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Volume 7892a

Tarzan the Terrible Frontispiece by J. Allen St. John

A Commentary By
Woodrow Edgar Nichols, Jr.

ERB's JURASSIC PARK: TARZAN THE TERRIBLE ~ A Commentary by Woodrow Edgar Nichols, Jr.

PART I: Chapters 1-5
PART II: Chapters 6-10
PART III: Chapters 11-15
PART IV: Chapters 16-20
PART V: Chapters 21-25

PART III: ERBzine 7892 ~ ERBzine 7892a ~ ERBzine7892b ~ ERBzine 7892c ~ ERBzine 7892d
           We now join Lady Greystole who has been kidnapped by Mo-sar, the man who would be king. He is forcefully taking her to the city that he rules, a place called Tu-lur. Don’t you wonder a little what happened to the German officer who originally kidnapped her from her African estate? Maybe we’ll never find out. Time to break camp and get on with our pursuit.


            As Mo-sar carried Jane Clayton from the palace of Ko-tan, the king, the woman struggled incessantly to regain her freedom. He tried to compel her to walk, but despite his threats and his abuse she would not voluntarily take a single step in the direction in which he wished her to go. Instead she threw herself to the ground each time he sought to place her upon her feet, and so of necessity he was compelled to carry her though at last he tied her hands and gagged her to save himself from further lacerations, for the beauty and slenderness of the woman belied her strength and courage. When he came at last to where his men had gathered he was glad indeed to turn her over to a couple of stalwart warriors, but these too were forced to carry her since Mo-sar’s fear of the vengeance of Ko-tan’s retainers would brook no delays.

            And thus they came down out of the hills from which A-lur is carved, to the meadows that skirt the lower end of Jad-ben-lul with Jane Clayton carried between two of Mo-sar’s men. At the edge of the lake lay a fleet of strong canoes, hollowed from the trunks of trees, their bows and sterns carved in the semblance of grotesque beasts or birds and vividly colored by some master in that primitive school of art, which fortunately is not without its devotees today.

            Into the stern of one of these canoes the warriors tossed their captive at a sign from Mo-sar, who came and stood beside her as the warriors were finding their places in the canoe and selecting their paddles.

            “Come, Beautiful One,” he said, “let us be friends and you shall not be harmed. You will find Mo-sar a kind master if you do his bidding,” and thinking to make a good impression on her he removed the gag from her mouth and the thongs from her wrists, knowing well that she could not escape surrounded as she was by his warrirors, and presently, when they were out on the lake, she would be as safely imprisoned as though he held her behind bars.

            And so the fleet moved off to the accompaniment of the gentle splashing of a hundred paddles, to follow the windings of the rivers and lakes through which the waters of the Valley of Jad-ben-Otho empty into the great morass to the south. The warriors, resting on one knee, faced the bow and in the last canoe, Mo-sar tiring of his fruitless attempts to win responses from his sullen captive, squatted in the bottom of the canoe with his back toward her and resting his head upon the gunwale sought sleep.

            Thus they moved in silence between the verdure-clad banks of the little river through which the waters of Jad-ben-lul emptied – now in the moonlight, now in dense shadow where great trees overhung the stream, and at last out upon the waters of another lake, the black shores of which seemed far away under the weird influence of a moonlight night.

            Jane Clayton sat alert in the stern of the last canoe. For months she had been under constant surviellance, the prisoner first of one ruthless race and now a prisoner of another. Since the long-gone day that Hauptmann Fritz Schneider and his band of native German troops had treacherously wrought the Kaiser’s work of rapine and destruction on the Greystoke bungalow and carried her away to captivity she had not drawn a free breath. That she had survived unharmed the countless dangers through which she had passed she attributed solely to the beneficence of a kind and watchful Providence.

            At first she had been held on the orders of the German High Command with a view of her ultimate value as a hostage and during these months she had been subjected to neither hardship nor oppression, but when the Germans had become hard pressed toward the close of their unsuccessful campaign in East Africa it had been determined to take her further into the interior and now there was an element of revenge to their motives, since it must have been apparent that she could no longer be of any possible military value.

