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The Expedition of Captain Flick: A Story of Adventure

Chapter XIX. In The Heart of the Island

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Chapter XIX. In The Heart of the Island.

Chorus. What! wilt thou throw aside thy spear and shield, To trust thyself unarmed 'mid savage foes?
Theseus. The gods themselves will hold me in their care.
Chorus. Tempt not the gods, lest thou become their sport.
Theseus. I worship all the gods, but also Fate.
Chorus. But Fate herself may clip thy thread of life.
Theseus. Then shall I dare both, gods and destiny.”

Early next morning Ixtael arrived with a message from the king, urging us to seek shelter in the port; and promising immunity from harm for three months. As we had already made up our minds what course to adopt, Flick curtly informed the chief that we would berth in the pool before noon. Ixtael received the news in his usual stolid fashion, and if he was pleased at our rashness, he gave no hint of his pleasure by as much as a look. In common with his countrymen, he was devoid of all emotion; he seemed to feel neither sorrow nor joy, and accepted existence as a burden to be endured. I never came in contact with so unsatisfactory a being; he was more like a marble image than a man.

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When we lifted anchor, he signified that he would pilot us through the passage of the chasm, which was exactly what Flick wanted. Ixtael looked around for the tiller—for the islanders steered in a primitive fashion—and was brought up short against the wheel. Captain Flick volunteered an explanation, but it was impossible to knock the idea of the mechanism into Ixtael's head, so our commander handled the spokes himself, and requested Ixtael to stand by and give directions. This method proved successful, and widened Flick's mind with new information regarding the entrance to the port.

When the negro heard the purr of the screws, and saw the smoke wreathing from the funnel, he showed himself to be nervous, and for the first time I saw an expression of fearful surprise flit across his stolid visage. However, the creature having no nerves to speak of, soon mastered his emotion, shouted to the canoes floating round the boat to get out of the road, and gave his orders to Flick. The Carmen swung easily towards the chasm, and slipped smoothly into its twilight atmosphere. As Flick had said, it was wide enough for two boats the size of ours to enter abreast. Towards the middle it grew somewhat narrower, and at the part where the iron gates were fixed, the sides approached so nearly as only to leave a tiny space between the boat and their blackness. I could touch page 215 the rock on the port side by leaning a trifle over the taffrail.

Here the bleak rocks soared hugely in the gloom, and the water turned black under the keel of the ship. A trail of foam broke from her screws, and streamed through the narrow passage, causing the canoes which followed in our wake to rock ominously, much to the discomfort of their occupants. These yelled with fear as the waters boiled around them, and apparently ascribed the yeasty sea, on which they found themselves floating, to witchcraft. Ixtael kept his eyes ahead, and sang out orders to Flick in a rough voice; while our leader manoeuvered the steering gear with, what seemed to me, miraculous dexterity. Overhead a narrow blue zigzag roofed in the chasm; and I felt as though there were no escape from these tremendous depths. Even Harry, not easily moved, gave a sigh of relief when the passage widened out, and we steamed into the still pool, amid a glare of sunshine. We were in the port of Isk at last, and it was too late to retreat. Wise or rash, safe or dangerous, our boat had reached the heart of the island, and we were fully committed to the adventure.

The circular quay which fronted the town, and encircled half the cup of the port, was covered with people, all eagerly waiting to see the yacht. A page 216 report of our intentions had been carried into the city by some of the canoes, and when the Carmen, looking huge in comparison with the flotilla, swung into the pool, a great gasp of wonder went up from the negroes. We could see on the terraces of the temple a group of priestesses, watching the—to them-wonderful sight, and I hoped and prayed that Bertha might be among them, so as to derive comfort from the near neighbourhood of her brother's boat. But, although I used a strong marine glass, I could not pick out her face; therefore I concluded that the crafty Basilea had confined her to a room for the time being. I had no leisure to remark on this to Harry, as he was busy with Flick arranging for the anchorage of the boat.

