CHAPTER XIV

by Arthur Conan Doyle

**Those Were the Real Conquests**

We thought we were safe, hidden away from our pursuers, the ape-men. But soon enough, we realized how wrong we were. The woods were silent; not a single leaf stirred, and everything felt peaceful. Yet, our previous encounters should have taught us that these creatures were patient and cunning, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Whatever fate awaited me in life, I was certain I had never been closer to death than I was that morning. But let me tell the story in order.

We all woke up feeling drained from the intense emotions and meager food of the day before. Summerlee was still so weak that standing was a struggle for him. Yet, the old man had a stubborn courage that refused to accept defeat. We held a meeting and decided to stay put for a couple of hours, have a much-needed breakfast, and then make our way across the plateau and around the central lake to the caves where my observations indicated the Indians lived. We counted on the goodwill of those we had rescued to ensure a warm welcome from their people. Once our mission was complete and we had a deeper understanding of the secrets of Maple White Land, we would focus entirely on the crucial task of escaping and returning home. Even Challenger agreed that once we accomplished that, we would have fulfilled our purpose and our primary responsibility would be to bring back the astonishing discoveries we had made.

Now, we could take a closer look at the Indians we had rescued. They were small, wiry, and well-built, with long black hair tied back with leather thongs. Their loincloths were made of leather too. Their faces were smooth, well-formed, and friendly. The ragged, bloody lobes of their ears showed that they had been pierced for ornaments that their captors had ripped away. Although we couldn’t understand their language, they spoke fluently among themselves. As they pointed to one another and repeated the word “Accala” numerous times, we gathered that this was the name of their nation. Occasionally, their faces twisted with fear and anger as they shook their fists at the surrounding woods and shouted, “Doda! Doda!”—clearly a term for their enemies.

“What do you think, Challenger?” Lord John asked. “One thing is clear to me: the little guy with the shaved front of his head is a chief among them.”

It was obvious that this man was different from the others; they showed him deep respect and never addressed him without it. He seemed to be the youngest of the group, yet his pride and spirit were undeniable. When Challenger placed his large hand on his head, the young man flinched as if startled and quickly moved away, his dark eyes flashing with intensity. Then, placing his hand on his chest and standing tall, he repeated the word “Maretas” several times.

Unfazed, Challenger grabbed the nearest Indian by the shoulder and began to lecture him as if he were a specimen in a classroom.

“The type of these people,” he said in his booming voice, “whether judged by cranial capacity, facial angle, or any other measure, cannot be considered low. On the contrary, we must rank them considerably higher than many South American tribes I could name. There’s no way to explain the evolution of such a race in this place. In fact, the gap between these ape-men and the primitive animals that still exist on this plateau is so vast that it’s impossible to believe they could have developed here.”

“Then where the hell did they come from?” Lord John asked.

"A question that will surely spark lively debate in every scientific society across Europe and America," the Professor replied. He puffed out his chest dramatically and glanced around with an air of arrogance. "From my perspective, and for what it’s worth—" he continued, "evolution in this country has progressed to the vertebrate stage under unique conditions, with older species coexisting alongside newer ones.

Take, for instance, modern animals like the tapir—an animal with a respectable lineage—the great deer, and the anteater, all living alongside reptilian forms from the Jurassic period. That much is clear. Now we have the ape-men and the Indians. What are we to make of their presence? I can only explain it as an invasion from outside. It’s likely that an anthropoid ape once roamed South America, found its way here, and evolved into the beings we’ve encountered. Some of those beings—" he fixed his gaze on me—"had a form and appearance that, if matched with the right intelligence, could have brought honor to any living race. As for the Indians, I believe they are more recent arrivals from below. Driven by famine or conquest, they made their way up here.

Faced with fierce creatures they had never encountered before, they took refuge in the caves our young friend described. But they must have fought hard to defend themselves against wild beasts, especially the ape-men, who would see them as intruders and wage a relentless war with a cunning that the larger animals lack. This explains why their numbers seem so limited. So, gentlemen, have I unraveled this riddle correctly, or is there something you’d like to question?"

For once, Professor Summerlee seemed too disheartened to argue, though he shook his head vigorously as a sign of disagreement. Lord John simply scratched his thinning hair and remarked that he couldn’t engage in a debate since he wasn’t in the same league. As for me, I took my usual role of grounding the conversation in reality by pointing out that one of the Indians was missing.

