Uncharted Seas

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘Because I thought it’d please you, of course.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Does it?’

  ‘Of course it does. I like you ever so much better. Before, you know, joking apart, you were a bit of a blackguard.’

  ‘My dear, I know it. But this thing’s changed us all. It’s changed you a lot.’

  ‘Changed me!’ She looked up in surprise.

  ‘Rather. You were a most awful little prig, whereas now you’re quite human—you’ve even taken to drink—at least you appear to enjoy a glass of wine now and then.’

  It was Unity’s turn to smile. ‘I always did, but father was so damned mean about letting me have it.’

  ‘That’s not the only thing. You were a pinch-faced prude before, even when your father wasn’t present. Now, you’re so much gayer, in spite of everything, and perfectly natural.’

  ‘I was full of inhibitions, I suppose. If you’d lived in constant fear of a man like that you wouldn’t have been so cheerful either.’ She made a mocking little curtsy. ‘Thank you, sir, for your compliments on my improvement.’

  He laughed. ‘You’re a darling. D’you know I don’t mind really if we are stuck here for a time now we can take things a bit easier.’

  ‘Don’t you!’ Her eyes opened wider. ‘But there’s such a beastly feeling about the place. The silence, and these miles of weed with God-knows-what horrible creatures in it. Think of that poor wretch who died this morning.’

  ‘Yes. It was a pretty beastly death, wasn’t it. Still he escaped a long stretch in prison for mutiny and that’s something. Luvia’ll hand the whole group over to be tried directly we make a port, you know.’

  She nodded. ‘I suppose he will, but if they continue to do their job as they have done this last week I expect there’ll be a recommendation to mercy. Anyhow, I’m not one of them, and I’d give a lot to be safe in a civilised town.’

  ‘Um,’ he murmured doubtfully. ‘I can’t say I like this place exactly myself, but I haven’t quite the same inducement as you for wanting to get anywhere particular. Naturally you’re anxious to get home as quick as you can to your family and friends.’

  ‘I haven’t got much family now father’s dead. My mother died years ago, as I told you. I haven’t very many friends either. Ours wasn’t quite the jolly, carefree household that a girl feels happy about inviting her friends to, so I never had the chance of making many.’

  ‘There’s the painter chap.’

  ‘Yes, but that was finished as far as he was concerned when father made me cut him out.’

  ‘You could always dig him up again.’

  ‘I’ve thought of that, but I’m not betting on it in case he’s got interested in somebody else.’

  ‘Anyhow, you’ll have your independence.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I’m really looking forward to. Life’ll be fun now I’m my own mistress, and I’ll have money of my own to keep me comfortably.’

  ‘God, how lucky you are!’ he burst out suddenly. ‘I’d give anything now to be able to go home to England and settle down to a steady job. It’s not much fun being a remittance man. I’m paying for the follies of my youth with a vengeance.’

  She pulled up a chair. ‘I don’t know why we’re standing up. Come and sit down and tell me about it. This is the first chance I’ve had to ask you about yourself. You’re quite young and clever and attractive. What on earth started you off drinking like a fish? Was it a girl?’

  He flung himself down in the chair beside hers and stretched his legs. ‘No, it wasn’t a girl. Nothing so romantic. Just my own damned stupidity. You won’t think any the better of me when you’ve heard about it; but I’d like you to know the worst because you’re much too decent to judge me entirely on the past.’

  Time slipped by unnoticed while he told her of his inheritance and how he had frittered it away; then of his narrow escape from imprisonment and the useless sort of life he had led since, kicking his heels up and down the world. They were so immersed in their conversation and each other that they would probably have sat on there until dinner-time if a clear hail from the bridge had not brought them back to their present situation.

  Full watches were not being kept, but Luvia had detailed the men to take turns at look-out and Hansie was on duty. His shout brought Luvia running up from below.

  ‘By Jove! It’s nearly sunset,’ Basil exclaimed as he hurried after Unity out of the deck-house. ‘We forgot all about our tea.’

  Unity laughed. ‘Poor Synolda. She’ll have had to do all the dirty work for once. Anyhow, I don’t mind. I’ll do it for her another time. What’s Hansie shouting about?’

