8

The Monster Men

by Edgar R. Burroughs

8, THE MONSTER MEN by Edgar R. Burroughs
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THE SOUL OF NUMBER 13


Scarcely had the Ithaca cleared the reef which lies
almost across the mouth of the little harbor where she
had been moored for so many months than the tempest
broke upon her in all its terrific fury. Bududreen was
no mean sailor, but he was short handed, nor is it
reasonable to suppose that even with a full crew he
could have weathered the terrific gale which beat down
upon the hapless vessel. Buffeted by great waves, and
stripped of every shred of canvas by the force of the
mighty wind that howled about her, the Ithaca drifted
a hopeless wreck soon after the storm struck her.

Below deck the terrified girl clung desperately to
a stanchion as the stricken ship lunged sickeningly
before the hurricane. For half an hour the awful
suspense endured, and then with a terrific crash the
vessel struck, shivering and trembling from stem to stern.

Virginia Maxon sank to her knees in prayer, for this
she thought must surely be the end. On deck Bududreen
and his crew had lashed themselves to the masts, and as
the Ithaca struck the reef before the harbor, back upon
which she had been driven, the tall poles with their
living freight snapped at the deck and went overboard
carrying every thing with them amid shrieks and cries
of terror that were drowned and choked by the wild
tumult of the night.

Twice the girl felt the ship strike upon the reef, then
a great wave caught and carried her high into the air,
dropping her with a nauseating lunge which seemed to
the imprisoned girl to be carrying the ship to the very
bottom of the ocean. With closed eyes she clung in
silent prayer beside her berth waiting for the moment
that would bring the engulfing waters and oblivion--
praying that the end might come speedily and release
her from the torture of nervous apprehension that had
terrorized her for what seemed an eternity.

After the last, long dive the Ithaca righted herself
laboriously, wallowing drunkenly, but apparently upon
an even keel in less turbulent waters. One long minute
dragged after another, yet no suffocating deluge poured
in upon the girl, and presently she realized that the
ship had, at least temporarily, weathered the awful
buffeting of the savage elements. Now she felt but a
gentle roll, though the wild turmoil of the storm still
came to her ears through the heavy planking of the
Ithaca's hull.

For a long hour she lay wondering what fate had
overtaken the vessel and whither she had been driven,
and then, with a gentle grinding sound, the ship
stopped, swung around, and finally came to rest with a
slight list to starboard. The wind howled about her,
the torrential rain beat loudly upon her, but except
for a slight rocking the ship lay quiet.

Hours passed with no other sounds than those of the
rapidly waning tempest. The girl heard no signs of
life upon the ship. Her curiosity became more and more
keenly aroused. She had that indefinable, intuitive
feeling that she was utterly alone upon the vessel,
and at length, unable to endure the inaction and
uncertainty longer, made her way to the companion
ladder where for half an hour she futilely attempted
to remove the hatch.

As she worked she failed to hear the scraping of naked
bodies clambering over the ship's side, or the padding
of unshod feet upon the deck above her. She was about
to give up her work at the hatch when the heavy wooden
cover suddenly commenced to move above her as though
actuated by some supernatural power. Fascinated, the
girl stood gazing in wide-eyed astonishment as one end
of the hatch rose higher and higher until a little
patch of blue sky revealed the fact that morning had
come. Then the cover slid suddenly back and Virginia
Maxon found herself looking into a savage and terrible face.

The dark skin was creased in fierce wrinkles about the
eyes and mouth. Gleaming tiger cat's teeth curved
upward from holes pierced to receive them in the upper
half of each ear. The slit ear lobes supported heavy
rings whose weight had stretched the skin until the
long loop rested upon the brown shoulders. The filed
and blackened teeth behind the loose lips added the
last touch of hideousness to this terrible countenance.

Nor was this all. A score of equally ferocious faces
peered down from behind the foremost. With a little
scream Virginia Maxon sprang back to the lower deck and
ran toward her stateroom. Behind her she heard the
commotion of many men descending the companionway.


As Number Thirteen came into the campong after quitting
the bungalow his heart was a chaos of conflicting
emotions. His little world had been wiped out.
His creator--the man whom he thought his only friend
and benefactor--had suddenly turned against him.
The beautiful creature he worshipped was either lost
or dead; Sing had said so. He was nothing but
a miserable THING. There was no place in the world for him,
and even should he again find Virginia Maxon, he had
von Horn's word for it that she would shrink from him
and loathe him even more than another.

