The Madman and the Pirate, Robert Michael Ballantyne [philippa perry book TXT] 📗

until daylight enabled each party to concentrate its forces.

Meanwhile, at the first alarm, the women and children of the village had been sent off to the mountains for safety. Among the fugitives were Lippy and her mother. These happened to meet with the enemy's detachment which had been sent to assault the village on the left. The women scattered and fled. The savage warriors pursued, and several were taken, among them Lippy and her mother, who were promptly despatched to the rear. Those of the broken band that escaped continued their flight to the hills.

They had not gone far when they met Zeppa returning from one of his rambles. His surprise on hearing that the village had been attacked was great and his anxiety considerable. Although he had refused to go out to war with his entertainers, he felt no disposition to stand idly by when they were attacked. Disordered though his mind was, he could make a clear distinction between aggressive war and self-defence.

"And where is Lippy?" he asked, glancing round on the terrified faces.

"She is caught and carried away--with her mother."

"What!" exclaimed Zeppa, with a flash of his bright eyes that told of natural rage mingling with the fires of insanity.

The women did not wait for more. They ran away from him in terror.

But Zeppa had heard enough. Turning his face towards the village he sped over the ground at a pace that soon brought him in sight of the combatants, who seemed to be swaying to and fro--now here, now there--as the tide of battle flowed and victory leaned sometimes to one side sometimes to the other.

Zeppa was unarmed. As he drew near he was observed by both parties to stop abruptly in his career, and wrench out of the ground a stake that had been meant for the corner-post of a newly-begun hut. It resembled the great club of Hercules rather than a weapon of modern man.

Whirling it like a feather round his head, the maniac rushed on. He was thoroughly roused. A feeling of desperate anxiety coupled with a sense of horrible injustice had set his spirit in a blaze. His great size, which became more apparent as he advanced, his flashing eyes, compressed lips, and the wild flowing of his uncut hair and beard, gave him altogether an aspect so terrible that his foes trembled, while his friends rejoiced, and when at last he uttered a roar like a mad bull, and launched himself into the thickest of the fight the Raturans could not stand it, but turned and fled in a body under the impression that he was more than human. He was too fleet for them, however. Overtaking a flying knot, he brought the the corner-post down on the mass, and three warriors were levelled with the ground. Then, hurling the mighty club away as if it were a mere hindrance to him, he ran straight at the leader of the Raturans, who, being head and shoulders above his fellows, seemed a suitable foe to single out.

Before reaching him, however, his attention was arrested by a cry from some one in the midst of the enemy in front. It was the voice of Wapoota, who was trying to break his way through the flying foe to his own people.

Fortunately Zeppa recognised the voice, and darted towards his friend, who was hard pressed at the time by a crowd of opponents.

One roar from the maniac sent these flying like chaff before the wind. It must be added, however, for the credit of the men of Ratura, that Ongoloo and his warriors had backed up their new leader gallantly.

When Wapoota saw his deliverer, he ran to him, panting, and said--

"Come with me--this way--Lippy is here!"

That was sufficient. Zeppa became submissive like a child, while the jester, taking him by the hand, ran with him at racing speed in the direction of the Raturan villages, towards which the child and her mother were being led by the party which had captured them.

This was briefly explained to Zeppa by Wapoota, who had chanced to encounter the party when returning from his yelling mission, if we may so express it.

The race was a long one, but neither the madman nor his friend flagged until they overtook the party. It consisted of about thirty warriors, but if it had been thirty hundred it would have made no difference in the effect of Zeppa's roar and aspect as he rushed upon them with obviously awful intentions, though without arms. In fact the latter circumstance tended rather to increase the fears of the superstitious natives. They fled as one man at the first sight of the maniac and Lippy was recovered!

Instantly Zeppa's ferocity vanished, and the tenderest of smiles rippled over his face as he took the child in his arms and kissed her.

But Wapoota did not feel quite so easy, for in their mad race they had outstripped the flying enemy, bands of whom were constantly passing them in their flight before the Mountain-men. His anxieties, however, were groundless, for no sooner did any of the Raturans set eyes on Zeppa, than, with howls of consternation, they diverged at a tangent like hunted hares, and coursed away homeward on the wings of terror.

As on former occasions of conquest, the Mountain-men pursued the flying host into their swamps, but they did not, as in former times, return to slay the aged and carry the women and children into captivity.

To the surprise of all his followers, and the anger of not a few, Ongoloo commanded his men to return to their village and leave the Raturans alone. One of his chiefs, who showed a disposition to resist his authority, he promptly knocked down, whereupon the rest became obedient and went quietly home.

