Burroughs, Edgar Rice - Tarzan 4 - Son Of Tarzan

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Son Of Tarzan, The
[pg/etext93/tarz410.txt]
THE SON OF TARZAN by Edgar Rice Burroughs
November, 1993 [Etext #90]
THE SON OF TARZAN
by
Edgar Rice Burroughs
TO HULBERT BURROUGHS
Chapter 1
The long boat of the Marjorie W. was floating down the
broad Ugambi with ebb tide and current. Her crew were
lazily enjoying this respite from the arduous labor of rowing
up stream. Three miles below them lay the Marjorie W.
herself, quite ready to sail so soon as they should have clambered
aboard and swung the long boat to its davits. Presently the
attention of every man was drawn from his dreaming or his
gossiping to the northern bank of the river. There, screaming
at them in a cracked falsetto and with skinny arms outstretched,
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
creature with scant white locks tangled and matted. The thin,
bent body was naked but for a loin cloth. Tears were rolling
down the sunken pock-marked cheeks. The man jabbered at
them in a strange tongue.
"Rooshun," hazarded the mate. "Savvy English?" he called
to the man.
He did, and in that tongue, brokenly and haltingly, as though
it had been many years since he had used it, he begged them to
take him with them away from this awful country. Once on
board the Marjorie W. the stranger told his rescuers a pitiful
tale of privation, hardships, and torture, extending over a period
of ten years. How he happened to have come to Africa he did not
tell them, leaving them to assume he had forgotten the incidents
of his life prior to the frightful ordeals that had wrecked him
mentally and physically. He did not even tell them his true name,
and so they knew him only as Michael Sabrov, nor was there any
resemblance between this sorry wreck and the virile, though
unprincipled, Alexis Paulvitch of old.
It had been ten years since the Russian had escaped the fate
of his friend, the arch-fiend Rokoff, and not once, but many
times during those ten years had Paulvitch cursed the fate that
had given to Nicholas Rokoff death and immunity from suffering
while it had meted to him the hideous terrors of an existence
infinitely worse than the death that persistently refused to
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claim him.
Paulvitch had taken to the jungle when he had seen the beasts
of Tarzan and their savage lord swarm the deck of the Kincaid,
and in his terror lest Tarzan pursue and capture him he had
stumbled on deep into the jungle, only to fall at last into the
hands of one of the savage cannibal tribes that had felt the weight
of Rokoff’s evil temper and cruel brutality. Some strange whim
of the chief of this tribe saved Paulvitch from death only to
plunge him into a life of misery and torture. For ten years he
had been the butt of the village, beaten and stoned by the women
and children, cut and slashed and disfigured by the warriors;
a victim of often recurring fevers of the most malignant variety.
Yet he did not die. Smallpox laid its hideous clutches upon him;
leaving him unspeakably branded with its repulsive marks.
Between it and the attentions of the tribe the countenance of
Alexis Paulvitch was so altered that his own mother could not
have recognized in the pitiful mask he called his face a single
familiar feature. A few scraggly, yellow-white locks had supplanted
the thick, dark hair that had covered his head. His limbs were bent
and twisted, he walked with a shuffling, unsteady gait, his body
doubled forward. His teeth were gone--knocked out by his savage masters.
Even his mentality was but a sorry mockery of what it once had been.
They took him aboard the Marjorie W., and there they fed
and nursed him. He gained a little in strength; but his
appearance never altered for the better--a human derelict,
battered and wrecked, they had found him; a human derelict,
battered and wrecked, he would remain until death claimed him.
Though still in his thirties, Alexis Paulvitch could easily
have passed for eighty. Inscrutable Nature had demanded of
the accomplice a greater penalty than his principal had paid.
In the mind of Alexis Paulvitch there lingered no thoughts of
revenge--only a dull hatred of the man whom he and Rokoff
had tried to break, and failed. There was hatred, too, of the
memory of 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 he had had to flee. There was hatred of law,
hatred of order, hatred of everything. Every moment of the man’s
waking life was filled with morbid thought of hatred--he had
become mentally as he was physically in outward appearance,
the personification of the blighting emotion of Hate. He had
little or nothing to do with the men who had rescued him.
