Leiningen versus the Ants by Carl Stephenson

[Roby]

Leiningen versus the Ants

Carl Stephenson

   UNLESS they alter their course and there's no reason why they should,
they'll reach your plantation in two days at the latest."
   Leiningen sucked placidly at a cigar about the size of a corncob and for a
few seconds gazed without answering at the agitated District Commissioner. Then
he took the cigar from his lips, and leaned slightly forward. With his bristling
grey hair, bulky nose, and lucid eyes, he had the look of an aging and shabby
eagle.
   "Decent of you," he murmured, "paddling all this way just to give me the
tip. But you're pulling my leg of course when you say I must do a bunk. Why,
even a herd of saurians couldn't drive me from this plantation of mine."
   The Brazilian official threw up lean and lanky arms and clawed the air with
wildly distended fingers. "Leiningen!" he shouted. "You're insane! They're not
creatures you can fight--they're an elemental--an 'act of God!' Ten miles long,
two miles wide--ants, nothing but ants! And every single one of them a fiend
from hell; before you can spit three times they'll eat a full-grown buffalo to
the bones. I tell you if you don't clear out at once there'll he nothing left of
you but a skeleton picked as clean as your own plantation."
   Leiningen grinned. "Act of God, my eye! Anyway, I'm not an old woman; I'm
not going to run for it just because an elemental's on the way. And don't think
I'm the kind of fathead who tries to fend off lightning with his fists either. I
use my intelligence, old man. With me, the brain isn't a second blindgut; I know
what it's there for. When I began this model farm and plantation three years
ago, I took into account all that could conceivably happen to it. And now I'm
ready for anything and everything--including your ants."
   The Brazilian rose heavily to his feet. "I've done my best," he gasped.
"Your obstinacy endangers not only yourself, but the lives of your four hundred
workers. You don't know these ants!"

[Roby]

Leiningen accompanied him down to the river, where the Government launch
was moored. The vessel cast off. As it moved downstream, the exclamation mark
neared the rail and began waving its arms frantically. Long after the launch had
disappeared round the bend, Leiningen thought he could still hear that dimming
imploring voice, "You don't know them, I tell you! You don't know them!"
   But the reported enemy was by no means unfamiliar to the planter. Before he
started work on his settlement, he had lived long enough in the country to see
for himself the fearful devastations sometimes wrought by these ravenous insects
in their campaigns for food. But since then he had planned measures of defence
accordingly, and these, he was convinced? were in every way adequate to
withstand the approaching peril.
   Moreover, during his three years as a planter, Leiningen had met and
defeated drought, Hood, plague and all other "acts of God" which had come
against him-unlike his fellow-settlers in the district, who had made little or
no resistance. This unbroken success he attributed solely to the observance of
his lifelong motto: The human brain needs only to become fully aware of its
powers to conquer even the elements. Dullards reeled senselessly and aimlessly
into the abyss; cranks, however brilliant, lost their heads when circumstances
suddenly altered or accelerated and ran into stone walls, sluggards drifted with
the current until they were caught in whirlpools and dragged under. But such
disasters, Leiningen contended, merely strengthened his argument that
intelligence, directed aright, invariably makes man the master of his fate.
   Yes, Leiningen had always known how to grapple with life. Even here, in this
Brazilian wilderness, his brain had triumphed over every difficulty and danger
it had so far encountered. First he had vanquished primal forces by cunning and
organization, then he had enlisted the resources of modern science to increase
miraculously the yield of his plantation. And now he was sure he would prove
more than a match for the "irresistible" ants.
   That same evening, however, Leiningen assembled his workers. He had no
intention of waiting till the news reached their ears from other sources. Most
of them had been born in the district; the cry "The ants are coming!'" was to
them an imperative signal for instant, panic-stricken flight, a spring for life
itself. But so great was the Indians' trust in Leiningen, in Leiningen's word,
and in Leiningen's wisdom, that they received his curt tidings, and his orders
for the imminent struggle, with the calmness with which they were given. They
waited, unafraid, alert, as if for the beginning of a new game or hunt which he
had just described to them. The ants were indeed mighty, but not so mighty as
the boss. Let them come!