With no plans and no hopes he walked aimlessly through
the blinding rain, oblivious of it and of the vivid
lightning and deafening thunder. The palisade at
length brought him to a sudden stop. Mechanically he
squatted on his haunches with his back against it,
and there, in the midst of the fury of the storm he
conquered the tempest that raged in his own breast.
The murder that rose again and again in his untaught
heart he forced back by thoughts of the sweet, pure
face of the girl whose image he had set up in the inner
temple of his being, as a gentle, guiding divinity.

"He made me without a soul," he repeated over and over
again to himself, "but I have found a soul--she shall
be my soul. Von Horn could not explain to me what a
soul is. He does not know. None of them knows. I am
wiser than all the rest, for I have learned what a soul is.
Eyes cannot see it--fingers cannot feel it, but he who possess
it knows that it is there for it fills his whole breast
with a great, wonderful love and worship for something
infinitely finer than man's dull senses can gauge--
something that guides him into paths far above the plain
of soulless beasts and bestial men.

"Let those who will say that I have no soul, for I am
satisfied with the soul I have found. It would never
permit me to inflict on others the terrible wrong that
Professor Maxon has inflicted on me--yet he never
doubts his own possession of a soul. It would not
allow me to revel in the coarse brutalities of von
Horn--and I am sure that von Horn thinks he has a soul.
And if the savage men who came tonight to kill have
souls, then I am glad that my soul is after my own
choosing--I would not care for one like theirs."

The sudden equatorial dawn found the man still musing.
The storm had ceased and as the daylight brought the
surroundings to view Number Thirteen became aware that
he was not alone in the campong. All about him lay the
eleven terrible men whom he had driven from the bungalow
the previous night. The sight of them brought a
realization of new responsibilities. To leave them
here in the campong would mean the immediate death of
Professor Maxon and the Chinaman. To turn them into
the jungle might mean a similar fate for Virginia Maxon
were she wandering about in search of the encampment--
Number Thirteen could not believe that she was dead.
It seemed too monstrous to believe that he should never
see her again, and he knew so little of death that it
was impossible for him to realize that that beautiful
creature ever could cease to be filled with the
vivacity of life.

The young man had determined to leave the camp himself--
partly on account of the cruel words Professor Maxon
had hurled at him the night before, but principally in
order that he might search for the lost girl.
Of course he had not the remotest idea where to look
for her, but as von Horn had explained that they were
upon a small island he felt reasonably sure that he should
find her in time.

As he looked at the sleeping monsters near him he
determined that the only solution of his problem was to
take them all with him. Number Twelve lay closest
to him, and stepping to his side he nudged him with
the butt of the bull whip he still carried.
The creature opened his dull eyes.

"Get up," said Number Thirteen.

Number Twelve rose, looking askance at the bull whip.

"We are not wanted here," said Number Thirteen.
"I am going away and you are all going with me. We shall
find a place where we may live in peace and freedom.
Are you not tired of always being penned up?"

"Yes," replied Number Twelve, still looking at the whip.

"You need not fear the whip," said the young man.
"I shall not use it on those who make no trouble.
Wake the others and tell them what I have said.
All must come with me--those who refuse shall feel the whip."

Number Twelve did as he was bid. The creatures mumbled
among themselves for a few minutes. Finally Number
Thirteen cracked his long whip to attract their attention.

"Come!" he said.

Nine of them shuffled after him as he turned toward the
outer gate--only Number Ten and Number Three held back.
The young man walked quickly to where they stood eyeing
him sullenly. The others halted to watch--ready to
spring upon their new master should the tide of the
impending battle turn against him. The two mutineers backed
away snarling, their hideous features distorted in rage.

"Come!" repeated Number Thirteen.

"We will stay here," growled Number Ten. "We have not
yet finished with Maxon."

A loop in the butt of the bull whip was about the young
man's wrist. Dropping the weapon from his hand it
still dangled by the loop. At the same instant he
launched himself at the throat of Number Ten, for he
realized that a decisive victory now without the aid
of the weapon they all feared would make the balance of
his work easier.

The brute met the charge with lowered head and
outstretched hands, and in another second they were
locked in a clinch, tearing at one another like two
great gorillas. For a moment Number Three stood
watching the battle, and then he too sprang in to aid
his fellow mutineer. Number Thirteen was striking
heavy blows with his giant hands upon the face and head
of his antagonist, while the long, uneven fangs of the
latter had found his breast and neck a half dozen times.
Blood covered them both. Number Three threw his enormous
weight into the conflict with the frenzy of a mad bull.

