by E. H. Visiak
It was come into my thoughts, while I gazed, that this might be nothing else but the figment of a frightful dream. Neither was the sight of our men contrary to such an imagination, they looked not ordinary, but as if they had suffered some unknown, mysterious change; which appeared as well by their postures and movements (when any did move), as in their fantastical odd aspect in the gloom.
By the apprehension and terror they discovered (I thought), it could not be but that they were in a state of sensibility, yet, nevertheless, ’twas not natural.
Now, the illusory fiend put it into my thoughts that this was the change of death and the state of damnation; and that we were all translated to a chamber of hell. But immediately upon this horrible persuasion, I recollected Mr Vertembrex, perceiving how the condition of these lost mariners resembled his.
Scarcely these thoughts had passed over my mind (which was in a moment), and whilst the sight of that incredible horrid enigma of Mr Falconer’s complacent rapt countenance continued before my eyes, but I heard a small rustling sound that seemed to be come from a point higher up on the wall behind me. I turned, and looked aloft; and there, where there appeared a faint brightness, I spied a thing like to a small long snake dangling and descending beside the wall. In the same moment, there came a voice - an unknown voice, high and mellow and pleasant like tuneful bell - crying:
“Look ye up! Look ye up! Here are ropes for deliverance. Let him that is nearest first catch hold. But beware disorder, or panic striving; else you are certainly lost!”
And, while I stood glaring for astonishment, that voice continued very loud:
“Come, collect your wits! Escape!! Save yourselves! Awake! Awake!”
For no man stirred, by what I could observe - nay, even at the second, more urgent summons, save only that one of them slightly raised his head; but immediately he lowered it again, returning to the same posture of gazing on that grisly spectacle below; and now I observed that the trunk was gotten lower, bearing Mr Falconer downwards.
“Miserable men!” yelled the voice. “Are ye, then, quite beyond succour? But you, boy - you hear and understand me, don’t you? Try if you can rouse those next you. Come, shake ‘em shrewdly!”
I was now a little recovered from my amazement, and I made a shift to perform the bidding; but my limbs trembled so, I was scarce able to move.
I did shake those men - the boatswain and the other - as hard as I could, taking them by the shoulders; yet to no more effect than some low dull muttering of the boatswain, the other continuing perfectly mute.
Thereupon, being bidden myself to ascend the rope, I stepped to it with an urgent panic haste; for I heard one of those dreadful trunks coming scraping by under the parapet. Terror gave me strength; I had else been so weak I had not been able to climb, although on board our ship I had skilled myself to swarm a rope very easy.
Arrived the top, I felt somebody grip hold on my coat-collar with both hands, and hale me up upon the ledge of a small aperture that there was there in the wall.
“Follow me quickly!” said he.
I looked up and was amazed. It was Mr Vertembrex!
“You can speak!” cried I, “I thought - “
“Ay,” said he hastily, abridging me; “but there will be a time for explanation. Now come!”
“But, Mr Huxtable,” said I with a grievous recollection, “we can’t leave him here.”
“He is on the ship,” said he, taking me briskly by the arm. “Come!”
We stood in a sort of gallery in the rock, that run branching directly from the cavern; and there was a dim light proceeding from the farther end, which was but fourteen or fifteen paces away.
While we passed through, I saw some figures on the walls, being painted in a bright lively green, that, by what I did observe in my hasty and distracted course, were odd geometrical representations, being formed with circles, triangles, and the like.
We came to the further end, and issued into a sort of small square shaft, in bright daylight. ’Twas that orifice in the rock-tableland into which the monstrous sea savage had cast me down.
There was a rope hung down by one side, being not above twelve or fourteen foot in depth; and, laying hold of it, Mr Vertembrex immediately clambered up. I followed suit; whereupon, arriving the top, the first thing I beheld, to my inexpressible wonder, was our ship, lying not above two cables’ lengths from the rock.
She lay almost over against the place where we stood, her sails having been shortened to enable her to rest near the wind; and saw Mr Huxtable standing at the gang-way, and Giles Kedgley, that ancient greybeard sailor, at the helm.
I stood as in a dream, in the bright sunlight, scarce able to believe I was delivered from that dark abominable cavern; and the sight of our ship was pleasant and comfortable to me; an intimate, familiar, and home-like spectacle, and the sight of Mr Huxtable was more reviving than I can express.
But a sense of fear came over me, on a sudden, like a chill ghostly shadow; and in the same moment, I bethought me of that singular pillar of stone, which rose up from the rock at a few paces from where I stood.
I turned to look on it, wondering what possibly it could be. Certainly it was not natural, being too exactly cylindrical and polished smooth, Moreover, it had a sort of square base. Raising up my eyes, I perceived near the top, and bearing seaward, a curious round aperture like a large port.
I had scarce observed this, however, but Mr Vertembrex diverted my attention.
“Get you aboard the boat,” said he. “Make haste, lest they return and take us before we arrive the ship.”