"He’s gone to get some water," Lord Roxton said. "We sent him off with an empty beef tin."

"To the old camp?" I asked.

"No, to the brook. It’s among the trees over there. Shouldn’t be more than a couple of hundred yards. But the fellow is certainly taking his time."

"I’ll go check on him," I said. I grabbed my rifle and headed toward the brook, leaving my friends to prepare our meager breakfast. It might seem reckless to venture out even for such a short distance, but remember, we were miles away from Ape-town, and as far as we knew, those creatures hadn’t discovered our hiding place. Besides, with a rifle in my hands, I felt no fear. I hadn’t yet learned the extent of their cunning or strength.

I could hear the gentle flow of the brook ahead, but a dense thicket of trees and brush stood between me and the sound. I was navigating through this tangled undergrowth, just out of sight of my companions, when I spotted something red nestled among the bushes. As I got closer, a chill ran down my spine—I was staring at the lifeless body of the missing Indian. He lay on his side, limbs curled up, his head twisted at an unnatural angle, as if he were looking over his own shoulder.

I let out a cry to alert my friends that something was wrong and rushed toward the body. At that moment, I felt an instinctive fear wash over me, or perhaps it was a faint rustle of leaves that made me look up. From the thick green canopy above, two long, muscular arms, covered in reddish hair, were slowly descending. In an instant, those stealthy hands would have been around my throat.

I jumped back, but even as quick as I was, those hands were quicker. They missed my throat but caught the back of my neck and my face. I raised my hands to protect myself, but the massive paw slid down my face, gripping my hands tightly. I was lifted effortlessly off the ground, and an unbearable pressure forced my head back until I felt like my spine might snap. My vision blurred, but I fought against the grip, managing to pry the hand away from my chin.

Looking up, I was met with a horrifying face, cold, light blue eyes staring down at me with an unsettling intensity. There was something almost hypnotic about those eyes, and I found myself unable to struggle any longer. As I grew limp in its grasp, I caught a glimpse of sharp white teeth gleaming from the creature's mouth, and the grip tightened further, forcing my chin upward. A thin, misty haze formed before my eyes, and distant, silvery bells rang in my ears. I faintly heard the crack of a rifle and felt a sudden jolt as I was dropped to the ground, where I lay motionless.

When I came to, I found myself lying on my back in the grass of our hideout within the thicket. Someone had fetched water from the brook, and Lord John was gently sprinkling it on my forehead while Challenger and Summerlee supported me, concern etched on their faces. For a brief moment, I saw the humanity behind their scientific facades. It was shock, rather than any physical injury, that had knocked me out, and within half an hour, despite the ache in my head and stiffness in my neck, I was sitting up, ready to face whatever came next.

"You’ve had a close call, my boy," said Lord Roxton, his voice a mix of relief and excitement. "When I heard your shout and rushed over, seeing your head twisted like that and your legs kicking in the air, I thought we’d lost you for sure. I missed the beast in my panic, but he dropped you and took off like a shot. By George! I wish I had fifty men with rifles. I’d clear out the whole damned lot of them and leave this place a bit cleaner than we found it."

It was clear now that the ape-men had somehow marked us, and we were being watched from all sides. While we were relatively safe during the day, they would likely attack us at night, so we needed to move away from their territory as soon as possible. On three sides, we were surrounded by dense forest, which could easily hide an ambush. But on the fourth side, sloping down toward the lake, there was only low scrub, scattered trees, and occasional clearings. This was the same route I had taken during my earlier solitary journey, leading us directly to the Indian caves. For every reason, this had to be our path.

One significant regret weighed on us: leaving our old camp behind. Not only were we abandoning our supplies, but we were also losing contact with Zambo, our connection to the outside world. However, we had a decent stock of ammunition and all our guns, so for the time being, we could fend for ourselves. We hoped to return soon and reestablish our communication with our loyal friend. He had promised to stay put, and I had no doubt he would keep his word.

It was early afternoon when we set out on our journey. The young chief led the way as our guide, but he stubbornly refused to carry any of our gear. Behind him, the two remaining Indians carried our meager belongings on their backs. The four of us white men trailed behind, rifles loaded and ready. As we began our trek, a sudden, loud howl erupted from the dense woods behind us. It could have been a cheer of triumph at our departure or a mocking jeer at our escape. When I glanced back, all I saw was a thick wall of trees, but that long, drawn-out yell made it clear how many enemies were lurking just out of sight. Thankfully, we saw no signs of pursuit, and soon we found ourselves in more open territory, beyond their reach.

