The King of the Monkey Men Read online

  Encouraged, we chatted and laughed as we ate our evening meal, and I told Merima my plans for the future. Somehow, up to then, I had never mentioned my idea of adopting her.

  But she was elated at the idea. In fact, more than elated, for she could not express her delight at thought of having found a new father, and it was with difficulty that I could prevent her from- grovelling before me as the monkey-men had done when I was their king.

  The next morning we started at dawn and, at any time now, I half expected to see a clearing, a village of friendly Indians or signs of man's presence.

  Scarcely two hours had passed after leaving our camp when, as we swung around a curve, a surprised exclamation burst from Medina's lips, and the next second I uttered a glad, triumphant shout. Less than a mile distant the jungle ended, cleared fields covered a low hill, and shining brightly in the morning sunshine, were houses! They were miserable shacks to be sure, native huts of adobe and thatch, but the houses of civilized men, and above them rose the squat tower of a church surmounted by a cross sharply silhouetted against the clear blue sky. Never had a tiny native village been more welcome to human eyes than was that first sight of Santa Ysobel to me. And to Merima it was the greatest wonder, the most marvelous thing in all her life. Never before had she seen any house save the open benab of an Indian, and to her the clustered hovels on the hill were most amazing structures, and the church must have appeared like a veritable skyscraper.

  We attracted little attention as we ran the canoe ashore beside a dozen dugouts at the landing place below the village. The few ragged mulattos and mestizos, who lounged about, appeared to take little interest in the bearded stranger with garments as threadbare as their own who stepped from a canoe, accompanied by an Indian girl. They were far too accustomed to seeing travellers from the bush to show any curiosity, and to them, no doubt, I appeared merely another bush trader with a half-breed companion. But had Merima possessed wings, and had I worn horns, I doubt if the natives would have been roused from their inherent and chronic state of laziness and lethargy. As we passed up the hill, Merima staring about with wondering eyes at everything, a few unkempt women peered at us from their doorways, naked children scurried from the sunbaked littered street, and the few men we saw glanced at us in half-hearted fashion, as if rather wondering who we were and on what errand, and yet not possessing enough vitality to ask.

  In his humble adobe dwelling beside the ancient church, I found the padre, a white-haired,. lean-faced, kindly-eyed priest, who gravely, but smilingly welcomed us and asked in what manner he could serve me. And as I related my tale, or as much of it as had to do with Merima, and explained my plans and desires, he listened attentively, nodding now and then, and uttering half-suppressed exclamations of amazement at times, until I had ended.

  "It is a strange, a most marvelous tale, my son," he exclaimed. "You have seen things which have been granted no other man, and through all you have been led and guarded by our Heavenly Father. In my youth, I, too, was filled with the spirit of adventure, and wandered far and among strange peoples, striving ever to spread the true Faith. Many Indian tribes did I know—and, Alas! I fear they proved barren ground for the word of God—and in my wanderings I have heard mentioned the name of the Patoradis though never did I reach within many leagues of their land. But the Tucumaris I knew well, and their language I understand and speak somewhat, though 'tis years since my ears heard words or my tongue tried to form the sounds of the dialect; hence it is well that the maiden speaks that tongue, for thus can I converse with her. Truly, my son," he continued, "it is a worthy deed you have in mind—to adopt the maiden as your daughter. And I doubt if you will find it a difficult matter, for Don Ramon, the alcalde, is a good fellow at heart—though he drinks over much and is not too attentive to his duties. And he is a good friend of mine. I misdoubt if he knows the law or if he has the papers necessary to be signed, but in such matters I can act for the State as well as the Church, and all Don Ramon need do is to sign his name and affix his seal. But as you thought, my son, first must the maiden be baptized and registered as a Christian and a communicant of my church, for under the law the pagan, the Indians are wards of the government and may not be treated like other citizens. And a most worthy deed have you done in teaching the child the truths of Christianity and in converting her to a belief in our true God. Now, my son, will I summon old Marta and give the maiden into her care to be properly clad. Then, when we have dined, conversed with,—Merima, is it not?—to assure myself of her desires, I will give her baptism and fill out the papers that will be signed by Don Ramon."

