Son of Tarzan

Rice Burroughs Edgar

Description

The Son of Tarzan is Edgar Rice Burroughs' fourth novel in the Tarzan series. First serialized between 1915 and 1916 in All-Story Weekly, it was published as a novel in 1917. Narrowly surviving his encounter with his enemy Tarzan in The Beasts of Tarzan, Alexis Paulvitch has a score to settle. He lures Tarzan's son Jack away from London and captures him, only to have Jack escape into the jungle that Tarzan once called home. With the help of an ape named Akut, Jack soon finds his place among the great apes, as his father did before him. But after rescuing the beautiful young woman named Meriem, the disaffected young man and the mistreated young woman must learn to live and love together in the dangerous jungle.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 janvier 2009
• Nombre de lectures: 3
• EAN13: 9781877527593
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE SON OF TARZAN
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EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS
 
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The Son of Tarzan First published in 1915.
ISBN 978-1-877527-59-3
© 2009 THE FLOATING PRESS.
While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike.
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Contents
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Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27
Chapter 1
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The long boat of the Marjorie W. was floating down the broad Ugambiwith ebb tide and current. Her crew were lazily enjoying thisrespite from the arduous labor of rowing up stream. Three milesbelow them lay the Marjorie W. herself, quite ready to sail sosoon as they should have clambered aboard and swung the long boatto its davits. Presently the attention of every man was drawn fromhis dreaming or his gossiping to the northern bank of the river.There, screaming at them in a cracked falsetto and with skinny armsoutstretched, stood a strange apparition of a man.
"Wot the 'ell?" ejaculated one of the crew.
"A white man!" muttered the mate, and then: "Man the oars, boys,and we'll just pull over an' see what he wants."
When they came close to the shore they saw an emaciated creaturewith scant white locks tangled and matted. The thin, bent bodywas naked but for a loin cloth. Tears were rolling down the sunkenpock-marked cheeks. The man jabbered at them in a strange tongue.
"Rooshun," hazarded the mate. "Savvy English?" he called to theman.
He did, and in that tongue, brokenly and haltingly, as though ithad been many years since he had used it, he begged them to take himwith them away from this awful country. Once on board the MarjorieW. the stranger told his rescuers a pitiful tale of privation,hardships, and torture, extending over a period of ten years. Howhe happened to have come to Africa he did not tell them, leavingthem to assume he had forgotten the incidents of his life prior tothe frightful ordeals that had wrecked him mentally and physically.He did not even tell them his true name, and so they knew him onlyas Michael Sabrov, nor was there any resemblance between this sorrywreck and the virile, though unprincipled, Alexis Paulvitch of old.
It had been ten years since the Russian had escaped the fate of hisfriend, the arch-fiend Rokoff, and not once, but many times duringthose ten years had Paulvitch cursed the fate that had givento Nicholas Rokoff death and immunity from suffering while it hadmeted to him the hideous terrors of an existence infinitely worsethan the death that persistently refused to claim him.
Paulvitch had taken to the jungle when he had seen the beasts ofTarzan and their savage lord swarm the deck of the Kincaid, and inhis terror lest Tarzan pursue and capture him he had stumbled ondeep into the jungle, only to fall at last into the hands of oneof the savage cannibal tribes that had felt the weight of Rokoff'sevil temper and cruel brutality. Some strange whim of the chiefof this tribe saved Paulvitch from death only to plunge him into alife of misery and torture. For ten years he had been the butt ofthe village, beaten and stoned by the women and children, cut andslashed and disfigured by the warriors; a victim of often recurringfevers of the most malignant variety. Yet he did not die. Smallpoxlaid its hideous clutches upon him; leaving him unspeakably brandedwith its repulsive marks. Between it and the attentions of thetribe the countenance of Alexis Paulvitch was so altered that hisown mother could not have recognized in the pitiful mask he calledhis face a single familiar feature. A few scraggly, yellow-whitelocks had supplanted the thick, dark hair that had covered hishead. His limbs were bent and twisted, he walked with a shuffling,unsteady gait, his body doubled forward. His teeth were gone—knockedout by his savage masters. Even his mentality was but a sorrymockery of what it once had been.
They took him aboard the Marjorie W., and there they fed and nursedhim. He gained a little in strength; but his appearance neveraltered for the better—a human derelict, battered and wrecked,they had found him; a human derelict, battered and wrecked, hewould remain until death claimed him. Though still in his thirties,Alexis Paulvitch could easily have passed for eighty. InscrutableNature had demanded of the accomplice a greater penalty than hisprincipal had paid.