[Roby]

They came at noon the second day. Their approach was announced by the wild
unrest of the horses, scarcely controllable now either in stall or under rider,
scenting from afar a vapor instinct with horror.
   It was announced by a stampede of animals, timid and savage, hurtling past
each other; jaguars and pumas flashing by nimble stags of the pampas, bulky
tapirs, no longer hunters, themselves hunted, outpacing fleet kinkajous,
maddened herds of cattle, heads lowered, nostrils snorting, rushing through
tribes of loping monkeys, chattering in a dementia of terror; then followed the
creeping and springing denizens of bush and steppe, big and little rodents,
snakes, and lizards.
   Pell-mell the rabble swarmed down the hill to the plantation, scattered
right and left before the barrier of the water-filled ditch, then sped onwards
to the river, where, again hindered, they fled along its bank out of sight.
   This water-filled ditch was one of the defence measures which Leiningen had
long since prepared against the advent of the ants. It encompassed three sides
of the plantation like a huge horseshoe. Twelve feet across, but not very deep,
when dry it could hardly be described as an obstacle to either man or beast. But
the ends of the "horseshoe" ran into the river which formed the northern
boundary, and fourth side, of the plantation. And at the end nearer the house
and outbuildings in the middle of the plantation, Leiningen had constructed a
dam by means of which water from the river could be diverted into the ditch.
   So now, by opening the dam, he was able to fling an imposing girdle of
water, a huge quadrilateral with the river as its base, completely around the
plantation, like the moat encircling a medieval city. Unless the ants were
clever enough to build rafts. they had no hope of reaching the plantation,
Leiningen concluded.

[Roby]

The twelve-foot water ditch seemed to afford in itself all the security
needed. But while awaiting the arrival of the ants, Leiningen made a further
improvement. The western section of the ditch ran along the edge of a tamarind
wood, and the branches of some great trees reached over the water. Leiningen now
had them lopped so that ants could not descend from them within the "moat."
   The women and children, then the herds of cattle, were escorted by peons on
rafts over the river, to remain on the other side in absolute safety until the
plunderers had departed. Leiningen gave this instruction, not because he
believed the non-combatants were in any danger, but in order to avoid hampering
the efficiency of the defenders. "Critical situations first become crises," he
explained to his men, "when oxen or women get excited "
   Finally, he made a careful inspection of the "inner moat"--a smaller ditch
lined with concrete, which extended around the hill on which stood the ranch
house, barns, stables and other buildings. Into this concrete ditch emptied the
inflow pipes from three great petrol tanks. If by some miracle the ants managed
to cross the water and reached the plantation, this "rampart of petrol,' would
be an absolutely impassable protection for the besieged and their dwellings and
stock. Such, at least, was Leiningen's opinion.
   He stationed his men at irregular distances along the water ditch, the first
line of defence. Then he lay down in his hammock and puffed drowsily away at his
pipe until a peon came with the report that the ants had been observed far away
in the South.

[Roby]

Leiningen mounted his horse, which at the feel of its master seemed to
forget its uneasiness, and rode leisurely in the direction of the threatening
offensive. The southern stretch of ditch--the upper side of the
quadrilateral--was nearly three miles long; from its center one could survey the
entire countryside. This was destined to be the scene of the outbreak of war
between Leiningen's brain and twenty square miles of life-destroying ants.
   It was a sight one could never forget. Over the range of hills, as far as
eye could see, crept a darkening hem, ever longer and broader, until the shadow
spread across the slope from east to west, then downwards, downwards, uncannily
swift, and all the green herbage of that wide vista was being mown as by a giant
sickle, leaving only the vast moving shadow, extending, deepening, and moving
rapidly nearer.
   When Leiningen's men, behind their barrier of water, perceived the approach
of the long-expected foe, they gave vent to their suspense in screams and
imprecations. But as the distance began to lessen between the "sons of hell" and
the water ditch, they relapsed into silence. Before the advance of that
awe-inspiring throng, their belief in the powers of the boss began to steadily
dwindle.