He was too weak to work and too morose for 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 out to search for some natural product which the
manufacturers who footed the bills had been importing from
South America at an enormous cost. What the product was none
on board the Marjorie W. knew except the scientists, nor is
it of any moment to us, other than that it led the ship to a
certain island off the coast of Africa after Alexis Paulvitch
had been taken aboard.
The ship lay at anchor off the coast for several weeks.
The monotony of life aboard her became trying for the crew.
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They went often ashore, and finally Paulvitch asked to accompany
them--he too was tiring of the blighting sameness of existence
upon the ship.
The island was heavily timbered. Dense jungle ran down almost
to the beach. The scientists were far inland, prosecuting
their search for the valuable commodity that native rumor upon
the mainland had led them to believe might be found here in
marketable quantity. The ship’s company fished, hunted,
and explored. Paulvitch shuffled up and down the beach, or lay
in the shade of the great trees that skirted it. One day, as the
men were gathered at a little distance inspecting the body of a
panther that had fallen to the gun of one of them who had been
hunting inland, Paulvitch lay sleeping beneath his 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 squatting at his side,
inspecting him intently. The Russian was thoroughly frightened.
He glanced toward the sailors--they were a couple of hundred
yards away. Again the ape plucked at his shoulder, jabbering
plaintively. Paulvitch saw no menace in the inquiring gaze, or
in the attitude of the beast. He got slowly to his feet. The ape
rose 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
almost to the little knot of men before they were seen, and
by this time Paulvitch had become assured that the beast
meant no harm. The animal evidently was accustomed to the
association of human beings. It occurred to the Russian that the
ape represented a certain considerable money value, and before
they reached the sailors he had decided he should be the one to
profit by it.
When the men looked up and saw the oddly paired couple
shuffling toward them they were filled with amazement, and
started on a run toward the two. The ape showed no sign of fear.
Instead he grasped each sailor by the shoulder and peered long
and earnestly into his face. Having inspected them all he
returned to Paulvitch’s side, disappointment written strongly
upon his countenance and in his carriage.
The men were delighted with him. They gathered about,
asking Paulvitch many questions, and examining his companion.
The Russian told them that the ape was his--nothing further
would he offer--but kept harping continually upon the same
theme, "The ape is mine. The ape is mine." Tiring of Paulvitch,
one of the men essayed a pleasantry. Circling about behind the
ape he prodded the anthropoid in the back with a pin. Like a
flash the beast wheeled upon its tormentor, and, in the briefest
instant of turning, the placid, friendly animal was metamorphosed
to a frenzied demon of rage. The broad grin that had sat upon
the sailor’s face as he perpetrated his little joke froze to an
expression of terror. He attempted to dodge the long arms
that reached for him; but, failing, drew a long knife that hung
at his belt. With a single wrench the ape tore the weapon from
the man’s grasp and flung it to one side, then his yellow fangs
were buried in the sailor’s shoulder.
With sticks and knives the man’s companions fell upon the
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beast, while Paulvitch danced around the cursing snarling pack
mumbling and screaming pleas and threats. He saw his visions
of wealth rapidly dissipating before the weapons of the sailors.
The ape, however, proved no easy victim to the superior numbers
that seemed fated to overwhelm him. Rising from the sailor
who had precipitated the battle he shook his giant shoulders,
freeing himself from two of the men that were clinging to his
back, and with mighty blows of his open palms felled one after
another of his attackers, leaping hither and thither with the
agility of a small monkey.
The fight had been witnessed by the captain and mate who
were just landing from the Marjorie W., and Paulvitch saw
these two now running forward with drawn revolvers while the
two sailors who had brought them ashore trailed at their heels.
The ape stood looking about him at the havoc he had wrought, but
whether he was awaiting a renewal of the attack or was
deliberating which of his foes he should exterminate first
Paulvitch could not guess. What he could guess, however,
was that the moment the two officers came within firing distance
of the beast they would put an end to him in short order unless
something were done and done quickly to prevent. The ape had
made no move to attack the Russian but even so the man was none
too sure of what might happen were he to interfere with the savage
beast, now thoroughly aroused to bestial rage, and with the
smell of new spilled blood fresh in its nostrils. For an instant he
hesitated, and then again there rose before him the dreams of
affluence which this great anthropoid would doubtless turn to
realities once Paulvitch had landed him safely in some great
metropolis like London.
