The Drums of Tapajos by Capt. S.P. Meek

Book Details

The Drums of Tapajos (1930) – After World War I is over, four men journey into the wilds of the Amazon basin in search of treasure. Somewhere in there they find a lost civilization.

Three ex-Army buddies, not ready to settle down to civilian life, are looking for adventure in the post-war world. They wouldn’t mind fomenting a little South American revolution and get in touch with a fourth man to lead their unofficial party. He suggests instead a treasure hunt in the wilds of the Amazon basin. The four have no idea what they are about to find.

Part I
Chapter I – We Send for Willis
Chapter II – The Mysterious Knife
Chapter III – The Tierra Prohibitiva
Chapter IV – Pedro’s Story
Chapter V – The Gateway of the Unknown
Chapter VI – The Drums of Tapajos
Chapter VII – On Foot
Chapter VIII – The Guiding Arrows
Chapter IX – Nahum

Part II – What Went Before
Chapter X – The Examination
Chapter XI – Troyana
Chapter XII – Estha
Chapter XIII – The Guardian of the Jungle
Chapter XIV – Pedro Scents Trouble
Chapter XV – The Upper City
Chapter XVI – Underground

Part III – What Went Before
Chapter XVII – The Adoration of the Golden Calf
Chapter XVIII – Pedro Pays His Debt
Chapter XIX – The Sanctuary
Chapter XX – Pedro’s Body
Chapter XXI – Nankivell to the Rescue
Chapter XXII – The Warder of the Outer Ways
Chapter XXIII – The Call

Sterner St. Paul Meek (1894-1972) was an American military chemist, early science fiction author, and children’s author. He published much of his work first as Capt. S.P. Meek, then, briefly, as Major S.P. Meek and, after 1933, as Col. S.P. Meek.

When the United States entered World War I in 1917, Meek joined the military as a chemist and ordnance expert. He served as Chief, Small Arms Ammunition Research, in 1923-1926, and Chief Publications Officer, Ordnance Dept., in 1941-1945. He retired a colonel in 1947, at which point he became a full-time writer.

The Drums of Tapajos has 4 illustrations.

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1. DrumsOfTapajos.epub

Excerpt: The Drums of Tapajos

Chapter I

We Send for Willis

MARISTON claimed that the drumming was a delusion, merely the effects of an over-wrought imagination, but then he was a skeptic and had to say that. I believe that he changed his mind at the last, although he never admitted it. Willis said that it was black magic and the work of devils, but he had a very limited scientific education, despite his wide-spread roamings over the globe. What Nankivell thought, we never learned, but doubtless he knows all about it now, if he is still alive, and could easily explain it if one could find him to ask. Personally I believe that it was a natural phenomenon based on the laws governing some form of radio transmission that we are at present unacquainted with, but then I am only the Greek chorus that comes in at the end to explain matters and my personal opinions don’t count for much. At any rate I’ll tell the story and you can be your own judge. Your guess is as good as anyone’s and the only way that the matter can be proved is by another trip up the Rio Tapajos and I wouldn’t be allowed to make it, even if I wanted to.

I had a pretty comfortable little job in 1917 when the war broke out and I didn’t much like the idea of giving up my start and putting on olive-drab, but my father and grandfather had worn the uniform in 1861 and 1898 so there wasn’t much else for me to do. Besides, it was a case of volunteer or be drafted, so I took the bull by the horns and went to the first training camp and by virtue of some National Guard experience during my college days, I drew a commission and went down to Texas to do my bit. I didn’t get over and my whole war experience consisted of an endless round of drills and the petty duties that go to make up a subaltern’s job in the line. We did have a little fun down along the border for a while, but it didn’t last long. If the Hindenburg line hadn’t given away when it did, we might have got across for we were on the shipping list and were due to start for Hoboken soon, but it broke and 1919 found me still patrolling the border hoping for a scrap that never came.

Mariston had been over with the Second Division but he had stopped a bit of high-ex shell and when he recovered, he was sent home to train some of us in combat work. He was an expert machine gunner and-a mighty fine chap, except that he didn’t believe in anything, not even Army Regulations.

