Tarzan of the Apes EP :1
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British (England - East Midlands, Leicester) British (General)Transcript
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Chapter one of Tarzan of the Apes. This is the lever box recording. Oliver Box recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Lieber box dot or GE. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Tarzan of the Apes by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Chapter one. Out to Sea I had this storey from one who had no business to tell it to me or to any other. I'm a credit thie seductive influence of an old vintage upon the narrator for the beginning of it on my own sceptical incredulity during the days that followed for the balance of the strange tale, when my convivial host discovered that he had told me so much and that I was prone to doubtful nous, his foolish pride assumed the task. The old vintage egg commenced, and so we unearthed written evidence in the form of musty manuscript and dry official records of the British Colonial Office to support many of the salient features of his remarkable narrative. I do not say this Storey is true, for I did not witness the happenings which it portrays, but the fact that in the telling of it to you. I have taken fictitious names for the principal characters quite sufficiently evidences the sincerity of my own belief that it may be true. The yellow mildewed pages of the Diary of a Man Long Dead and the records of the Colonial Office dovetail perfectly with the narrative of my convivial host. And so I give you the Storey as I painstakingly pieced it out from these several various agencies. If you do not find it credible, you will at least be is one with me and acknowledging that it is unique, remarkable and interesting. From the records of the Colonial Office and from the Dead Man's Diary, we learned that a certain young English nobleman whom we shall call John Clayton Lord Grace Stoke was commissioned to make a peculiarly delicate investigation of conditions in a British West Coast African colony from whose simple native inhabitants, another European power, was known to be recruiting soldiers for its native army, which it used solely for the forcible collection of rubber and ivory from the savage tribes along the Congo and the era Wimey, the natives of the British colony, complained that many of their young men were enticed away through the medium of fair and glowing promises, but that few, if any, ever returned to their families. The Englishman in Africa went even further, saying that these poor blacks were held in virtual slavery since after their terms of enlistment expired. Their ignorance was imposed upon by their white officers, and they were told that they had yet several years to serve. And so the Colonial Office appointed John Clayton to a new post in British West Africa, but is confidential instructions centred on a thorough investigation of the unfair treatment of black British subjects by the officers of a friendly European power. Why he was sent is, however, of little moment to this storey, for he never made an investigation. Nor, in fact, did he ever reach his destination. Clayton was the type of Englishman that one likes best to associate with the noblest monuments of historic achievement. Upon 1000 victorious battle fields, a strong, virile man, mentally, morally and physically in stature, he was above the average height. His eyes were grey, his features regular and strong, his carriage, that of perfect, robust health influenced by his years of army training. Political ambition had caused him to sink transference from the army to the Colonial office. And so we find him still young, entrusted with a delicate and important commission in the service of the Queen. When he received this appointment, he was both elated and appalled. The preferment seemed to him in the nature of a well merited reward for painstaking and intelligence service and as a stepping stone to posts of greater importance and responsibility. But on the other hand, he had been married to the honourable Alice Rutherford for scarce the three months, and it was the thought of taking this fair young girl into the dangers and isolation of tropical Africa that appalled him for her sake. He would have refused the appointment, but she would not have it. So instead, she insisted that he accept and indeed take her with him. There were mothers and brothers and sisters and aunts and cousins to express various opinions on the subject. But as to what they severally advised, history is silent. We know only that on a bright May morning in 18 88 John More, Grey Stoke and Lady Alice sailed from Dover on their way to Africa. A month later, They arrived at Freetown, where they chartered a small sailing vessel to Fulda, which was to bear them to their final destination. And here John, Lord, Grey, Stoke and Lady Alice, his wife, vanished from the eyes and from the knowledge of men. Two months after they weighed