[Roby]

Even Leiningen himself, who had ridden up just in time to restore their loss
of heart by a display of unshakable calm, even he could not free himself from a
qualm of malaise. Yonder were thousands of millions of voracious jaws bearing
down upon him and only a suddenly insignificant, narrow ditch lay between him
and his men and being gnawed to the bones "before you can spit three times."
   Hadn't this brain for once taken on more than it could manage? If the
blighters decided to rush the ditch, fill it to the brim with their corpses,
there'd still be more than enough to destroy every trace of that cranium of his.
The planter's chin jutted; they hadn't got him yet, and he'd see to it they
never would. While he could think at all, he'd flout both death and the devil.
   The hostile army was approaching in perfect formation; no human battalions,
however well-drilled, could ever hope to rival the precision of that advance.
Along a front that moved forward as uniformly as a straight line, the ants drew
nearer and nearer to the water ditch. Then, when they learned through their
scouts the nature of the obstacle, the two outlying wings of the army detached
themselves from the main body and marched down the western and eastern sides of
the ditch.
   This surrounding maneuver took rather more than an hour to accomplish; no
doubt the ants expected that at some point they would find a crossing.
   During this outflanking movement by the wings, the army on the center and
southern front remained still. The besieged were therefore able to contemplate
at their leisure the thumb-long, reddish black, long-legged insects; some of the
Indians believed they could see, too, intent on them, the brilliant, cold eyes,
and the razor-edged mandibles, of this host of infinity.

[Roby]

It is not easy for the average person to imagine that an animal, not to
mention an insect, can think. But now both the European brain of Leiningen and
the primitive brains of the Indians began to stir with the unpleasant foreboding
that inside every single one of that deluge of insects dwelt a thought. And that
thought was: Ditch or no ditch, we'll get to your flesh!
   Not until four o'clock did the wings reach the "horseshoe" ends of the
ditch, only to find these ran into the great river. Through some kind of secret
telegraphy, the report must then have flashed very swiftly indeed along the
entire enemy line. And Leiningen, riding--no longer casually--along his side of
the ditch, noticed by energetic and widespread movements of troops that for some
unknown reason the news of the check had its greatest effect on the southern
front, where the main army was massed. Perhaps the failure to find a way over
the ditch was persuading the ants to withdraw from the plantation in search of
spoils more easily attainable.
   An immense flood of ants, about a hundred yards in width, was pouring in a
glimmering-black cataract down the far slope of the ditch. Many thousands were
already drowning in the sluggish creeping flow, but they were followed by troop
after troop, who clambered over their sinking comrades, and then themselves
served as dying bridges to the reserves hurrying on in their rear.
   Shoals of ants were being carried away by the current into the middle of the
ditch, where gradually they broke asunder and then, exhausted by their
struggles, vanished below the surface. Nevertheless, the wavering, floundering
hundred-yard front was remorselessly if slowly advancing towards the besieged on
the other bank. Leiningen had been wrong when he supposed the enemy would first
have to fill the ditch with their bodies before they could cross; instead, they
merely needed to act as steppingstones, as they swam and sank, to the hordes
ever pressing onwards from behind.

[Roby]

