at first supposed to be a sick or

wounded companion. On reaching the fire they put it down, and I

saw, with a thrill of dismay, that their burden was neither sick

nor wounded, but dead, for the corpse lay rigid as they had placed

it. Then I saw the nightmare hag approach it with a knife. An awful

thought came to me—the crowning horror! The thought soon proved to

be but too well founded. The nightmare hag began to cut, and in an

instant had detached the arm of the corpse, which she thrust among

the coals in the very place where lately she had cooked the fowl.

Then she went back for more.

For a moment my brain reeled, and I gasped for breath. Then I

rose and staggered out, I know not how. No one tried to stop me,

nor did anyone follow me; and, for my part, I was ready to blow out

the brains of the first who dared to approach me. In this way I

reached the open air, and passed by the hag and the four men as

they were busy at their awful work. But at this point I was

observed and followed. A number of men and women came after me,

jabbering their uncouth language and gesticulating. I warned them

off, angrily. They persisted, and though none of them were armed,

yet I saw that they were unwilling to have me leave the cave, and I

supposed that they would try to prevent me by force.

The absence of Agnew made my position a difficult one. Had it

not been for this I would have burst through them and fled to the

boat; but as long as he was away I felt bound to wait; and though I

longed to fly, I could not for his sake. The boat seemed to be a

haven of rest. I longed to be in her once more, and drift away,

even if it should be to my death. Nature was here less terrible

than man; and it seemed better to drown in the waters, to perish

amid rocks and whirlpools, than to linger here amid such horrors as

these. These people were not like human beings. The vilest and

lowest savages that I had ever seen were not so odious as these. A

herd of monkeys would be far more congenial, a flock of wolves less

abhorrent. They had the caricature of the human form; they were the

lowest of humanity; their speech was a mockery of language; their

faces devilish, their kindness a cunning pretence; and most hideous

of all was the nightmare hag that prepared the cannibal repast.

I could not begin hostilities, for I had to wait for Agnew; so I

stood and looked, and then walked away for a little distance. They

followed me closely, with eager words and gesticulations, though as

yet no one touched me or threatened me. Their tone seemed rather

one of persuasion. After a few paces I stood still, with all of

them around me. The horrible repast showed plainly all that was in

store for us. They received us kindly and fed us well only to

devote us to the most abhorrent of deaths. Agnew, in his mad

confidence, was only insuring his own doom. He was putting himself

completely in the power of devils, who were incapable of pity and

strangers to humanity. To make friends with such fiends was

impossible, and I felt sure that our only plan was to rule by

terror—to seize, to slay, to conquer. But still I had to wait for

him, and did not dare to resort to violence while he was absent; so

I waited, while the savages gathered round me, contenting

themselves with guarding me, and neither touching me nor

threatening me. And all this time the hag went on, intent on her

preparation of the horrible repast.

While standing there looking, listening, waiting for Agnew, I

noticed many things. Far away the volcanoes blazed, and the

northern sky was red with a lurid light. There, too, higher up, the

moon was shining overhead, the sky was gleaming with stars; and all

over the heavens there shone the lustre of the aurora australis,

brighter than any I had ever seen—surpassing the moon and

illuminating all. It lighted up the haggard faces of the devils

around me, and it again seemed to me as though I had died and gone

to the land of woe—an iron land, a land of despair, with lurid

fires all aglow and faces of fear.

Suddenly, there burst upon my ears the report of a g*n, which

sounded like a thunder-peal, and echoed in long reverberations. At

once I understood it. My fears had proved true. These savages had

enticed Agnew away to destroy him. In an instant I burst through

the crowd around me, and ran wildly in the direction of that sound,

calling his name, as I ran, at the top of my voice.

I heard a loud cry; then another report. I hurried on, shouting

his name in a kind of frenzy. The strange courage of these savages

had already impressed me deeply. They did not fear our guns. They

were all attacking him, and he was alone, fighting for his

life.

Then there was another report; it was his pistol. I still ran

on, and still shouted to him.

At last I received an answer. He had perhaps heard me, and was

answering, or, at any rate, he was warning me.

"More," he cried, "fly, fly, fly to the boat! Save

yourself!"

"Where are you?" I cried, as I still rushed on.

"Fly, More, fly! Save yourself! You can't save me. I'm lost. Fly

for your life!"

Judging from his cries, he did not seem far away. I hurried on.

I could see nothing of him. All the time the savages followed me.

None were armed; but it seemed to me that they were preparing to

fling themselves upon me and overpower me with their numbers. They

would capture me alive, I thought, bind me, and carry me back,

reserving me for a future time!

I turned and waved them back. They took no notice of my gesture.

Then I ran on once more. They followed. They could not run so fast

as I did, and so I gained on them rapidly, still shouting to Agnew.

But there was no response. I ran backward and forward, crossing and

recrossing, doubling and turning, pursued all the time by the

savages. At last, in rage and despair, I fired upon them, and one

of them fell. But, to my dismay, the others did not seem to care

one whit; they did not stop for one moment, but pursued as

before.

My situation was now plain in all its truth. They had enticed

Agnew away; they had attacked him. He had fought, and had been

overpowered. He had tried to give me warning. His last words had

been for me to fly—to fly: yes, for he well knew that it was better

far for me to go to death through the raging torrent than to meet

the fate which had fallen upon himself. For him there was now no

more hope. That he was lost was plain. If he were still alive he

would call to me; but his voice had been silenced for some time.

All was over, and that noble heart that had withstood so bravely

and cheerily the rigors of the storm, and the horrors of our

desperate voyage, had been stilled in death by the vilest of

miscreants.

I paused for a moment. Even though Agnew was dead, I could not

bear to leave him, but felt as though I ought to share his fate.

The savages came nearer. At their approach I hesitated no longer.

That fate was too terrible: I must fly.

But before I fled I turned in fury to wreak vengeance upon them

for their crimes. Full of rage and despair, I discharged my

remaining rifle-barrel into the midst of the crowd. Then I fled

toward the boat. On the way I had a frightful thought that she

might have been sent adrift; but, on approaching the place, I found

her there just as I had left her. The savages, with their usual

fearlessness, still pursued. For a moment I stood on the shore,

with the grapple in my hand and the boat close by, and as they came

near I discharged my pistol into the midst of them. Then I sprang

into the boat; the swift current bore me away, and in a few minutes

the crowd of pursuing demons disappeared from view.