The captain was shouting to him now to stand aside that he
might have a shot at the animal; but instead Paulvitch shuffled
to the ape’s side, and though the man’s hair quivered at its roots
he mastered his fear and laid hold of the ape’s arm.
"Come!" he commanded, and tugged to pull the beast from
among the sailors, many of whom were now sitting up in wide
eyed fright or crawling away from their conqueror upon hands
and knees.
Slowly the ape permitted itself to be led to one side, nor did
it show the slightest indication of a desire to harm the Russian.
The captain came to a halt a few paces from the odd pair.
"Get aside, Sabrov!" he commanded. "I’ll put that brute
where he won’t chew up any more able seamen."
"It wasn’t his fault, captain," pleaded Paulvitch. "Please don’t
shoot him. The men started it--they attacked him first. You see,
he’s perfectly gentle--and he’s mine--he’s mine--he’s mine!
I won’t let you kill him," he concluded, as his half-wrecked
mentality pictured anew the pleasure that money would buy in
London--money that he could not hope to possess without some
such windfall as the ape represented.
The captain lowered his weapon. "The men started it, did
they?" he repeated. "How about that?" and he turned toward
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the sailors who had by this time picked themselves from the
ground, none of them much the worse for his experience except
the fellow who had been the cause of it, and who would
doubtless nurse a sore shoulder for a week or so.
"Simpson done it," said one of the men. "He stuck a pin
into the monk from behind, and the monk got him--which
served him bloomin’ well right--an’ he got the rest of us, too,
for which I can’t blame him, since we all jumped him to once."
The captain looked at Simpson, who sheepishly admitted the
truth of the allegation, then he stepped over to the ape as though
to discover for himself the sort of temper the beast possessed,
but it was noticeable that he kept his revolver cocked and leveled
as he did so. However, he spoke soothingly to the animal who
squatted at the Russian’s side looking first at one and then
another of the sailors. As the captain approached him the ape
half rose and waddled forward to meet him. Upon his countenance
was the same strange, searching expression that had marked his
scrutiny of each of the sailors he had first encountered. He came
quite close to the officer and laid a paw upon one of the man’s
shoulders, studying his face intently for a long moment, then
came the expression of disappointment accompanied by what
was almost a human sigh, as he turned away to peer in the same
curious fashion into the faces of the mate and the two sailors
who had arrived with the officers. In each instance he sighed
and passed on, returning at length to Paulvitch’s side, where he
squatted down once more; thereafter evincing little or no
interest in any of the other men, and apparently forgetful
of his recent battle with them.
When the party returned aboard the Marjorie W., Paulvitch
was accompanied by the ape, who seemed anxious to follow him.
The captain interposed no obstacles to the arrangement,
and so the great anthropoid was tacitly admitted to membership
in the ship’s company. Once aboard he examined each new face
minutely, evincing the same disappointment in each instance
that had marked his scrutiny of the others. The officers and
scientists aboard often discussed the beast, but they were unable
to account satisfactorily for the strange ceremony with which he
greeted each new face. Had he been discovered upon the mainland,
or any other place than the almost unknown island that
had been his home, they would have concluded that he had
formerly been a pet of man; but that theory was not tenable in
the face of the isolation of his uninhabited island. He seemed
continually to be searching for someone, and during the first
days of the return voyage from the island he was often discovered
nosing about in various parts of the ship; but after he had seen
and examined each face of the ship’s company, and explored
every corner of the vessel he lapsed into utter indifference of all
about him. Even the Russian elicited only casual interest when
he brought him food. At other times the ape appeared merely
to tolerate him. He never showed affection for him, or for anyone
else upon the Marjorie W., nor did he at any time evince any
indication of the savage temper that had marked his resentment
of the attack of the sailors upon him at the time that he had come
among them.
Most of his time was spent in the eye of the ship scanning the
5
horizon ahead, as though he were endowed with sufficient reason
to know that the vessel was bound for some port where there
would be other human beings to undergo his searching scrutiny.