In the mind of Alexis Paulvitch there lingered no thoughtsof revenge—only a dull hatred of the man whom he and Rokoff hadtried to break, and failed. There was hatred, too, of the memoryof Rokoff, for Rokoff had led him into the horrors he had undergone.There was hatred of the police of a score of cities from which hehad had to flee. There was hatred of law, hatred of order, hatredof everything. Every moment of the man's waking life was filledwith morbid thought of hatred—he had become mentally as hewas physically in outward appearance, the personification of theblighting emotion of Hate. He had little or nothing to do with themen who had rescued him. He was too weak to work and too morosefor company, and so they quickly left him alone to his own devices.
The Marjorie W. had been chartered by a syndicate of wealthy manufacturers,equipped with a laboratory and a staff of scientists, and sent outto search for some natural product which the manufacturers who footedthe bills had been importing from South America at an enormous cost.What the product was none on board the Marjorie W. knew except thescientists, nor is it of any moment to us, other than that it ledthe ship to a certain island off the coast of Africa after AlexisPaulvitch had been taken aboard.
The ship lay at anchor off the coast for several weeks. Themonotony of life aboard her became trying for the crew. They wentoften ashore, and finally Paulvitch asked to accompany them—he toowas tiring of the blighting sameness of existence upon the ship.
The island was heavily timbered. Dense jungle ran down almost tothe beach. The scientists were far inland, prosecuting their searchfor the valuable commodity that native rumor upon the mainland hadled them to believe might be found here in marketable quantity. Theship's company fished, hunted, and explored. Paulvitch shuffledup and down the beach, or lay in the shade of the great trees thatskirted it. One day, as the men were gathered at a little distanceinspecting the body of a panther that had fallen to the gun of oneof them who had been hunting inland, Paulvitch lay sleeping beneathhis tree. He was awakened by the touch of a hand upon his shoulder.With a start he sat up to see a huge, anthropoid ape squattingat his side, inspecting him intently. The Russian was thoroughlyfrightened. He glanced toward the sailors—they were a couple ofhundred yards away. Again the ape plucked at his shoulder, jabberingplaintively. Paulvitch saw no menace in the inquiring gaze, orin the attitude of the beast. He got slowly to his feet. The aperose at his side.
Half doubled, the man shuffled cautiously away toward the sailors.The ape moved with him, taking one of his arms. They had come almostto the little knot of men before they were seen, and by this timePaulvitch had become assured that the beast meant no harm. Theanimal evidently was accustomed to the association of human beings.It occurred to the Russian that the ape represented a certainconsiderable money value, and before they reached the sailors hehad decided he should be the one to profit by it.
When the men looked up and saw the oddly paired couple shufflingtoward them they were filled with amazement, and started on a runtoward the two. The ape showed no sign of fear. Instead he graspedeach sailor by the shoulder and peered long and earnestly into hisface. Having inspected them all he returned to Paulvitch's side,disappointment written strongly upon his countenance and in hiscarriage.
The men were delighted with him. They gathered about, askingPaulvitch many questions, and examining his companion. The Russiantold them that the ape was his—nothing further would he offer—butkept harping continually upon the same theme, "The ape is mine.The ape is mine." Tiring of Paulvitch, one of the men essayed apleasantry. Circling about behind the ape he prodded the anthropoidin the back with a pin. Like a flash the beast wheeled upon itstormentor, and, in the briefest instant of turning, the placid,friendly animal was metamorphosed to a frenzied demon of rage. Thebroad grin that had sat upon the sailor's face as he perpetratedhis little joke froze to an expression of terror. He attempted tododge the long arms that reached for him; but, failing, drew a longknife that hung at his belt. With a single wrench the ape torethe weapon from the man's grasp and flung it to one side, then hisyellow fangs were buried in the sailor's shoulder.
With sticks and knives the man's companions fell upon the beast,while Paulvitch danced around the cursing snarling pack mumblingand screaming pleas and threats. He saw his visions of wealthrapidly dissipating before the weapons of the sailors.
The ape, however, proved no easy victim to the superior numbersthat seemed fated to overwhelm him. Rising from the sailor whohad precipitated the battle he shook his giant shoulders, freeinghimself from two of the men that were clinging to his back, andwith mighty blows of his open palms felled one after another of hisattackers, leaping hither and