            Bitter indeed were the Germans against the half-savage mate of hers who had cunningly annoyed and harassed them with a fiendishness of persistence and ingenuity that had resulted in a noticeable loss in morale in the sector he had chosen for his operations. They had to charge against him the lives of certain officers that he had deliberately taken with his own hands, and one entire section of trench that had made possible a disastrous turning movement by the British. Tarzan had out-generaled them at every point. He had met cunning with cunning and cruelty with cruelties until they feared and loathed his very name. The cunning trick they had played upon him in destroying his home, murdering his retainers, and covering the abduction of his wife in such a way as to lead him to believe that she had been killed, they had regretted a thousand times, for a thousandfold had they paid the price for their senseless ruthlessness, and now, unable to wreak their vengeance directly upon him, they had conceived the idea of inflicting further suffering upon his mate.

            In sending her into the interior to avoid the path of the victorious British, they had chosen as her escort Lieutenant Erich Obergatz who had been second in command of Schneider’s company, and who alone of its officers had escaped the consuming vengeance of the ape-man. For a long time Obergatz had held her in a native village, the chief of which was still under the domination of his fear of the ruthless German oppressors. While here only hardship and discomfort assailed her, Obergatz himself being held in leash by the orders of his distant superior, but as time went on the life in the village grew to be a veritable hell of cruelties and oppressions practiced by the arrogant Prussian upon the villagers and the members of his native command – for time hung heavily upon the hands of the lieutenant and with idleness combining with the personal discomforts he was compelled to endure, his none too agreeable temper found an outlet first in petty interference with the chiefs and later in the practice of absolute cruelties upon them.

            What the self-sufficient German could not see was plain to Jan Clayton – that the sympathies of Obergatz’ native soldiers lay with the villagers and that all were so heartily sickened by his abuse that it needed now but the slightest spark to detonate the mine of revenge and hatred that the pig-headed Hun had been assiduously fabricating beneath his own person.

            And at last it came, but from an unexpected source in the form of a German native deserter from the theater of war. Footsore, weary, and spent, he dragged himself into the village late one afternoon, and before Obergatz was even aware of his presence the whole village knew that the power of Germany in Africa was at an end. It did not take long for the lieutenant’s native soldiers to realize that the authority that held them to service no longer existed and with it had gone the power to pay them their miserable wage. Or at least, so they reasoned. To them Obergatz no longer represented aught else but a powerless and hated foreigner, and short indeed would have been his shrift had not a native woman who conceived a doglike affection for Jane Clayton hurried to her with word of the murderous plan; for the fate of the innocent white woman lay in the balance beside that of the guilty Teuton.

            “Already they are quarelling as to which one shall possess you,” she told Jane.

            “When will they come for us?” asked Jane. “Did you hear them say?”

            “Tonight,” replied the woman, “for even now that he has none to fight for him, they still fear the white man. And so they will come at night and kill him while he sleeps.”

            Jane thanked the woman and sent her away lest the suspicion of her fellows be aroused against her when they discovered that the two whites had learned of their intentions. The woman went at once to the hut occupied by Obergatz. She had never gone there before and the German looked up in surprise as he saw who his visitor was.

            I must admit temporary confusion after ERB called Jane “the woman,” after referring to the native woman as “the woman.”

            Briefly she told him what she had heard. At first he was inclined to bluster arrogantly, with a great display of bravado but she silenced him peremptorily.

            “Such talk is useless,” she said shortly. “You have brought upon yourself the just hatred of these people. Regardless of the truth or falsity of the report which has been brought to them, they believe it and there is nothing now between you and your Maker other than flight. We shall both be dead before morning if we are unable to escape from the village unseen. If you go to them now with your silly protestations of authority you will be dead a little sooner, that is all.”

            “You think it is as bad as that?” he said, a noticeable alteration in his tone and manner.