All in all, Ajax, as he had been dubbed, was considered the
most remarkable and intelligent ape that any one aboard the
Marjorie W. ever had seen. Nor was his intelligence the only
remarkable attribute he owned. His stature and physique were,
for an ape, awe inspiring. That he was old was quite evident,
but if his age had impaired his physical or mental powers in the
slightest it was not apparent.
And so at length the Marjorie W. came to England, and there
the officers and the scientists, filled with compassion for the
pitiful wreck of a man they had rescued from the jungles,
furnished Paulvitch with funds and bid him and his Ajax Godspeed.
Upon the dock and all through the journey to London the
Russian had his hands full with Ajax. Each new face of the
thousands that came within the anthropoid’s ken must be
carefully scrutinized, much to the horror of many of his
victims; but at last, failing, apparently, to discover whom
he sought, the great ape relapsed into morbid indifference,
only occasionally evincing interest in a passing face.
In London, Paulvitch went directly with his prize to a certain
famous animal trainer. This man was much impressed with Ajax
with the result that he agreed to train him for a lion’s share of
the profits of exhibiting him, and in the meantime to provide for
the keep of both the ape and his owner.
And so came Ajax to London, and there was forged another link
in the chain of strange circumstances that were to affect the
lives of many people.
Chapter 2
Mr. Harold Moore was a bilious-countenanced, studious
young man. He took himself very seriously, and life, and
his work, which latter was the tutoring of the young son of a
British nobleman. He felt that his charge was not making the
progress that his parents had a right to expect, and he was now
conscientiously explaining this fact to the boy’s mother.
"It’s not that he isn’t bright," he was saying; "if that were
true I should have hopes of succeeding, for then I might bring
to bear all my energies in overcoming his obtuseness; but the
trouble is that he is exceptionally intelligent, and learns so
quickly that I can find no fault in the matter of the preparation
of his lessons. What concerns me, however, is that fact that he
evidently takes no interest whatever in the subjects we are studying.
He merely accomplishes each lesson as a task to be rid of
as quickly as possible and I am sure that no lesson ever again
enters his mind until the hours of study and recitation once
more arrive. His sole interests seem to be feats of physical
prowess and the reading of everything that he can get hold of
relative to savage beasts and the lives and customs of uncivilized
peoples; but particularly do stories of animals appeal to him.
He will sit for hours together poring over the work of some
African explorer, and upon two occasions I have found him setting
6
up in bed at night reading Carl Hagenbeck’s book on men and beasts."
The boy’s mother tapped her foot nervously upon the hearth rug.
"You discourage this, of course?" she ventured.
Mr. Moore shuffled embarrassedly.
"I--ah--essayed to take the book from him," he replied, a
slight flush mounting his sallow cheek; "but--ah--your son is
quite muscular for one so young."
"He wouldn’t let you take it?" asked the mother.
"He would not," confessed the tutor. "He was perfectly good
natured about it; but he insisted upon pretending that he was a
gorilla and that I was a chimpanzee attempting to steal food
from him. He leaped upon me with the most savage growls I
ever heard, lifted me completely above his head, hurled me
upon his bed, and after going through a pantomime indicative
of choking me to death he stood upon my prostrate form and
gave voice to a most fearsome shriek, which he explained was
the victory cry of a bull ape. Then he carried me to the door,
shoved me out into the hall and locked me from his room."
For several minutes neither spoke again. It was the boy’s
mother who finally broke the silence.
"It is very necessary, Mr. Moore," she said, "that you do
everything in your power to discourage this tendency in Jack,
he--"; but she got no further. A loud "Whoop!" from the
direction of the window brought them both to their feet.
The room was upon the second floor of the house, and opposite
the window to which their attention had been attracted was a
large tree, a branch of which spread to within a few feet of
the sill. Upon this branch now they both discovered the subject
of their recent conversation, a tall, well-built boy, balancing
with ease upon the bending limb and uttering loud shouts of glee
as he noted the terrified expressions upon the faces of his audience.
The mother and tutor both rushed toward the window but before
they had crossed half the room the boy had leaped nimbly to the
sill and entered the apartment with them.
"‘The wild man from Borneo has just come to town,’" he sang,
dancing a species of war dance about his terrified mother
and scandalized tutor, and ending up by throwing his arms about
the former’s neck and kissing her upon either cheek.