anchor and cleared from the port of Freetown, 1/2 dozen British war vessels were scouring the South Atlantic for trace of them or the vessel. And it was almost immediately that the wreckage was found upon the shores of ST Helena, which convinced the world that the full Waldo had gone down with all on board. And hence the search was stopped, ferreted, scarce, begun, the hope lingered in longing hearts. For many years, the fool Walden, a barking teen of about 100 tonnes, was a vessel of the type often seen in Khost wise trade in the far southern Atlantic. The crew's composed of the off scouring Sze of the sea, unhand murderers and cut throats of every race and every nation. The full Waldo was no exception to the rule her officers worth swore the bullies, hating and hated by their crew, the captain, while a competent semen was a brute in his treatment of his men. He knew, or at least he used but two arguments in his dealings with him. A belay ing pin and a revolver. No, it is likely that the motley aggregation he signed would have understood aught else. So it was that from the second day out from Freetown, John Clayton and his young wife witness scenes upon the deck of the Fulda, such as they have believed, were never enacted outside the covers of printed storeys of the sea. It was on the morning of the second day that the first link was forged in what was destined to form a chain of circumstances, ending in a life for one then unborn, such as has never been paralleled in the history of man. Two sailors were washing down the decks of the full walled off. The first mate was on duty, and the captain had stopped to speak with John Clayton and Lady Alice. The men were working backwards towards the little party who were facing away from the sailors. Closer and closer. They came until one of them was directly behind the captain. In another moment, he would have passed by, and this strange narrative would never have been recorded. But just that instant, Thie officer turned to leave Lord and Lady Grey Stoke and as he did so, tripped against the sailor and sprawled headlong upon the deck, overturning the water pails so that he was drenched in its dirty contents. For an instant, the scene was ludicrous, but only for an instant. With a volley of awful oaths, his face suffused with a scarlet of mortification and rage, the captain regained his feet and, with a terrific blow, fell the sailor to the deck. The man was small and rather old, so that the brutality of the act was thus accentuated. The other seamen, however, was neither old nor small, a huge bear of a man with fierce black moustache. Eos on a great bull neck set between massive shoulders. As he saw his mate go down, he crouched and, with a low snarl, sprang upon the captain, crushing him to his knees with a single mighty blow from scarlet. The officer's face went white forthis, was mutiny, mutiny. He had met and subdued before in his brutal career. Without waiting to rise, he whipped to revolver from his pocket firing point blank at the great mountain of muscle towering before him. But quick as he waas, John Clayton was almost his quick so that the bullet, which was intended for the sailor's heart, lodged in the sailor's leg instead for Lord Greystoke had struck down the captain's arm as he had seen the weapon flash in the sun. Words passed between Clayton and the captain, the former, making it plain that he was disgusted with the brutality displayed toward the crew. Nor would he countenance anything further of the kind. While he and Lady Grace took remained passengers, the captain was on the point of making an angry reply, but thinking better of it, turned on his heel in black and scowling, strode aft. He did not care to antagonise. An English official for the queen's mighty arm wielded a punitive instrument, which he could appreciate, in which he feared England's far reaching navy. The two sailors picked themselves up the older man assisting his wounded comrade to rise. The big fellow, who was known among his mates as black Michael, tried his leg gingerly and finding that it Boris wait turned to Clayton with a word of gruff thanks. Though the fellows tone was surly, his words were evidently well meant air. He had scarce, finished his little speech. He had turned and was limping off towards the four castle with the very apparent intention of forestalling any further conversation. They did not see him again for several days, nor did the captain accord them more than the surly est of grunts. When he was forced to speak to them, they took their meals in his cabin, as they had before the unfortunate occurrence. But the captain was careful to see that his duties never permitted him to eat. At the same time, the other officers were course illiterate fellows but little above the villainous crew they bullied. And we're only too glad to avoid social intercourse with the polished English Noble and his lady so that the Clayton's were left very much to themselves. This in itself accorded perfectly with their