            “It is precisely as I have told you,” she replied. “They will come tonight and kill you while you sleep. Find me pistols and a rifle and ammunition and we will pretend that we go into the jungle to hunt and we need not return.

            “But first and now you must swear never to harm me, or otherwise it would be better if I called the chief and turned you over to him and then put a bullet in my own head, for unless you swear as I have asked I were no better alone in the jungle with you than here at the mercies of some degraded blacks.”

            “I swear,” he replied solemnly, “in the names of my God and my Kaiser that no harm shall befall you at my hands, Lady Greystoke.”

            “Very well,” she said, “we will make this pact to assist each other to return to civilization, but let it be understood that there is and never can be any semblance even of respect for you upon my part. I am drowning and you are the straw. Carry that always in your mind, German.”

            If Obergatz had held any doubts as to the sincerity of her word it would have been wholly dissipated by the scathing contempt of her tone. And so Obergatz, without further parley, got pistols and an extra rifle for Jane, as well as bandoleers of cartridges. In his usual arrogant and disagreeable manner he called his servants telling them that he and the white kali were going out into the brush to hunt. The beaters would go north as far as the little hill and then circle back to the east and in toward the village. The gun carriers he directed to take the extra pieces and precede himself and Jane slowly toward the east, waiting for them at the ford about half a mile distant. The blacks responded with greater alacrity than usual and it was noticeable to both Jane and Obergatz that they left the village whispering and laughing.

            “The swine think it is a great joke,” growled Obergatz, “that the afternoon before I die I go out and hunt meat for them.”

            As soon as the gun bearers disappeared in the jungle beyond the village the two Europeans followed along the same trail, nor was there any attempt on the part of Obergatz’ native soldiers, or the warriors of the chief to detain them, for they too doubtless were more than willing that the whites should bring them one more mess of meat before they killed them.

            A quarter of mile from the village, Obergatz turned toward the south from the trail that led to the ford and hurrying onward the two put as great a distance as possible between them and the village before night fell. They knew from the habits of their erstwhile hosts that there was little danger of pursuit by night since the villagers held Numa, the lion, in too great respect to venture needlessly beyond their stockade during the hours that the king of beasts was prone to choose for hunting.

            And thus began a seemingly endless sequence of frightful days and horror-laden nights as the two fought their way toward the south in the face of almost inconceivable hardships, privations, and dangers. The east coast was nearer but Obergatz positively refused to chance throwing himself into the hands of the British in returning to the territory which they now controlled, insisting instead upon on attempting to make his way through an unknown wilderness in South Africa when among the Boers, he was convinced he would find willing sympathizers who would find some way to return him to safety to Germany, and the woman was perforce compelled to accompany him.

            And so they had crossed the great thorny, waterless steppe and come at last to the edge of the morass before Pal-ul-don. They had reached the point just before the rainy season when the waters of the morass were at their lowest ebb. At this time a hard crust is baked upon the dried surface of the marsh and there is only the open water at the center to materially impede progress. It is a condition that exists perhaps more than a few weeks, or even days at the termination of long periods of drought, and so the two crossed the otherwise almost impassible barrier without realizing its latent terrors. Even the open water in the center chanced to be deserted at the time by its frightful denizens which the drought and the receding waters had driven southward toward the mouth of Pal-ul-don’s largest river which carries the waters out of the Valley of Jad-ben-Otho.

            Their wanderings carried them across the mountains and into the Valley of Jad-ben-Otho at the source of one of the larger streams which bears the mountain waters down into the valley to empty them into the main river just below the Great Lake on whose northern shore lies A-lur, As they had come down out of the mountains they had been surprised by a party of Ho-don hunters. Obergatz had escaped while Jane had been taken prisoner and brought to A-lur. She had neither seen nor heard aught of the German since that time and she did not know whether he had perished in this strange land, or succeeded in successfully eluding its savage denizens and making his way at last into South Africa.