Again and again he got a hold upon the young giant's
throat only to be shaken loose by the mighty muscles.
The excitement of the conflict was telling upon the
malformed minds of the spectators. Presently one who
was almost brainless, acting upon the impulse of suggestion,
leaped in among the fighters, striking and biting at Number Thirteen.
It was all that was needed--another second found the whole monstrous
crew upon the single man.

His mighty strength availed him but little in the
unequal conflict--eleven to one were too great odds
even for those powerful thews. His great advantage lay
in his superior intelligence, but even this seemed
futile in the face of the enormous weight of numbers
that opposed him. Time and again he had almost shaken
himself free only to fall once more--dragged down by
hairy arms about his legs.

Hither and thither about the campong the battle raged
until the fighting mass rolled against the palisade,
and here, at last, with his back to the structure,
Number Thirteen regained his feet, and with the heavy
stock of the bull whip beat off, for a moment, those
nearest him. All were winded, but when those who were
left of the eleven original antagonists drew back to
regain their breath, the young giant gave them no respite,
but leaped among them with the long lash they had such
good reason to hate and fear.

The result was as his higher intelligence had foreseen--
the creatures scattered to escape the fury of the lash
and a moment later he had them at his mercy. About the
campong lay four who had felt the full force of his
heavy fist, while not one but bore some mark of the battle.

Not a moment did he give them to recuperate after he had
scattered them before he rounded them up once more near
the outer gate--but now they were docile and submissive.
In pairs he ordered them to lift their unconscious comrades
to their shoulders and bear them into the jungle,
for Number Thirteen was setting out into the world
with his grim tribe in search of his lady love.

Once well within the jungle they halted to eat of the
more familiar fruit which had always formed the greater
bulk of their sustenance. Thus refreshed, they set out
once more after the leader who wandered aimlessly
beneath the shade of the tall jungle trees amidst
the gorgeous tropic blooms and gay, songless birds--
and of the twelve only the leader saw the beauties
that surrounded them or felt the strange, mysterious
influence of the untracked world they trod. Chance
took them toward the west until presently they emerged
upon the harbor's edge, where from the matted jungle
they overlooked for the first time the waters of the
little bay and the broader expanse of strait beyond,
until their eyes rested at last upon the blurred lines
of distant Borneo.

From other vantage points at the jungle's border two
other watchers looked out upon the scene. One was the
lascar whom von Horn had sent down to the Ithaca the
night before but who had reached the harbor after she
sailed. The other was von Horn himself. And both were
looking out upon the dismantled wreck of the Ithaca
where it lay in the sand near the harbor's southern edge.

Neither ventured forth from his place of concealment,
for beyond the Ithaca ten prahus were pulling
gracefully into the quiet waters of the basin.

Rajah Muda Saffir, caught by the hurricane the preceding
night as he had been about to beat across to Borneo,
had scurried for shelter within one of the many
tiny coves which indent the island's entire coast.
It happened that his haven of refuge was but a short
distance south of the harbor in which he knew the Ithaca
to be moored, and in the morning he decided to pay that vessel
a visit in the hope that he might learn something of advantage
about the girl from one of her lascar crew.

The wily Malay had long refrained from pillaging the
Ithaca for fear such an act might militate against
the larger villainy he purposed perpetrating against
her white owner, but when he rounded the point and came
in sight of the stranded wreck he put all such thoughts
from him and made straight for the helpless hulk
to glean whatever of salvage might yet remain within
her battered hull.

The old rascal had little thought of the priceless
treasure hidden beneath the Ithaca's clean swept deck
as he ordered his savage henchmen up her sides while he
lay back upon his sleeping mat beneath the canopy which
protected his vice-regal head from the blistering
tropic sun.

Number Thirteen watched the wild head hunters with
keenest interest as they clambered aboard the vessel.
With von Horn he saw the evident amazement which
followed the opening of the hatch, though neither
guessed its cause. He saw the haste with which a half
dozen of the warriors leaped down the companionway and
heard their savage shouts as they pursued their quarry
within the bowels of the ship.

A few minutes later they emerged dragging a woman with
them. Von Horn and Number Thirteen recognized the girl
simultaneously, but the doctor, though he ground his
teeth in futile rage, knew that he was helpless to
avert the tragedy. Number Thirteen neither knew nor
cared.

"Come!" he called to his grotesque horde. "Kill the
men and save the girl--the one with the golden hair,"
he added as the sudden realization came to him that
none of these creatures ever had seen a woman before.
Then he dashed from the shelter of the jungle, across
the beach and into the water, his fearful pack at his heels.

