The trench in which we now found ourselves seemed deep and safe. For that matter, the Lieutenant restored telephonic communication with me to tell me that we had just passed one of the corners most heavily bombarded by the enemy, and I could now be reassured. At the same time he congratulated me, and suggested that I might take a few mouthfuls of the Admiral’s rum; a piece of advice which I followed.
There is no need for me to describe the works of military art which we traversed, for my readers know as much about them as I do. They have been popularised by newspapers and magazines throughout the world. The arrangement of the trenches was the same under water as on land. There were the same lines with salients and angles, the same zigzag communication trenches and dug-outs, the same trenches for the assembling of troops and for the preparation of attack, the same munition dumps and first aid stations, the same commanding officers’ quarters and huts, the same shelters and parapets, and the same quantity of blocks of wood in the architecture of these trenches dug in the sand. But instead of mist and fog and torrential rains around these things, imagine water only; not falling water but moving water, far water is seldom still, and you will have an approximate idea of the conditions.
We had now crossed the second lines and were nearing the first line trench facing the enemy. We became conscious that the light did not emanate from us. Each of us had carefully extinguished his small torch, but we were illuminated by lights sent to us by the enemy. In the same way, I imagine, the enemy was illuminated by our light; that is to say by the lights that were sent out from our side.
The Lieutenant explained in a few words that they were electric flares. In fact we sent them and they sent us small electric lights which lit up automatically in their course and fell, as near as possible, on the places which it was desired to illuminate, such as the parapets of new works and, in particular, the network of barbed wire; and here the lamp would continue to burn for a certain time until it died a natural death, or a diver behind his loophole succeeded in bursting it with a bullet from his rifle.
The officer suddenly pulled me up in the neighbourhood of a shell-hole, and I saw some men from the engineer corps, so he called them, slowly leaving a trench, crawling on all fours, as it were, and preparing to place explosives near the enemy line, using for the purpose a long staff. I was greatly impressed. As events occurred the Lieutenant explained them to me, when he deemed it necessary. Well sheltered as I was in the hollow of a rock, it was as good as being at the play, and since I was invigorated and warmed by the rum I did not complain. What a condition of affairs and what a weird thing was life such as it was created and renewed daily for us by science!
I saw a body of troops arrive. Each man carried a bag of grenades and an implement at the waist belt. They were shock troops. These men, it appears, are allowed a double ration of brandy in their copper helmets. The solemn hour had struck — that was certain. But I was not aware by what watch or what clock. The shock troops in small bodies had taken up their positions along the trenches.
A great red flame suddenly burst forth in front of us. Chemistry, it seems, long since discovered how to make fire under water. The flame announced the fête. Then for ten minutes there was continuous firing while our trench guns disgorged their shrapnel. Rifles, machine-guns, mortars, bombs — none of these things made any noise and no smell of powder reached our nostrils. But there was a tremendous disturbance and whirlpool in the waters. The enemy replied weakly and only on our flanks. His entire front seemed to have been annihilated; but I imagined that his inaction was deceptive, and that it would be unwise to trust overmuch to appearances with Captain Hyx and his men. Of course I kept my reflections to myself.
We remained in our trenches in an agony of suspense. It was now our men’s turn to launch forward to the assault, with bayonets flashing, and to capture the trench in front of us.... We waited a few minutes, and half a dozen soldiers returned to us. Nothing more. Had the attack succeeded?
On a sign from my companion I left my place, and we continued our way to the right. In the trenches I saw wounded divers being removed, and the corpses of men who had lost their copper helmets and whose faces were already livid. I saw, too, other unfortunate men who were being hastily dragged to the places whence they could be made fast to cables and hoisted on board the black hulks so that they might receive attention — before they were suffocated. It was dreadful... And all this was done for gold... for gold. The thought was worthy of a ninny but it was quite pardonable.