            I hope ERB informs us as to the ultimate fate of such a villain. In other books this usually occurs without an actual telling of the circumstances, his or her body or skeleton discovered months or years later, the finders and the readers having to resort to their imaginations to speculate on the facts, as was the case with the Belgian deserter in Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar. Perhaps somebody can tell me the meaning of the title of this chapter: “By Jad-bal-lul.” I don’t recall ever hearing that one before. Was it the name of a lake?

            For her part she had been incarcerated alternately in the palace and the temple as either Ko-tan or Lu-don succeeded in wresting her temporarily from the other by various strokes of cunning and intrique. And now at last she was in the power of a new captor, one whom she knew from the gossip of the temple and the palace to be cruel and degraded. And she was in the stern of the last canoe, and every enemy back was toward her, while almost at her feet Mo-sar’s loud snores gave ample evidence of his unconsciousness to his immediate surroundings.

            The dark shore loomed closer to the south as Jane Clayton, Lady Greystoke, slid quietly over the stern of the canoe into the chill waters of the lake. She scarcely moved other than to keep her nostrils above the surface while the canoe was yet discernable in the last rays of the declining moon. Then she struck out toward the southern shore.

            Alone, unarmed, all but naked, in a country overrun by savage beasts and hostile men, she yet felt for the first time in many months a sensation of elation and relief. She was free! What if the next moment brought death, she knew again, at least a brief moment of absolute freedom. Her blood tingled to the almost forgotten sensation and it was with difficulty that she restrained a glad triumphant cry as she clambered from the quiet waters and stood upon the silent beach.

            Before her loomed a forest, darkly, and from its depths came those nameless sounds that are part of the night life of the jungle – the rustling of leaves in the wind, the rubbing together of contiguous branches, the scurrying of a rodent, all magnified by the darkness to sinister and awe-inspiring proportions; the hoot of an owl, the distant scream of a great cat, the barking of wild dogs, attested the presence of the myriad life she could not see – the savage life, the free life of which she was now a part. And then there came to her, possibly for the first time since the giant ape-man had come into her life, a fuller realization of what the jungle meant to him, for though alone and unprotected from its hideous dangers she yet felt its lure upon her and an exaltation that she had not dared hope to feel again.

            Ah, if that mighty mate of hers were but by her side! What utter joy and bliss would be hers! She longed for no more than this. The parade of cities, the comforts and luxuries of civilization held forth no allure half as insistent as the glorious freedom of the jungle.

            A lion moaned in the darkness to her right, eliciting delicious thrills that crept along her spine. The hair at the back of her head seemed to stand erect – yet she was unafraid. The muscles bequeathed her by some primordial ancestor reacted instinctively to the presence of an ancient enemy – that was all. The woman moved slowly and deliberately toward the wood. Again the lion moaned; this time nearer. She sought a low-hanging branch and finding it swung easily into the friendly shelter of the tree. The long and perilous journey with Obergatz had trained her muscles and her nerves to such unaccustomed habits. She found a safe resting place such as Tarzan had taught her was best and there she curled herself, thirty feet above the ground, for a night’s rest. She was cold and uncomfortable and yet she slept, for her heart was warm with

renewed hope and her tired brain had found temporary surcease from worry.

            She slept until the heat of the sun, high in the heavens, awakened her. She was rested and now her body was well as her heart was warm. A sensation of ease and comfort and happiness pervaded her being. She rose above her gently swaying couch and stretched luxuriously, her naked limbs and lithe body mottled by the sunlight filtering through the foliage above combined with the lazy gesture to impart to her appearance something of the leopard. With careful eye she scrutinized the ground below and with attentive ear she listened for any warning sound that might suggest the near presence of enemies, either man or beast. Satisfied at last that there was nothing close of which she need have fear she clambered to the ground. She wished to bathe but the lake was too exposed and just a bit too far from the safety of the trees for her to risk it until she became more familiar with her surroundings. She wandered aimlessly through the forest searching for food which she found in abundance. She ate and rested, but she had no objective as yet. Her freedom was too new to be spoiled by plannings for the future. The haunts of civilized man seemed to her as vague and unattainable as the half-forgotten substance of a dream. If she could but live on here in peace, waiting, waiting for – him. It was the old hope revived. She knew that he would come some day, if he lived. She had always known that, though recently she had believed that he would come too late. If he lived! Yes, he would come if he lived, and if he did not live she were as well off here as elsewhere, for then nothing mattered, only to wait for the end as patiently as might be.