The Ithaca lay now in about five feet of water, and the
war prahus of Muda Saffir rode upon her seaward side,
so that those who manned them did not see the twelve
who splashed through the water from land. Never before
had any of the rescuers seen a larger body of water
than the little stream which wound through their
campong, but accidents and experiments in that had
taught them the danger of submerging their heads.
They could not swim, but all were large and strong,
so that they were able to push their way rapidly through
the water to the very side of the ship.

Here they found difficulty in reaching the deck,
but in a moment Number Thirteen had solved the problem
by requiring one of the taller of his crew to stand close
in by the ship while the others clambered upon his
shoulders and from there to the Ithaca's deck.

Number Thirteen was the first to pull himself over the
vessel's side, and as he did so he saw some half dozen
Dyaks preparing to quit her upon the opposite side.
They were the last of the boarding party--the girl was
nowhere in sight. Without waiting for his men the
young giant sprang across the deck. His one thought
was to find Virginia Maxon.

At the sound of his approach the Dyak turned, and at
the sight of a pajama clad white man armed only with
a long whip they emitted savage cries of anticipation,
counting the handsome trophy upon the white one's
shoulders as already theirs. Number Thirteen would
have paid no attention whatever to them had they not
molested him, for he wished only to reach the girl's
side as quickly as possible; but in another moment he
found himself confronted by a half dozen dancing wild
men, brandishing wicked looking parangs, and crying
tauntingly.

Up went the great bull whip, and without abating his
speed a particle the man leaped into the midst of the
wicked blades that menaced him. Right and left with
the quickness of thought the heavy lash fell upon heads,
shoulders and sword arms. There was no chance to wield
a blade in the face of that terrific onslaught,
for the whip fell, not with the ordinary force
of a man-held lash, but with all the stupendous power
of those giant shoulders and arms behind it.

A single blow felled the foremost head hunter, breaking
his shoulder and biting into the flesh and bone as a
heavy sword bites. Again and again the merciless
leather fell, while in the boats below Muda Saffir and
his men shouted loud cries of encouragement to their
companions on the ship, and a wide-eyed girl in the
stern of Muda Saffir's own prahu looked on in terror,
hope and admiration at the man of her own race whom she
felt was battling against all these odds for her alone.

Virginia Maxon recognized her champion instantly
as he who had fought for her and saved her once before,
from the hideous creature of her father's experiments.
With hands tight pressed against her bosom the girl
leaned forward, tense with excitement, watching every
move of the lithe, giant figure, as, silhouetted against
the brazen tropic sky, it towered above the dancing,
shrieking head hunters who writhed beneath the awful lash.

Muda Saffir saw that the battle was going against his men,
and it filled him with anger. Turning to one of his headmen
he ordered two more boatloads of warriors to the Ithaca's deck.
As they were rushing to obey their leader's command there was
a respite in the fighting on the ship, for the three
who had not fallen beneath the bull whip had leaped overboard
to escape the fate which had overtaken their comrades.

As the reinforcements started to scale the vessel's
side Number Thirteen's searching eyes found the girl in
Muda Saffir's prahu, where it lay a little off from the
Ithaca, and as the first of the enemy clambered over
the rail she saw a smile of encouragement light the
clear cut features of the man above her. Virginia Maxon
sent back an answering smile--a smile that filled
the young giant's heart with pride and happiness--
such a smile as brave men have been content to fight and die for
since woman first learned the art of smiling.

Number Thirteen could have beaten back many of
the reinforcing party before they reached the deck,
but he did not care to do so. In the spontaneous ethics
of the man there seemed no place for an unfair advantage
over an enemy, and added to this was his newly acquired
love of battle, so he was content to wait until his foes
stood on an even footing with him before he engaged them.
But they never came within reach of his ready lash.
Instead, as they came above the ship's side they paused,
wide-eyed and terror stricken, and with cries of fear
and consternation dropped precipitately back into the sea,
shouting warnings to those who were about to scale the hull.

Muda Saffir arose in his prahu cursing and reviling the
frightened Dyaks. He did not know the cause of their alarm,
but presently he saw it behind the giant upon the Ithaca's deck--
eleven horrible monstrosities lumbering forward, snarling and growling,
to their leader's side.