  They walked quickly towards the bridge together and ran up the ladder. Luvia was there with Hansie and De Brissac beside him. Several of the men had come up on deck.

  Hansie was pointing excitedly, while the other two men on the bridge were both peering through their glasses.

  ‘I can’t make it out,’ Luvia muttered.

  ‘What is it? What’re you looking at?’ Unity asked eagerly.

  ‘There’s something moving on the weed.’

  ‘Where? Oh, yes, I see it. That little black dot.’ Basil nodded.

  ‘I’d say it’s some kind of bird,’ Luvia remarked a moment later.

  ‘No, no. It is not a bird.’ De Brissac disagreed; and with his powerful military binoculars still glued to his eyes he went on: ‘It has a large black body—quite round. From that stretch down to the weed four slender legs like spindles. At the extremity of each is a black blob. Not feet or claws, but balls rather. Look—it is hopping across the weed like some gigantic flea—yet it moves quite slowly. It is coming nearer.’

  Soon, even those without glasses could make out the strange creature fairly clearly, although the sun was setting behind a low cloud and the mist which had hung about all day still obscured the horizon.

  Luvia and De Brissac could now see the strange animal in more detail through their glasses. The body was elongated with a vast round head as big as a small motor car; the two front legs appeared crooked at their tops, but the back ones tapered straight down into bone-like spines before meeting the ball-like feet. It appeared to prod the weed with all four feet simultaneously; the two back legs then shot forward between the two front legs in the manner of a giraffe, which animal was a good comparison with it for height. After each stab at the weed it sailed right up into the air for about fifteen feet, as far as they could judge, drifted slowly down, and repeated the prodding process with its ball-like feet which sent it sailing up again. It was like nothing they had ever seen before and they could not make up their minds if it was a bird, animal, or some gigantic unknown species of insect.

  It was still the best part of a mile away when De Brissac gave a shout: ‘Look! a devil-fish attacks it!’

  At the same instant the others had also seen the huge tentacle of an octopus shoot up out of the weed and wrap itself round one of the creature’s spindly legs. The nameless beast stabbed violently at the devil-fish with its other three feet for a few seconds, but suddenly seemed to collapse. Next moment it had been drawn under, and in the semi-darkness of the falling night the weed once more appeared to be an empty, lifeless expanse.

  The strange tragedy they had witnessed out in the grim weedland and the nature of the curious creature which had fallen a victim to the great octopus, provided them with food for much talk and speculation during dinner.

  Vicente was too sore and bruised from his mauling by the octopus to put in an appearance, so Synolda was able to evade his unwelcome attentions again. With Luvia beside her she sat for a long time that night up on the break of the fo’c’sle, and when they parted at her cabin door their last embrace had a warmth about it that left the big, blond Finnish engineer dazed but happy.

  Singly the men kept watch for an hour apiece during the night. It was a little before the dawn that Harlem Joe roused Luvia.

  ‘Well—what is it?’ asked the Finn.

  ‘Bre
mer, Baas,’ said the Negro. He was shaking slightly. ‘I’s his relief, but he don’ come give me der call bes’ part of dis hour back as he should. I wakes by myself, and t’inks maybe he’s laid down on de job. Get me, Baas? Sleepin’ or somethin’; but when I makes der bridge he jus’ ain’t dere.’

  Luvia tumbled out of his bunk and soon verified the stoker’s statement. Shouts and hails failed to bring any response from the Swedish seaman. Everyone was roused out and a systematic search of the ship began. It was quite fruitless; the fellow seemed to have vanished into thin air.

  Synolda said she remembered vaguely hearing someone call out in her sleep, but thought it was only a dream. No one else had heard anything.

  After the unavailing search had been completed and the others had gone below, De Brissac took Luvia by the arm and led him along to a spot on the port side of the ship just below the bridge. He said nothing but switched on his torch and pointed with it.

  Luvia stared at the thing upon the deck. He stood very still, his hands felt cold and clammy. It was a single, long tendril of wet, bright-green weed to which De Brissac pointed.

  Bremer was gone, and both men knew that in the darkness of the night some stealthy, hideous thing had come up out of the sea to get him.