  Rising, he clapped his hands, and in response to his summons a stout, good-natured old Indian woman appeared, and in a few words Fray Benedicto gave her his orders. Merima, poor girl, looked thoroughly frightened and hung back, for of course she understood no word of what any of us had been saying, as the conversation had been all in Spanish. But when the kind-faced Padre spoke to her reassuringly in the familiar Tucumari, and I also added a few words, she smiled and followed old Marta willingly.

  Then Fray Benedicto thoughtfully suggested that I, too, needed proper garments, and calling a Mestizo boy, he ordered him to supply anything I might need. Soap, a shave and clean whole clothes, though they were no more than coarse native garments of cotton, transformed me into a new man, and as I entered the cool "sala" Fray Benedicto uttered a cry of amazement at my altered appearance. He had been pacing back and forth as I entered, a perplexed, troubled look upon his face. Then, having recovered quickly from his first surprise at my transformation, he came forward and laid a hand upon my shoulder.

  His manner and his expression gave me a premonition of something wrong, and my heart sank at thought that it must have to do with Merima. And his first words convinced me my fears were justified.

  "My son," he said bravely, "I fear that it will not be possible for you to adopt the maiden—at least for the present. I have made—"

  "Not possible?" I cried, "Why not? If it is a question of money, I have wealth and to spare—gold and emeralds. If your Don Ramon—"

  He held up his hand and smiled. "Nay," he said, interrupting my words. "It is not a matter of money as you think. Merima, the Patoradi, you could have adopted in full compliance with the laws within the hour. But the maiden is no Indian."

  "Not an Indian!" I gasped. "Nonsense! Of course she's Indian, an Albino, or partial Albino perhaps, but an Indian just the same."

  Fray Benedicto smiled and shook his gray head "So I, too, thought until a few moments ago," he said, "But Indians—not even the Patoradis—do not vaccinate and the girl bears the mark of vaccination. Who she may be I know not, but that she is white and no Indian, I am certain."

  I sank back into a chair utterly overwhelmed, incredulous and unable to believe my ears.

  "But, but," I stammered, "If she's not an Indian, if she is white how—what—"

  "If you doubt it, here is further proof," announced Fray Benedicto.

  "Old Marta found it among the savage ornaments the maiden wore!"

  As he spoke, he handed me a small golden trinket, a tiny, worn locket, an unmistakable example of civilized man's workmanship.

  For an instant I gazed dully at the thing and then an involuntary cry came from my lips, and I stared at the bit of jewelry with fascinated, unbelieving eyes. Trembling, torn between hopes and fears, I pressed a secret spring and the back of the locket came open. Tears filled my eyes. I felt suddenly weak as I gazed like one in a trance at what was revealed. It was impossible, utterly incredible, but true. Within the locket, faded and stained, was the portrait of a fair-haired blue-eyed child—the portrait of my long lost daughter, my baby Ruth!

  Overcome with emotion, unable to grasp the overwhelming truth, fearing to trust my senses, I sat there, my eyes fixed upon the miniature within the locket, tears coursing down my cheeks until I was aroused by the kindly priest who laid one hand gently upon my bowed head.

  "Oh, God!" I groaned, "Can it be true? Can Mer
ima be my own daughter? How can I ever be sure?"

  "Perchance still another miracle has been wrought," said Fray Benedicto in reverential tones. "Had your daughter no marks of identification, no blemish, no mole, nothing by which you could recognize her beyond all question of a doubt?"

  For a brief moment I gathered my scattered senses together and thought deeply. Then a cry of joy came from my lips, as I remembered.

  "Yes," I exclaimed, "a tiny birthmark like a pink crescent at the nape of the neck. Oh—"

  But Fray Benedicto was hurrying from the room before my sentence was completed.

  In a moment he reappeared, leading Merima by the hand. But not the Merima I had known. Instead, I saw a gloriously beautiful girl whose loveliness was enhanced rather than diminished by the cheap calico dress she wore. With twinkling eyes and a happy smile, the priest drew her towards me as Merima, failing to recognize me at first, held back half fearfully.

  "My son, give thanks to God that another miracle has happened," cried Fray Benedicto, as he crossed himself. "The maiden is your own flesh and blood, your daughter, whom none may dispute. Look for yourself. The mark is there."

  Sobbing with joy, muttering incoherently, I clasped Merima in my arms and in broken words of English, Spanish and Tucumari—strove to tell her that she was my own, long lost daughter. She, poor child, could not grasp it and thought no doubt I had suddenly gone mad. But, as very patiently Fray Benedicto related the story of Ruth's supposed death and showed her the picture of herself in babyhood within the locket, she at last became convinced. But she could remember nothing of her babyhood, of course, nothing of her first few years among the Tucumari and to this day the true story of her salvation, of how she was found and adopted by the Indians, is but a vague conjecture. It mattered little, however. That she was alive and restored to me was enough, and never was there a more joyous party than we three as we breakfasted on that memorable morning in Fray Benedicto's home in little Santa Ysobel.

  It was all so wonderful, so incredible, and as I looked at Merima, or rather Ruth, in her stiff mestizo dress, a great wave of utter joy and contentment possessed me and I felt that great indeed had been my reward for all the sufferings and hardships I had undergone. I, who had entered the forest penniless and alone, had come forth a Croesus with the loveliest of daughters.'"

  "And you actually believe that yarn?" demanded Walker, as Belmont came to the end of the story.

  "Most assuredly," replied the explorer. "Meredith had the Waupona feather crown; he had the emeralds and the gold, and he had his daughter. Why should anyone doubt his story?"

  "Well, I'd have to be shown," declared Blake. "I'd like to see such convincing accessories—especially the girl."

  "Same here," agreed Thurston.

  Belmont rose. "You're all hopeless skeptics," he laughed as he reached for his hat. "But come over to my apartments any evening and I'll show you the crown and some of the nuggets and stones. And you can meet Meredith; he's stopping with me for a time."

  "Well, I'll be hanged!" ejaculated Walker.

  Belmont grinned maliciously from the door. "Besides," he added as a parting shot, "I'd like to introduce you boys to my wife—the Princess Merima."

  THE END

  About the Author

  Alpheus Hyatt Verrill, known as Hyatt Verrill, (1871-1954) was an American archaeologist, explorer, inventor, illustrator and author. He was the son of Addison Emery Verrill (1839–1926), the first professor of zoology at Yale University. Hyatt Verrill wrote on a wide variety of topics, including natural history, travel, radio and whaling. He participated in a number of archaeological expeditions to the West Indies, South, and Central America. He travelled extensively throughout the West Indies, and all of the Americas, North, Central and South. Theodore Roosevelt stated: "It was my friend Verrill here, who really put the West Indies on the map.” During 1896 he served as natural history editor of Webster's International Dictionary., and he illustrated many of his own writings as well. During 1902 Verrill invented the autochrome process of natural-color photography. Among his writings are many science fiction works including twenty six published in 'Amazing Stories' pulp magazines.

  Other works by A. Hyatt Verrill

  Into the Green Prism

  Beyond the Green Prism

  The Golden City: A Tale of Adventure in Unknown Guiana

  The Boy Adventurers: In the Land of the Monkey Men

  The Treasure of the Golden God

  Through the Andes

  The Inner World

  Magazine Appearances:

  The Bridge of

  When the Moon Ran Wild (by Ray Ainsbury)

  Beyond the Pole

  Through the Crater's Rim

  The Man Who Could Vanish

  The Plague of the Living Dead

  The Voice from the Inner World

  The Ultra-Elixir of Youth

  The Astounding Discoveries of Doctor Mentiroso (by H. Hyatt Verrill)

  The Psychological Solution

  The King of the Monkey Men

  The World of the Giant Ants

  Death From the Skies

  Vampires of the Desert

  Dirigibles of Death

  The Feathered Detective

  The Non-Gravitational Vortex

  Monsters of the Ray

  A Visit to Suari

  When the Moon Ran Wild

  The Exterminator

  The Death Drum

  The Mummy of Ret-Seh

  The Flying Head

  The Ghostly Vengeance