At the sight his own dark countenance went ashen,
and with trembling lips he ordered his oarsmen to pull
for the open sea. The girl, too, saw the frightful
creatures that surrounded the man upon the deck.
She thought that they were about to attack him,
and gave a little cry of warning, but in another
instant she realized that they were his companions,
for with him they rushed to the side of the ship
to stand for a moment looking down upon the struggling
Dyaks in the water below.

Two prahus lay directly beneath them, and into these
the head hunters were scrambling. The balance of the
flotilla was now making rapid headway under oars and sail
toward the mouth of the harbor, and as Number Thirteen
saw that the girl was being borne away from him,
he shouted a command to his misshapen crew,
and without waiting to see if they would follow him
leaped into the nearer of the two boats beneath.

It was already half filled with Dyaks, some of whom
were hastily manning the oars. Others of the head
hunters were scrambling over the gunwale. In an
instant pandemonium reigned in the little vessel.
Savage warriors sprang toward the tall figure towering
above them. Parangs flashed. The bull whip hissed and
cracked, and then into the midst of it all came a
horrid avalanche of fearful and grotesque monsters--
the young giant's crew had followed at his command.

The battle in the prahu was short and fierce. For an
instant the Dyaks attempted to hold their own, but in
the face of the snarling, rending horde that engulfed them
terror got the better of them all, so that those who were not
overcome dived overboard and swam rapidly toward shore.

The other prahu had not waited to assist its companion,
but before it was entirely filled had gotten under way
and was now rapidly overhauling the balance of the fleet.

Von Horn had been an excited witness to all that had
occurred upon the tranquil bosom of the little harbor.
He had been filled with astonishment at sight of the
inhabitants of the court of mystery fighting under the
leadership of Number Thirteen, and now he watched
interestedly the outcome of the adventure.

The sight of the girl being borne away in the prahu of
the Malay rajah to a fate worse than death, had roused
in him both keen regret and savage rage, but it was the
life of ease that he was losing that concerned him most.
He had felt so sure of winning Professor Maxon's fortune
through either a forced or voluntary marriage with the girl
that his feelings now were as of one whose rightful heritage
has been foully wrested from him. The thought of
the girl's danger and suffering were of but secondary
consideration to him, for the man was incapable of either
deep love or true chivalry.

Quite the contrary were the emotions which urged on the
soulless creature who now found himself in undisputed
possession of a Dyak war prahu. His only thought was
of the girl being rapidly borne away across the
glimmering waters of the strait. He knew not to what
dangers she was exposed, or what fate threatened her.
All he knew was that she had been taken by force
against her will. He had seen the look of terror in
her eyes, and the dawning hope die out as the boat that
carried her had turned rapidly away from the Ithaca.
His one thought now was to rescue her from her abductors
and return her to her father. Of his own reward or profit
he entertained no single thought--it was enough if he could
fight for her. That would be reward sufficient.

Neither Number Thirteen nor any of his crew had ever
before seen a boat, and outside of the leader there was
scarcely enough brains in the entire party to render it
at all likely that they could ever navigate it,
but the young man saw that the other prahus were
being propelled by the long sticks which protruded from
their sides, and he also saw the sails bellying with wind,
though he had but a vague conception of their purpose.

For a moment he stood watching the actions of the men
in the nearest boat, and then he set himself to the
task of placing his own men at the oars and instructing
them in the manner of wielding the unfamiliar implements.
For an hour he worked with the brainless things
that constituted his party. They could not seem
to learn what was required of them. The paddles
were continually fouling one another, or being
merely dipped into the water and withdrawn without
the faintest semblance of a stroke made.

The tiresome maneuvering had carried them about in
circles back and forth across the harbor, but by it
Number Thirteen had himself learned something of the
proper method of propelling and steering his craft.
At last, more through accident than intent, they came
opposite the mouth of the basin, and then chance did
for them what days of arduous endeavor upon their part
might have failed to accomplish.

As they hung wavering in the opening, the broad strait
before them, and their quarry fast diminishing to small
specks upon the distant horizon, a vagrant land breeze
suddenly bellied the flapping sail. The prahu swung
quickly about with nose pointed toward the sea, the
sail filled, and the long, narrow craft shot out of the
harbor and sped on over the dancing waters in the wake
of her sisters.

On shore behind them the infuriated Dyaks who had
escaped to the beach danced and shrieked; von Horn,
from his hiding place, looked on in surprised wonder,
and Bududreen's lascar cursed the fate that had left a party
of forty head hunters upon the same small island with him.

Smaller and smaller grew the retreating prahu as,
straight as an arrow, she sped toward the dim outline
of verdure clad Borneo.