Intimating to Ixtael that the yacht would berth by the quay fronting the Temple of the Star, Flick turned her nose in that direction. Half-way across the pool, he paused, and shouted down to stop the engines.

“We'll lie out here, lads,” he said rapidly. “I don't want the boat to touch land, as it may be difficult to prevent the negroes rushing aboard. What say you?”

We both agreed that it would be rash to trust the islanders so far, and in a few minutes the anchors dipped under, and the vessel swung to her moorings. page 217 We lay almost in the centre of that dazzling eye of water. On the one side the smoking mountain, with the white temple, set like a jewel amid the woods clothing its base; on the other the rugged crack of the chasm, its depths black and uninviting, while round one semicircle ran a line of beetling cliffs, round the other the broad quay, the green line of the ridge dividing it from the plain of the palace, and between, the lines of black houses, intersected by regular streets. All this strange scene glowed in the strong sunlight, for the great orb now stood directly above, and rained down heat and radiance into that grim black hollow. Harry glanced around when the vessel swung to her anchor, and drew a long breath.

“A queer place, and unpleasant,” he said thoughtfully. “Well, we're in; I only hope we'll be able to get out as easily. Where do you say Bertha is detained, Denis?”

“In yonder white temple,” I replied, waving my hand; “and there also is the famous statue which Flick so much desires.”

“If we can rescue Bertha, I don't care two cents about the statue,” said Harry savagely; “but we may as well have a try for it, after all our trouble, I say, Flick,” he added, raising his voice, “what's to do now? Going ashore?”

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“Not yet, lad; we'll luncheon first, and find out the history of the island from Oxtail here.”

“Ixtael!” said Harry, laughing at Flick's rendering of the word; “he doesn't look a likely person to tell anything.”

“I'm going to feed him up, and give him wine, my boy. Then we'll see what he knows about the religious business of this island.”

“Why do you want to talk theology to him?” asked I curiously.

“Well,” said Flick smartly, “I guess I want to find out how that old Basilea runs the show.”

“Ixtael may refuse to reveal the sacred mysteries,” said I significantly.

“We'll see about that,” replied Flick dryly. “When the wine's in, the wit's out, lad.”

Now that we were in the port, our commander took the precaution to post two sentries, armed with cutlasses and revolvers, who constantly paced up and down the decks, so that none of the negroes could board the ship. These sentries were relieved every few hours; and the whole time we passed at Isk, this discipline was never relaxed. The king and his suite, Ixtael and his umbrella-bearer, visited the yacht; but, other than these, no inhabitant of the island was permitted to mount the gangway of the Carmen. We were too surrounded by dangers to be negligent, even in the slightest degree.

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I discovered at luncheon that the Isk islanders had not reached the point of civilization necessary to enable them to sit in a chair and take their meals European fashion. Ixtael, who had glumly accepted Flick's invitation to luncheon, sat cross-legged in a corner of the saloon, and ate with his fingers. However, he seemed to appreciate our bill of fare, and paid particular attention to the pale ale. Indeed, he drank so much of it, that he became slightly intoxicated, although he gave no sign, other than talking more than usual.

After luncheon we sat in the near neighbourhood of Ixtael, and Flick began to ask questions about the manners and customs and religious ceremonies of Isk. The chief, his tongue unloosened by strong drink, was less sulky than usual, and replied very amiably to our questions. Harry, having learned the barbaric tongue from Dosk and Flick, understood the man easily, but I, less accomplished, for it had not been my intention to join the expedition, followed him with some difficulty. However, I gathered the general drift of his remarks, and here report in my own fashion the description given by him of his land and fellow-countrymen.

“Many years ago, O great white chiefs,” said Ixtael, in his harsh voice, “our fathers came eastward to this isle from the Great Land.”

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“Africa,” explained Flick. “I thought as much.”

