They Found Atlantis lw-1

by Dennis Wheatley

  They Found Atlantis

  ( Lost World - 1 )

  Dennis Wheatley

  Atlantis: for centuries the magic of that name has haunted man's imagination.

  Now, an incredible expedition is being prepared. Its destination: the final resting place of the ancient gold-encrusted city – one mile beneath the surface of the sea.

  For the lovely Camilla and her band of adventurers the days to come are full of danger. Ahead lies the silence of the unknown Deeps – and a nightmare of terror and betrayal.

  THEY FOUND ATLANTIS

  BY DENNIS WHEATLEY

  Camilla trembled. 'There is a hope for us then. There is a hope?'

  'A faint one, no more. Zakar or his companions had actually used the map we found and marked all sorts of things upon it. The waterlogged galleries and chambers are clearly etched in. This road to the upper world which he tried to clear had many notes beside it. Lul-luma translated them for me. They show the place he drove the beast men that he had under his control into clearing great falls of rock, sometimes several yards in length. They show too the spot where tragedy overtook him. He was very near the surface then but the passage is still blocked. The Atlanteans of his own generation could not clear it . . . but there is just a possibility that we might succeed by using our dynamite.'

  1

  A Strange Craft

  Funchal, the capital of Madeira, is on the south coast of the island. Its leisurely dealings in wine and sugar, lace and basketwork, hardly disturb the serenity of the little town. Its buildings, straggling out along a wide blue bay and up the foot of the mountain which rises steeply from the shore, white, cream, and lemon among the greenery of vineyards and cane brakes, face a limitless waste of sparkling waters and for the most part lie sleeping in the sun.

  The western end of the bay is dominated by a high cliff upon which stands Reids Palace Hotel. That is the real centre of the island's life. Often, when a calling liner allows its passengers a few hours in which to stretch their legs ashore, two hundred extra places are laid for luncheon there, and all the year round holidaymakers come and go, basking for a week or two in certain sunshine, since the climate of the fortunate island rarely drops below seventy or rises above ninety in the shade.

  Palms, oleanders, bougainvillea and magnolia trees rise from the semi-tropical gardens to screen the lower balconies of the hotel, then the cliff drops almost sheer, and a cactus-fringed stairway leads down to a rocky promontory upon which the hotel guests sunbathe between dips in the blue waters of the Atlantic.

  The McKay had had his morning swim and baked the lean body, to which he was pleased to refer as 'the imperial carcass', a slightly deeper shade of golden brown. Now, with his Chinese robe girt tightly round him, he stood with his eyes glued to a pair of binoculars, watching a ship that had just come to anchor in the bay.

  He was a shortish man but very upright, square-shouldered and square-headed. His hair, thick, wiry and close cut, except where it was brushed up from his broad forehead, had once been a violent red but was now only faintly sandy, the colour having been bleached from it until it had become almost white.

  A girl with candid grey eyes and ripe-corn coloured hair was seated on the rocks near him.

  'What do you make of her?' she enquired. 'I've never seen a queerer-looking yacht.'

  'She's not a yacht, m'dear.' The McKay lowered his glasses and offered them. 'Take a look yourself. Fine feathers make fine birds they say but for all her brass and paintwork she's a tramp—or has been. It takes more than the addition of a few deck houses to deceive your old sailor man.'

  'Thanks.' Sally Hart took the glasses and focused them upon the gaily painted ship with its unusual super-structure of white cabins forward and even stranger tangle of cranes, and massed machinery aft. 'But why,' she went on after a moment, 'do you persist in referring to yourself as if you had captained the Ark?—you're not really old at all.'

  An appreciative grin spread over the McKay's face. It was lined from exposure to cutting wind, driving spray, and torrid sunglare on the bridges of the many ships in which he had served, but the webs of little wrinkles which creased up round the corners of his blue eyes were due to an irrepressible sense of humour.

  'That's nice of you, m'dear,' he murmured, 'but I'm old enough to be your daddy and too old at forty-six to be given another ship. At least, that was the opinion formulated by their noble lordships of the Admiralty when they retired me last year—the blithering idiots.'