Near Leiningen a few mounted herdsmen awaited his orders. He sent one to the
weir-the river must be dammed more strongly to increase the speed and power of
the water coursing through the ditch.
   A second peon was dispatched to the outhouses to bring spades and petrol
sprinklers. A third rode away to summon to the zone of the offensive all the
men, except the observation posts, on the near-by sections of the ditch, which
were not yet actively threatened.
   The ants were getting across far more quickly than Leiningen would have
deemed possible. Impelled by the mighty cascade behind them, they struggled
nearer and nearer to the inner bank. The momentum of the attack was so great
that neither the tardy flow of the stream nor its downward pull could exert its
proper force; and into the gap left by every submerging insect, hastened forward
a dozen more.
   When reinforcements reached Leiningen, the invaders were halfway over. The
planter had to admit to himself that it was only by a stroke of luck for him
that the ants were attempting the crossing on a relatively short front: had they
assaulted simultaneously along the entire length of the ditch, the outlook for
the defenders would have been black indeed.
   Even as it was, it could hardly be described as rosy, though the planter
seemed quite unaware that death in a gruesome form was drawing closer and
closer. As the war between his brain and the "act of God'' reached its climax,
the very shadow of annihilation began to pale to Leiningen, who now felt like a
champion in a new Olympic game, a gigantic and thrilling contest, from which he
was determined to emerge victor. Such, indeed, was his aura of confidence that
the Indians forgot their stupefied fear of the peril only a yard or two away;
under the planter's supervision, they began fervidly digging up to the edge of
the bank and throwing clods of earth and spadefuls of sand into the midst of the
hostile fleet.
   The petrol sprinklers, hitherto used to destroy pests and blights on the
plantation, were also brought into action. Streams of evil-reeking oil now
soared and fell over an enemy already in disorder through the bombardment of
earth and sand.

[Roby]

The ants responded to these vigorous and successful measures of defence by
further developments of their offensive. Entire clumps of huddling insects began
to roll down the opposite bank into the water. At the same time, Leiningen
noticed that the ants were now attacking along an ever-widening front. As the
numbers both of his men and his petrol sprinklers were severely limited, this
rapid extension of the line of battle was becoming an overwhelming danger.
   To add to his difficulties, the very clods of earth they flung into that
black floating carpet often whirled fragments toward the defenders' side, and
here and there dark ribbons were already mounting the inner bank. True, wherever
a man saw these they could still be driven back into the water by spadefuls of
earth or jets of petrol. But the file of defenders was too sparse and scattered
to hold off at all points these landing parties, and though the peons toiled
like madmen, their plight became momentarily more perilous.
   One man struck with his spade at an enemy clump, did not draw it back
quickly enough from the water; in a trice the wooden shaft swarmed with upward
scurrying insects. With a curse, he dropped the spade into the ditch; too late,
they were already on his body. They lost no time; wherever they encountered bare
flesh they bit deeply; a few, bigger than the rest, carried in their
hind-quarters a sting which injected a burning and paralyzing venom. Screaming,
frantic with pain, the peon danced and twirled like a dervish.
   Realizing that another such casualty, yes, perhaps this alone, might plunge
his men into confusion and destroy their morale, Leiningen roared in a bellow
louder than the yells of the victim: "Into the petrol, idiot! Douse your paws in
the petrol!" The dervish ceased his pirouette as if transfixed, then tore of his
shirt and plunged his arm and the ants hanging to it up to the shoulder in one
of the large open tins of petrol. But even then the fierce mandibles did not
slacken; another peon had to help him squash and detach each separate insect.

[Roby]

The ants responded to these vigorous and successful measures of defence by
further developments of their offensive. Entire clumps of huddling insects began
to roll down the opposite bank into the water. At the same time, Leiningen
noticed that the ants were now attacking along an ever-widening front. As the
numbers both of his men and his petrol sprinklers were severely limited, this
rapid extension of the line of battle was becoming an overwhelming danger.
   To add to his difficulties, the very clods of earth they flung into that
black floating carpet often whirled fragments toward the defenders' side, and
here and there dark ribbons were already mounting the inner bank. True, wherever
a man saw these they could still be driven back into the water by spadefuls of
earth or jets of petrol. But the file of defenders was too sparse and scattered
to hold off at all points these landing parties, and though the peons toiled
like madmen, their plight became momentarily more perilous.
   One man struck with his spade at an enemy clump, did not draw it back
quickly enough from the water; in a trice the wooden shaft swarmed with upward
scurrying insects. With a curse, he dropped the spade into the ditch; too late,
they were already on his body. They lost no time; wherever they encountered bare
flesh they bit deeply; a few, bigger than the rest, carried in their
hind-quarters a sting which injected a burning and paralyzing venom. Screaming,
frantic with pain, the peon danced and twirled like a dervish.
   Realizing that another such casualty, yes, perhaps this alone, might plunge
his men into confusion and destroy their morale, Leiningen roared in a bellow
louder than the yells of the victim: "Into the petrol, idiot! Douse your paws in
the petrol!" The dervish ceased his pirouette as if transfixed, then tore of his
shirt and plunged his arm and the ants hanging to it up to the shoulder in one
of the large open tins of petrol. But even then the fierce mandibles did not
slacken; another peon had to help him squash and detach each separate insect.