“Our fathers,” resumed Ixtael, “fled from the hosts who came on our country from the Dry Lands, far within the heart of the country. We were few—I speak of our fathers—and so, seeing no escape from flying arrows and deadly spears, we launched our boats, and departed towards the East. For many weeks, say the old chronicles, our fathers, with wives and babes, drifted on the sterile breast of the sea; then the Holy Snakes and the Steady Star, which shines overhead, guided the canoes to the smoking mountain. Thus was Isk populated by our sires.”

“You see,” said Flick, interrupting the chief, and turning to us, “he talks of snake worship and adoration of the Pole Star. Hence the sacred symbols tattooed on his breast. Do you still worship snake and star, in addition to the goddess?” he asked in the barbaric tongue.

“Nay, chief,” replied Ixtael gloomily. “When the Lady Venus sent hither her servants, we turned from the worship of those things to adore her divinity. Yet, by the mouth of her priest Hesperus, she ordered that the snakes should coil round the isle, and that the star should shine over her head. But these are foolish things now,” added Ixtael, shaking his head. “Lady Venus do we worship; eternal loveliness, and the fecundity of Nature. Venus has given us many page 221 children, and we that were few are now a mighty nation, ruling this island and the girdling seas.”

“Where ignorance is bliss,” muttered Harry grimly. “These islanders are as conceited as the Chinese, and hardly as civilized. ‘A mighty nation,’ forsooth, this handful of black dwarfs, prisoned in an unconsidered geographical trifle.”

“Everything is by comparison,” said I mildly, “and these islanders, knowing nothing of Western civilization, save what stray facts have been picked up by the embassies to Cythera, naturally think themselves the salt of the earth.”

“How many priestesses of Venus are there, Ixtael?” asked Flick.

“There are but ten,” replied the negro; “of these Basilea is the wisest, and Myrtea is the fairest. They are all of the blood of Hesperus, and serve the goddess in virgin loveliness. No priestess can wed or bear children, but the royal daughters of Hesperus dedicate themselves to the service of the temple.”

“A kind of nunnery,” said Harry, raising his eyebrows;” the idea doesn't seem to fit in with the sensuality of Venus worship. And how many kings have you, Ixtael?”

“Of a truth the white chief is laughing at me,” answered Ixtael angrily; “there is but one king—the fair and gracious Hesperus.”

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“But the two youths who stood behind him?”

“They are his brothers, and are permitted to live, lest the king die. All other males of the royal house are cast into the hollow of the smoking mountain when born.”

“A bloodthirsty race,” growled Roaring Tom.

“These are the laws of the sacred goddess, O chief. The daughters to the temple, the sons to the tomb; but three must be kept alive lest the royal race fail, and disaster fall on the isle.”

“What disaster are you talking about?”

Ixtael lifted his hand and pointed upwards.

“Saw ye not the smoking mountain, O chief? Ever it smokes, and at times pours forth red flames, which make the island tremble. Were it roused, the wrath of the smoking mountain would overpower Isk. But, by the will of the goddess, we have been preserved from harm for many thousands of years. Her image is the visible sign of her word.”

“What do you mean, Ixtael?” demanded Flick sharply.

“Who runs may read, white chief. The holy image of the goddess, brought long ago, from Cythera, by the first Hesperus, stands in the shadow of our great temple. While it remains there, the smoking mountain cannot hurt us, nor can woe come to Isk. But if that image is taken away from our island, then page 223 will the wrath of the mountain bury Isk deep in the sea.”

“Who says this?”

“Many have said it from the beginnings of time. The last who spoke was the high preistess Basilea. She is a prophetess, and is holy above all.”

“Above the king!”

Ixtael had risen to his feet, and was now walking towards the cabin door; there he turned and fixed a piercing glance on the three of us.

“Ay, white men,” he said solemnly, “above the king.”

When he disappeared, Flick turned towards Harry and me with a frown.

“If the islanders believe that the safety of Isk depends upon the statue,” said he, “the task of stealing it will be very difficult, unless—” and he looked at Harry.

“Well,” said that young man, “unless what?”

“Unless we can make use of Basilea's power,” replied Flick significantly.