  She shook her head. Til bet that wasn't the real reason. The British Admiralty like their sailors to be respectably married and have money when they reach captain's rank, so they can throw parties when they're in foreign stations. Naturally they axed a professional bad man like you who refuses to grow old and has no money or official wife—but a girl in every port.'

  'If you're not careful I'll run you in for infringing the

  official secrets act,* he countered quickly. 'You know too

  much young woman—especially for a Yankee.*

  Without removing the glasses from her eyes she shot out one bare foot and kicked him on the behind. 'How dare you call me a Yankee you ill-bred oaf. I come from California and don't you forget it. Now tell me please, what's that great ball thing hanging out from the rear of the ship?'

  'Starn, dearie, starn, the word "rear" makes a sailor blush. I'm not certain what the ball thing is myself. It looks like the grandfather of all the buoys that ever were at this distance, but judging by photographs I've seen I'd hazard a guess that it's a bathysphere.'

  'And what's a bathysphere Nelson Andy McKay?'

  'A bathysphere, oh child of ignorance and sin. is a hollow steel ball constructed to resist enormous pressure. Adventurous souls like Dr. William Beebe, who invented it, climb inside; then their pals lower them into the depths of the ocean so that they can make long noses at giant octopuses through the super-thick portholes.'

  'Of course—I remember hearing about Beebe's book "Half Mile Down". Would this be his research ship, then, I wonder?'

  'No. I don't think she's Beebe's hooker. His bathysphere is quite a small affair. It holds only two divers and it's hoisted on and off the deck with a fair sized derrick— whereas that thing could hold half a dozen people and must weigh a hundred ton. That's why they ship it on those steel girders abaft the starn right down on the waterline I expect. It is about one third submerged already as you can see and they probably run it straight off the steel tracks so that the water carries part of its immense weight before it has to be taken up by that complicated system of cranes overhead.'

  'Oh look!' Sally turned and pointed suddenly. 'Camilla and her boy friends are going off in the speed-boat to investigate.'

  As she followed the foaming track of the speed-boat in its graceful curve towards the anchored mystery ship the McKay settled himself on his lean haunches and studied her excited young face at his leisure.

  Sally's skin was good, her nose straight, her mouth full and red, hei teeth excellent, her eyes wide set but not large enough to give her face distinction. She was attractive but not a real beauty.

  Her cheeks were just a shade too full and nothing, she knew, could alter that any more than the most skilful plucking would ever convert her golden eyebrows from semicircular arches to the long narrow Garboish sweeps which she would have liked. Besides, shame of all shames, her otherwise quite perfect figure was marred by thick ankles.

  The McKay was not thinking of her ankles, only that she was a darned decent healthy little girl, and a thundering sight more fun to be with than her really beautiful multi-millionairess cousin, Camilla, newly divorced Duchess da Solento-Ragina, nee Hart, who was speeding out to the strange vessel in the bay with a little body
guard of would-be second husbands.

  'Wonder which of 'em will hook her?* the McKay remarked, airing his thoughts aloud. 'If 1 were her I'd pick the Swede—at least he's got some brains.'

  'Oh, but Count Axel's so old!' Sally protested.

  'Nonsense, he's not much over forty, just the age to deal with a fly-by-night young creature like your lovely cousin. Still she hasn't the sense to see that he's worth three of the Roumanian Prince—or ten of that little filth Master Nicolas Costello.'

  'Nicky's not so bad. He's rather fun I think, and quite a famous film star. You've only got a hate against him because you don't like crooners—you said so the other day.*

  'I'd croon him if I had him in a ship with me,' said the McKay grimly. 'I took a dislike to that young man before I even knew what brand of idiocy he indulged in. 1 suppose the odds are really on the Prince. Vladimir is a handsome looking bounder and she'd like another title, wouldn't she?'

