And, in truth, I reached it as though impelled by a sort of inward light; by an acute and suddenly awakened memory of the alley-ways through which I passed when I inspected the compartment for the first time in company with Amalia and the Captain.
The long divers’ room was empty. A row of small electric lamps in the centre diffused a soft light. My steps were directed by Mederic Eristal’s injunctions: “The last diving-suit on the starboard side.”
The special divers’ dresses, consisting of a mixture of rubber and waterproof cotton twill, constructed to bear considerable pressure, were hanging on the iron walls and ranged in perfect order. At the side of each suit were the copper breastplates which protect the chest and body and keep the wearer balanced while, at the same time, shielding him from the action of the sea. Underneath each dress, on a form, was the copper helmet, with its little glass windows in front and at the sides. Thus, since the diver is able to move his head at will, he commands a view of all the points of the underwater horizon. Near the helmet was an electric lamp which is fastened to the waist. Under the form were the heavy boots with their lead soles, which are secured firmly to the leg-piece by brass hoops. And, finally, on the iron floor was the reservoir of compressed air which each diver carries on his back, like a soldier’s knapsack, and which is connected with the helmet by a tube, enabling him to breathe freely at the bottom of the sea. Formerly, divers were mere slaves in chains to tubes which were attached to an air-pump above water; an apparatus which dates from the infancy of diving.
I heard the sound of a voice at the other end of the dressing-room, and bearing in mind the doctor’s instructions, I hastily picked up the unwieldy helmet and placed it on my shoulders. It covered, therefore, including its collar with metal screws, the upper part of my uniform. But my ignorance of it and my excitement were such that I placed the helmet on my shoulders — after introducing my head into it of course — hind part foremost. And undoubtedly I should have stuck there, the most perplexed of divers, if some one had not at that moment come to my assistance.
The helmet was turned round rather smartly and I saw in front of me the “middy’s” good-natured, laughing face. I at once felt easy in my mind. I was convinced that this man would not fail me in the depths of the sea. He shook me warmly by the hand, and without paying any further attention to the half-dozen men whom he had brought with him, and who were at the other end of the room, already putting on their diving suits, he set about screwing me firmly in my metal prison from head to foot as I so keenly desired. He fixed the helmet and the boots; placed the copper breastplates, which might have been huge decorations, in their position over my chest; fastened the electric lamp to my waist; and adjusted the cylinder of compressed air to my shoulders after first testing its pressure. And, finally, he placed me on my feet, for I was sitting on the form, and gave me a staff, at the end of which was an iron pick.
Then, having made some schoolboy grimaces through my miniature casement, which was protected by a wire trellis, and even put his tongue out at me, he turned to his own diving-suit, which he quickly assumed, for he seemed to have had considerable experience and practice with this sort of apparel.
I stood motionless as though pinned to the floor by my heavy lead soles, but I noted with satisfaction that I was breathing normally in my metal globe.
The “middy” blew his whistle, whereupon a number of men with small low trolleys appeared and we were hauled into an absolutely bare and somewhat narrow room, in which we were left to ourselves. A minute later a peculiar hissing sound indicated that water was flowing into this compartment.... The water rose higher and higher.... A very slight feeling of chill crept up my legs following the level of the water. Soon the water reached the height of my tiny windows. I had the sensation that it was going to enter my mouth, and I instinctively closed my mouth. How stupid of me! It is so easy to be wise after the event. And, let me tell you, I should have liked to see you in my place.
One of my companions — was it the “middy”? — went to a bulkhead and pressed some button or lever, and immediately the doors under the sea opened, while an iron ladder automatically unfolded itself and stood against the sill of the port, with its lowest step on the floor of the sea. Thus we were connected with the deep from the interior of the Vengeance by a system which is not in general use in ordinary submarines.
I followed behind the others, and although I fully expected it, for Archimedes’ principle is not a secret to any one, I was absolutely astonished by the freedom with which I moved about under water, as well as by the solidity and balance of my steps, due to my lead soles and the heavy metal weights.