The attack must have failed. I saw another body of formidable shapes come up, carrying on their shoulders terrible weapons, as it seemed to me, but they were perhaps only ordinary axes. Unless things are quite near, in this element, they cannot be seen as they are, for everything in it looks as if it belonged to the realm of spectres.... Above our heads the small electric flares crossed each other in their flight, and dropped around us like shooting stars.
Suddenly I noticed between two rocks at the entrance of a trench which ran down deeply into the mud, a corner of the battlefield where a hand-to-hand fight was in progress. The scene was vividly lit up, and took place on the slopes of a conical hill on the summit of which stood what appeared to be a wonderful iron statue of perfect beauty, entirely black. The fight was with sword and axe as in olden times of knights in armour and their faithful squires, without fear and without reproach. And, indeed, they threw themselves into the fray with such ardour that the tangle of helmets and cuirasses seemed almost like a repetition of a combat in the Hundred Years War as pictured for us in our school readers. And whom did the statue itself, with its splendid black armour and black casque, suggest but the Black Prince himself, so valiant in battle?
The Lieutenant pointed to the conical hill swarming with men in fierce combat and said:
“Mark six metres eighty-five.”
And indicating the knight, the Black Prince, who stood out above the onslaught he added:
“Captain Hyx.”
“Oh,” I returned. “Oh.” I was unable to utter another word.
“Come along,” he said. “If I had time I could show you many things from where we stand.... St. John the Evangelist’s Hill, St. Luke’s valley, Three Apostles’
Rock... and... but it will be better to take advantage of Captain Hyx’s presence at Mark six metres eighty-five to go to him at once. In fact you’ve only three hundred steps to make. In less than half an hour you will have ‘surrendered.’”
“Do you think so?” I exclaimed. I could have stamped with rage if I had not been prevented by my iron trousers. “Do you think so? Go to Captain Hyx at the present moment. Go through that mad fighting. Have you lost your common sense, I ask?”
“It’s you who are talking nonsense,” replied the lieutenant in a sneering tone. He was certainly another man for whom I had little or no respect. “Haven’t you been told that you will be the bearer of a flag of truce?”
“But how? How can it be done, I ask? How will these fighting men who are occupied solely in slashing each other, know that the armoured figure which is advancing across the battlefield is coming to them with a flag of truce?”
“As it happens, you won’t cross the battlefield. You will approach the enemy’s lines further to the west; and I shall fix the green cross to your helmet. It consists of four green electric lights, and these will proclaim in the bay the arrival of a flag of truce.... I tell you again, my dear Monsieur, you will be perfectly all right.”
“I’m glad to hear it... glad to hear it. But I suppose someone will come with me?”
“Of course.”
“Who is coming with me?”
“Don’t worry. Someone with a solid armour; almost as substantial as your own.”
We continued our way for another ten minutes. We went down into this tunnel with infinite precaution, and we covered in all some fifty steps. Then it seemed to me that we were above a species of pit which, as far as I could determine from the general plan of the defensive line opposite Mark six me
tres eighty-five, opened out towards the south-east. It was here that Von Treischke’s nephew said good-bye to me after taking the green cross lamp from his bag, switching the light on before me, and placing it in position on my helmet.
“With those lights,” he said, “you have nothing to fear; nothing at all.” The reader will see whether I had anything to fear or not.
No sooner was the green cross lamp illuminated than we saw the huge figure of a diver appear from the pit. He wore an armour which bore a considerable resemblance to my own. The figure saluted and placed himself at our orders.
“Let me introduce Sub-lieutenant Von — ,” said my companion. I did not catch the name distinctly and I have never heard it since. I saluted in my turn. “This gentleman will take you very near the Mark by a route which is quite safe; in a word by a route which is relatively calm.” The reader will see whether this route was relatively calm or not. “And now nothing remains for me to do but to wish you good luck. Good luck, Monsieur Herbert of Renich.”
I had no time to utter a word in reply for the communication was cut off, and he was already moving away. My new companion took me carefully by the nippers and gently led me forward. I readily followed him thinking to myself that I must bring my mission to an immediate end. I accepted the fairly obvious reasoning that this young man was no more anxious than I was to be left at the bottom of this or any other pit.