"Oh, Mother," he cried, "there’s a wonderful, educated ape
being shown at one of the music halls. Willie Grimsby saw it
last night. He says it can do everything but talk. It rides
a bicycle, eats with knife and fork, counts up to ten, and ever
so many other wonderful things, and can I go and see it too?
Oh, please, Mother--please let me."
Patting the boy’s cheek affectionately, the mother shook her
head negatively. "No, Jack," she said; "you know I do not
approve of such exhibitions."
7
"I don’t see why not, Mother," replied the boy. "All the
other fellows go and they go to the Zoo, too, and you’ll never
let me do even that. Anybody’d think I was a girl--or
a mollycoddle. Oh, Father," he exclaimed, as the door opened
to admit a tall gray-eyed man. "Oh, Father, can’t I go?"
"Go where, my son?" asked the newcomer.
"He wants to go to a music hall to see a trained ape," said
the mother, looking warningly at her husband.
"Who, Ajax?" questioned the man.
The boy nodded.
"Well, I don’t know that I blame you, my son," said the father,
"I wouldn’t mind seeing him myself. They say he is very
wonderful, and that for an anthropoid he is unusually large.
Let’s all go, Jane--what do you say?" And he turned toward his
wife, but that lady only shook her head in a most positive
manner, and turning to Mr. Moore asked him if it was not time
that he and Jack were in the study for the morning recitations.
When the two had left she turned toward her husband.
"John," she said, "something must be done to discourage Jack’s
tendency toward anything that may excite the cravings for the
savage life which I fear he has inherited from you. You know
from your own experience how strong is the call of the wild
at times. You know that often it has necessitated a stern
struggle on your part to resist the almost insane desire which
occasionally overwhelms you to plunge once again into the jungle
life that claimed you for so many years, and at the same time you
know, better than any other, how frightful a fate it would be for
Jack, were the trail to the savage jungle made either alluring or
easy to him."
"I doubt if there is any danger of his inheriting a taste for
jungle life from me," replied the man, "for I cannot conceive
that such a thing may be transmitted from father to son.
And sometimes, Jane, I think that in your solicitude for his
future you go a bit too far in your restrictive measures.
His love for animals--his desire, for example, to see this
trained ape--is only natural in a healthy, normal boy of his age.
Just because he wants to see Ajax is no indication that he would
wish to marry an ape, and even should he, far be it from you Jane
to have the right to cry ‘shame!’" and John Clayton, Lord
Greystoke, put an arm about his wife, laughing good-naturedly
down into her upturned face before he bent his head and kissed her.
Then, more seriously, he continued: "You have never told Jack
anything concerning my early life, nor have you permitted me to,
and in this I think that you have made a mistake. Had I been
able to tell him of the experiences of Tarzan of the Apes I could
doubtless have taken much of the glamour and romance from
jungle life that naturally surrounds it in the minds of those who
have had no experience of it. He might then have profited by my
experience, but now, should the jungle lust ever claim him, he
will have nothing to guide him but his own impulses, and I know
how powerful these may be in the wrong direction at times."
8
But Lady Greystoke only shook her head as she had a hundred
other times when the subject had claimed her attention in the past.
"No, John," she insisted, "I shall never give my consent to
the implanting in Jack’s mind of any suggestion of the savage
life which we both wish to preserve him from."
It was evening before the subject was again referred to and
then it was raised by Jack himself. He had been sitting, curled
in a large chair, reading, when he suddenly looked up and
addressed his father.
"Why," he asked, coming directly to the point, "can’t I go
and see Ajax?"
"Your mother does not approve," replied his father.
"Do you?"
"That is not the question," evaded Lord Greystoke. "It is
enough that your mother objects."
"I am going to see him," announced the boy, after a few
moments of thoughtful silence. "I am not different from Willie
Grimsby, or any other of the fellows who have been to see him.
It did not harm them and it will not harm me. I could go without
telling you; but I would not do that. So I tell you now,
beforehand, that I am going to see Ajax."
There was nothing disrespectful or defiant in the boy’s tone
or manner. His was merely a dispassionate statement of facts.
His father could scarce repress either a smile or a show of the
admiration he felt for the manly course his son had pursued.
