CHAPTER III.

The report of a gun blasted the silence of a dead Devonport with

startling abruptness.

It came from the direction of the launch, and in an instant we three

were running for the boat as fast as our legs would carry us. As we

came in sight of it we saw Delcarte a hundred yards inland from the

launch, leaning over something which lay upon the ground. As we called

to him he waved his cap, and stooping, lifted a small deer for our

inspection.

I was about to congratulate him on his trophy when we were startled by

a horrid, half-human, half-bestial scream a little ahead and to the

right of us. It seemed to come from a clump of rank and tangled bush

not far from where Delcarte stood. It was a horrid, fearsome sound, the

like of which never had fallen upon my ears before.

We looked in the direction from which it came. The smile had died from

Delcarte’s lips. Even at the distance we were from him I saw his face

go suddenly white, and he quickly threw his rifle to his shoulder. At

the same moment the thing that had given tongue to the cry moved from

the concealing brushwood far enough for us, too, to see it.

Both Taylor and Snider gave little gasps of astonishment and dismay.

“What is it, sir?” asked the latter.

The creature stood about the height of a tall manl’s waist, and was

long and gaunt and sinuous, with a tawny coat striped with black, and

with white throat and belly. In conformation it was similar to a cat—a

huge cat, exaggerated colossal cat, with fiendish eyes and the most

devilish cast of countenance, as it wrinkled its bristling snout and

bared its great yellow fangs.

It was pacing, or rather, slinking, straight for Delcarte, who had now

leveled his rifle upon it.

“What is it, sir?” mumbled Snider again, and then a half-forgotten

picture from an old natural history sprang to my mind, and I recognized

in the frightful beast the Felis tigris of ancient Asia, specimens of

which had, in former centuries, been exhibited in the Western

Hemisphere.

Snider and Taylor were armed with rifles and revolvers, while I carried

only a revolver. Seizing Sniderl’s rifle from his trembling hands, I

called to Taylor to follow me, and together we ran forward, shouting,

to attract the beastl’s attention from Delcarte until we should all be

quite close enough to attack with the greatest assurance of success.

I cried to Delcarte not to fire until we reached his side, for I was

fearful lest our small caliber, steel-jacketed bullets should, far from

killing the beast, tend merely to enrage it still further. But he

misunderstood me, thinking that I had ordered him to fire.

With the report of his rifle the tiger stopped short in apparent

surprise, then turned and bit savagely at its shoulder for an instant,

after which it wheeled again toward Delcarte, issuing the most terrific

roars and screams, and launched itself, with incredible speed, toward

the brave fellow, who now stood his ground pumping bullets from his

automatic rifle as rapidly as the weapon would fire.

Taylor and I also opened up on the creature, and as it was broadside to

us it offered a splendid target, though for all the impression we

appeared to make upon the great cat we might as well have been

launching soap bubbles at it.

Straight as a torpedo it rushed for Delcarte, and, as Taylor and I

stumbled on through the tall grass toward our unfortunate comrade, we

saw the tiger rear upon him and crush him to the earth.

Not a backward step had the noble Delcarte taken. Two hundred years of

peace had not sapped the red blood from his courageous line. He went

down beneath that avalanche of bestial savagery still working his gun

and with his face toward his antagonist. Even in the instant that I

thought him dead I could not help but feel a thrill of pride that he

was one of my men, one of my class, a Pan-American gentleman of birth.

And that he had demonstrated one of the principal contentions of the

army-and-navy adherents—that military training was necessary for the

salvation of personal courage in the Pan-American race which for

generations had had to face no dangers more grave than those incident

to ordinary life in a highly civilized community, safeguarded by every

means at the disposal of a perfectly organized and all-powerful

government utilizing the best that advanced science could suggest.

As we ran toward Delcarte, both Taylor and I were struck by the fact

that the beast upon him appeared not to be mauling him, but lay quiet

and motionless upon its prey, and when we were quite close, and the

muzzles of our guns were at the animal’s head, I saw the explanation of

this sudden cessation of hostilities—Felis tigris was dead.

One of our bullets, or one of the last that Delcarte fired, had

penetrated the heart, and the beast had died even as it sprawled

forward crushing Delcarte to the ground.

A moment later, with our assistance, the man had scrambled from beneath

the carcass of his would-be slayer, without a scratch to indicate how

close to death he had been.

Delcarte’s buoyance was entirely unruffled. He came from under the

tiger with a broad grin on his handsome face, nor could I perceive that

a muscle trembled or that his voice showed the least indication of

nervousness or excitement.

With the termination of the adventure, we began to speculate upon the

explanation of the presence of this savage brute at large so great a

distance from its native habitat. My readings had taught me that it was

practically unknown outside of Asia, and that, so late as the twentieth

century, at least, there had been no savage beasts outside captivity in

England.

As we talked, Snider joined us, and I returned his rifle to him. Taylor

and Delcarte picked up the slain deer, and we all started down toward

the launch, walking slowly. Delcarte wanted to fetch the tigerl’s skin,

but I had to deny him permission, since we had no means to properly

cure it.