CHAPTER XXX
A WALK UNDER THE SEA
IT WAS A wonderful sight that presented itself to my eyes from the entrance to the sea. I fancied that we should descend into an expanse of water lit up by the Vengeance’s powerful searchlights, but I was entirely mistaken.
There must have been good reasons — the Captain’s reasons — why the Vengeance did not make her presence known at Vigo either submerged or on the surface. Whatever the cause may have been, the fact itself enabled us to enjoy a picture of incomparable beauty in the moonlight. I thought, of course, that we should find ourselves in shallow water, chosen for this manoeuvre of disembarking in the sea, and, indeed, we could glimpse above our heads the silvery gleam of the splashing waves and their glistening foam in the moon’s rays.
I was the last to go down. We heard the iron doors close behind us and we turned round. The ladder had already disappeared. We walked away rather quickly so as to leave the vessel behind, and I looked round once more. The immense structure of the Vengeance was, in appearance, resting completely on the bed of the sea. But it was not so, for suddenly she started to roll along slowly in a direction opposite to that which we were taking. My electric lamp, which was throwing its light on a part of her hull, showed me an amazing number of small wheels on which the ship was moving with the slow action of her propellers or turbines.
I watched her for a long time as she disappeared in the mysterious distance with a slowness winch must have been contrived so as to avoid making an eddy that might be dangerous to us; and I wondered whether I should ever see her again.
The end of the adventure, or rather what I assumed to be the end, seemed to me as wonderful as the beginning, and I was as astonished to have found my way out of it as I was to have lived through it. Alas, these were but vain imaginings, premature rejoicings. There are adventures from which one never finds a way out.
Suddenly I felt a hand upon my shoulder. It was one of my companions who motioned to me that they had already begun their march. Was it the “ middy “? I followed them. And it was like a march in a fairy tale.
We might have switched off, without inconvenience, the long spindles of our electric lamps which seemed to cut out solid triangles of light in the liquid element, and we should have still been able to see our way clearly enough, such were the moon’s rays on the white foam of the waves and the phosphorescent gleam in the sea.
I no longer felt ill at ease, I no longer felt afraid. I believed that I was well on the way to rescue Amalia; on the way by the finest route in the world! I noticed that the divers ahead of me frequently stooped to scrutinise some object at their feet, which was at once rosy and shining, and they then continued their march. Their movement ended by exciting my curiosity.
I bent down and with one knee on the ground, leaning on my pick, examined closely this thing which my companions were examining. What was my delight and my astonishment to recognise a large volute with a rose-coloured “helmet.” It was what is called the Bahama volute because it is found chiefly in the neighbourhood of those islands. And a little further on I saw another rose-coloured “ helmet,” the Cape volute. It is from these volute-shells, which are as big as a man’s head, that cameos are cut.
I was making an attempt to pick up the fascinating volute from the bed of the sea in which it appeared to be incrusted, when one of the dive
rs made me let go my hold, giving me to understand by appropriate gestures that I must not linger behind for a purpose which was prohibited. And he pointed out other shells — mother-of-pearl and ear-shells, the latter, by the way, so greatly sought after by the Breton peasants. These shells were as fine as Chinese ear-shells with their pink, or green or rainbow-coloured mother-of-pearl. And they not only sprinkled our path, but marked it out at regular intervals.
Like Hop-o’-my-Thumb’s tiny pebbles in the heart of the deep forest, or rather, like the landmarks of the ancients or our own milestones of to-day, these huge sea-shells had been brought and embedded there in order to indicate the path that we should follow. And then I remembered the doctor’s words: “There’s no danger; the tracks are marked out under the sea.”