I understood he meant those monstrous savage creatures, and wondered where they might be gone, but I did not ask him he knew; for I catched sight of a man’s head - or, to speak exactly, the uppermost part of it - appearing above the verge; and, stepping near, I saw Obadiah Moon in our ship’s boat, lying close under the rock.
He looked upon me, grinning broad (whatever he found in the occasion to be so jocular). I jumped aboard; Mr Vertembrex following. Thereupon, Obadiah thrust the boat from the rock with his oar, and all three pulling away, in a brief time we arrived our ship.
CHAPTER XXII -
Mr Huxtable’s Consummation
To my astonishment, and no small mortification, Mr Huxtable took no notice of my returning to our ship, neither when I waved to him in the boat as we drew near the side, nor even when I was come aboard.
He seemed to be abstracted in a muse, standing looking over the sea toward the rock-island, with his elbows resting on the gunnel; which, at such a juncture as this, I thought, was very singular, even though he did not know from what hazards I was escaped, and from what horrors. I was too proud or - I should say, rather - too sulky to speak to him, thus disappointed of what I had looked for; not only those testimonies of pleasure and affection at my salvation which I naturally expected, but an occasion to unpack my soul (not without some boy-like ostentation) by acquainting him with what I had suffered in that abominable cavern.
I wondered what had befallen him, and how he had ‘scaped the clutch of those monsters when they entered the cabin; and suddenly, while I looked upon him, I grew afraid. There was come into my thoughts those mysterious words in the journal-book of Mr Vertembrex of a light that shone through the cabin walls, and I conceived the notion that this was the same light that shone in the cabin of our ship (certainly it did appear to shine through the walls), and that it had wrought the like effects upon Mr Huxtable - I mean, stricken him, or enchanted him, after some unknown manner, casting him in the same state as Mr Vertembrex, was in: although (as I had the wit to consider) it did not appear to have had the least operation upon me.
This was a sufficient purge to my umbrage and pride; and I asked him, with impetuous anxious tones, why he did not speak to me.
But he returned no answer, nor gave the least sign of having heard - no, nor when I spoke to him again, catching desperately hold of his arm.
I turned, thereupon, to have spoken to Mr V
ertembrex, supposing he was by my side (for all these various thoughts and motions had passed over my mind - or so it did appear - in a few instants). I had not thought he would have removed from the gangway without speaking a single word to Mr Huxtable; but, on finding he was there no longer, I started round, glaring with a panic terror, thinking he might have been witched away, and that I was left alone with Mr Huxtable only, whose mind was absent, which was all one with his body being absent also - nay, worse, since he would be as a sort of corporeal phantasm unto me. In that instant the nerves of my body quite failed me; and I could not turn my eyes, or my head, to see for Mr Vertembrex if he was anywhere on our deck.
’Twas as enthrillingly terrible as anything I had known in the cavern (which terrible experiences had reduced me to such a distraught state), though causeless and insubstantial, as, next moment, it proved to be, when I heard the voice of Obadiah hailing from the rigging, that he was mounting up to increase our sail; which put me in mind, that, at the least, I was not alone on the ship; and thereupon Mr Vertembrex himself called to me to come assist him with hauling up our mizzen-sail.
I was just going, when I observed Mr Huxtable’s aspect change; and looking attentively and very affectionately on me, “I thank Heaven, Philip,” said he (strangely miscalling me), “that you have been preserved safe. But what is become of our men?” said he, looking about him, tugging convulsively at his beard. “Have they been carried off by - or do I dream? I have not been myself after I looked the demon in the eyes in the cabin. What a struggle was that! More actual than a dream, if it was but a dream. What can have befallen?” cried he, glaring with a distracted eye.
Before I could return an answer, Mr Vertembrex called to me a second time, with a high impatient tone.
“Why, who is that?” exclaimed Mr Huxtable, turning about; and, thereupon, set off with me down the deck. As we mounted up the poop-ladder, Obadiah, lying along the top-sail yard, cried out that he spied some of the monstrous creatures swimming in the sea; and, looking, I saw twenty or thirty of them in a shoal, being just able to descry them like dark specks in the water off the further extremity of the rock; whither they were plying: which was a lively token to us to make no delay. And, although they did not turn aside, any of them, from their purpose, which was, no doubt, to visit that horrible cavern (whatever occasion had called them away), to have come to our ship; yet, if we had stayed any longer, they might probably come after us when their business was concluded; and, unless we had been well away, have overtaken us (having such a small wind), they did swim so fast. But our ship, clapping on a wind, already began to move apace.
In the meantime, Mr Huxtable stood staring on Mr Vertembrex; who, however, without giving him time to utter a word, desired him with a brisk courteous tone, to assist me with hauling up the sail, and immediately after betook himself to the main-deck; whereupon, with surprising agility, he mounted up the ratlines.
Mr Huxtable fell to work without a word, seeming to relapse into his strange muse; in which state he did continue, with brief intervals, unto the end.
