FEAR
We went up on deck
after dinner. Before us the Mediterranean lay without a ripple and shimmering
in the moonlight. The great ship glided on, casting upward to the star-studded
sky a long serpent of black smoke. Behind us the dazzling white water, stirred
by the rapid progress of the heavy bark and beaten by the propeller, foamed,
seemed to writhe, gave off so much brilliancy that one could have called it boiling
moonlight.
There
were six or eight of us silent with admiration and gazing toward far-away
Africa whither we were going. The commandant, who was smoking a cigar with us,
brusquely resumed the conversation begun at dinner.
"Yes,
I was afraid then. My ship remained for six hours on that rock, beaten by the
wind and with a great hole in the side. Luckily we were picked up toward
evening by an English coaler which sighted us."
Then
a tall man of sunburned face and grave demeanor, one of those men who have
evidently traveled unknown and far-away lands, whose calm eye seems to preserve
in its depths something of the foreign scenes it has observed, a man that you
are sure is impregnated with courage, spoke for the first time.
"You
say, commandant, that you were afraid. I beg to disagree with you. You are in
error as to the meaning of the word and the nature of the sensation that you
experienced. An energetic man is never afraid in the presence of urgent danger.
He is excited, aroused, full of anxiety, but fear is something quite
different."
The
commandant laughed and answered: "Bah! I assure you that I was afraid."
Then
the man of the tanned countenance addressed us deliberately as follows:
"Permit
me to explain. Fear--and the boldest men may feel fear—is something horrible,
an atrocious sensation, a sort of decomposition of the soul, a terrible spasm
of brain and heart, the very memory of which brings a shudder of anguish, but
when one is brave he feels it neither under fire nor in the presence of sure
death nor in the face of any well-known danger. It springs up under certain
abnormal conditions, under certain mysterious influences in the presence of
vague peril. Real fear is a sort of reminiscence of fantastic terror of the
past. A man who believes in ghosts and imagines he sees a specter in the darkness
must feel fear in all its horror."As for me I was overwhelmed with fear in
broad daylight about ten years ago and again one December night last winter.
"Nevertheless,
I have gone through many dangers, many adventures which seemed to promise
death. I have often been in battle. I have been left for dead by thieves. In
America I was condemned as an insurgent to be hanged, and off the coast of
China have been thrown into the sea from the deck of a ship. Each time I
thought I was lost I at once decided upon my course of action without regret or
weakness.
"That
is not fear.
"I
have felt it in Africa, and yet it is a child of the north. The sunlight
banishes it like the mist. Consider this fact, gentlemen. Among the Orientals
life has no value; resignation is natural. The nights are clear and empty of
the somber spirit of unrest which haunts the brain in cooler lands. In the
Orient panic is known, but not fear.
"Well,
then! Here is the incident that befell me in Africa.
"I
was crossing the great sands to the south of Onargla. It is one of the most
curious districts in the world. You have seen the solid continuous sand of the
endless ocean strands. Well, imagine the ocean itself turned to sand in the
midst of a storm. Imagine a silent tempest with motionless billows of yellow
dust. They are high as mountains, these uneven, varied surges, rising exactly
like unchained billows, but still
larger, and stratified like watered silk. On this wild, silent, and motionless
sea, the consuming rays of the tropical sun are poured pitilessly and directly.
You have to climb these streaks of red-hot ash, descend again on the other
side, climb again, climb, climb without halt, without repose, without shade.
The horses cough, sink to their knees and slide down the sides of these remarkable
hills.
"We
were a couple of friends followed by eight spahis and four camels with their
drivers. We were no longer talking, overcome by heat, fatigue, and a thirst
such as had produced this burning desert. Suddenly one of our men uttered a
cry. We all halted, surprised by an unsolved phenomenon known only to travelers
in these trackless wastes.
"Somewhere,
near us, in an indeterminable direction, a drum was rolling, the mysterious
drum of the sands. It was beating distinctly, now with greater resonance and
again feebler, ceasing, then resuming its uncanny roll.
"The
Arabs, terrified, stared at one another, and one said in his language: 'Death
is upon us.' As he spoke, my companion, my friend, almost a brother, dropped
from his horse, falling face downward on the sand, overcome by a sunstroke.
"And
for two hours, while I tried in vain to save him, this weird drum filled my
ears with its monotonous, intermittent and incomprehensible tone, and I felt
lay hold of my bones fear, real fear, hideous fear, in the presence of this
beloved corpse, in this hole scorched by the sun, surrounded by four mountains
of sand, and two hundred leagues from any French settlement, while echo
assailed our ears with this furious drum beat.
"On
that day I realized what fear was, but since then I have had another, and still
more vivid experience--"
The
commandant interrupted the speaker:
"I
beg your pardon, but what was the drum?"
The
traveler replied:
"I
cannot say. No one knows. Our officers are often surprised by this singular
noise and attribute it generally to the echo produced by a hail of grains of
sand blown by the wind against the dry and brittle leaves of weeds, for it has
always been noticed that the phenomenon occurs in proximity to little plants
burned by the sun and hard as parchment. This sound seems to have been
magnified, multiplied, and swelled beyond measure in its progress through the
valleys of sand, and the drum therefore might be considered a sort of sound
mirage. Nothing more. But I did not know that until later.
"I
shall proceed to my second instance.
