They Found Atlantis lw-1

by Dennis Wheatley

  'All right,' she said, 'fire away.'

  'Well you don't have much of a life—do you?'

  'How exactly do you mean?'

  'You're entirely dependent on Camilla—and at her beck and call all the time.'

  'Yes—I suppose I am. Anyhow for the moment.'

  'Why for the moment only?'

  'Well I might marry you know.'

  'Yes,' he said slowly, 'you might but not before Camilla.'

  'Thank you Nicky.'

  'Oh no offence, but the odds are all on her—aren't they?'

  'Yes, I suppose they are.'

  'I'd hate to see her marry this rotten dago Prince,' he exclaimed with sudden venom.

  'Now Nicky don't be naughty. Vladimir is just a nice large healthy animal. He's a gay and affectionate person too but if you will persist in sticking pins in him and making fun of his quaint English you can't expect him to be nice to you.'

  'I don't give a dime if he's nice or not. Do you think Camilla is likely to fall for him?'

  'I've no idea. You'd better ask Camilla.'

  'Not very helpful are you?*

  'Well, I don't think there is any immediate danger of her becoming Princess Renescu.'

  'Good. Well the Count's out of it anyway. He's far too old. Now about me? What do you think of my chances?'

  'Honestly I can't say Nicky. She likes you a lot I'm sure and last night she was talking to me in her cabin about your idea of making her a film star. She seemed terribly intrigued by that but-'

  'Did she,' he interrupted joyfully. 'That's fine! Now look here Sally this is where you come in. She thinks a lot of you. Just back me all you know and I'll see you right. Tell her I'm the Katz pyjamas and do everything you can to sheer her off that rotten Prince. Then, the day she marries me I'll give you a cheque that will make you independent of her for life—get me?

  Sally got him so thoroughly that for a second her mouth hung open with sheer amazement at his audacity in trying to bribe her, but she shut it slowly and murmured: 'Yes— I get you Nicky.'

  'Well—is it a deal?'

  'I don't quite know,' Sally hedged. 'Do you really love her?'

  'Sure,' Nicky declared airily, 'I love her lots and I'm not after her cash like those other two. I make the sort of big money that most folks would be mighty glad to have.'

  'Even then I hardly like to influence her judgment, besides —after all—I might get married myself and then I wouldn't need the cheque—would I?'

  'Oh nuts. It's always good for a girl to have her own income. She can tell her old man where he gets off if he starts any rough stuff then. And who could you marry anyway unless—' He paused suddenly.

  'Unless what?'

  'Unless you've got your eye on that old Naval bird. He's not interested in Camilla—but you're always cooped up in some corner with him.' Nicky swung round to face her with a jerk. 'By Jabez! Sure enough that's why he was brought along on this fool trip.'

  Sally flushed scarlet but she kept her grey eyes steady as she shrugged. 'What nonsense! Nicky you do get the most absurd ideas. The McKay is old enough to be my father— almost. Besides he's an arrant coward and I've no time for men who're as spineless as all that.'

  'Coward my foot! You can't put that over on me.' Nicky grinned. 'Everyone knows he's a V.C. and that's the highest buttonhole they dish out for glory in the British Isles.'

  'How do you know that?' Sally asked with veiled curiosity.

  'A fellar back in the hotel told me before we started out. He won it at Zeebrugge or Jutland or some place where they cut each other's throats when I was in my pram. For jumping on a dock I think it was and shooting down ten Germans while his pals fixed a ladder from their ship. Murderous old devil, the thought of all those fools slaughtering each other makes me feel absolutely sick.'

  'Yes Nicky I suppose it does,' murmured Sally thoughtfully.

  'Now what about our little arrangement eh? If you've got 81

  a fancy for old square face that makes no difference to our deal, so can I consider it all fixed?'

  'I'll think about it Nicky,' she replied standing up. 'For the moment I'm just remaining neutral if you -don't mind. I've got some letters to write now so I'm going below.'

  'You won't say a word about this eh?' he asked anxiously.

  'No,' she shook her head, 'I'm good at keeping secrets; and I'll let you know later if I feel I need that cheque.'

  Sally's letters were of no immediate importance and she was much more anxious to have a few words with the McKay. When she found him however he was deep in a discussion with Count Axel about New Zealand, for both had visited the country and they discovered that they had mutual friends living there.