Upon the beach, we skinned the deer and cut away as much meat as we

thought we could dispose of, and as we were again embarking to continue

up the river for fresh water and fuel, we were startled by a series of

screams from the bushes a short distance away.

“Another Felis tigris,” said Taylor.

“Or a dozen of them,” supplemented Delcarte, and, even as he spoke,

there leaped into sight, one after another, eight of the beasts, full

grown—magnificent specimens.

At the sight of us, they came charging down like infuriated demons. I

saw that three rifles would be no match for them, and so I gave the

word to put out from shore, hoping that the “tiger,” as the ancients

called him, could not swim.

Sure enough, they all halted at the beach, pacing back and forth,

uttering fiendish cries, and glaring at us in the most malevolent

manner.

As we motored away, we presently heard the calls of similar animals far

inland. They seemed to be answering the cries of their fellows at the

waterl’s edge, and from the wide distribution and great volume of the

sound we came to the conclusion that enormous numbers of these beasts

must roam the adjacent country.

“They have eaten up the inhabitants,” murmured Snider, shuddering.

“I imagine you are right,” I agreed, “for their extreme boldness and

fearlessness in the presence of man would suggest either that man is

entirely unknown to them, or that they are extremely familiar with him

as their natural and most easily procured prey.”

“But where did they come from?” asked Delcarte. “Could they have

traveled here from Asia?”

I shook my head. The thing was a puzzle to me. I knew that it was

practically beyond reason to imagine that tigers had crossed the

mountain ranges and rivers and all the great continent of Europe to

travel this far from their native lairs, and entirely impossible that

they should have crossed the English Channel at all. Yet here they

were, and in great numbers.

We continued up the Tamar several miles, filled our casks, and then

landed to cook some of our deer steak, and have the first square meal

that had fallen to our lot since the Coldwater deserted us. But scarce

had we built our fire and prepared the meat for cooking than Snider,

whose eyes had been constantly roving about the landscape from the

moment that we left the launch, touched me on the arm and pointed to a

clump of bushes which grew a couple of hundred yards away.

Half concealed behind their screening foliage I saw the yellow and

black of a big tiger, and, as I looked, the beast stalked majestically

toward us. A moment later, he was followed by another and another, and

it is needless to state that we beat a hasty retreat to the launch.

The country was apparently infested by these huge Carnivora, for after

three other attempts to land and cook our food we were forced to

abandon the idea entirely, as each time we were driven off by hunting

tigers.

It was also equally impossible to obtain the necessary ingredients for

our chemical fuel, and, as we had very little left aboard, we

determined to step our folding mast and proceed under sail, hoarding

our fuel supply for use in emergencies.

I may say that it was with no regret that we bid adieu to Tigerland, as

we rechristened the ancient Devon, and, beating out into the Channel,

turned the launchl’s nose southeast, to round Bolt Head and continue up

the coast toward the Strait of Dover and the North Sea.

I was determined to reach London as soon as possible, that we might

obtain fresh clothing, meet with cultured people, and learn from the

lips of Englishmen the secrets of the two centuries since the East had

been divorced from the West.

Our first stopping place was the Isle of Wight. We entered the Solent

about ten o’clock one morning, and I must confess that my heart sank as

we came close to shore. No lighthouse was visible, though one was

plainly indicated upon my map. Upon neither shore was sign of human

habitation. We skirted the northern shore of the island in fruitless

search for man, and then at last landed upon an eastern point, where

Newport should have stood, but where only weeds and great trees and

tangled wild wood rioted, and not a single manmade thing was visible to

the eye.

Before landing, I had the men substitute soft bullets for the

steel-jacketed projectiles with which their belts and magazines were

filled. Thus equipped, we felt upon more even terms with the tigers,

but there was no sign of the tigers, and I decided that they must be

confined to the mainland.

After eating, we set out in search of fuel, leaving Taylor to guard the

launch. For some reason I could not trust Snider alone. I knew that he

looked with disapproval upon my plan to visit England, and I did not

know but what at his first opportunity, he might desert us, taking the

launch with him, and attempt to return to Pan-America.

That he would be fool enough to venture it, I did not doubt.

We had gone inland for a mile or more, and were passing through a

park-like wood, when we came suddenly upon the first human beings we

had seen since we sighted the English coast.

There were a score of men in the party. Hairy, half-naked men they

were, resting in the shade of a great tree. At the first sight of us

they sprang to their feet with wild yells, seizing long spears that had

lain beside them as they rested.

For a matter of fifty yards they ran from us as rapidly as they could,

and then they turned and surveyed us for a moment. Evidently emboldened

by the scarcity of our numbers, they commenced to advance upon us,

brandishing their spears and shouting horribly.

They were short and muscular of build, with long hair and beards

tangled and matted with filth. Their heads, however, were shapely, and

their eyes, though fierce and warlike, were intelligent.

Appreciation of these physical attributes came later, of course, when I

had better opportunity to study the men at close range and under

circumstances less fraught with danger and excitement. At the moment I

saw, and with unmixed wonder, only a score of wild savages charging

down upon us, where I had expected to find a community of civilized and

enlightened people.

