Chapter 14

A DESPERATE ATTEMPT

Attero sent for me the following day and asked me to continue my descriptions of American life. In view of the fact that he was determined upon the destruction of our entire band I thought best to impress upon him our national importance and to assure him that, as our ships sailed every sea, it was only a question of time when others would discover Faytan and come in such numbers that they could not be successfully opposed. Also I explained many of the luxuries and conveniences we enjoyed, of which the Faytans were wholly ignorant, and informed the king that he and his people could readily secure them all in exchange for a portion of their pearls.

“At present the pearls are of no value to you,” said I, “as you can use them only as ornaments. But by disposing of even your smallest ones you can secure practical inventions and manufactured goods that would have the effect of civilizing your people and render their lives far more pleasant and useful.”

Attero thought deeply upon this matter, and I could see my arguments tempted him; but neither during this interview nor others could I overthrow the prejudices inherited from a long line of exclusive ancestors, who believed Faytan was the important portion of the world and none but Faytans must ever be permitted to live upon the island.

“I would like the good things the pale-skins have,” he admitted, “but not at the price we would have to pay. Our riches lie in our pearls; not because they could be exchanged for so many other things, but because they bring us good luck, and the vast collection we have keeps the Pearl God here among us, and thus insures his protection. We are now prosperous and do not miss your great inventions because we have never had them. But if we allowed you to go away and return with more of your people, think what would happen! Our happy life would become one of turmoil and eagerness to gain worldly goods. Some of my people would want more than their share, and that would lead to envy and quarrels. At present all property belongs to the King, and each of his subjects is given what he requires. My people are content with this condition and it would be foolish for me to change it.”

“Then,” said I, “I have another proposition. Allow us to leave this island, and do you come with us as our guest. We will take you to America and show you our cities and our great civilization. You will acquire much wisdom, much learning and experience. And afterward, if you still desire it, we will bring you back here, land you upon your island, and go away without telling anyone of Faytan or its king. We will faithfully keep your secret, your Majesty, and you will be no worse off than before we came, but far richer in knowledge of the world.”

I thought this would win him, for a time; but finally he rejected the plan, as he did all others I suggested. We talked together on several days, but my stories of our life and the wonders of our civilization seemed to content him. One evening he said to me:

“You have given me much to think of, Steele; and after you are dead I shall remember you as a good teacher. I am even sorry the law compels me to put you to death; but it does, and my chiefs and medicine men are beginning to reproach me for the delay.”

“The King is supreme,” I said rather uneasily.

“Because he obeys the same laws his subjects do,” was the answer. “Were I to disobey the laws of my great ancestors there would soon be rebels and traitors in Faytan.”

I remembered the suggestion of the Crooked One.

“The King who makes the laws has power to change them,” I asserted. “If you proclaim a new law, saying that I, your friend, must be permitted to live, your subjects will accept it willingly.”

He smiled and looked at me rather pityingly.

“It would please me to do that,” said he; “but it would be wrong. I must not, for my own pleasure, disobey my forefathers, who in their wisdom said that all strangers must be put to death. Is my own judgment so perfect that I dare oppose that of twenty noble rulers of Faytan? No. I have the power to save you in that way; but I will not do so.”

“Never mind,” said I; “we will speak of this matter again, some other time.”

He gave me a steady look.

“There will be no opportunity,” was his reply. “I like you, Steele. I am glad you have been my friend. But to-morrow you will be put to death.”

“To-morrow!”

“I have waited too long already. My people are unhappy to see a pale-skin alive when the law condemns him to death. It will be to-morrow.”

He turned away.

“Wait, your Majesty—hear me!” I pleaded.

He waved me aside with a haughty gesture and left the room. The Faytans are philosophers and accept death without a murmur. The king, my friend, could not understand my protest.

Friend? Well, it was a queer sort of friendship that made no effort to save me; that had no sympathy for my unhappy fate.

I am a good deal of a coward at times. That night I could not sleep. Thinking over my predicament with sober care I could see no possible way of escape. My prison was well guarded. If I managed to leave it there was no chance of my being able to pass through the native city and gain the ship unchallenged. Still, desperate conditions require desperate remedies, and I had my two revolvers in my pocket, both fully loaded. About midnight it occurred to me to make a bold dash for liberty. If I failed I could be no worse off than now, since I was condemned to die the next morning.

The windows of my room were not glazed or barred. They were big square openings placed about five feet above the floor. By standing on the stone bench that ran around the room I could look out upon the square at the rear of the temple. I had no light; neither was there any light burned outside; but the stars were bright enough for me to observe all surrounding objects distinctly. I found the square deserted save by a solitary form standing almost directly beneath my window, his back toward me. A blanket covered his head and shoulders, for the natives dread the chill night air and usually wear a blanket in this manner when abroad at night.

I waited for the man to move away, but when a half hour passed and he did not stir I decided he was a sentry placed there to prevent my escape. It was the first time a guard of any sort had been set to watch over me.

The sight of his blanket gave me an idea. I gathered up one of the heaviest of those with which my bench was provided and creeping into the thick embrasure of the window I spread the blanket, dropped it swiftly over the head of the sentry, and then leaped down and caught him firmly around the arms, bearing him to the ground with my weight.

Although muffled in the blanket, which obstructed free action, the fellow struggled desperately, and I soon realized I could not subdue him. I dared not fire a revolver, as the sound would bring a horde upon me; so I managed to draw my pocket knife and open the blade. With this I stabbed repeatedly at the blanket, trying to reach the man’s heart, but the cloth was so thick and closely woven that the rather blunt end of my knife would not penetrate it, and all the while I was having greater difficulty in holding him down.

Rendered desperate by this condition I suddenly sprang away and made for the nearest alley that led out of the square, leaving the sentry to fumble with the blanket until he could free his head.

Before he could do this I had entered a narrow street, up which I ran at my best speed. By good luck it led westward, and I had visions of making a successful run across the island when suddenly in the darkness a pair of strong arms were flung around me and I was pinioned in a viselike grip.

“Pardon me,” said a low, sneering voice, in the native tongue. “It is not wise to walk out at night. The dews of Faytan are dangerous.”

It was the Crooked One.

Panting and breathless I stood an unresisting prisoner, for I knew the game was up. But I did not reply, understanding that any remark would only call forth more triumphant sneers. As we stood there footsteps hastily approached and another joined us.

“Have you got him?” asked the newcomer.

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Good,” said Attero. “He nearly smothered me.”

“I beg your Majesty’s pardon,” said I. “I had no idea it was you.”

“And had you known—what then?” he asked.

“I believe I should have acted in the same way.”

The Crooked One laughed, and said:

“While I hold him, your Majesty will do well to search him. He may carry dangerous weapons.”

Attero had no hesitation in obeying this request. He took away my revolvers. My knife I had dropped in the square. Then I was led back to my prison.

“I suspected,” said the Crooked One as he thrust me into my old room, “that on this night you would attempt to escape, knowing you are to die to-morrow.”

“It was but natural,” added the king, calmly. “So we watched, my chieftain and I, that we might prevent it. Good night, Steele. Myself, I cannot sleep because of your impending doom. It makes me very unhappy. But die you must.”

With these words he left me, but the Crooked One remained to say:

“Every street is well guarded. Escape is impossible. Be patient, therefore, for no man can evade his fate.”

He shuffled after the king, and left alone I threw myself upon the bench and waited for daylight.