As I trudged along at the back of our group, I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of my three companions ahead of me. Was this really the luxurious Lord John Roxton, who had lounged in the Albany surrounded by Persian rugs and soft pink lights? And was this the imposing Professor, who had held court behind a grand desk in his study at Enmore Park? Finally, could this be the stern and proper figure who had stood before the meeting at the Zoological Institute? No three travelers could have looked more disheveled and hopeless than they did.

We had only been on the plateau for about a week, but all our spare clothes were back at camp. That week had been tough on all of us, though I had fared the best since I hadn’t had to deal with the ape-men. My three friends had lost their hats and had tied handkerchiefs around their heads. Their clothes hung in tatters, and their unshaven, grimy faces were nearly unrecognizable. Both Summerlee and Challenger were limping heavily, while I dragged my feet, still weak from the shock of the morning. My neck felt stiff and sore from the brutal grip that had held it. We were indeed a sorry sight, and I couldn’t blame our Indian companions for glancing back at us with expressions of horror and disbelief.

By late afternoon, we reached the edge of the lake. As we stepped out of the brush and saw the expanse of water before us, our native friends let out a shrill cry of joy and pointed excitedly. It was a breathtaking sight. A flotilla of canoes was gliding swiftly across the glassy surface, heading straight for the shore where we stood. They were still a few miles out when we first spotted them, but they quickly closed the distance, and soon the rowers could make out our figures.

A thunderous shout of delight erupted from them, and we watched as they leaped from their seats, waving their paddles and spears in the air. They bent to their work once more, racing across the water, beached their boats on the sandy shore, and rushed toward us, prostrating themselves with loud cries of greeting before the young chief. One elderly man, adorned with a necklace and bracelet of gleaming glass beads and draped in the skin of a beautifully mottled amber-colored animal, stepped forward. He embraced the young chief tenderly, then turned to us with questions. With a dignified air, he embraced each of us in turn. At his command, the entire tribe lay down on the ground before us in a show of respect.

I felt shy and uncomfortable with this display of adoration, and I could see that Roxton and Summerlee felt the same way. But Challenger seemed to bloom under the attention.

“They may be primitive,” he said, stroking his beard and surveying the crowd, “but their behavior in the presence of their superiors could teach some of our more ‘civilized’ Europeans a thing or two. It’s fascinating how instinctive the natural man’s respect can be!”

It was clear that the natives had come prepared for battle, as every man carried a spear—long bamboo tipped with bone—along with a bow and arrows, and some sort of club or stone battle-axe at his side. Their dark, angry glances toward the woods we had just left, along with the repeated mention of the word “Doda,” made it obvious that this was a rescue party sent to save or avenge the old chief’s son, who we presumed the young chief to be.

A council was convened, with the entire tribe squatting in a circle while we sat nearby on a slab of basalt, watching their proceedings. A few warriors spoke, and finally, our young friend delivered a spirited speech, his expressions and gestures so animated that we understood his message as clearly as if we spoke his language.

“What’s the point of coming back?” he said. “Sooner or later, we have to face it. Your friends have been killed. So what if I made it back safe? They’re gone. There’s no safety for any of us. We’re gathered here, ready to act.” He gestured toward us. “These men are our allies. They’re fierce fighters, and they despise the ape-men just like we do. They command,” he pointed skyward, “the thunder and lightning. When will we have another chance like this? Let’s move forward and either die fighting or live on in safety. How else can we return to our women without shame?”

The small band of red warriors listened intently, and when he finished, they erupted into cheers, waving their crude weapons in the air. The old chief stepped closer to us, asking questions while pointing toward the woods. Lord John signaled for him to wait for a response and then turned to us.

“Well, it’s up to you to decide what you want to do,” he said. “As for me, I have a score to settle with these monkey folk, and if it means wiping them off the earth, I don’t think the world will miss them. I’m going with our little red friends, and I intend to see this through. What do you say, young fellow?”

“Of course I’ll come.”

“And you, Challenger?”

“I will certainly cooperate.”

“And you, Summerlee?”

“We seem to be straying quite far from the purpose of this expedition, Lord John. I never expected to leave my professional chair in London only to lead a raid of savages against a colony of anthropoid apes.”

