The Dream of X and Other Fantastic Visions

by William Hope Hodgson; Douglas A. Anderson

  The sun was high in the heavens when he again opened his eyes. He found his companion in misfortune capering about like a madman, signalling to something on the horizon by means of the shirt he had taken off.

  There was no sign of the dreadful octopus, save that planks at the end of the raft were covered with slime and gore. The mate’s head ached intolerably, and, putting his hand to his forehead, he discovered, a tremendous bruise—a discovery which brought the events of the previous night crowding back.

  “A ship!” screamed Tasker, in an ecstasy. “They’re putting about—they see us—” waving the shirt frantically. Painfully, the mate rose to his feet, and saw, perhaps two miles off, a ship, evidently a small barque, almost becalmed.

  Anxiously they watched the tiny ship grow slowly larger, while the blazing sun reached its meridian and began to sink lower in the heavens. At times the barque was quite motionless. At others, it seemed to the castaways that she contemplated turning back upon them and leaving them to their fate. Their frantic signals had apparently no effect upon the men who were bearing down upon the weed which imprisoned them.

  The afternoon passed, and night was rapidly falling upon the scene when a boat put off from the barque, whose sails flapped idly in the catspaw breezes which disturbed the awful calm. The rescuing boat touched the weed nearly half a mile from where the raft lay. Frantically the two men, who had watched every movement with starting eyes, noted the halt, and frantically waved signals of direction to the boat.

  Again the four rowers bent to their oars, driving their craft rapidly through the water to the entrance of the tiny creek. Again they paused doubtfully, and a moment later those on the raft could no longer see, even dimly, what was happening. A deep voice came booming over the weed. “Lay to, mates! We’ll fetch you off at daylight. Cheero!” The carpenter and the mate replied with a volley of frantic, incoherent cries, but when, exhausted and hopeless, they lapsed into silence, the dull thump of oar upon rowlock told them that the boat was on its way back to the barque. As they stared into the darkness a light sprang into being on the distant ship, and its steady effulgence smote like a pang of despair into the hearts of the men on the raft.

  The mate was the first to rouse himself to action. He threw back the lid of the larder and began to tumble provisions and water-beaker out upon the rude deck. The carpenter watched him with a hard, curious gaze.

  Mentally each man measured the capacity of the locker. Then their eyes met.

  “There’s only room for one of us,” said the mate in a low tone, “and the devil-fish gets the other!” The carpenter nodded, and began to cough.

  Far across the impenetrable waste a bright eye blinked a message of hope—for one man!

  R.M.S. “Empress of Australia”

  THE EARTHQUAKE

  I do not intend writing an account to cover the whole scene of the appalling disaster which completely destroyed the whole City of Yokohama, the greater part of Tokio, the base of the Japanese Navy at Yokoseeka (Yokosuka), Kamura, and also doing much damage in the districts to the east of Fugiyama. This is to give an account, partly in the form of a Log, of some of my own experiences and the part played by the Empress of Australia during her stay in Yokohama from August 31st to September 7, 1923.

  AUGUST 31st.

  We arrived in Yokohama, homeward bound, and berthed, starboard side to, alongside the Custom’s Wharf. This wharf was under construction, the parts built of wood were being rebuilt of re-inforced concrete. It was to have accommodated four of the largest vessels at a time, two on each side of the wharf. It had two large freight sheds built of wood, with upper stories in the form of semi-open cafes, which are popular places for people to gather to see the ships depart.

  SEPTEMBER 1st.

  We were all ready for sailing at noon. The weather was fine and clear, with a light, southerly breeze. At one and one-half minutes to noon, we felt the ship vibrating, and wondered what was wrong, as the engines had not yet moved. After a few seconds the vibration became terrible; the whole ship seemed to jump and bend. In the engine room the engineers reported that the steam pipes were working at the expansion joints as much as a foot.

  From the bridge I saw the wharf from end to end rolling like a wave. The usual large crowds were gathered to see the ship go out. Down on the wharf there was terrible confusion; people were being thrown down in all directions. Then, with a rending crash, the whole wharf opened up. Down with the wreckage went all the crowds of struggling people, with numbers of horses, vans and motor cars. We threw over numbers of linen and rope ladders to those who were left on the narrow strip of wharf which remained standing. But at that time we were unable to render very much assistance, as the wind had suddenly increased to gale force, and the ship was being thrown away from the wharf as much as twenty feet, then back towards it again, by the extraordinary upheaval of the water. Several of our moving lines had carried away, it being impossible to slack them away in time. The atmosphere was rapidly becoming dark with dust from the fallen masonry on shore. I have a hazy recollection of seeing the buildings along the Bund collapsing, and the noise was terrible. No description can give any idea of the inferno. It seemed that this was the end of everything. The panic-stricken people on the wharf were trying to make their way to the shore over pieces of wreckage which still showed above water. Our Shanghai pilot (Kent) was about the first to go through the wharf. I saw him in the water with a motor car sliding in on top of him, and that was the last I saw of him until he appeared over the ship’s side, hauled up on a rope.