  Sally shrugged and regarded the McKay with mild amusement. 'She doesn't tell me much. I'm only the female counterpart of Rene P. Slinger—just a paid companion she trots round with her to do her chores. 1 don't think she'll be in any hurry to take a second husband though. We only unloaded the Duke three months ago and her experience with him would last most girls a lifetime.*

  The McKay began to chuckle to himself.

  'What are you laughing at?' Sally asked suspiciously.

  •Just the story of Camilla and her Duke,' he confessed.

  'Most men in his situation would have spent the rest of their lives tagging round after wealthy wifey like a kind of super footman on any pocket money she cared to dole out to them, but Ragina had the sense to fix things up properly before taking her to church. Then, when she started her tantrums, he was able to quit the party with enough cash to keep him in clover for the rest of his days as some compensation for the trouble she had put him to.'

  'Trouble!' exclaimed Sally hotly. 'Not many men find it any trouble to make love to a pretty girl.'

  'True,' the McKay agreed slowly, 'but Camilla's got a temper and her education is pathetic, despite all the thousands her guardians must have spent on it, whereas Ragina, I'm told, is a peace-loving cultured sort of chap so he probably found her a most awful bore to live with after the first fortnight.'

  Sally flushed and hastened to the defence of her cousin. 'How can you! He was a rotten little blackguard who trapped her into that wicked marriage settlement by trading on the fact that she had fallen for him.'

  'Fiddlesticks! Camilla wanted large coronets on her silk undies and the Duke was getting a bit weary of ye ancient family overdraft so they made a deal of it.'

  'Thats not true. Before she was twenty-one her guardians would hardly allow her to see a man so she was horribly inexperienced and developed one of those wild short-lived passions the very moment she met him, just as any girl might who had been cooped up that way. He was terribly in love with her too—to begin with.'

  The McKay's blue eyes twinkled beneath their bushy, sandy-white, caterpillar brows. 'Steady m'dear, you're getting almost as excited as if it had happened to you.'

  'Well I certainly feel that way at times. You see, I've been with Camilla ever since she left school, and I'll never forget those months that she was married. D'you know that little swine used actually to beat her—with his braces.'

  The McKay suddenly sat back and roared with laughter.

  With an angry frown Sally stood up but he stretched out a detaining hand and caught at her bathrobe. 'Now, now, don't run away. Camilla doesn't seem to have had any bones broken and lots of girls enjoy a playful hiding sometimes. It probably did her a power of good to learn that she could not carry her millions into the bedroom. Besides, you must admit that there's a funny side of it. Just picture the little dark Duke chasing that great hoyden of a girl round the room to give her a leathering.'

  'You brute,' exclaimed Sally her grey eyes wide with indignation but as he struggled to his feet she had difficulty in repressing a smile.

  'Come on young woman,* he said firmly. 'It's time for the odd spot before lunch so if you will deign to accompany the imperial carcass up to the hotel I'll buy you a sherry cobbler.'

  'Thanks.' She turned with him, then paused as she saw the speed-boat hurtling towards them across the water. 'Here come the others. They haven't been long have they? Do let's wait for a moment and learn the mystery about this queer ship.'

  They stood silent until the speed-boat drew alongside. The tall, dark, Roumanian Prince sprang on to the landing steps. Nicolas Costello, the film star, jumped out beside him. The Swedish Count took the golden-haired Camilla's hand to assist her ashore. Rene P. Slinger, a bald-headed thin-nosed man who was the Duchess's confidential adviser, followed and after him came a fat puffing stranger who mopped his bare head, from which thick fair hair sprouted like the bristles of a brush, with a red bandana handkerchief.

  'Darling!' shrilled Camilla as she landed, 'meet Herr Doktor Tisch. We just caught him leaving his wonder-ship and brought him ashore to lunch with us.'

  The perspiring German thrust his handkerchief into his pocket and bowed stiffly from the waist.

  'Isn't it too thrilling,' Camilla hurried on. 'The Herr Doktor is out to rediscover the biggest hoard of gold there's ever been in the world. With that ball thing on his boat he plans to go a mile deep in the sea and dig up all the vast treasure from the lost continent of Atlantis.'