We had been marching for some half an hour on this submarine tableland, luminous with the light of the moon and the argentine flash of the waves, when suddenly we were obliged to descend somewhat quickly and abruptly. Our picks were of great use to us at this moment. We passed, on our left, a veritable forest of grass-wrack, of sea-weed, which stood up like the branches of trees and quivered at the least puff, in other words, the least disturbance of the sea.
At length we reached a sort of basaltic arena. Precipitous rocks hung above our heads menacingly as though they would come tumbling to the ground and crush us. The moonlight and the white surface of the waters flowing in the night-light, were no longer visible. We went down far enough to enable us to feel the increasing pressure of the surrounding water, and the greater difficulty of making headway. Nevertheless our movements, although heavy, were still perfectly free. Only it seemed to me that we were advancing with more prudence and deliberation.
After skirting an immense perpendicular cliff we started to scale it step by step. A flight of stairs had been hewn in the solid rock by the hand of man. On one side was an iron hand-rail to which we clung, as we clambered up, until we reached a granite stair-head, where we found ourselves in front of a lift.
Since I left Madeira in entirely unforeseen circumstances, I had had many occasions to be astonished, but I must admit that this was not the least of them. And yet, when one comes to think of it, why should one be surprised to see a lift descend to the bed of the sea and bring divers up to the open air? It was a mere child’s play to science, and the lift itself was one of the most everyday things in the world. I admit it... but, under water, I was like a child who had never been out into the world.
I took my place with my companions in the rather large cage. The doors were carefully closed. One of us pressed an electric button — such as may be seen in all hotels and self-respecting buildings — and we began to mount very slowly, thus avoiding the discomfort which is caused by sudden changes of pressure. The doors were like French windows, and we could see the perpendicular flank of the cliff and the spiral movement of the waters which we displaced.
Small red fish swam around us in the cage with distracting rapidity; and in the fight of the lamps I amused myself by catching them as one catches flies.
I saw by the shaking of the shoulders of the other divers that my childish antics had caused them to give vent to their amusement under their india-rubber skins and their brass helmets. I reproached myself for thus having attracted their attention, and I determined to efface myself, as far as possible, especially as we were now approaching, as it seemed to me, the final goal. And, apparently, it was for the purpose of recommending me to exercise greater discretion in my behaviour under the sea that one of them, without appearing to notice it, then and there placed his pick on my left big toe which has always been particularly sensitive. I cried out with the pain, without disguising the fact, believing that no one could hear me. And then I regretted nothing of the incident, for I felt convinced that it was the work of the “ middy” who was just the sort of diver to behave like that; and I was glad to have recognised him.
CHAPTER XXXI
A STRANGE SIGHT
SUDDENLY THE LIFT came to a stop. I soon began to wonder what this absence of movement meant, and if by chance we were going to remain any length of time suspended midway between the surface and the bottom of the sea.
Afterwards, the theory of a mechanical accident suggested itself to my troubled mind, and the possible consequence made my heart leap under my double skin; my own and my india-rubber skin. What would become of us if the machinery could not be made to work again? Should we not be condemned to die in this box after exhausting the air in our reservoirs! What did my companions think about it? I attempted to discern in their movements the same anxiety as I felt myself, but I had never seen them more impassive, not to say more petrified. Leaning on their iron picks, they looked like statues. They seemed to be waiting.... Obviously the lift will work again. But, you wretches, suppose the lift does not work again. Have you thought of that? Pack of asses... pack of petrified asses.
I was abusive because I was furious, not only with them, but with myself, for having consented to take the risk of such a mad game. And I was angry with mankind in general whose imagination leads them only in the direction of increasing the dangers of life.
But, what is that I hear?... A certain whistling sound. It is not the sound of rushing waters, but of air forcing its way in.... So we have arrived!
And what is that I see above me in the dusk? The moon! Not its diffused light, but its very clearly defined disc — made of green cheese with the face of the man in it!... And I laugh, I laugh. I am delighted, I can tell you.
Gradually, but by slow degrees, the water ran out; and our heads appeared above water, then our bodies; and finally our legs. With what gladness, I imagine, my companions helped each other to unscrew their helmets.