  The two tugs that were standing by to tend the ship had both cleared off in a hurry. Astern of us was an American freighter, Steel Navigator, and on our port side, moored to a buoy, was another steamer that had dragged her moorings and struck us on the quarter, smashing in the rail round the poop, and damaging some of the light plates on the counter, which was not serious. With the ship astern, we were able to get away. The Japanese pilot boat (a motor sampan) came off to us after a time and, after great efforts, succeeded in carrying out a 9” Manila to the buoy. This line parted, however, as we attempted to heave the ship out. We had just to hold on where we were.

  12:15 p.m. Fires could be seen through the smoke to be breaking out all over the city.

  12:30 p.m. We asked the ship astern to move out so that we could get away to an anchorage—that sportsman wouldn’t move, although the wind had eased off considerably, and the sea was back to normal.

  1:30 p.m. The whole of the wrecked city was now one enormous fire. The wind was blowing strong towards the harbour, driving the flames towards us. The heat and smoke were now getting terrible, and clouds of ashes were flying over us. All hands now, together with several volunteers from the passengers, were working at the fire service. We had thirty fire hoses in operation, throwing water over the whole of the outside of the ship. A number of cargo lighters in the harbour had already taken fire, and having burned through their moorings, were drifting about the harbour with the tide, igniting the other lighters as they came together. The freight sheds on the wharf, although they had collapsed, were still above water, and it was now only a matter of time before they took fire. We again made an unheeded appeal to the Steel Navigator to get away and let us out of the danger. They had let go an anchor which was leading close under our stern. Instead of heaving up and clearing out, they slacked away, still holding on to the wharf.

  2:00 p.m. The freight shed right off our starboard bow took fire and went up like matchwood. Things were looking very serious now. All hoses were directed towards the fore part of the ship and on to the wharf. We hauled astern until we were close up to the Navigator’s bows. They could see the imminent danger we were in, of taking fire, and they refused to move for us! The burning lighters were now moving round us, several having worked their way in between us and the wharf.

  When the Germans built this boat, they did not design her for speed, but they certainly gave us a good fire gear. Nothing less could have saved the ship.

>   Towards 3 o’clock the fire on the wharf began to burn itself out, and for the present the worst of the fire was over, and no part of the ship had taken fire. The Municipal Building was still standing. All the windows were spouting flames, and from the two high towers the fire was leaping as from a huge blast furnace.

  We were now able to get the boats away and pull in shore to bring off refugees who, to escape from the fire, had crowded down to the water, many having waded out up to their necks. We continued backwards and forwards between the ship and the shore, bringing off great numbers, many of whom were in a very bad state, and had to be carried down on improvised stretchers. All these cases were being treated on board. Under the supervision of the ship’s doctor, one part of the ship was being set aside for a hospital. The stewardesses and lady passengers and a number of the men were doing great work among the injured. Towards night the ship was becoming very crowded. Being impossible to take everyone, we had to limit our numbers to Europeans and Chinese, all injured cases and women with children. (Europeans meaning all white people and British subjects.) Out of all the ships in the harbour, most of which were Japanese, we only saw boats put off from two of them: The Dongola (P & O), the only other British ship in port, and the Andre Lebon, (French Mail).

  The Japanese, during that Saturday night, seemed to take no notice at all of the terrible suffering on shore.

  The most pressing need of those on shore was the lack of fresh water. The earthquake had broken all the mains leading into the city, and in that terrible heat the people were dying of thirst.

  When we stopped taking off the Japanese, we started a station on shore for distributing water, and had two life boats carrying off large quantities of water, which a party of us on shore served out in bowls.

  Towards 4:00 p.m. The people were coming down in only small numbers, and hearing that a number of Europeans were sheltering in the Park, which lies in the centre of the city, I decided to go up there and try to find them.

  The first great flood of the fire had passed over this part of the city, and it was impossible to make one’s way through. On shore the sight was appalling. There was not one building standing. Everywhere was a mass of burning ruins. Although the glare of the fire made it as bright as day, I had difficulty in finding my way, for little over half a mile of streets I knew very well. In places they were so covered in ruins as to be quite unrecognizable as roads. Deep crevices had broken the surface of the earth in all directions. In some places the roads had sunk and were three feet under water, which made dangerous going, as the holes were not visible. Tangles of twisted wire from telephones and tramways lay everywhere. Here and there were twisted pieces of metal which were once street cars. There was no sign at all of the rails. Wherever one looked, there was to be seen the inevitable of such a disaster—the burnt and charred remains of what were once human beings.

  I found the Park—or what was once the Park. It now resembled a lake, with islands of mud. On these mud islands were huddled together thousands of poor people who had lost everything, with no food to eat. Some had small bundles representing their worldly possessions. Amongst them were a few horses and cows. There was no distinction now between human beings and animals; all were in the same plight. It was very quiet. I was not there very long; it was getting rather too much for one’s nerves. I know I felt that any kind of noise would be more bearable than that awful stillness, after what had gone before. The only sounds one heard were a few wanderers floundering through the mud, crying out names of people they hoped to find.

