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 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
The Son of Tarzan
The Son of Tarzan 2