I did not stir from my place. I waited. And I was not mistaken. The man who placed his pick on my left big toe, pretending not to be aware of it, was the “ middy.”
He winked his eye at me and scratched the end of his nose in the drollest fashion. He must needs possess a cheerful disposition to be able, with so much responsibility on his shoulders, to play the humorist at such a moment.
The door of the lift opened on to a small room, cut out of the solid rock, and furnished in the crudest manner with boxes and settles. My companions had but a few steps to cover to reach the settles, where they completed the work of stripping themselves of their submarine man. It was soon done. The “middy” who himself led me to a stool, issued some orders which I did not understand, and we were left alone in this chamber of troglodytes. After liberating himself, he relieved me of my helmet, and removed my india-rubber skin and boots, with the most kindly and cheerful rapidity. Ah, he was a man, every inch of him, was the “ middy.” When I thought of all the doctor’s vacillations, I considered myself very fortunate that the second part of the procedure was confided to the “ middy.”
“There’s no time to lose,” he said. “Do you understand? The sooner we are at Vigo, the better it will be for you, and for me as well.”
“Are you going to Vigo with me, then?”
“I should think I was!... Just to have a cocktail elsewhere than in a submarine bar. I’m not complaining, mark you, I’m not complaining. I like the life well enough. And the Captain of the Vengeance has no end of reason to play tricks with the Huns.” (Tricks! He called them tricks.) “ As far as I’m concerned it’s my luck, as a sailor, never to be able to put up with the pitching and rolling of the sea, but I can do duty under water. It’s a capital idea, a capital idea. But say what you like, the people on the ship are too melancholy... too sentimental... a crew of quakers. The Captain plays hymn tunes on the organ and under his mask leaves the little chapel in tears....
“The only cheerful people in the entire crew are Old Latuile and the Chinaman. Now I ask you: Are they the sort of company for me? When they’ve told me all their little tales about tortures they’re finished. It’s amusing to hear them for the first time... after that they can shut up, as the French say. So, my dear fellow, I invite you to have a little cockta
il, a very nice little cocktail, at the Santiago de Compestella bar at the corner of the Calle Real and Santa Maria, the collegiate church, a few steps from the Plaza de là Constitucion....
“There’s a jolly bar kept by a Sunny Jim, an exchampion boxer from the British Navy, who will prove to you that he has qualities outside the ring, and can spar marvellously well with pewter pots behind the counter. Does that suit you? But not a word to a soul. It would upset the Captain.”
While he was speaking he picked me up and put me on my feet as though I were a mechanical doll, and placing my cap on my head, went on:
“There’s no need to refer to our business again. We are already at one about that. Understand, I count on you to prevent them from cutting that poor lady to pieces... No... A woman... It’s no joke and it’s not my style. As for the others, that’s their look-out. They’re combatants who’ve had no luck, that’s all. And they’ve done worse things than that themselves. But this poor lady... No... That mustn’t happen. You must arrange things so that her husband doesn’t allow himself to be pinched. Then we shall avoid a squabble. Especially as they are all mad against her on the Vengeance. The doctor told you so.... Confounded angels of the waters, get out! People will talk about them long after the war is over.... Oh, I must give you the passwords. To-night, they are Jerusalem and the Celestial City. They’re a set of quakers, I give you my word.... Don’t forget the cocktail.”
He took me out of the room and up a narrow flight of steps, cut in the earth, to a part of the cliff which was swept by a sea breeze from whose caress I was nearly swooning with delight. But it was not the moment to get excited. I hardened myself against every physical and moral emotion; and I asked him to tell me the way so that I might not lose myself.
“My dear Monsieur Herbert, you can’t go astray if you take this sunken road and don’t leave it until you get to the end. You see how simple it is. Step out at a good pace and you’ll cross the island in an hour. And you’ve already been told what you must do then...”
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 356