            Her wanderings brought her to a crystal brook and there she drank and bathed beneath an overhanging tree that offered her quick asylum in the event of danger. It was a quiet and beautiful spot and she loved it from the first.

            I know those of you with sustained imaginations are watching the most beautiful woman in the world as she enjoys her bath in the nude. She really didn’t have that much on to begin with. A loin cloth and perhaps breastplates, that would have been it. Ah, splish! splash!

            The bottom of the brook was paved with pretty stones and bits of glassy obsidian. As she gathered a handful of the pebbles and held them up to look at them she noticed that one of her fingers was bleeding from a clean, straight cut. She fell to searching for the cause and presently discovered it in one of the fragments of volcanic glass which revealed an edge that was almost razor-like. Jane Clayton was elated. Here, God-given to her hands, was the first beginnng with which she might eventually arrive at both weapons and tools – a cutting edge. Everything was possible to him who possessed it – nothing without.

            Always room for a little woodcraft in a Tarzan story. She’s at the beginning all right – the beginning of the Stone Age, for, with the exception of sharp rocks, this was the first cutting tool of mankind.

            She sought until she had collected many of the precious bits of stone – until the pouch that hung at her right side was almost filled. Then she climbed into the great tree to examine them at leisure. There were some that looked like knife blades, and some that could be easily be fashioned into spear heads, and many smaller ones that nature seemed to have intended for the tips of savage arrows.

            The spear she would essay first – that would be easiest. There was a hollow in the bole of the tree in a great crotch high above the ground. Here she cached all of her treasure except a single knife-like sliver. With this she descended to the ground and searching out a slender sapling that grew arrow straight she hacked and sawed until she could break it off without splitting the wood. It was just the right diameter for the shaft of a spear – a hunting spear such as her beloved Waziri had liked best. How often had she watched them fashioning them, and they had taught her how to use them, too – laughing and clapping their hands as her proficiency increased.

            She knew the arborescent grasses that yielded the longest and toughest fibers and these she sought and carried to her tree with the spear shaft that was to be. Clambering to her crotch she bent to her work, humming softly a little tune. She caught herself and smiled – it was the first time in all these bitter months that song had passed her lips or such a smile.

            “I find,” she sighed, “I almost feel that John is near – my John – my Tarzan!

            She cut the spear shaft to the proper length and removed the twigs and branches and the bark, whittling and scraping at the nubs until the surface was all smooth and straight. Then she split one end and inserted a spear point, shaping the wood until it fitted perfectly. This done she laid the shaft aside and fell to splitting the thick grass stems and pounding and twisting them until she had separated and partially cleaned the fibers. These she took down to the brook and washed and brought back again and wound tightly around the cleft end of the shaft, which she had notched slightly with a bit of stone. It was a crude spear but the best that she attain in so short a time. Later, she promised herself, she should have others – many of them – and they would be spears which even the greatest of the Waziri spear-men might be proud.

            I personally liked the feeling I got when Jane slipped out of Mo-sar’s hands. Tarzan and his crack Waziri warriors had taught her how to survive in the jungle. Armed with a spear, what could go wrong? Unfortunately her trail is going to be hard to track since it ended in the canoe. So keep paddling upstream until next time.

ERB's JURASSIC PARK: TARZAN THE TERRIBLE ~ A Commentary by Woodrow Edgar Nichols, Jr.

PART I: Chapters 1-5
PART II: Chapters 6-10
PART III: Chapters 11-15
PART IV: Chapters 16-20
PART V: Chapters 21-25

PART III: ERBzine 7892 ~ ERBzine 7892a ~ ERBzine7892b ~ ERBzine 7892c ~ ERBzine 7892d

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