The Strand Magazine, Vol. 01, No. 05, May 1891: An Illustrated MonthlyVarious
General
The Strand Magazine, Vol. 01, No. 05, May 1891: An Illustrated Monthly
Various
English literature -- Periodicals; Short stories, English -- Periodicals
Presently the moon rose, and I went to the door to gaze out on the
scene that was revealed. It seemed almost unearthly in its sublime,
weird beauty. A lace-like vapour veil appeared to hang over the
landscape, but it served to impart a dreamy, visionary appearance that
was fascinating. Indeed, it was like a land of dreams, for in the
crystalline light of that tropical moon everything seemed transfigured.
Overhead the great stars palpitated with a splendour of brilliancy
unknown in temperate latitudes, and the tops of the great trees were
clearly and sharply silhouetted against the dark sapphire sky.
Returning to my humble couch, I threw myself down, feeling thoroughly
fagged out after the hard day's work. The heat was intense, and the
air thick with mosquitoes. Nevertheless I fell asleep, but later on
was awakened by some disturbing sound, and where the bars of silver
light flecked the floor as the moon rays poured through the slits in
the bamboo, I saw crouching figures. An instinct of danger caused me
to spring to my feet and draw my revolver. For some time I stood on
the defensive, ready to fire, if need be; but the figures remained
motionless and still. Preferring certainty to suspense, I cautiously
approached them, and to my surprise saw they were women. There were six
of them. But they gave no sign, uttered no sound, and, save for their
eyes that were turned on me and glowed like jewels, they might have
been statues.
Not knowing what the nocturnal visit of these dusky beauties meant,
I went back to my corner, determined to keep on the alert, fearing
treachery; but tired nature asserted herself, and I fell asleep. When I
next awoke it was broad daylight, and the sky was aflame with amethyst
and gold, with great fields of crimson lying between. My lady visitors
had gone, and save for the awakening voices of the day that came from
the jungles, all was silent.
Not for a full hour after this did the king and his followers put in
an appearance, and when we had breakfasted, he accompanied me to the
beach, and I was taken off by the ship's boat. My companions were
agreeably surprised when I turned up sound in wind and limb, for they
had come to the conclusion that I had been served, boiled or roasted,
as a dainty dish for his sable majesty.
As the dead calms continued for several days, we remained at anchor.
And I strengthened my friendship with the king by presenting him with
a small hand saw, with which he was immensely delighted. I also gave
him a belt that he took a fancy to, and an india-rubber tobacco pouch,
together with a pocket-knife that contained a gimlet, a hook, and a
tiny saw: this pleased him more than anything else.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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