Loyal and devoted

Author: Edgar Rice Burroughs (USA), translated by Li Yequn
Translator: Li Yequn
Country:
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2001-08-01
Features: The silence was absolute. She was extremely nervous, feeling her heart pounding like thunder, echoing throughout the ship. Door after door was pushed open by her, revealing an empty room. In her panic, she failed to notice the ship's engine starting and the propeller making a humming sound. By then, she had reached the back door on her right. As soon as she opened it, a dark-skinned man grabbed her and pulled her inside. The room smelled unpleasant. Jane screamed in shock. The man roughly covered her mouth. "Darling," he said, "wait until we're far from land. I don’t care if you scream your head off." Jane turned her head and glanced at the bearded face close to her, recognizing it as Nicholas. Nicholas leered at her with a lustful gaze, and Jane instinctively recoiled, gasping in fear. "Nicholas Zhukov! Mr. Thales!" she exclaimed. "Your loyal admirer," the Russian deeply bowed in response. "Where did you take my son?" Jane ignored his feigned affection. "Give him back to me! How can you be so cruel? Even a villain like you shouldn’t have no conscience! Tell me, where is the child? Is he on this ship? Oh, please! If you have any humanity left, return my son!" "If you do as I say, he won’t come to harm," Zhukov replied. "But remember, you brought this on yourself. You walked right into a trap, so you have to face the consequences. I never expected such good luck." After speaking, he went onto the deck and locked Jane in a cabin, disappearing for several days. The real reason was likely that Nicholas Zhukov was not accustomed to being on a ship, and the "Kenkeed" had encountered rough seas right after setting sail. The Russian felt dizzy and nauseous, so he stayed in bed. Meanwhile, the only person who visited her was a rude Swede—the annoying cook of the "Kenkeed." His name was Sven Anderson, and he delivered meals to her every day. He was proud of having two "S"s in his surname, which was inherited from his father. The cook was tall, gaunt, with a long yellow beard, a unpleasant face, and dirty fingernails. His dirty thumb often dipped into the warm stew while serving food, and Jane lost her appetite at the mere sight of it. He was always sneaky, his close-set blue eyes never meeting anyone directly, and he walked like a cat, light on his feet. He wore a dirty apron, and a long, thin knife always hung from the greasy string, giving the impression of ill intent. The knife was clearly worn for professional reasons, but Jane always felt that the cook would draw it if he was displeased, as if to "test his sharpness." He didn’t wait long. Like a leopard preparing to leap, he drew back his strong legs, just as he had comfortably settled on a branch, a beautiful deer—Bala—came to drink by the stream. But Bala wasn’t the only one coming to the stream. Following the graceful stag was an uninvited guest. The stag neither saw nor smelled it, but Tarzan, perched high in the dense foliage of a large tree, could see it clearly. He couldn’t identify the stealthy beast moving through the jungle and tracking the stag, but he believed it was a carnivorous giant. It was hungry, just like him. Maybe it was the lion Numá, or the leopard Shita. Tarzan knew that whatever the beast was, this sumptuous dinner wouldn’t be wasted unless the stag Bala hurried across the stream. Just then, the stag heard a sound behind him. It trembled violently and stopped on the path, then dashed off like an arrow toward Tarzan and the stream, trying to cross it and escape. Less than one hundred yards behind it, the lion Numá emerged. Tarzan could see it clearly now. In the blink of an eye, Bala would be running beneath the tree where he was hiding. Could he let it escape here? Tarzan’s stomach was empty, and his hunger was unbearable. Without hesitation, he leaped from his hiding place and landed on the terrified stag’s back. Numá could strike at any moment. Therefore, if Tarzan wanted to eat that night—or if he wanted to stay alive— he had to act quickly. The stag’s slippery back gave way under Tarzan’s sudden weight, and it fell to the ground. Tarzan grabbed both antlers with his hands, twisted them violently, and the stag’s neck snapped in two, its head whirling around a full one hundred and eighty degrees. Tarzan carried the stag on his shoulders, his powerful teeth clamping down on a front leg, and leaped to a relatively low branch nearby. Numá followed closely behind, roaring in anger. Tarzan gripped