If he was spoke to, he returned a reasonable answer, though brief, and with a tone and manner admonishing brevity in his interlocutor also. He seemed commonly, even while he went about his work (which he never stinted, but thoroughly accomplished), to be rapt away in some secret blissful contemplation,or communing, with a look in his eyes like that of a contented lover - yea, of any, the happiest lover, in his most propitious hour.
As for me, I was at first in that bewildered condition, and so weak and crazy (which is no wonder, after what I had suffered) that, if the imperative occasion had not called me to bestir myself, since we were now so few to work the ship, I had been fain to go and lay me down upon my bed.
But necessity may be a brave physician, and no physic, at some times, so efficacious as the complete diversion of our thoughts. So, at all events, it was with me; and those well-nigh incessant labours and continual watchings by day and night with but little time for sleep and less for meals (which we took singly, at any odd hour, having our victuals always set upon the board), which might have been my death on another occasion - at least, quite wore me out - yet wrought no harm upon me, beyond a fever-chill, that I was ever sensible of after.
However, I am by nature propense to engage in bodily toil and to endure hardness; much more than to suffer the vexed and struggling labours of book-writing: from which cause (as I acquainted the reader in the Introduction) this narrative was so long deferred, until old age, and, being taken in hand, at last, miserably retarded. Now, being come nigh to the close, in view of the wished port - yea, drawing on also to that other desired haven when I shall be able to lay down the great pen of life (which is yet, perhaps, another way, no more than a feather’s weight), I do feel my powers of narration to halt miserably benumbed. Therefore, my readers (I hope) will grant pardon to me, though the rest of my book run somewhat short.
Begging the reader’s pardon for this digression, I proceed.
The fortunate wind and fair weather continuing, we sailed on six or seven days, generally toward the north-east, but often yawing about; for Giles Kedgley and Obadiah were the only skilful steersmen we had, and Obadiah was commonly befuddled and unhandy with drinking. It was to no purpose that Mr Vertembrex, as soon as he perceived it, caused all of our rum to be cast into the sea, the miserable creature provided himself from some secret store.
Although he took it upon himself to order our ship (Mr Huxtable never signifying the least desire to interpose), Mr Vertembrex was no master-mariner (I doubt he even knew how to take the sun; for I did never see him about it); but, by often consulting with Giles Kedgley, he contrived to manage sufficiently well.
This brisk little active man, although I was not sensible since he recovered his speech and ordinary mind, of that illumination of my spirits which I knew before when he was present with me, had yet a heartening and invigorating mien. I wished to have enquired of him about many things, needless to set down, but had few occasions for discourse, since he was commonly occupied with some business or other; and if it was not concerning the ship, he would be reading or scribbling in a manuscript-book that he bore about with him his coat-pocket. But on the night of the second day since we left the rock-island, while I kept my watch, the ship sailing smooth (Giles Kedgley being at the helm), he came stepping to me, with his nimble gait, and, after some pleasant salutation, sat him down by my side and requested me to give him an account of our adventures before we were come to the Pillar Rock (as he called it), and also what design Mr Huxtable had in going on this voyage.
I answered that I would relate our adventures very willingly, but for the rest, although I could tell him, I did not know if Mr Huxtable might be willing that I should.
“If you was to ask him,” said I, “’tis very like he will tell you.”
“Nay, perhaps he will tell me when he is more himself,” said he; “for, I suppose, he was he was not always as he is now.”
“No,” said I. “Do you think he will recover himself?”
“I hope he will,” said he; “and perhaps he begins to mend already. This morning he came and asked me if I was not on board a pirate ship, and if there was not a boy held captive there.”
“Ay,” said I eagerly. “That was his son. Was he aboard your ship?”
“Nay, I do not know,” said he. “I cannot see behind me, something has made me blind there, boy; and that’s an odd thing too, if you consider of it - that we look backward in time, and in space afore. Only, Mr Huxtable’s words put into my head what might be glimpses: as if I had about me once a sorry, villainous crew. But sure I was ne’er a pirate! You would not take me for a pirate - would you? He! he!” cried he, laughing on the tip of his voice, “it would go hard if I was hanged up in chains, like an innocent babe in his swing, never knowing my crime. Well, I must be merry. As the child was, so is the man; but yet not so, neither. This child was not merry; too happy by far to be merry! I do think I was extreme serious.”
“Can you remember a summer-house in your childhood, with coloured glass windows - blue and cinnamon?” cried I quickly, bethinking me of those words he wrote in our cabin.
“Bless us!” cried he, lifting his hands up, “it’s my happiest recollection. In Squire Joliffe’s great garden. But how came - Ha! ha! I have it. I lay sleeping and talked of it.”
“No, you did write it,” said I.
“Write it!” cried he. “How can that be? But it’s a piece of what you are to tell me. Begin; for, as you may suppose, I am extreme curious.”
“So I will,” said I; “but first I’ll let you know that you were not an ordinary pirate on that ship, but, like Captain Dampier, consorted with such rogues for discovery. You’re a naturalist; for your journal-book hath many natural descriptions, as of herbs, trees, fruits, and the like.”