PhuePwint/jungle_book · Datasets at Hugging Face

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“Where is the boy?” asked Greystoke.

“On that small steamer whose lights you can just see yonder,” replied
the other.

In the gloom Tarzan was trying to peer into the features of his
companion, but he did not recognize the man as one whom he had ever
before seen. Had he guessed that his guide was Alexis Paulvitch he
would have realized that naught but treachery lay in the man’s heart,
and that danger lurked in the path of every move.

“He is unguarded now,” continued the Russian. “Those who took him feel
perfectly safe from detection, and with the exception of a couple of
members of the crew, whom I have furnished with enough gin to silence
them effectually for hours, there is none aboard the Kincaid. We can go
aboard, get the child, and return without the slightest fear.”

Tarzan nodded.

“Let’s be about it, then,” he said.

His guide led him to a small boat moored alongside the wharf. The two
men entered, and Paulvitch pulled rapidly toward the steamer. The black
smoke issuing from her funnel did not at the time make any suggestion
to Tarzan’s mind. All his thoughts were occupied with the hope that in
a few moments he would again have his little son in his arms.

At the steamer’s side they found a monkey-ladder dangling close above
them, and up this the two men crept stealthily. Once on deck they
hastened aft to where the Russian pointed to a hatch.

“The boy is hidden there,” he said. “You had better go down after him,
as there is less chance that he will cry in fright than should he find
himself in the arms of a stranger. I will stand on guard here.”

So anxious was Tarzan to rescue the child that he gave not the
slightest thought to the strangeness of all the conditions surrounding
the Kincaid. That her deck was deserted, though she had steam up, and
from the volume of smoke pouring from her funnel was all ready to get
under way made no impression upon him.

With the thought that in another instant he would fold that precious
little bundle of humanity in his arms, the ape-man swung down into the
darkness below. Scarcely had he released his hold upon the edge of the
hatch than the heavy covering fell clattering above him.

Instantly he knew that he was the victim of a plot, and that far from
rescuing his son he had himself fallen into the hands of his enemies.
Though he immediately endeavoured to reach the hatch and lift the
cover, he was unable to do so.

Striking a match, he explored his surroundings, finding that a little
compartment had been partitioned off from the main hold, with the hatch
above his head the only means of ingress or egress. It was evident that
the room had been prepared for the very purpose of serving as a cell
for himself.

There was nothing in the compartment, and no other occupant. If the
child was on board the Kincaid he was confined elsewhere.

For over twenty years, from infancy to manhood, the ape-man had roamed
his savage jungle haunts without human companionship of any nature. He
had learned at the most impressionable period of his life to take his
pleasures and his sorrows as the beasts take theirs.

So it was that he neither raved nor stormed against fate, but instead
waited patiently for what might next befall him, though not by any
means without an eye to doing the utmost to succour himself. To this
end he examined his prison carefully, tested the heavy planking that
formed its walls, and measured the distance of the hatch above him.

And while he was thus occupied there came suddenly to him the vibration
of machinery and the throbbing of the propeller.

The ship was moving! Where to and to what fate was it carrying him?

And even as these thoughts passed through his mind there came to his
ears above the din of the engines that which caused him to go cold with
apprehension.

Clear and shrill from the deck above him rang the scream of a
frightened woman.




CHAPTER II.
Marooned


As Tarzan and his guide had disappeared into the shadows upon the dark
wharf the figure of a heavily veiled woman had hurried down the narrow
alley to the entrance of the drinking-place the two men had just
quitted.

Here she paused and looked about, and then as though satisfied that she
had at last reached the place she sought, she pushed bravely into the
interior of the vile den.

A score of half-drunken sailors and wharf-rats looked up at the

“Where is the boy?” asked Greystoke.

“On that small steamer whose lights you can just see yonder,” replied

the other.

In the gloom Tarzan was trying to peer into the features of his

companion, but he did not recognize the man as one whom he had ever

before seen. Had he guessed that his guide was Alexis Paulvitch he

would have realized that naught but treachery lay in the man’s heart,

and that danger lurked in the path of every move.

“He is unguarded now,” continued the Russian. “Those who took him feel

perfectly safe from detection, and with the exception of a couple of

members of the crew, whom I have furnished with enough gin to silence

them effectually for hours, there is none aboard the Kincaid. We can go

aboard, get the child, and return without the slightest fear.”

Tarzan nodded.

“Let’s be about it, then,” he said.

His guide led him to a small boat moored alongside the wharf. The two

men entered, and Paulvitch pulled rapidly toward the steamer. The black

smoke issuing from her funnel did not at the time make any suggestion

to Tarzan’s mind. All his thoughts were occupied with the hope that in

a few moments he would again have his little son in his arms.

At the steamer’s side they found a monkey-ladder dangling close above

them, and up this the two men crept stealthily. Once on deck they

hastened aft to where the Russian pointed to a hatch.

“The boy is hidden there,” he said. “You had better go down after him,

as there is less chance that he will cry in fright than should he find

himself in the arms of a stranger. I will stand on guard here.”

So anxious was Tarzan to rescue the child that he gave not the

slightest thought to the strangeness of all the conditions surrounding

the Kincaid. That her deck was deserted, though she had steam up, and

from the volume of smoke pouring from her funnel was all ready to get

under way made no impression upon him.

With the thought that in another instant he would fold that precious

little bundle of humanity in his arms, the ape-man swung down into the

darkness below. Scarcely had he released his hold upon the edge of the

hatch than the heavy covering fell clattering above him.

Instantly he knew that he was the victim of a plot, and that far from

rescuing his son he had himself fallen into the hands of his enemies.

Though he immediately endeavoured to reach the hatch and lift the

cover, he was unable to do so.

Striking a match, he explored his surroundings, finding that a little

compartment had been partitioned off from the main hold, with the hatch

above his head the only means of ingress or egress. It was evident that

the room had been prepared for the very purpose of serving as a cell

for himself.

There was nothing in the compartment, and no other occupant. If the

child was on board the Kincaid he was confined elsewhere.

For over twenty years, from infancy to manhood, the ape-man had roamed

his savage jungle haunts without human companionship of any nature. He

had learned at the most impressionable period of his life to take his

pleasures and his sorrows as the beasts take theirs.

So it was that he neither raved nor stormed against fate, but instead

waited patiently for what might next befall him, though not by any

means without an eye to doing the utmost to succour himself. To this

end he examined his prison carefully, tested the heavy planking that

formed its walls, and measured the distance of the hatch above him.

And while he was thus occupied there came suddenly to him the vibration

of machinery and the throbbing of the propeller.

The ship was moving! Where to and to what fate was it carrying him?

And even as these thoughts passed through his mind there came to his

ears above the din of the engines that which caused him to go cold with

apprehension.

Clear and shrill from the deck above him rang the scream of a

frightened woman.

CHAPTER II.

Marooned

As Tarzan and his guide had disappeared into the shadows upon the dark

wharf the figure of a heavily veiled woman had hurried down the narrow

alley to the entrance of the drinking-place the two men had just

quitted.

Here she paused and looked about, and then as though satisfied that she

had at last reached the place she sought, she pushed bravely into the

interior of the vile den.

A score of half-drunken sailors and wharf-rats looked up at the