Each of us was armed with rifle, revolver, and cutlass, but as we stood

shoulder to shoulder facing the wild men I was loath to give the

command to fire upon them, inflicting death or suffering upon strangers

with whom we had no quarrel, and so I attempted to restrain them for

the moment that we might parley with them.

To this end I raised my left hand above my head with the palm toward

them as the most natural gesture indicative of peaceful intentions

which occurred to me. At the same time I called aloud to them that we

were friends, though, from their appearance, there was nothing to

indicate that they might understand Pan-American, or ancient English,

which are of course practically identical.

At my gesture and words they ceased their shouting and came to a halt a

few paces from us. Then, in deep tones, one who was in advance of the

others and whom I took to be the chief or leader of the party replied

in a tongue which while intelligible to us, was so distorted from the

English language from which it evidently had sprung, that it was with

difficulty that we interpreted it.

“Who are you,” he asked, “and from what country?”

I told him that we were from Pan-America, but he only shook his head

and asked where that was. He had never heard of it, or of the Atlantic

Ocean which I told him separated his country from mine.

“It has been two hundred years,” I told him, “since a Pan-American

visited England.”

“England?” he asked. “What is England?”

“Why this is a part of England!” I exclaimed.

“This is Grubitten,” he assured me. “I know nothing about England, and

I have lived here all my life.”

It was not until long after that the derivation of Grubitten occurred

to me. Unquestionably it is a corruption of Great Britain, a name

formerly given to the large island comprising England, Scotland and

Wales. Subsequently we heard it pronounced Grabrittin and Grubritten.

I then asked the fellow if he could direct us to Ryde or Newport; but

again he shook his head, and said that he never had heard of such

countries. And when I asked him if there were any cities in this

country he did not know what I meant, never having heard the word

cities.

I explained my meaning as best I could by stating that by city I

referred to a place where many people lived together in houses.

“Oh,” he exclaimed, “you mean a camp! Yes, there are two great camps

here, East Camp and West Camp. We are from East Camp.”

The use of the word camp to describe a collection of habitations

naturally suggested war to me, and my next question was as to whether

the war was over, and who had been victorious.

“No,” he replied to this question. “The war is not yet over. But it

soon will be, and it will end, as it always does, with the Westenders

running away. We, the Eastenders, are always victorious.”

“No,” I said, seeing that he referred to the petty tribal wars of his

little island, “I mean the Great War, the war with Germany. Is it

ended—and who was victorious?”

He shook his head impatiently.

“I never heard,” he said, “of any of these strange countries of which

you speak.”

It seemed incredible, and yet it was true. These people living at the

very seat of the Great War knew nothing of it, though but two centuries

had passed since, to our knowledge, it had been running in the height

of its titanic frightfulness all about them, and to us upon the far

side of the Atlantic still was a subject of keen interest.

Here was a lifelong inhabitant of the Isle of Wight who never had heard

of either Germany or England! I turned to him quite suddenly with a new

question.

“What people live upon the mainland?” I asked, and pointed in the

direction of the Hants coast.

“No one lives there,” he replied.

“Long ago, it is said, my people dwelt across the waters upon that

other land; but the wild beasts devoured them in such numbers that

finally they were driven here, paddling across upon logs and driftwood,

nor has any dared return since, because of the frightful creatures

which dwell in that horrid country.”

“Do no other peoples ever come to your country in ships?” I asked.

He never heard the word ship before, and did not know its meaning. But

he assured me that until we came he had thought that there were no

other peoples in the world other than the Grubittens, who consist of

the Eastenders and the Westenders of the ancient Isle of Wight.

Assured that we were inclined to friendliness, our new acquaintances

led us to their village, or, as they call it, camp. There we found a

thousand people, perhaps, dwelling in rude shelters, and living upon

the fruits of the chase and such sea food as is obtainable close to

shore, for they had no boats, nor any knowledge of such things.

Their weapons were most primitive, consisting of rude spears tipped

with pieces of metal pounded roughly into shape. They had no

literature, no religion, and recognized no law other than the law of

might. They produced fire by striking a bit of flint and steel

together, but for the most part they ate their food raw. Marriage is

unknown among them, and while they have the word, mother, they did not

know what I meant by “father.” The males fight for the favor of the

females. They practice infanticide, and kill the aged and physically

unfit.

The family consists of the mother and the children, the men dwelling

sometimes in one hut and sometimes in another. Owing to their bloody

duels, they are always numerically inferior to the women, so there is

shelter for them all.

We spent several hours in the village, where we were objects of the

greatest curiosity. The inhabitants examined our clothing and all our

belongings, and asked innumerable questions concerning the strange

country from which we had come and the manner of our coming.

I questioned many of them concerning past historical events, but they

knew nothing beyond the narrow limits of their island and the savage,

primitive life they led there. London they had never heard of, and they

assured me that I would find no human beings upon the mainland.

Much saddened by what I had seen, I took my departure from them, and

the three of us made our way back to the launch, accompanied by about

five hundred men, women, girls, and boys.

As we sailed away, after procuring the necessary ingredients of our

chemical fuel, the Grubittens lined the shore in silent wonder at the

strange sight of our dainty craft dancing over the sparkling waters,

and watched us until we were lost to their sight.