"It
was last winter, in a forest of the Northeast of France. The sky was so
overcast that night came two hours earlier than usual. My guide was a peasant
who walked beside me along the narrow road, under the vault of fir trees,
through which the wind in its fury howled. Between the tree tops, I saw the
fleeting clouds, which seemed to hasten as if to escape some object of terror.
Sometimes in a fierce gust of wind the whole forest bowed in the same direction
with a groan of pain, and a chill laid hold of me, despite my rapid pace and
heavy clothing.
"We
were to sup and sleep at an old gamekeeper's house not much farther on. I had
come out for hunting.
"My
guide sometimes raised his eyes and murmured: 'Ugly weather!' Then he told me
about the people among whom we were to spend the night. The father had killed a
poacher, two years before, and since then had been gloomy and behaved as though
haunted by a memory. His two sons were married and lived with him.
"The
darkness was profound. I could see nothing before me nor around me and the mass
of overhanging interlacing trees rubbed together, filling the night with an
incessant whispering. Finally I saw a light and soon my companion was knocking
upon a door. Sharp women's voices answered us, then a man's voice, a choking
voice, asked, 'Who goes there?' My guide gave his name. We entered and beheld a
memorable picture.
"An
old man with white hair, wild eyes, and a loaded gun in his hands, stood
waiting for us in the middle of the kitchen, while two stalwart youths, armed
with axes, guarded the door. In the somber corners I distinguished two women
kneeling with faces to the wall.
"Matters
were explained, and the old man stood his gun against the wall, at the same
time ordering that a room be prepared for me. Then, as the women did not stir:
'Look you, monsieur,' said he, 'two years ago this night I killed a man, and
last year he came back to haunt me. I expect him again to-night.'
"Then
he added in a tone that made me smile:
"'And
so we are somewhat excited.'
"I
reassured him as best I could, happy to have arrived on that particular evening
and to witness this superstitious terror. I told stories and almost succeeded
in calming the whole household.
"Near
the fireplace slept an old dog, mustached and almost blind, with his head
between his paws, such a dog as reminds you of people you have known.
"Outside,
the raging storm was beating against the little house, and suddenly through a
small pane of glass, a sort of peep-window placed near the door, I saw in a
brilliant flash of lightning a whole mass of trees thrashed by the wind.
"In
spite of my efforts, I realized that terror was laying hold of these people,
and each time that I ceased to speak, all ears listened for distant sounds.
Annoyed at these foolish fears, I was about to retire to my bed, when the old
gamekeeper suddenly leaped from his chair, seized his gun and stammered wildly:
'There he is, there he is! I hear him!' The two women again sank upon their
knees in the corner and hid their faces, while the sons took up the axes. I was
going to try to pacify them once more, when the sleeping dog awakened suddenly and,
raising his head and stretching his neck, looked at the fire with his dim eyes
and uttered one of those mournful howls which make travelers shudder in the
darkness and solitude of the country. All eyes were focused upon him now as he
rose on his front feet, as though haunted by a vision, and began to howl at
something invisible, unknown, and doubtless horrible, for he was bristling all
over. The gamekeeper with livid face cried: 'He scents him! He scents him! He
was there when I killed him.' The two women, terrified, began to wail in
concert with the dog.
"In
spite of myself, cold chills ran down my spine. This vision of theanimal at
such a time and place, in the midst of these startled people, was something
frightful to witness.
"Then
for an hour the dog howled without stirring; he howled as though in the anguish
of a nightmare; and fear, horrible fear came over me. Fear of what? How can I
say? It was fear, and that is all I know.
"We
remained motionless and pale, expecting something awful to happen. Our ears
were strained and our hearts beat loudly while the slightest noise startled us.
Then the beast began to walk around the room, sniffing at the walls and
growling constantly. His maneuvers were driving us mad! Then the countryman,
who had brought me thither, in a paroxysm of rage, seized the dog, and carrying
him to a door, which opened into a small court, thrust him forth.
"The
noise was suppressed and we were left plunged in a silence still more terrible.
Then suddenly we all started. Some one was gliding along the outside wall
toward the forest; then he seemed to be feeling of the door with a trembling
hand; then for two minutes nothing was heard and we almost lost our minds. Then
he returned, still feeling along the wall, and scratched lightly upon the door
as a child might do with his finger nails. Suddenly a face appeared behind the
glass of the peep-window, a white face with eyes shining like those of the cat tribe.
A sound was heard, an indistinct plaintive murmur.
"Then
there was a formidable burst of noise in the kitchen. The old gamekeeper had
fired and the two sons at once rushed forward and barricaded the window with
the great table, reinforcing it with the buffet.
"I
swear to you that at the shock of the gun's discharge, which I did not expect,
such an anguish laid hold of my heart, my soul, and my very body that I felt
myself about to fall, about to die from fear.
"We
remained there until dawn, unable to move, in short, seized by an indescribable
numbness of the brain.
"No
one dared to remove the barricade until a thin ray of sunlight appeared through
a crack in the back room.
"At
the base of the wall and under the window, we found the old dog lying dead, his
skull shattered by a ball.
"He
had escaped from the little court by digging a hole under a fence."
The
dark-visaged man became silent, then he added:
"And
yet on that night I incurred no danger, but I should rather again pass through
all the hours in which I have confronted the most terrible perils than the one
minute when that gun was discharged at the bearded head in the window."
1882.
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