An International Mission to the Moon

by Jean Petithuguenin

  Jacques suddenly perceived the sky in front of him, between the abruptly-terminated rocky walls, fully ornamented with lunar splendor. The defile seemed to be opening out into the void. The Indians marching at the head of the troop projected their silhouettes one by one in the bright cutting, and disappeared, as if swallowed up.

  When Jacques, still walking alongside Alvarez, arrived at the extremity of the defile, he exclaimed in admiration.

  Alvarez, who had not pronounced a word since the departure, stopped in order to show his companion the vast crater whose rim the troop had reached, the slopes of which plunged vertiginously into depths carpeted with an abundant vegetation.

  “My country is beautiful,” said the Indian. “Know, Señor, that no white man has ever set foot in it. You are the first of your race to cross this threshold. But remember my words. We are about to descend to the bottom of the crater; you will never get out again if you are unworthy of the favor I am granting you.”

  “Take my hand, Señor Alvarez, and tell me whether it is trembling,” Jacques replied. “I want you to have in my regard no more evil inventions than I have formed against you. Need I quote to you the celebrated maxim of your prophet-king Pachacutec? ‘He who is envious of honest men will find in them the substance of his ruin, as we see the spider extracting poison from the most beautiful flowers.’ Pachacutec’s comparison lacks exactitude in the eyes of modern zoologists, but we both understand the meaning of it well enough to profit from it.”

  “May Inti’s protection be upon the man who possesses the science of our ancestors!” replied Alvarez, gravely.

  And he resumed his march.

  The troop was now descending through a maze of rocks, in which Jacques did not observe any appearance of a traced path.

  The explorer had resumed distributing droplets of red dye, but he soon perceived, with irritation, that his flask was empty. Even supposing that his friends would succeed in following his trail this far, they would not have anything to guide them further but the uncertain traces left by human and animal feet.

  The band took nearly two hours to reach the bottom of the crater. Having reached open ground appropriate for the installation of a camp, Alvarez signaled a halt. They had been walking for about six hours.

  The Indians hastened to construct shelters with branches, and Alvarez offered one to his guest.

  “Rest, Señor Lasserre. You must be tired after yesterday’s excitements and that difficult march. Recover your strength; you will have great need of it in order to see this adventure through to the end.”

  He had a poncho given to Jacques, who lay down on a bed of dry grass and, genuinely exhausted, did not take long to fall into a profound sleep.

  VIII

  Brushing the crest of the ridges that formed the rim of the crater, the sun darted its rays over the shelter of foliage in which Jacques was still asleep. Penetrating through the interstices, they fell upon his eyelids.

  The explorer woke up, his limbs still weary, stretched, and made an effort to recover consciousness of reality, which dreams had transfigured. He sat up beneath the roof of foliage.

  No sound resonated in the morning. Jacques was astonished not to hear the bleating of the llamas that ordinarily salutes the appearance of the sun, nor the voices and footfalls of the Indians. Was everyone still asleep?

  The impression that he had experienced a few days before, when he has perceived on awakening the desertion of the mission’s Indians, suddenly returned to Jacques’ memory. Gripped by suspicions, he threw himself outside.

  No one! Not a single living being! Alvarez, the Indians and the llamas had all disappeared.

  What did it mean? If the Peruvian had had the intention from the start of abandoning the archeologist in the heart of the wilderness, why had he taken the trouble to take him prisoner and bring him this far? After having decided to guide him to the holy city, had he suddenly changed his mind? But nothing seemed to justify such an about-turn.

  Hardly able to believe his senses, Jacques wandered this way and that for a while, seeking in the vicinity of the camp for traces of his vanished companions. Meanwhile, he reflected, and recalled certain words charged with enigmatic menace that Alvarez had pronounced during the nocturnal march.

  We are about to descend to the bottom of the crater; you will never get out again if you are not worthy of the protection of our gods.

