The Son of Tarzan

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

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The Son Of Tarzan


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 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

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