  The Sunken Continent

  The Duchess da Solento-Ragina was certainly a lovely young woman. In face and figure she was very like her cousin Sally and in the distance they might easily have been mistaken for each other but, close to, Camilla's better breeding showed in her slim wrists and ankles, the more delicate bone construction of her face and larger eyes, the blue of which against her golden hair gave her a slightly more attractive colouring than Sally.

  However, slim ankles do not guarantee a good temper or fine eyes a kindly consideration for the feelings of other people and Camilla, without being by any means an ill-natured girl was a little inclined to abuse the power which her millions gave her. She took an almost childish delight in watching her lovers quarrel for her favour and liked to tantalise them by withdrawing herself unexpectedly at times.

  Now therefore, having introduced herself to Dr. Herman Tisch immediately on his ship's arrival and secured him as her guest for luncheon, she did not invite what the McKay cynically termed her 'circus' to join her table, so only Sally and Rene P. Slinger were privileged to share with her the Herr Doktor's account of his projected descent to the bottom of the ocean.

  None of his auditors knew more of Atlantis than the bare legend that it had once existed as an island in the centre of the Atlantic, but the fat little German was an expert on his subject so it needed neither the two girls' eager questioning nor the bald sharp-featured Slinger's mild scepticism to release a positive spate of facts and figures, geological, botanical, and ethnological from the Doctor between the mouthfuls of a very hearty lunch.

  Afterwards he asked to be excused in order that he might attend to his letters, which he had collected from the Hotel bureau, but promised to join them again later as they went out to drink their coffee on the terrace.

  Nicolas Costello, his sleek fair hair brushed flatly back, and resplendent in a pale blue flannel suit, that no man other than a film star would have dared to wear, had already secured a table and ringed it with basket chairs. He held one facing the lovely prospect of the bay for Camilla and then, without a glance at the others, plumped himself down beside her.

  Count Axel Fersan placed his long delicate hand on the back of another and drew it out for Sally, then he settled himself with leisurely ease between her and Slinger.

  'Where is the Prince?' enquired Camilla with a little frown.

  'Here, Madame!' The tall Roumanian appeared in the French window behind her. He was a magnificent figure of a man and his velvety eyes held a ready smile as he bowed to her.

  'Come on now, Camilla,' Nicky urge
d. 'What's all this business about getting to the bottom of the Atlantic?'

  The McKay appeared at that moment on his way down to the garden and Camilla called to him. 'Come and join us, Captain, you know all about the sea. What are the chances of getting to the bottom of it?'

  'Remarkable few if you happen to be in the British Navy —thank God!' he replied drily as he pulled up a chair. 'I've managed to avoid it for twenty-eight years.'

  'Oh, stop this fooling,' cut in Nicky impatiently. 'Didn't the little German say there was a whole heap of gold to be got? Let's hear about it then.'

  The Roumanian's black eyes flashed with an antagonism that he did not attempt to conceal. .'I have heard a rumour that you are bankrupt stock, but thought that you seek an easier way than a gamble with life to make whole your balances.'

  Nicky went scarlet. 'See here!' he began but Count Axel's gentle laughter mocked him into a furious silence.

  The Count was older than the other two. Slim, elegant, of middle height, he had neither the Roumanian's military swagger or the Greek-god features which had made Nicky's profile world famous, but he possessed the quiet distinction which scholarship lends to nobility. His face was long, his nose a little pointed, his eyes a quick intelligent hazel. His lightish brown hair was already thinning on his delicately moulded skull.

  'Now children,' Camilla held up her hand to quiet his impish laughter. 'Be good, and Rene shall tell you all the Herr Doktor said at lunch of what he plans to do.'

  Slinger hunched himself forward, gave a twirl to the butt of his cigar, and began in a high reedy voice: 'I didn't understand half the scientific stuff he talked, but this is how I get it.

  'Thousands of years ago there was land right in the middle of the North Atlantic—an island as big as France and Germany put together. There were chains of small islands too, one running from it down to Brazil and the other across to Portugal. According to the Professor that's the only way so many plants and animals that are common to both continents could have got across the ocean.'