the branch with both hands and, at the moment Numá lunged, he did a reverse somersault, carrying the prey with him and escaping the lion’s claws. The frustrated lion fell to the ground with a thud. Tarzan, with the stag, quickly climbed to a higher, safer branch and grinned. He deliberately displayed the fresh stag to the lion below, whose fierce yellow eyes glared up at him. With his rough stone knife, he carved a large, tender piece of meat from the stag’s hind leg. Numá roared and paced below. Lord Greystoke—Tarzan—devoured the raw meat with a ravenous appetite. He ate so heartily that it seemed as if he had never tasted such a delicacy at a high-end restaurant in London. Blood from the stag dripped from his hands and face, and the wild, meaty scent filled his nostrils. After finishing, he hung the remaining meat on a high branch and climbed to his shelter in the tree. Numá waited below, still vengeful, but Tarzan ignored him, sleeping until the sun was high the next morning. Mowgli was terrified, holding Tarzan’s arm tightly. Seeing his pitiful state, Tarzan couldn’t help but laugh. Later, he grabbed the leopard’s neck skin and dragged it to Mowgli’s feet. The leopard growled at the black man, and Tarzan struck its nose hard. Mowgli watched in astonishment as the white man subdued the fierce beast with his bare hands. The man who had captured him felt a sense of awe and even reverence. The training with Shita was quite effective. Soon, the leopard no longer regarded Mowgli as a target. Gradually, the black man felt more at ease. To say that Mowgli was completely comfortable and happy in this completely unfamiliar environment would be too exaggerated. The fierce apes roamed around, and one of them occasionally wandered near him. Mowgli was full of worries, his big eyes rolling as he glanced from one person to another. To others, he seemed to have only white sclera. Tarzan, Mowgli, Shita, and Akute gathered by the stream, preparing to hunt the deer coming to drink. Soon, a beautiful stag appeared on the green grass. Tarzan gave the signal, and the four companions charged at the stag simultaneously. Mowgli believed that the poor deer was already dead before anyone touched it. Mowgli built a fire and roasted his share of the stag meat. Tarzan, Shita, and Akute tore at the bloody raw meat and devoured it hungrily. If anyone dared to snatch another’s share, they would snarl and roar at each other. The white man’s eating habits were closer to those of beasts than to those of the black man, which was not surprising. After all, we are all animals living according to certain habits. If the conditions for a new way of life no longer exist, it is natural for deeply ingrained old habits to resurface. Mowgli had never eaten raw meat since childhood, while Tarzan had always lived on raw meat until the past few years when he began eating cooked food. Moreover, his craving for raw meat was not just a matter of habit but also a result of the desire of his taste buds. Cooked meat did not appeal to him, as the tender, fresh flavor was completely destroyed by the long cooking process. He could savor raw meat that had been buried for weeks, as well as small animals like rabbits and field mice, or even repulsive insects, which would be unthinkable for "civilized" people like us. However, if we had eaten these things since childhood and seen everyone around us eating them, we would not feel nauseous or unable to stomach them. Similarly, the savage cannibals in Africa would find our delicacies repulsive and turn away in disgust. For example, a tribe near Lake Rudolf does not eat lamb or beef, while a neighboring tribe considers it a delicacy. Another nearby tribe eats donkey meat, but the tribes around them consider it a great taboo. So who can say that snails, chicken feet, and oysters are delicacies, while beetles are disgusting? Or who can prove that the hooves, antlers, and tails of a stag are harder to swallow than clean, tender raw stag meat? Over the next few days, Tarzan worked hard to weave a sail from tree bark to equip the dugout. Because he had completely lost faith in teaching the apes to row. A few days earlier, he and Mowgli had taken the dugout to a calm cove near the reefs and selected a few "clever" apes to learn rowing. When they tried to imitate him and Mowgli’s rowing movements, he handed them the oars. But he quickly realized that it was nearly impossible to keep them focused on a task for long. Moreover, even if they were willing to learn rowing, mastering the skill would require weeks of patient training, which was not that complicated.