  We got one or two more injured people and, at 4:30 a.m., we were all returned to the ship.

  SEPTEMBER 2nd.

  On trying out our engines, we found that our port engine would not turn. The ship astern of us, at some time, must have tautened up her cable, which was now foul of our propeller. That hero then slipped his cable, leaving us with 75 feet of cable, and his lower anchor round our port propeller. Our pilot boarded her, passed us a wire, and towed us astern, clear of the wharf, where we anchored.

  We had so far come through with no harm to the ship, except for our now disabled port engine and the damage on our poop, only to be faced by a far greater danger. During the night, some of the large oil storage tanks had taken fire and burst. Now from one end of the harbour came a huge pool of blazing oil. We were anchored where the set of the tide would bring this oil right down on us. Everyone saw it coming, but there was no panic.

  There was no chance of getting towed out of the harbour as we had only one engine and all that cable and anchor dragging from the other propeller. Captain Robinson then took his one chance and got under weigh with his one engine.

  It was a triumph of fine seamanship, how he manoeuvered the ship clear of the oil, turned her in the harbour, and headed her up for the breakwater entrance. The whole evolution took about an hour. There was no accident or mishap of any kind. Then, clear of the breakwater, we anchored. During the afternoon a pool of oil had drifted to the north end of the breakwater within the harbour, and was burning furiously. Watching this, we perceived that the fire had jumped the breakwater and set fire to some wharves along the north shore, and was now rapidly spreading towards a Japanese oil station where there were three 10,000-ton storage tanks close to the waterfront. If these tanks caught, we should probably find ourselves in a dangerous position.

  7:00 p.m. The Dutch oil tanker Iris, took us in tow, and towed us right out, clear of everything, where we at last anchored in safety. I should say here that when the Dutchman saw our lame duck manoeuvering in the harbour, he shewed good sportsmanship by offering, over the wireless, to come into the harbour and tow us out.

  That night the oil tanks caught fire. The sky in the north still shewed red with the glare from the fire at Tokio.

  By this time there were nearly three thousand people on board, two thousand of whom were refugees from the shore. Launches were coming off all through the day and night, bringing off others. There were a great number of injured, many of them serious cases.

  SEPTEMBER 3rd.

  Several Japanese destroyers arrived with relief stores. The military arrived from Tokio and established camps in the reclaimed land.

  Japanese battleships arrived in the morning and sent off a quantity of medical supplies. They later sent a diving party who did very well to clear the cable off our propellers and reported that the propellers appeared to have sustained only slight damage.

  The Empress of Canada also arrived this morning outward bound. We were busy all day transferring refugees to her in the ship’s lifeboats. She took several hundred people and as many injured cases as were safe to be moved.

  SEPTEMBER 4th.

  In the morning we made an expedition ashore in two parties to look for survivors around the European settlement. We landed on the reclaimed land and proceeded towards the Bluff. The Bluff was one of the prettiest parts of Yokohama where about 1,000 Europeans had their homes—beautiful places, some of them.

  In daylight we were able to see what a state of absolute destruction the whole city was in. The Grand Hotel was a heap of ruins which had fallen right across the Bund. There were only about three burnt out frame works of buildings standing. Every other building in the city was flattened to the ground and burnt in the great fire. The canals which subdivide the city were full up with dead bodies. How many lay under the ruins, we shall probably never know. The whole disaster was so sudden that it does not seem possible that very many had a chance to escape. Everywhere we went was nothing but destruction and death.

  For the last two days the military had taken charge of things, but very little seemed to have been done. Close around their headquarters, dead bodies still lay around, and even on their landing steps they had made no attempt to move them. If something was not done soon, disease would be sure to be breaking out. Difficulties facing them were having no means of transport. All trucks and wagons were burnt, the roads leading in from the country were impassable, and all the bridges were down. As all the towns a
nd villages for miles round had also suffered, the nearest relief town was Kobe, which is 360 miles by sea.

  During the morning whilst on shore, we felt another very pronounced shock.

  The Empress of Australia was the headquarters for Europeans in Yokohama. The British Consul (Mr. Boulter) and the American Vice-Consul were on board. Refugees were brought off to the ship and kept on board until we were able to transfer them to other vessels leaving for Kobe or America.

  Four American destroyers also arrived during the day and sent over large quantities of medical stores.

  At noon on the same day, the H.M.S. Dispatch arrived from Shanghai. She at once sent over doctors, sick-bay attendants, and four signalmen.

  The British and American ships were all assisting in transferring refugees from ship to ship.

  Dense clouds of smoke were still rising up from Yokosuka, where the huge naval oil reserve tanks and coal supply were stored.

  We have since heard that the explosions which took place during that Saturday afternoon, were the ammunition dumps blowing up.

  By now considerable numbers of refugees were arriving from Tokio.

  SEPTEMBER 5th—5:00 p.m.

  Went for a trial run in the Gulf. Both engines were working satisfactorily, although there was much vibration. Returning, we anchored close to the Dispatch. She sent over a diving party to survey our propellers and found three turns of wire round boss of starboard propeller, which they were able to clear.