On reaching the village, Zeppa went straight to his hut with Lippy on his shoulder. Apparently he had forgotten all about the recent fight for, without even waiting to take food or rest he sat down, and began to give his little friend a singing lesson!

With the air of a little princess, who felt that she was only receiving her due, the child accepted the attention. Her young companions, attracted by the sweet sounds, soon flocked to the old place of rendezvous, and when the last of the straggling warriors returned from the field of battle they found the singing class going full swing as if nothing had happened.

But when the wounded and the dead were brought in, other sounds began to arise--sounds of wailing and woe, which soon drowned the hymns of praise. As soon as Zeppa became fully alive to this fact he ceased singing and went about trying to comfort those who wept but, from his perplexed air, and the frequency with which he paused in his wanderings to and fro and passed his hand across his brow, as if to clear away some misty clouds that rested there, it was evident that his shattered intellect had taken in a very imperfect impression of what had occurred.

As if to get rid of this beclouded state, he started off that evening at a quick walk towards his favourite haunts among the hills. No one ever followed him on these occasions. The natives regarded his person as in some measure sacred, and would have deemed it not only dangerous but insolent to go up among the rocky heights when the madman was known to be there.

Once, indeed, Wapoota, with that presumptuous temerity which is a characteristic of fools in general, ventured, on the strength of old acquaintance, to follow him, and even went towards the well known cave where he had found refuge and protection in the day of his distress; but Zeppa had either forgotten his former intercourse with the jester or intended to repudiate the connection, for he did not receive him kindly.

On the way up, Wapoota, who felt somewhat timorous about the visit, had made up his mind as to the best mode of address with which to approach his friend. He had decided that, although he was not particularly youthful, the language and manner of a respectful son to a revered father would best befit the occasion. Accordingly when he reached the cave and saw Zeppa busy beside his fire with a cocoa-nut, he assumed a stooping attitude of profound respect, and drew near.

Zeppa looked up with a frown, as if annoyed at the intrusion.

"Your unworthy son," began Wapoota, "comes to--"

But he got no further. He could not well have hit upon a more unfortunate phrase.

"My unworthy _son_!" shouted Zeppa, leaping up, while unearthly fires seemed to shoot from his distended eyes. "My son! _son_! Ha! ha-a-a-a!"

The horrified intruder heard the terminal yell, and saw the maniac bound over the fire towards him, but he saw and heard no more, for his limbs became suddenly endued with something like electric vitality. He turned and shot over a small precipice, as if flung from an ancient catapult. What he alighted on he did not know, still less did he care. It was sufficiently soft to prevent death.

Another awful cry echoed and re-echoed from the heights above, and intensified the electric battery within him. He went down the slopes regardless of gradient at a pace that might have left even Zeppa behind if he had followed; but Zeppa did not follow.

When Wapoota went over the precipice and disappeared, Zeppa halted and stood erect, gazing with a questioning aspect at the sky, and drawing his hand slowly across his brows with that wearied and puzzled aspect which had become characteristic.

Returning after a few minutes to his cave, he reseated himself quietly beside his fire, and, with his usual placid expression, devoted himself earnestly to his cocoa-nut.

That was the first and last occasion on which the poor madman experienced intrusion from the natives in his mountain retreat.


CHAPTER EIGHT.

Let us return, now, to our miserable and half-hearted pirate, far out upon the raging sea.

It must not be supposed that the Pacific Ocean is always peaceful. No-- there are days and nights when its winds howl, and its billows roar, and heave, and fume, with all the violence and fury of any other terrestrial sea.

On one such night, the pirate's barque was tossed like a cork on the Pacific's heaving bosom, while the shrieking winds played, as it were, fiendishly with the fluttering shreds of sails which they had previously blown to ribbons.

Richard Rosco stood beside the weather-bulwarks holding on to one of the mizzen back-stays. His mate Redford assisted the man at the wheel.

Upwards of three years of Rosco's rule had subdued Redford to the condition of a hypocritical and sly, but by no means a submissive, savage. One or two spurts at the commencement of their career had satisfied the mate, as well as the men, that the only way to overcome Rosco was to take his life; and as Redford had not sufficient courage, and the men no desire, to do that, they pursued their evil courses in comparative harmony. Nevertheless, the pirate captain knew well that the savage Redford was more acceptable to the pirates than himself so he determined to carry out intentions which had been simmering in his brain for some time, and rid the pirate crew of