He switched on the telephone and we exchanged a few words, from which it appeared that we were at that moment approaching the excavation in which the hull of the “St. Mark” and her buried treasure had been discovered, for in this shifting ground the galleons, or at least some of them, had sunk to great depths, thus doubling and even quadrupling the difficulties of the enterprise. But nothing had been omitted to strip the “St. Mark” which, as was known, was more heavily laden with gold than any other vessel in the fleet. The vessel’s hull had changed hands, and now it belonged to no one; that is to say, as the doctor had explained to me, the rain of shells that fell on it from both sides rendered any approach to it impossible. As a matter of fact the capture of this mark by the Huns would solve their difficulties. As long as it remained uncaptured they could not empty the “St. Mark” of her riches undisturbed, nor work at other excavations such as, for example, the one round Three Apostles’ Rock, called Mark twenty-five metres seventy-five.
“I understood that,” I said. “But if so many shells as all that are fired round ‘St. Mark’ I see no necessity to pass so near such a dangerous spot.”
“It’s safer,” the Sub-lieutenant replied, “for the position is so well registered on both sides that shells never miss it.” The reader will see whether the shells ever missed it or not. “So long as we keep a hundred yards away from it, skirting the chasm, we run no risk until we reach Mark thirteen metres seventeen, which is some fifty paces from the enemy’s first line of defence. Here, Monsieur Herbert of Renich, you will only have to show the green cross and someone will come to meet you to take you to Captain Hyx.”
“Are you not coming with me?”
“No, certainly not. I shall wait for you at Mark thirteen metres seventeen.”
“Very well.”
I looked up. When I say I looked up I mean I raised my head and not my copper and steel helmet, and in this position I tried by gazing through the thick glass of my miniature windows to see what was happening above me.
Well, above me, shells and bombs and torpedoes and other more or less deadly apparatus swished past in great numbers. A continuous movement of lights and shades produced an optical effect something like that which is caused by the play of sunlight in hot countries when you find yourself in a trellised arbour and the wind above stirs the natural ornament of the vine leaves or other creepers.
The whole thing was very attractive and interesting. But the whole thing meant death. I said as much to my companion, who laughed. No doubt he was sure of himself and could not imagine that one of those deadly lights or shades could reach us. But the reader will see whether they could reach us or not.
We began to mount — very slowly — the south-east slope of the pit, with the help of railings and occasional flights of steps, solidly constructed and fixed by a system of stakes and thick planks. I was on the point of showing my green cross to the enemy in front when, crash! a shell burst near us, and threw us to the ground, or rather sent us, a few steps from each other, sprawling on a bed of sand.
I did not think that I was wounded, and I made sure that I was still watertight, and like a simpleton fancied that I had occasion to rejoice. Lying where I was, I looked round to see my companion who was still on the ground and waving his arms and legs in a curious manner. He was on his back, like myself, and he tried in vain to rise from that posture. In truth the sight was so comical that I could not refrain from laughing, but my laughter did not last long, for seeing his struggles to rise on all fours I determined to rise on mine. But I did not succeed any better than he did.
And then an icy perspiration broke out over me. I concluded, with good reason this time, that we were in a terrible, perhaps in a desperate condition. I am exaggerating nothing, nothing. Our diving armour was so ponderous that we were imprisoned in it, and it was impossible for us, as we lay, to move our bodies, or to move the armour. And there was every likelihood, if no one came to our succour within the next few hours, of our succumbing from lack of air on the very spot where the shell had flung us down.
Suddenly — as if the cup of our misery was not full and the prospect of suffocation in a few hours too easy a death — suddenly I felt that my arms were being buried in the sand while I was powerless to prevent it, and I became aware almost at once that my body, my iron body, was already sinking into the shifting sea-bed.
I stared once more at my companion. He was struggling still with all his might, but half of his body had already disappeared. And there was no reason to suppose that the other half would not vanish likewise; or that the same disaster would not befall me. I had no means of making sure. I could not see my own body. I could only see my companion and judge from the manner in which he was sinking into the sand what was happening to me.