“To such lowly ends do we come,” Lord John said with a smile. “But we’re in it now, so what’s the decision?”

“It seems like a questionable step,” Summerlee replied, ever the skeptic, “but if you’re all going, I can hardly stay behind.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Lord John, nodding at the chief and patting his rifle.

The old chief clasped our hands in turn, and his men cheered louder than ever. It was too late to advance that night, so the Indians set up a makeshift camp. Fires began to flicker and smoke all around us. Some of the warriors who had ventured into the jungle returned, driving a young iguanodon ahead of them. Like the others, it bore a mark of asphalt on its shoulder. It wasn’t until one of the natives stepped forward with the air of an owner and gave his consent for the creature’s slaughter that we realized these massive beasts were as much private property as a herd of cattle. The symbols that had puzzled us were merely ownership marks. Helpless, slow-moving, and herbivorous, with massive bodies and tiny brains, they could be rounded up and driven by a child. Within minutes, the enormous creature was butchered, and pieces of it hung over a dozen campfires, alongside large ganoid fish speared from the lake.

While Summerlee lay down and fell asleep on the sand, the rest of us wandered along the water’s edge, eager to learn more about this strange land. We stumbled upon pits of blue clay, similar to those we had seen in the swamp of the pterodactyls. These were old volcanic vents, and they sparked great interest in Lord John. Challenger, on the other hand, was captivated by a bubbling, gurgling mud geyser, where strange gas formed large, bursting bubbles on the surface. He poked a hollow reed into it and shouted with delight like a schoolboy when he discovered that a lighted match could ignite a sharp explosion and a blue flame at the end of the tube. He was even more thrilled when he inverted a leather pouch over the reed’s end, filling it with gas and sending it soaring into the air.

“An inflammable gas, and one significantly lighter than the atmosphere. I would say it undoubtedly contains a considerable amount of free hydrogen. The resources of G. E. C. are not yet exhausted, my young friend. I may yet show you how a great mind bends all of Nature to its will.” He swelled with some secret purpose but chose not to elaborate further.

There was nothing on the shore that captivated me quite like the vast expanse of water stretching before us. Our presence, with all its noise and commotion, had scared away every living creature, leaving only a few pterodactyls circling high above, waiting for their next meal. The camp was enveloped in silence, but the central lake was alive with activity.

The water shimmered with strange life, its surface boiling and heaving. Great, slate-colored backs and jagged dorsal fins broke through the surface, glistening with silver before disappearing into the depths. Farther out, the sandbanks were dotted with bizarre creatures—massive turtles, odd saurians, and one enormous flat being that resembled a writhing mat of black, greasy leather, slowly making its way to the lake. Occasionally, long serpent heads emerged from the water, slicing through it with a frothy collar in front and leaving a swirling wake behind, moving with a graceful, swan-like rhythm.

It wasn’t until one of these creatures slithered onto a sandbank just a few hundred yards away, revealing its barrel-shaped body and massive flippers behind its long neck, that Challenger and Summerlee, who had joined us, erupted in a chorus of awe and admiration.

“A Plesiosaurus! A freshwater Plesiosaurus!” Summerlee exclaimed. “Who would have thought I’d live to witness such a sight! We are truly blessed, my dear Challenger, more so than any zoologist in history!”

As night fell and the fires of our savage allies flickered in the shadows, it took a great deal of effort to pull our two scientists away from the mesmerizing allure of that ancient lake. Even in the darkness, as we lay on the shore, we could hear the snorts and splashes of the enormous creatures that inhabited its waters.

At dawn, our camp was alive with activity, and an hour later, we set off on our unforgettable expedition. I had often dreamed of being a war correspondent, but never could I have imagined the nature of the campaign I was about to report on. Here is my first dispatch from the battlefield:

During the night, our numbers had swelled with a fresh group of natives from the caves, and we may have been four or five hundred strong as we advanced. A line of scouts moved ahead, and behind them, the entire force formed a solid column, making their way up the long slope of the bush country until we reached the edge of the forest. Here, they spread out into a long, disorganized line of spearmen and bowmen. Roxton and Summerlee took position on the right flank, while Challenger and I stood on the left. We were accompanying a host from the Stone Age into battle, armed with the latest advancements in weaponry from St. James’ Street and the Strand.