[Roby]

Not until the ditch curved towards the east did the scattered ranks assemble
again in a coherent mass. And now, exhausted and half-numbed, they were in no
condition to ascend the bank. Fusillades of clods drove them round the bend
towards the mouth of the ditch and then into the river, wherein they vanished
without leaving a trace.
   The news ran swiftly along the entire chain of outposts, and soon a long
scattered line of laughing men could be seen hastening along the ditch towards
the scene of victory.
   For once they seemed to have lost all their native reserve, for it was in
wild abandon now they celebrated the triumph--as if there were no longer
thousands of millions of merciless, cold and hungry eyes watching them from the
opposite bank, watching and waiting.
   The sun sank behind the rim of the tamarind wood and twilight deepened into
night. It was not only hoped but expected that the ants would remain quiet until
dawn. "But to defeat any forlorn attempt at a crossing, the flow of water
through the ditch was powerfully increased by opening the dam still further.
   In spite of this impregnable barrier, Leiningen was not yet altogether
convinced that the ants would not venture another surprise attack. He ordered
his men to camp along the bank overnight. He also detailed parties of them to
patrol the ditch in two of his motor cars and ceaselessly to illuminate the
surface of the water with headlights and electric torches.
   After having taken all the precautions he deemed necessary, the farmer ate
his supper with considerable appetite and went to bed. His slumbers were in no
wise disturbed by the memory of the waiting, live, twenty square miles.

[Roby]

Dawn found a thoroughly refreshed and active Leiningen riding along the edge
of the ditch. The planter saw before him a motionless and unaltered throng of
besiegers. He studied the wide belt of water between them and the plantation,
and for a moment almost regretted that the fight had ended so soon and so
simply. In the comforting, matter-of-fact light of morning, it seemed to him now
that the ants hadn't the ghost of a chance to cross the ditch. Even if they
plunged headlong into it on all three fronts at once, the force of the now
powerful current would inevitably sweep them away. He had got quite a thrill out
of the fight--a pity it was already over.
   He rode along the eastern and southern sections of the ditch and found
everything in order. He reached the western section, opposite the tamarind wood,
and here, contrary to the other battle fronts, he found the enemy very busy
indeed. The trunks and branches of the trees and the creepers of the lianas, on
the far bank of the ditch, fairly swarmed with industrious insects. But instead
of eating the leaves there and then, they were merely gnawing through the
stalks, so that a thick green shower fell steadily to the ground.
   No doubt they were victualing columns sent out to obtain provender for the
rest of the army. The discovery did not surprise Leiningen. He did not need to
be told that ants are intelligent, that certain species even use others as milch
cows, watchdogs and slaves. He was well aware of their power of adaptation,
their sense of discipline, their marvelous talent for organization.
   His belief that a foray to supply the army was in progress was strengthened
when he saw the leaves that fell to the ground being dragged to the troops
waiting outside the wood. Then all at once he realized the aim that rain of
green was intended to serve.