  Yes, everything became clear now to Jacques. Had Alvarez, that mysterious individual, not declared that he would submit his prisoner to redoubtable proofs? He had let it be understood that he was a descendant of the Incas, and that he reigned as such over a domain into which white men had never penetrated.

  So the fellow is amusing himself losing me in a labyrinth and saying to me: ‘Now get yourself out of it. If you can, it’s because Inti’s protection extends over you….’ Has the animal at least left me something to eat?

  On that matter, Jacques was soon reassured. He found a bag beside his shelter containing a maize broth mingled with shredded meat, and a leather bottle of chicha.

  That will suffice for a day or two...but they’ve taken my revolver, so I no longer have a weapon. If I find myself face to face with a jaguar, I’ll only have the magnetic force of my gaze with which to defend myself. Apart from that, however, the situation isn’t so tragic. Don’t I have the resource of going back, toward Robert and Pierre, who are certainly searching for me and perhaps already on my track?

  As he was thinking about that solution, his gaze searched mechanically for the path by which the troop had descended into the crater, and observed with anxiety that it would not be so easy for him to find the passage again. The rocks that formed the rim of the crater were all alike. Even by orientating himself in accordance with the memory he had of the position of the moon at the moment when he had crossed the threshold of the defile, Jacques could not pinpoint the location of that issue. In every direction the slopes were formed by gigantic aggregations of rocks, in the midst of which the archeologist might wander for days, making a thousand perilous ascents, before finding the way back.

  “Damn!” muttered the archeologist. “Now is the time to invoke the protection of Inti. Señor Alvarez, the great-grandson of that powerful divinity, has played a nasty trick on me, it seems. I’ll be lucky if I don’t leave my bones at the bottom of this accursed hole….”

  Let’s see! If Robert and Pierre have found my quipus in the little house and have deciphered its meaning, they only had to set out en route again this morning at daybreak. In the best hypothesis, they won’t be here for seven or eight hours. I therefore have time to explore the crater. But I need to leave them a signal to guide them if, by good luck, they reach the issue of the defile….

  Jacques broke off a long branch, stripped it of its leaves, and planted it in the ground in the middle of the bare space in which the band had camped, after having hooked his jacket to the extremity. A stick passed horizontally through the sleeves gave the improvised signal the appearance of one of the crude scarecrows that peasants often set up in their fields.

  Having done that, the archeologist decided that it would be wise to equip himself with a weapon. He had soon improvised one by carving a solid spear, sharpened with his knife.

  Undoubtedly, if I’m attacked by a jaguar, I’ll have difficulty putting an end to it with this primitive weapon, but all the same, it’s better than nothing. Prehistoric men were only a little better equipped when they battled cave-bears. I could also make myself a stone ax, not to mention a bow and arrows, but that would take too long; let’s wait until it becomes absolutely necessary.

  Jacques then undertook a reconnaissance in order to try to find the path by which he had arrived. He was careful to design little crosses with pebbles at intervals, in order not to risk going astray when he retraced his steps. He explored the labyrinth of rocks in that fashion for some time but, as he had feared, could not discover the exit from the defile. Everywhere, the rocky heights were terminated by sheer walls that
offered not the slightest passage. It was as if the cliff had reclosed behind Alvarez and his troop.

  Sufficiently discouraged, Jacques returned to the camp.

  I’ve decidedly got myself into a sticky situation. If my friends don’t find me, I’m well and truly stuffed…unless I adopt the other solution, which is to penetrate the heart of the holy city. Then Alvarez, the descendant of the Incas, will regard me as a sacred individual, sent by the gods themselves, and will take me under his aegis. Except that the difficulty is precisely that of reaching the holy city. If the route is as secret as the way back, I’ll have time to die in this wilderness, which is also a prison.

  Jacques also thought, bitterly, that even if his friends succeeded in catching up with him, he would not be saved in consequence; Robert and Pierre would simply be sharing his predicament.

  He are, reluctantly, a little of the broth that the Indians had left him. He had not taken the trouble to light a fire in order to heat up the dish in question, which, when it was cold, was not at all appetizing.

  In spite of his bravery and his appetite for adventure, Jacques felt his heart sink. He was not very optimistic about his prospects of getting out of the dire situation into which he had allowed himself to be drawn.

  After his summary breakfast he set about exploring the vicinity of the camp for the traces that the band must have left as they drew away, but, either because he was insufficiently skilled in that kind of investigation, or because the Indians had taken great precautions to efface their trail, the archeologist searched in vain.

  Discouraged, he was returning to the camp, above which his jacket was still floating in the guise of a flag, when he heard a kind of brief snort, followed by a loud rustling of branches and foliage, which revealed the presence of a large animal, probably a jaguar.

  It was coming from a thicket that Jacques was going past in order to return to his shelter.

  The explorer leapt backwards, and waited, the point of his spear directed toward the suspect location.

  A stick to fight a jaguar! Jacques was under no illusion regarding the efficacy of such a weapon. In order to escape death, he could only count on his sang-froid, and the fear that he might be able to inspire in the beast—but a jaguar is only slightly less redoubtable than a tiger, and is not easy to intimidate.

  Jacques held himself still, his gaze fixed on the thicket, which he saw agitating at the passage of the animal. Suddenly, it appeared, with its tawny spotted skin, its flat face, short ears and broad muzzle.

  The jaguar stopped on perceiving the man, and considered him fixedly, as if to measure the adversary with which hazard had unexpectedly confronted it. For a few seconds, the man and the animal tested one another with the force of their gaze.

  It was the wild beast that gave the first sign of lassitude. It turned its head away slightly, blinking, with one paw raised, its muzzle contracted with rage, and uttered a dull growl, which translated both fear and the desire to frighten its adversary.

  The animal hesitated; it was not yet beaten. It was tempted to flee, but it knew that retreat is not always the best means of escaping danger, and wondered whether it might not be better to switch to attack. The man’s immobility, which had initially intimidated it, began to reassure it. Its neck extended, its head at ground level, it brought its gaze back to Jacques, sniffing noisily, its claws laboring the ground. It curved its spine, arching its back, and gathered itself, ready to pounce.

  Jacques gripped his spear more tightly, resolved not to perish without a fight, even though he sensed that the struggle would be an unequal one.

  The jaguar uttered a roar that was angrier and more menacing, and….

  A gunshot rang out.

  The beast turned a somersault, fell, rolled over, got up, and, taking flight, disappeared into the densest part of the thicket.

  At the same moment, Robert and Pierre launched themselves into the open space in which the drama had just been played out.

  “Bravo!” cried Jacques, delighted. “You’re just in time, my friends. But for you, I was lost!”

  Robert, carbine in hand, was watching the bushes through which the jaguar had frayed a path. He was ready to finish the animal off if he found an opportunity to take aim.

  Jacques placed a hand on his arm.

  “Leave it. It’s no longer dangerous. No need to waste a second cartridge; our ammunition is too precious. And then, I’ve thought of something. Let’s go back to the camp; we can rest for a few minutes and confer. I assume you found my knotted-string message back there, and were guided this far by my jacket hoisted on its pole.”

  Indeed, Robert and Pierre, not seeing their comrade return, having set off in search of him, had explored Alvarez’ little house, deciphered Jacques’ quipus and, having set out at first light, had been fortunate enough to find the trail marked by the droplets of red dye.

  When the friends had brought one another up to date with their adventures, Jacques observed: “You’re doubtless not yet aware that we’re at the bottom of a veritable oubliette here. You’ve reached me thanks to the signal I exposed to your sight, but I defy you to find the breach by means of which you penetrated into the crater.

  As the friends protested, Jacques told them about his vain efforts to retrace his steps.

  “I’m not saying that we wouldn’t end up finding the issue again after days of research, but for the moment, I think we have better things to do, if you’re determined, as I am, to reach the sanctuary of the Incas. I’ve got an idea: a wounded animal, when it isn’t mortally afflicted, tries to put the greatest possible distance between itself and the hunter. Our jaguar won’t fail to follow that rule. If we follow its trail, therefore, we have some chance of finding a way out of the crater. We might, of course, come across its cadaver a few hundred meters away, but if it still has the strength, it might perhaps guide us all the way to the heart of the unknown land we’ve dreamed of visiting.”

  The three friends fell into agreement. Jacques’ plan was adopted, and after having hastily absorbed a little nourishment, the little troop set forth once again.

  The jaguar’s trail was not difficult to find, thanks to broken or warped branches, trampled grass, imprints of its paws in the soil and the bloodstains that the wounded animal had left in its wake. But as it was going through dense thickets or chaotic terrain, the archeologists had to employ exhausting gymnastics to follow it.

  They were, at least, recompensed for their troubles, for after hours of marching and numerous detours, they found themselves at the opening of a narrow canyon, in the depths of which a thin stream of water was flowing.

  There, the traces of the animal became indistinct on the smooth rocky ground, but that was no longer of any importance; the explorers felt sure that they were on the right path.

  IX

  The moon had not yet risen, and dense shadow reigned in the depths of the canyon. Exhausted by a long and effortful day, the archeologists had called a halt at dusk at the entrance to a little cavern, which offered them a natural shelter. They had restored themselves with a few pieces of cured llama. Now they were exchanging their reflections in low voices before going to sleep, while keeping their ears pricked for noises from outside.

  “Can you hear that kind of hoarse plaint?” said Jacques, suddenly.

  They could, in fact, occasionally perceive a faint gasp, which also sounded akin to a mewl.

  “That’s our wounded jaguar,” Jacques added, “dying somewhere nearby.”

  “That shouldn’t prevent us from sleeping,” said Pierre. “We have nothing more to fear from that direction.”

  In conformity with the rule of prudence that they were accustomed to observing, the explorers decided to take turns on sentry duty. Jacques, who was the least fatigued, took the first watch.

  He saw the moon rise in the cleft of the canyon, which was suddenly bathed in soft light, which was nevertheless bright enough to reveal all the details of the landscape.

  Armed with the carbin
e, which Robert had passed to him, Jacques remained crouched at the entrance to the grotto for some time, observing the rocks that extended toward the sky like walls or immense columns, and listening to the angry plaints that the jaguar uttered from time to time.

  Then he stood up, took a few strides along the canyon, in the bottom of which the stream was silvered by reflected moonlight. He expected to perceive the recumbent body of the wounded animal.

  As he supported himself against the cliff in order to clamber over a landslide he felt a block of stone vacillate under his hand.

  He stopped, intrigued, and applied a more vigorous pressure. The block swung, uncovering an opening, a kind of doorway in the rock. Beyond that doorway, which seemed natural, Jacques perceived the first steps of a stairway open to the sky, over which a little moonlight descended, reflected from an overhanging cliff.

  Having studied it momentarily, he returned to the cavern and woke Robert.

  “Take over the sentry duty for me. I’ve found a passage that might lead to the Incas’ holy city.

  At first, Robert did not want to let his companion investigate the route he had discovered on his own.

  “You’ll only fall into the power of the Indians again,” he said.

  “In that case, Alvarez will probably consider that I’ve triumphed in the proofs to which he subjected me; but I’ll remain on my guard, and I think it will be easier for me to pass unperceived by night than by day.”

  “Let’s all go, then.”

  “No; experience has taught us that it’s better not to risk all of us being captured at the same time.”

  Robert continued protesting for a little longer, but allowed himself be persuaded, and Jacques, having exchanged the carbine for a revolver, set off along what seemed to him to be a secret path dating from the time of the Incas.

  He climbed a stairway of a hundred steps, carved in the rock, with occasional landings, and went through three doorways, which would have been easy to close and defend. He advanced cautiously, always afraid that an enemy might suddenly surge forth. There were, however, no unfortunate encounters, and, when he arrived at the top of the staircase, after having come through one last doorway, he suddenly discovered an astonishing spectacle.