Nankivell was a newcomer to the regiment, a washout from the Air Service. He had been a first-class pilot and if he had ever got to France, he would have been an ace, but he was held in Florida as an instructor and it soured him. He was a crazy sort of fool, seemed to love to take a chance and would bet on anything from a Presidential election to what we would have for dinner. He’d offer you a bet and then, if you didn’t like the side he offered you, he’d take that side and let you have the other. I don’t think that he had a care in the world or a thought for the morrow. He would have been a top-hole combat man, but as a flying instructor, he wasn’t so good. His C. O. stood him as long as he could, but when he cracked up his seventh plane and killed a youngster whom he was supposed to be teaching to fly, the Old Man called him in and advised him to transfer to some other branch. It made no difference to Nankivell, so when the C. O. suggested the Infantry, he made his application, and in due time, came to us.

This gives you the cast, if we except Willis, who didn’t come in until later and Pedro, who was only an Indian after all, for all that he was a brave man and a true friend. The opening scene was my tent down near El Paso where we were supposed to be guarding the border and were in reality drilling all day and playing bridge most of the night.

“WHAT are you planning to do, Duncan, when they turn you loose?” asked Mariston as the evening bridge game dragged.

“Darned if I know,” I replied. “I don’t feel like going back to a laboratory again, but I don’t know what else to do. I might join the Mexican army. They seem to have a little fighting now and then.”

“They’d take you all right,” laughed Morril, who was making our fourth hand. “A chap tackled me the other day about it. He offered me a commission as a Lieutenant Colonel at forty pesos a day and said he could use more. I’ll recommend you if you want me to.”

“Only Lieutenant Colonel?” asked Nankivell. “It would have to be at least a Major General’s stars to attract me. From what I have seen of our friends, the Mex, a Lieutenant Colonel ranks with them about as a Corporal does with us.”

“I’m afraid that wouldn’t do,” was my rejoinder. “There’s some chance that the U. S. will have to intervene and I wouldn’t like to be caught on the other side of the line when that happens. I would like some excitement, though.”

“We might go down to one of the banana republics and stage a revolution,” said Mariston thoughtfully. “I knew a chap that pulled that regularly – and just as regularly lost his job the next month. If you can scare up a few thousands for guns and run them into any of the Central American states, you can get a following in two hours.”

“Where could you get the guns?” asked Nankivell.

“Bannerman would sell them if you could raise the cash,” he replied.

“Let’s do it,” said Nankivell, laying down his hand. “I’ve got the money, or can get it easily enough. Which one shall we pick on?”

“Oh, any one,” said Mariston. “If you are really interested, I’ll write down to Willis, the chap I spoke about and find out which one is ripest for trouble right now. If you’re in earnest, dig up the price of a boat-ticket from Rio de Janeiro to New Orleans and a rail ticket here and I’ll have him come up. He has had lots of experience at the game and he’ll come anywhere, if you pay his way and guarantee him his expenses back again.”

“Certainly I’m in earnest,” said Nankivell. “We are due for a return to civil life any day now and even if we weren’t, I’m tired of hanging around this place. Let’s get him up and see what he can do for us. Will you go into it, Dunc?”

“I guess so,” I replied. “I wouldn’t mind taking a whirl at something exciting for a while before I settle down again. I’ll split on the price of that ticket with you.”

“Split, nothing,” laughed Nankivell. “I’m the only one here who has money to throw away on this prospect, and nothing may ever come of it. If anything should, you can pay your share out of what we make.”

“You fellows had better join the Mexican army,” counseled Morril. “This revolution sounds nice but you are overlooking one thing.”

“What’s that?” asked Mariston.

“You might start your fun all right and get away with it for twenty-four hours, but about that time, the New York Times would run a little squib on an inside page stating that ‘the Marines have landed and have the situation well in hand.’ ”

“Not with Willis running the show,” replied Mariston. “At any rate, Frank, if you really mean business, turn me over an international money order for eight hundred tomorrow and I’ll write Willis and have him come up and tell us about conditions.”

“You’ll have the eight hundred by ten o’clock tomorrow morning,” declared Nankivell. “Meanwhile where is Dunc’s typewriter? I want to write a letter to the Adjutant General resigning from this man’s army.”

“Don’t be in too big a hurry about that,” I counseled. “Willis may not come and you may find yourself on the outside with no way of getting back.”

“Willis will come all right,” said Mariston. “I helped him out of a little scrape down in Nicaragua some years ago and he’ll come if I send for him, no matter what he has on hand.”

Excerpt From: Capt. S.P. Meek. “The Drums of Tapajos.”