The rapidity of the movement was appalling. He had now ceased to move his limbs. He must be bracing himself to meet it, or fancying that he was bracing himself to meet it, on his hands and feet so as to delay the advance of the engulfing element. In truth, I now saw neither his arms nor feet. And soon I saw only his head and part of his body.... I cried aloud in my copper helmet with the horror of the catastrophe. But the march of death was not to be arrested by the mad shouts of one who was about to die and whose voice could not be heard.... The end was inevitable.
I began to weep. God... now there was nothing on the sand beside me but my companion’s head. It was as though the head had fallen there without a body, rolled there of its own volition without a body. And, I too, I should have a head like that without a body.
I could not make the least movement of my arms and legs. They must have been buried with the rest of me, excepting a part of my head.
“God.... Mother.... Amalia.... Good-bye.”
I cast another look beside me. I saw nothing, nothing. Even my companion’s head had gone. And it seemed to me that my miniature windows were clouding over.... And then I could only see through the window on the left.
And my last vision through the tiny left-hand window of my copper helmet was of an electric flare that suddenly illuminated the inside of the chasm in which the formidable hulk of the “St. Mark” lay.... I saw what remained of her palatial poop, as well as one side entirely ripped open, whence the cases, themselves also ripped open, which had not yet been emptied of their gold, had slipped down to the bottom of the rock where they remained. And this red gold gleamed in the flash of the electric flare, and the tremendous vessel, freighted with gold, loomed up in my last sight of her not only with the traces of the fight of long ago when she was dismasted and her bow was burnt, but also with the scars of the combat of ye
sterday in the deeps of the bay.
Groups of divers were scattered over this scattered gold.... And these were the dead bodies of divers who had died fighting for the gold of the Incas, and it seemed as if they were embracing the gold even in death, attempting to carry it off even in death.... And, I too, I should be a diver’s corpse.... I saw nothing more... heard nothing more.... I, too, was dying. And yet I had not sought this gold, nor deserved this death for I had not sought this battle.... Farewell, accursed world, in which it was impossible for me to remain neutral.
CHAPTER XXIV
IN WHICH I FORM RESOLUTIONS WHICH GO BEYOND STRICT NEUTRALITY, AND WHAT CAME OF THEM
HOW WAS MY rescue effected? I learnt the facts when I opened my eyes in the little room in Barra Bay which I had left, at daybreak, attired in the Admiral’s diving armour, and after I was rid of it by the assiduous attention of the Admiral’s nephew.
Alarmed by my continued absence and the lack of news from my escort, Von Treischke’s nephew, accompanied by two officers, set out in search of us, but unfortunately for the young sub-lieutenant they found me only, and that, too, by the veriest chance.
It will never be known by what mysterious vagary of nature I stopped sinking into the sand while my companion continued his course into the abyss of the shifting seabed. Not the least trace of him could be discovered. It was sufficient, on the other hand, for the lieutenant and his fellow officers to dig round a foot which was protruding above the sand to recognise the Admiral’s diving suit and the man who was wearing it.
Brought back in haste to land, I soon came to myself, thanks to energetic massage for, as may readily be believed, I was in a dead faint. As soon as I recovered my senses, I declared flatly that no power on earth and no argument would induce me to put on the Admiral’s diving armour again. I had had enough to do to extricate myself from difficulties on land without having to take any part in those which happened under water. And when I spoke of a diver’s suit I did not express my entire meaning. So that no one could in future misunderstand me, I completed my statement by adding that I would not go under water again either in a diving armour or in any other. I had had enough of submarines also, I went on recklessly, and if I could not get into touch with Captain Hyx anywhere but at Mark six metres eighty-five, or in his submarine the “Vengeance,” I should give up the task which I had undertaken without duly considering the risks entailed in it. Thus I expressed myself, straight out, in a sort of voluble rage.
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 377