We didn’t have to wait long for our enemy. A wild, shrill cry erupted from the edge of the woods, and suddenly a group of ape-men charged out, brandishing clubs and stones, heading straight for the center of the Indian line. It was a brave move, but a foolish one; the hulking, bandy-legged creatures were slow, while their opponents moved with the agility of cats.

It was a horrific sight to witness the fierce brutes, mouths frothing and eyes wild, rushing and grasping at air, forever missing their nimble enemies, while arrows found their marks in their thick hides. One massive creature ran past me, howling in pain, with a dozen darts embedded in its chest and ribs. Out of mercy, I fired a bullet through its skull, and it collapsed among the aloes.

But that was the only shot I fired, for the attack had focused on the center of the line, where the Indians needed no assistance from us to repel it. Of all the ape-men who had charged into the open, I doubt that even one made it back to the safety of the trees.

The situation became even more dire as we entered the trees. For over an hour, we fought desperately, barely managing to hold our ground. The ape-men burst from the underbrush, wielding massive clubs, and they struck down several of the Indians before they could even react. Their terrifying blows shattered everything in their path. One of them smashed Summerlee's rifle into splinters, and the next would have crushed his skull if an Indian hadn’t stabbed the beast right through the heart.

From the branches above, other ape-men rained down stones and logs, sometimes dropping right into our ranks and fighting fiercely until they were taken down. At one point, our allies faltered under the pressure, and if it hadn’t been for the precision of our rifles, they would have certainly fled. But their old chief rallied them, and they charged forward with such force that the ape-men began to retreat. Summerlee was unarmed, but I was firing my rifle as fast as I could, while on the far flank, I could hear the steady crack of our companions’ guns.

Then, in an instant, panic erupted. The ape-men screamed and howled as they scattered in all directions through the brush, while our allies cheered in savage delight, chasing after their fleeing enemies. Generations of feuds, deep-seated hatreds, and memories of suffering were finally being avenged. At last, humanity would reclaim its dominance, and the man-beasts would find their rightful place. The fleeing creatures were too slow to escape the swift savages, and from all sides, we heard triumphant yells, the twang of bows, and the thud of ape-men falling from their hiding spots in the trees.

I was following the others when I noticed that Lord John and Challenger had joined us.

“It’s over,” Lord John said. “I think we can leave the cleanup to them. The less we see of it, the better we’ll sleep.”

Challenger’s eyes sparkled with the thrill of the hunt.

“We’ve witnessed something extraordinary,” he declared, strutting around like a proud rooster. “We’ve been part of a decisive battle in history—one that shapes the fate of the world. What does it mean for one nation to conquer another? It’s insignificant. Each victory leads to the same outcome. But those fierce struggles, when early humans stood their ground against the beastly predators, or when elephants first realized they had a master—those are the true victories. By this strange twist of fate, we’ve seen and influenced such a contest. Now, on this plateau, the future belongs to man.”

It took a strong belief in the greater good to justify such tragic means. As we moved through the woods, we found the bodies of the ape-men scattered everywhere, pierced by spears or arrows. Here and there, a small group of fallen Indians marked where one of the ape-men had fought back fiercely. Ahead of us, we could hear the shouts and roars that indicated the direction of the chase. The ape-men had been driven back to their city, where they made a final stand, only to be broken once more. We arrived just in time to witness the final, horrifying scene.

About eighty or a hundred males, the last of their kind, were cornered in a clearing that led to the edge of the cliff—the very spot where we had faced danger just two days earlier. As we approached, the Indians formed a semicircle of spears around them, and within a minute, it was over. Thirty or forty fell where they stood. The rest, screaming and clawing in desperation, were pushed over the edge, plummeting down to the sharp bamboo six hundred feet below. Just as Challenger had said, humanity’s reign was now assured in Maple White Land. The males were exterminated, Ape Town was destroyed, and the females and young were driven away into captivity. The long rivalry of countless centuries had reached its bloody conclusion.

For us, this victory brought many advantages. We were able to return to our camp and access our supplies once more. We also managed to communicate with Zambo, who had been terrified by the sight of the avalanche of apes tumbling from the cliff.

“Come away, Massas, come away!” he shouted, his eyes wide with fear. “The devil will get you for sure if you stay up there!”

“That’s the voice of reason!” Summerlee replied firmly. “We’ve had enough adventures, and they’re not suited to our character or our position. I hold you to your word, Challenger. From now on, you’ll focus on getting us out of this dreadful place and back to civilization.”