  11

  The Coming of the Refugee

  Dawn was breaking. De Brissac and Luvia faced each other in the grey early light. The strip of bright-green seaweed which told such a terrible story lay on the deck between them.

  ‘Golly!’ Juhani gulped, ‘I thought my nerve was pretty good, but this scares me more than somewhat.’

  The Frenchman nodded. ‘It is uncanny this; horrible to think of that poor fellow pacing the deck here only an hour or so ago and now …’ He left the sentence unfinished, twisting his handsome face into an expressive grimace.

  Luvia picked up the trail of seaweed and flung it over the side. ‘Poor Bremer. A darn good seaman too. We’d best not let on to the others about this or they’ll get the jitters.’

  ‘I agree. In future, too, it would be best that no one is allowed on deck alone—even in the daytime.’ De Brissac turned and together the two men went along to the deck lounge where Unity and Synolda, having been roused early with the rest, were serving morning coffee.

  The warm brew raised their spirits a little and De Brissac put an end to speculation about Bremer’s disappearance by announcing: ‘I do not think there can be much doubt about what happened. The nerves of all of us are frayed to breaking point. This horrible quiet is enough to drive anyone insane. Poor Bremer must have had a brainstorm and decided to end it all by throwing himself overboard.’

  The explanation was accepted by the others as plausible. Those among them who had done night-duty as watchmen since the ship had been caught in the weed knew, well enough, the strain of standing about, peering out into the darkness trying to focus the hidden landscapes of this desolate sea which seemed to be the very end of the world; startled by the least plop as some fish or animal stirred in it, and unutterably depressed by the thought that their fate might be to die there, prisoners of the slimy weed.

  After breakfast they all went out on deck. It was very early still but the day had broken fine and the mist had lifted. Synolda was leading, and the second she stepped through the doorway of the lounge she grabbed at Luvia with a shrill exclamation.

  ‘Look, look, land!’

  The others saw it almost at the same second, and in a cluster they rushed to the ship’s rail, staring out with eager eyes across the calm stretch of watery vegetation.

  Now that the mist had dispersed land was clearly discernible. There were two pieces, one to the south-west, an irregular cape of greying colour, low on the horizon, which Luvia judged to be seven miles distant; and another larger stretch almost due south of them about five miles away. Between the two the weed showed unbroken, covering a channel some three miles in width.

  De Brissac hurried back into the lounge to get his binoculars; Luvia ran up to the bridge. Two minutes later they were together there while the rest crowded round them pressing to hear what they could make out with their glasses of these islands in the middle of the weed continent.

  ‘No trees,’ murmured De Brissac, ‘and a shelving rocky-looking coast. Anything but hospitable, I’m afraid. The near island looks a good size, and I don’t know if it’s cloud, but I can see something which looks as though it might be higher ground some miles inland.’

  ‘Sure,’ agreed Luvia. ‘If it’s not cloud it might be a small, flat-topped mountain. No sign of habitation on either of them, though. Just a muddy foreshore and then rocks—not even a thorn-bush, as far as I can see.’

  ‘Sounds a bit disappointing,’ Basil murmured, ‘but don’t let’s get too depressed. Most coastlines are barren except just round the ports and fishing villages, yet often enough they conceal habitable areas inland. The climate here isn’t so bad and if we could only get ashore I should think there’s a chance we might find wild fruit trees, birds and game even if the place is uninhabited.’

  Unity laughed uncertainly. ‘Perhaps, but we’ve got to get ashore, haven’t we?’

  ‘We’re still drifting,’ Luvia remarked, ‘and drifting in the direction of these islands. If only we don’t pass down the middle of the channel between them we might fix some way of getting ashore. I’m going aloft to the crow’s-nest. I’ll get a better look-see from there.’

  He was away about twenty minutes, and when he rejoined them he said: ‘There’s a third island ‘way over towards the farther one—a bit more to the west. It’s only a few hundred yards in length and quite barren—low in the water too—I wouldn’t think its highest point is more than twenty feet above the weed. I could see trees on the biggest island, about half a mile inland, unless I’m much mistaken, so maybe there’s fruit and nuts to be had if we could get ashore.’