desires. But it also rather isolated them from the life of the little ship so that they were unable to keep in touch with the daily happenings which were to culminate so soon in bloody tragedy. There was in the whole atmosphere of the craft that undefinable something which presage is disaster. Outwardly, to the knowledge of the Clayton's, all went on is before upon the little vessel, but that there was an under tow, leading them towards some unknown danger. Both felt, though they did not speak of it to each other. On the second day after the wounding of black, Michael Clayton came on deck just in time to see the limp body of one of the crew being carried below by four of his fellows. While the first mate, a heavy bowling pin in his hand, stood glowering at the little party of sullen sailors, Clayton asked no questions he did not need to. And the following day, as the great lines of a British battleship grew out of the distant horizon, he hath determined to demand that he and Lady Alice B. Put aboard her for his fears, were steadily increasing that nothing but harm could result from remaining on the lowering sullen Balda toward noon. They were within speaking distance of the British vessel. But when Clayton had nearly decided to ask the captain to put them aboard her, the obvious ridiculousness of such a request became suddenly apparent. What reason could he give the officer commanding Her Majesty's ship for desiring to go back in the direction from which he had just come? What if he told them that, too, in subordinate seamen had been roughly handled by their officers? They would, but laughing this leaves and attribute his reason for wishing to leave the ship to but one thing. Cowardice. John Clayton. Lord Grey Stoke did not ask to be transferred to the British Man of war. Late in the afternoon, he saw her upper works Fay below the far horizon, but not before he learned that which confirmed his greatest fears and caused him to curse the false pride which had restrained him from seeking safety for his young wife a few short hours before, when safety was within reach, a safety which was now gone for ever. It was mid afternoon that brought the little old sailor who had been felled by the captain a few days before toe where Clayton and his wife stood by the ship's side watching the ever diminishing outlines of the great battle ship. The old fellow was polishing brasses and as he came edging along until close to Clayton he said in an undertone else the pacer on this aircraft and mark my word for it, sir. Else to pay. What do you mean, my good fellow? Ask Clayton. Why haven't you seen what's going on? Hasn't you heard that devil Spawn of a captain and his mates knocking the blumen lights out and half the crew two busted adds yesterday and three today. Black Michaels is good as new again and is not the bully to stand for it. Not e and mark my word for it, sir. You mean my man that the crew contemplates mutiny? Ask Clayton Mutiny, exclaimed the old fellow mutiny. They means murder, sir. Mark my word for it when? Hey, it's coming, sir, It's coming. But I'm not a saying Wind. And I said too damn much now. But she was a good sort the other day, and I thought it no more and right to warn you. But keep a still tongue in your head. And when you hear shooting, get below and stay there. That's all on Lee. Keep a still tongue in your head or they'll put a pill between your ribs and mark my word for it, sir. The old fellow went on with this polishing, which carried him away from where the Clayton's were standing. Do sit, cheerful. Outlook, Alice said. Clayton. You should warn, though Captain at once, John. Possibly the trouble may yet be averted, she said. I suppose I should. But yet from purely selfish motives, I am almost prompted to keep a still tongue in my head. Whatever they do now, they will spare us and recognition of my stand for this fellow black Michael. But should they find that I had betrayed them, there would be no mercy shown us. Alice, you have but one duty John, and that lies in the interest of vested authority. If you do not warn the captain, you are as much a party to whatever follows as though you would help to plot and carry it out with your own head and hands. You do not understand dear, replied Clayton. It is a view. I am thinking. There lies my first duty. The captain has brought this condition upon himself. So why then, should I risk objecting my wife too unthinkable horrors in a probably futile attempt to save him from his own brutal folly? You have no conception, dear of what would follow where this pack of cutthroats to gain control of the Fulda Duty is duty, John, and no amount of sophistry. Sze may change it. I would be a poor wife for an English lord. Were I to be responsible for his shirking a plain duty, I realised the danger which must follow. But I can face it with you. Have it as you will Then Alice, he answered smiling. Maybe we are borrowing trouble. While I do not like the looks of things on board this ship, they may not be so bad after all. For it is possible that the ancient Mariner was but voicing the desires of his wicked old heart rather than speaking of rial fax Mutiny on the high sea may have been common 100 years ago, but in this Goodyear 18 88 it is the least likely of happenings. But there goes the captain to his cabin. Now If I'm going to warn him, I might as well get the beastly job over for I have little stomach to talk with the brute at all So saying he strolled carelessly in the direction of the companion way through which the captain had passed and a moment later was knocking at his door. Come in, growled the deep tones of that surly officer. And when Clayton it entered and closed the door behind him, Wells. I have come to report the gist of a conversation I heard today because I feel that while there may be nothing to it, it is as well that you before armed. In short, the men contemplate mutiny and murder. It's a lie, roared the captain. And if you have been interfering again with the discipline of the ship or meddling in affairs that don't concern you, you can take the consequences and be damned. I don't care whether you are an English lord or not. I'm captain of this year ship, and from now on, you keep your medlin nose out of my business. The captain had worked himself up to such a frenzy of rage that he was fairly purple of face, and he shrieked the last words at the top of his voice, emphasising his remarks by a loud thumping of the table with one huge fist and shaking the other in Clayton's face. Grace Doug never turned a hair but stood eyeing the excited man with level gaze. Captain Billings, he drawled, Finally, if you will pardon my candour, I might remark that you are something of an ***. Whereupon he turned and left the captain with the same indifferent ease that was habitual with him and which was more surely calculated to raise the ire of a man of Billings is class than a tart of invective. So where is the captain Might easily have been brought to regret his tasty speech. Hi. Clayton attempted to conciliate him. His temper was now irrevocably set in the mould in which Clayton had left it, and the last chance of their working together for their common good was gone. Well, Alice, said Clayton as he rejoined his wife. I might have saved my breath. The fellow proved most ungrateful, fairly jumped at me like a mad dog. He and his blasted old ship may hang for aught I care. And until we are safely off the thing, I shall spend my energies in looking after our own welfare. And I rather fancy the first step to that end should be to go to our cabin and look over my revolvers. I'm sorry. Now that we packed the larger guns and the ammunition with the stuff below. They found their quarters in a bad state of disorder. Clothing from their open boxes and bags strewed the little apartment and even their beds have been torn to pieces. Evidently, someone was more anxious about our belongings than we say. Clayton. Let's have a look around Alice and see what's missing. A thorough search revealed the fact that nothing had been taken, but Clayton's two revolvers in the small supply of ammunition he had saved out for them. Those are the very things I most wished they had left us, said Clayton. And the fact that they wished for them and them alone is most sinister. What are we to do? John asked his wife. Perhaps you were right in that our best chance lies in maintaining a neutral position. If the officers are able to prevent a mutiny, we have nothing to fear. Well, if the mutineers are victorious, are one slim Hope lies in not having attempted to thwart or antagonise them. Right you are. Alice will keep in the middle of the road as they started to straighten up their cabin, Clayton and his wife simultaneously noticed the corner of a piece of paper protruding from beneath the door of their quarters. As Clayton stooped to reach for it, he was amazed to see it move further into the room, and then they realised that it was being pushed inward by someone from without. Quickly and silently, he step toward the door. But as he reached for the knob to throw it open, his wife's hand fell upon his wrist. No, John, she whispered. They do not wish to be seen, and so we cannot afford to see them. Do not forget that we were keeping to the middle of the road. Clayton smiled and dropped his hand to his side. Thus he stood watching the little bit of white paper until it finally remained. It rest upon the floor just inside the door. Then Clayton stooped and picked it up. It was a bit of grimy white paper, roughly folded into a ragged square. Opening it, they found a crude message printed almost allegedly and with many evidences, oven unaccustomed task translated. It was a warning to the Clayton's to refrain from reporting the loss of the revolvers or from repeating what the old sailor had told them to refrain on pain of death. I rather imagine will be good, said Clayton with a rueful smile. About all we can do is to sit tight and wait for whatever may come end of chapter.