[Roby]

Each single leaf, pulled or pushed by dozens of toiling insects, was borne
straight to the edge of the ditch. Even as Macbeth watched the approach of
Birnam Wood in the hands of his enemies, Leiningen saw the tamarind wood move
nearer and nearer in the mandibles of the ants. Unlike the fey Scot, however, he
did not lose his nerve; no witches had prophesied his doom, and if they had he
would have slept just as soundly. All the same, he was forced to admit to
himself that the situation was far more ominous than that of the day before.
   He had thought it impossible for the ants to build rafts for
themselves--well, here they were, coming in thousands, more than enough to
bridge the ditch. Leaves after leaves rustled down the slope into the water,
where the current drew them away from the bank and carried them into midstream.
And every single leaf carried several ants. This time the farmer did not trust
to the alacrity of his messengers. He galloped away, leaning from his saddle and
yelling orders as he rushed past outpost after outpost: "Bring petrol pumps to
the southwest front! Issue spades to every man along the line facing the wood!"
And arrived at the eastern and southern sections, he dispatched every man except
the observation posts to the menaced west.
   Then, as he rode past the stretch where the ants had failed to cross the day
before, he witnessed a brief but impressive scene. Down the slope of the distant
hill there came towards him a singular being, writhing rather man running, an
animal-like blackened statue with shapeless head and four quivering feet that
knuckled under almost ceaselessly. When the creature reached the far bank of the
ditch and collapsed opposite Leiningen, he recognized it as a pampas stag,
covered over and over with ants.
   It had strayed near the zone of the army. As usual, they had attacked its
eyes first. Blinded, it had reeled in the madness of hideous torment straight
into the ranks of its persecutors, and now the beast swayed to and fro in its
death agony.

[Roby]

With a shot from his rifle Leiningen put it out of its misery. Then he
pulled out his watch. He hadn't a second to lose, but for life itself he could
not have denied his curiosity the satisfaction of knowing how long the ants
would take--for personal reasons, so to speak. After six minutes the white
polished bones alone remained. That's how he himself would look before you
can--Leiningen spat once, and put spurs to his horse.
   The sporting zest with which the excitement of the novel contest had
inspired him the day before had now vanished; in its place was a cold and
violent purpose. He would send these vermin back to the hell where they
belonged, somehow, anyhow. Yes, but how was indeed the question; as things stood
at present it looked as if the devils would raze him and his men from the earth
instead. He had underestimated the might of the enemy; he really would have to
bestir himself if he hoped to outwit them.
   The biggest danger now, he decided, was the point where the western section
of the ditch curved southwards. And arrived there, he found his worst
expectations justified. The very power of the current had huddled the leaves and
their crews of ants so close together at the bend that the bridge was almost
ready.
   True, streams of petrol and clumps of earth still prevented a landing. But
the number of floating leaves was increasing ever more swiftly. It could not be
long now before a stretch of water a mile in length was decked by a green
pontoon over which the ants could rush in millions.

[Roby]

Leiningen galloped to the weir. The damming of the river was controlled by
a wheel on its bank. The planter ordered the man at the wheel first to lower the
water in the ditch almost to vanishing point, next to wait a moment, then
suddenly to let the river in again. This maneuver of lowering and raising the
surface, of decreasing then increasing the flow of water through the ditch was
to be repeated over and over again until further notice.
   This tactic was at first successful. The water in the ditch sank, and with
it the film of leaves. The green fleet nearly reached the bed and the troops on
the far bank swarmed down the slope to it. Then a violent flow of water at the
original depth raced through the ditch, overwhelming leaves and ants, and
sweeping them along.
   This intermittent rapid flushing prevented just in time the almost completed
fording of the ditch. But it also flung here and there squads of the enemy
vanguard simultaneously up the inner bank. These seemed to know their duty only
too well, and lost no time accomplishing it. The air rang with the curses of
bitten Indians. They had removed their shirts and pants to detect the quicker
the upwards-hastening insects; when they saw one, they crushed it; and
fortunately the onslaught as yet was only by skirmishers. Again and again, the
water sank and rose, carrying leaves and drowned ants away with it. It lowered
once more nearly to its bed; but this time the exhausted defenders waited in
vain for the flush of destruction. Leiningen sensed disaster; something must
have gone wrong with the machinery of the dam. Then a sweating peon tore up to
him--