  ‘Focus on the other one,’ said De Brissac swiftly. ‘There’s movement of sorts just by the coastline on the eastern side of the point.’

  They all strained their eyes in the direction he indicated. After a moment Luvia exclaimed: ‘Yep. I get you. On the point there nearest to the other island—tiny black specks that seem to be dancing up and down on the weed just off the shore.’

  ‘Perhaps they are more things like we saw yesterday,’ Synolda suggested, ‘you know, the queer beast with the big black body and head all in one and four spines for legs.’

  Luvia lowered his glasses. ‘You’ve got it. That’s what they are. A whole swarm of them, and it looks as if they’re crossing the channel towards the island nearest us.’

  For the best part of half an hour they remained clustered on the bridge passing the binoculars from hand to hand and studying the strange creatures in the far distance. As they approached the island it became easier to see them, and De Brissac estimated their number at well over a hundred. In front, leading the swarm, three of the animals appeared to be bunched together springing up from the weed simultaneously in a series of bounds as they crossed it. The rest were dotted about in an irregular formation behind.

  A quarter of an hour later the swarm had almost reached the nearer island and individual creatures could be picked out clearly with the human eye. So far they had been coming towards the ship on a diagonal line, but now they turned a little to the eastward to cover the last hundred yards or so to the coast to which they had been moving.

  Suddenly the watchers in the ship saw a short scrimmage take place among the three animals in front. Their stilt-like legs seemed to get mixed up; the one on the left toppled over and fell into the weed. The central creature detached itself, and swerving sharply, bounded away northwards towards the ship, while the third hopped about its fallen comrade endeavouring to raise it from the weed.

  The swarm was still a long way off, but a sea breeze coming from the island carried a faint crying sound as the whole lot turned parallel to the coastline of the island and followed its leader in the direction of the Gafelborg.

  ‘They’re
heading dead for us,’ Luvia grunted. ‘Wonder if they mean mischief.’

  ‘We’d better get out the arms and be on the safe side,’ De Brissac replied promptly.

  The little crowd on the bridge scattered and ran down the ladders to the deck. Since the affray with the octopus on the previous day Luvia had kept handy the two Winchesters which he and De Brissac had used, but now he hurried along to the armament store with Largertöf and Basil, and got out the four others that the ship carried, with a good supply of ammunition.

  De Brissac, Vicente and Luvia had pistols, so, with six rifles, there were nine firearms between the eleven men. In any other circumstance Luvia would have thought twice before arming Harlem Joe but, with over a hundred of these strange and probably hostile creatures advancing on the ship, he felt that he must take a chance, so only Corncob and Nudäa were left without weapons.

  De Brissac, as a military man, took command of the situation and Luvia willingly allowed him to do so. The two girls were ordered to their cabins and told to lock themselves in; but neither of them would hear of going below and, when Unity pointed out that if they were shown how to handle the Winchesters they could act as loaders, it was agreed that they should remain with the men.

  Luvia suggested they should divide themselves into three groups—one to hold the fo’c’sle, one the poop, and the third the bridge—but De Brissac overruled him, pointing out that a small party might be overwhelmed whereas if they concentrated the whole of their forces on the bridge, they would be in a much stronger position. It was unthinkable that the creatures had any means of attacking them other than with their claws and beaks, if they had them, so in one compact group the ship’s company would be better able to resist an assault.

  The nine armed men took up their positions round the bridge rail on the side of the ship nearest to the oncoming swarm, while Nudäa, Corncob, Unity and Synolda stood just in the rear ready to reload their weapons.

  By the time the arrangements were completed the strange beasts had covered about half the distance between the island and the ship with the leading creature bounding along about a hundred yards ahead of the rest. The swarm presented a most curious spectacle as each of the creatures kept prodding the weed with its four ball-like feet and floating up into the air like a gigantic flea in slow motion. Their elongated bodies were now clearly perceptible, and the great black heads that rose above them each seemed as large as an Austin Seven. The leader of the swarm appeared to have a whitish blotch in the middle of its head, but the others showed no marking and in colour were a uniform blackish grey. They were within a mile of the ship when De Brissac suddenly sent up a shout: