The House Under the Sea: A Romance

by Max Pemberton

partor lot in it.

  I have set down this account of my own experiences on the island thatyou may compare it with the books of others who have since visited thiswonderful place; but I would not have you think that I, and the braveman who stood at my side, forgot that human errand which put us ashorein those dismal swamps; or hung back to speak of our own sensationswhile others might need us so sorely. If we passed from delirium tosanity, from the height of hysterical imagination to the depths ofdespair and gloom, none the less the faculty of action remained, theimpulse which cried, "Straight on," and left us willing still to darethe worst if thereby a fellow-creature might be saved. Burning as ourbrains were, heavy the limbs, we could still push on across themeadows, search with our eyes for those poor people we had come out tosave. How long this power of action would remain to us, what suprememisfortune would end our journey at last, throwing us, it might be, tothe grass, there to sleep and end it all, we would not so much asconsider. Good men were perishing on Ken's Island, and every instinctsaid, "You, Jasper Begg, and you, James Nepeen, hold out a hand tothem."

  "Do you see anything, captain?" I asked my companion again and again;"we should be near them now. Do you hear any sound?"

  He answered me, gasping for his breath:

  "Not a whisper."

  "Yonder," I would go on, "yonder by the little wood; they landed there.Can you get as far, captain?"

  "I'll try, by Heaven!" said he, between his teeth.

  "They'll not be far from the wood," said I, "that's common sense. Shutyour eyes to all the things you see and don't think about it. It's anawful place, captain. No living man can picture its fellow."

  I waited for him to come up to me, and so placed myself that his eyes,I hoped, might turn seaward and not up towards the woods where suchweird sights were to be seen. For this place, the angle of the greatpasture-land where it met the forest, was occupied by sleeping cattle,white, and still, and frigid, so that all the scene, glimmering in themoonlight, might have been cut out of some great block of marble; andcows and sheep, and trees and hills, all chiselled by the hand ofDeath. That a living thing should be speaking and moving there seemedalmost an outrage upon the marvellous beauty of that field of sleep.The imagination reeled before this all-conquering trance, this glory ofnature spellbound. It were as though a man must throw himself to theearth, do what he would, and surrender to the spell of it. And that,perchance, we had done, and the end had been there and then, but for awoman's cry, rising so dolefully in the woods that every impulse wasawakened by it and all our resolutions retaken.

  "Did you hear that?" I cried to him, wildly; "a woman's voice, and nearby, too! You'll not turn back now, Captain Nepeen!"

  "Not for a fortune!" said he, bravely; "it would be Gertrude Dolling,the purser's sister; we cannot leave her!"

  The desire was like a draught of wine to him. He had been near falling,I make sure, but now, steadying himself for an instant upon my arm, heset off running at all his speed, and I at his heels, we crossed theintervening grass and were in the wood. There we found the purser'ssister, stumbling blindly to and fro, like a woman robbed of sight,while children were clinging to her dress and crying pitifully becauseshe did not heed them.

  It was an odd scene, and many must come and go before I forget it. Darkas the wood might be by day, the moonlight seemed to fill every gladeof it, showing us the gnarled trunks and the flowering bushes, thesilent pools and the grassy dells. And in the midst of this sylvanrest, remote from men, a lonely thicket of the great Pacific Ocean, wasthis figure of civilization, a young girl decked out in white, with apretty hat that Paris might have sent her, and little children, intheir sailors' clothes, clinging trustingly, as children will inconfidence to a woman's protecting hand. No surprise was it to me then,nor is it a surprise now, that the girl neither saw nor heard us. Thetrance had gripped her surely; the first delirium of exaltation hadrobbed her of sight and sense and even knowledge of the children. Thatdoleful wailing song of hers was the first chant of madness. Her stepswere undirected, now carrying her to the wood's heart, now away from ita little way towards the sea's beach. My order, twice given, that sheshould stand and wait for us was never answered; I do not even thinkthat she felt my hand upon her shoulder. But she fell at last, limp andshuddering, into my arms, and I picked her up and turned towards thesea.