"I admire your candor, Jack," he said. "Permit me to be candid,
as well. If you go to see Ajax without permission, I shall
punish you. I have never inflicted corporal punishment upon
you, but I warn you that should you disobey your mother’s wishes
in this instance, I shall."
"Yes, sir," replied the boy; and then: "I shall tell you, sir,
when I have been to see Ajax."
Mr. Moore’s room was next to that of his youthful charge,
and it was the tutor’s custom to have a look into the boy’s each
evening as the former was about to retire. This evening he was
particularly careful not to neglect his duty, for he had just come
from a conference with the boy’s father and mother in which it
had been impressed upon him that he must exercise the greatest
care to prevent Jack visiting the music hall where Ajax was
being shown. So, when he opened the boy’s door at about half
after nine, he was greatly excited, though not entirely surprised
to find the future Lord Greystoke fully dressed for the street and
about to crawl from his open bed room window.
Mr. Moore made a rapid spring across the apartment; but the
waste of energy was unnecessary, for when the boy heard him
within the chamber and realized that he had been discovered he
9
turned back as though to relinquish his planned adventure.
"Where were you going?" panted the excited Mr. Moore.
"I am going to see Ajax," replied the boy, quietly.
"I am astonished," cried Mr. Moore; but a moment later he
was infinitely more astonished, for the boy, approaching close
to him, suddenly seized him about the waist, lifted him from
his feet and threw him face downward upon the bed, shoving
his face deep into a soft pillow.
"Be quiet," admonished the victor, "or I’ll choke you."
Mr. Moore struggled; but his efforts were in vain. Whatever else
Tarzan of the Apes may or may not have handed down to his son
he had at least bequeathed him almost as marvelous a physique
as he himself had possessed at the same age. The tutor was as
putty in the boy’s hands. Kneeling upon him, Jack tore strips
from a sheet and bound the man’s hands behind his back. Then he
rolled him over and stuffed a gag of the same material between
his teeth, securing it with a strip wound about the back of his
victim’s head. All the while he talked in a low, conversational tone.
"I am Waja, chief of the Waji," he explained, "and you are
Mohammed Dubn, the Arab sheik, who would murder my people and
steal my ivory," and he dexterously trussed Mr. Moore’s hobbled
ankles up behind to meet his hobbled wrists. "Ah--ha! Villain!
I have you in me power at last. I go; but I shall return!"
And the son of Tarzan skipped across the room, slipped through
the open window, and slid to liberty by way of the down spout
from an eaves trough.
Mr. Moore wriggled and struggled about the bed. He was
sure that he should suffocate unless aid came quickly. In his
frenzy of terror he managed to roll off the bed. The pain and
shock of the fall jolted him back to something like sane
consideration of his plight. Where before he had been unable
to think intelligently because of the hysterical fear that had
claimed him he now lay quietly searching for some means of escape
from his dilemma. It finally occurred to him that the room in
which Lord and Lady Greystoke had been sitting when he left them
was directly beneath that in which he lay upon the floor. He knew
that some time had elapsed since he had come up stairs and that
they might be gone by this time, for it seemed to him that he
had struggled about the bed, in his efforts to free himself, for
an eternity. But the best that he could do was to attempt to attract
attention from below, and so, after many failures, he managed
to work himself into a position in which he could tap the toe of
his boot against the floor. This he proceeded to do at short
intervals, until, after what seemed a very long time, he was
rewarded by hearing footsteps ascending the stairs, and presently
a knock upon the door. Mr. Moore tapped vigorously with
his toe--he could not reply in any other way. The knock was
repeated after a moment’s silence. Again Mr. Moore tapped.
Would they never open the door! Laboriously he rolled in the
direction of succor. If he could get his back against the door
he could then tap upon its base, when surely he must be heard.
The knocking was repeated a little louder, and finally a voice
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SonOfTarzan,The[pg/etext93/tarz410.txt]THESONOFTARZANbyEdgarRiceBurroughsNovember,1993[Etext#90]THESONOFTARZANbyEdgarRiceBurroughsTOHULBERTBURROUGHSChapter1ThelongboatoftheMarjorieW.wasfloatingdownthebroadUgambiwithebbtideandcurrent.Hercrewwerelazilyenjoyingthisrespitefromthearduouslaborofrowingupst...

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分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：176 页 大小：646.64KB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-07

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