  "The children to you, and straight ahead," said I to the captain; "runfor your life, and for the lives of these little ones. It will besomething to save them, captain."

  He answered me with a word that was almost a groan; but stooped to histask, nevertheless. He knew that it was a race for their lives andours.

  I had the burden in my arms, I say, and no feather's weight was less tome in the hope of my salvation and of those we strove for. The way laystraight down, through a ravine of the low cliffs to the beach we hadleft and the good boat awaiting us there. Nothing, it seemed, but acraven will could stand henceforth between us and God's fresh air thatnight. And yet how wrong that reckoning was! There were a dozen ofCzerny's men halloaing wildly on the cliff-side when we came out of thewood; and almost before we had marked them, they were after us headlonglike devils mad in wine.

  Now these men, as we learned afterwards, driven by hunger and thirst tothe point of raving, had come ashore that very evening; it may be torifle the stores on the island; it may be in that spirit of sheermadness which sometimes drives a seaman on. Twenty in all when theylanded, there were eight asleep already when we encountered them; andlying on the cliff's side, some with arms and heads overhanging, someshuddering in the fearful sleep, one at least bolt upright against therock with his arms outstretched as though he were crucified, theydotted that dell like figures upon a battle-field. The rest of them, asturdy twelve, fired by the dancing madness, brandishing their knives,uttering the most awful imprecations, ran on the cliff's head above us,and seemed to be making straight for the cove where our boat lay. Andthat is why we said that the race was for life or death.

  There are moments in his life when a man must decide "aye" or "nay"without checking his step to do so. As things stood, the outlook couldnot have been blacker while we ran through the ravine to the water'sedge. Behind, in the wood, lay the dancing death; before us thesemadmen with their gleaming knives, their unearthly yells, their reelinggait and fearful gesticulations. We had to choose between them, thesleep in the lonely glen, or the race downward to the shore; and wechose the latter, believing, I think, that the end must be the same,turn where we would.

  "Keep your course, keep your course!" I cried to the captain as we ranon. "Hold to it, for your life--it's our only chance!"

  He set one of the children on the sand, and, bidding the little one runon ahead, he drew his revolver and stood shoulder to shoulder with me.

  "A straight barrel and mark your men," cried he, very quietly; "it's acool head that wins this game. We have ten shots and the butts will dofor two. You will make that twelve if you add it up, captain."

  His coolness surprised me, but it was not to be wondered at. Never fromthe first had I heard this man utter one word which complained of oursituation or of its difficulty. To Captain James Nepeen a tight cornerwas a pleasure-ground; and now with these yelling devils all round him,and the vapour steaming in the woods behind, and the sea shimmeringlike a haven that would beckon us to salvation, he could yet wear thatcynical smile of his, and go with lighter step, and bear himself likethe true seaman that he was. Of all that I have ever sailed with Iwould name him first as a true comrade in peril or adversity. To hisskill I owed my life that night.

  "One," said he, suddenly, when a great head showed itself on the cliffabove us and was instantly drawn back. So quick had he been, so wilddid the aim appear, that when a body rolled presently down the grassybank and lay stark before us I could not believe that a bullet had doneits work.

  "One," cried he again, triumphantly--"and one from twelve leaveseleven. Ha, that's your bird, captain, and a big one!"

  Another man fell with a loud cry.]
/>   I had pulled my trigger, prompted by his example, and another man fromthe cliff above lifted his arms and fell with a loud cry. And this wasthe astonishing thing, that though we two were caged in a ravine likerats in a trap, and had shot two of the devils stone-dead, no answeringshot was fired from above, no rifle levelled at us.

  "No arms," cries the captain, presently; "and most of them half drunk.We're going through this, Mister Begg, right through, I assure you!"

  Well, I began to believe it; nevertheless, there were men on the shorebefore us, halloaing madmen, with clasp-knives in their hands andmurder in their faces. Clear in the moonlight you could see them; thestill air sent up their horrid