  The moment being unpropitious Sally left them and it was not until after dinner, when the ship had dropped anchor off the little town of Horta, their base in the Azores, that she managed to get him on his own.

  He was leaning on the rail placidly smoking a cigar as he watched the lights of the tiny port when Sally came up and said abruptly: 'I owe you an apology.'

  'Oh that's all right m'dear,' he replied casually turning to smile over his shoulder at her. 'Children are always apt to be impetuous but aged people like myself get accustomed to making allowances for the error of their ways.'

  'You're not aged—and I'm not a child,' she protested sullenly.

  'Yes, you are m'dear—and a very pretty one.'

  'You brute.' Sally felt her cheeks glow in the darkness. 'You would choose a moment like this to say things like that—wouldn't you? But I had no idea you were a V.C.'

  'Oh that! Who's been telling tales out of school, eh?'

  'Nicky—he heard it from a man in the hotel. He says you did terribly brave things at Zeebrugge. Won't you tell me about it?'

  He wrinkled up his nose in faint mockery and began to sing in his deep bass voice:

  'What shall we do with a drunken sailor?

  What shall we do with a drunken sailor?

  Hoist him up with a running bowline

  Early in the morn-ing.

  Hi! Hi! up she rises Hi! Hi! up she rises Hi! Hi! up—she—rises Early in the morn-ing.'

  'No seriously,' Sally said in wheedling voice, 'do teii me?'

  'There isn't much to tell. It was a dark and stormy night and the Captain said to the First Mate, "Mate, tell us a story Mate' and the Mate began as follows: "It was a dark and stormy night and the Captain said to the First Mate, 'Mate tell us a-'

  'You idiot!' Sally interrupted. 'Please. I've never met a V.C. before. What did you do?'

  'I wasn't joking. It was just like all the other shows of its kind, thousands of which received no recognition at all. I happened to be first off my ship when we were alongside the Mole and created a bit of trouble for the Bosch; then I helped a few of our wounded back just before we sheered off again. My Captain happened to see me so he put in a report. I thought I might perhaps get a mention in despatches and I was "struck all of an 'eap dearie" when the Cross came through. Honestly there was no conspicuous bravery in what I did.'

  'Of course there was,' Sally insisted. 'Leading the attack and saving wounded under fire. If that isn't bravery—what is, and I was fool enough to call you a coward this morning because you said that you wouldn't go down in the bathysphere.'

  'You are probably right m'dear. If it were a matter of duty it would be different although I'd be scared stiff all the same, but nothing would induce me to go below in that death trap just for the fun of the thing.'

  'But if you're a V.C. you must be brave so I can't understand why you should be frightened of a little trip under water.'

  'Can't you? Have you had a look at the chart in the lounge by any chance?'

  'No.'

  'All right—come on then.' He took her arm and led her back to the brightly lighted deck house. A map of the Azores was pinned to the bulkhead and he pointed a square stubby finger at a dark spot on the southern side of Fayal Island—the town of Horta.

  'That's where we are no
w, and the Doctor is being very secret about where we're going next, but I can give a pretty shrewd guess. If his theory is correct the whole group of islands are the mountain tops of the sunken continent. Now you remember what it said in that account of Plato's—that the whole region of Atlantis lay towards the south and was sheltered from the north. Further that its capital was on a low mountain no more than sixty miles from the sea. Pretty obviously that meant on one of the foothills of the range which formed the northern coast so the canal which connected it with the open ocean must have been either between the island of St. Maria in the extreme west and St. Miguel further north or between St. Miguel and the big island of Pico north east of us. The odds are anyhow that it lies somewhere about equidistant between ail three and the Doctor would have used Pico for his base if it hadn't been practically uninhabited as you can see from the fact that there are no towns marked on it.'

  Sally nodded. 'That seems all right, but what is all this leading up to?'

  'Now take a look at the soundings,' said the McKay, 'and you'll see that practically the whole of that area is nearly a thousand fathoms deep.'

  'Well?'

  'One thousand fathoms is six thousand feet and Camilla only went down two thousand today. Have you any idea what the pressure will be on that tin can of the Doctor's when they start trying to touch bottom?'

  'No,' said Sally.

  'Well at two thousand feet it's very nearly half a ton to the square inch. Think of that on those windows, and the ratio of pressure increases the further you go down, so at six thousand, it's going to be something that doesn't bear thinking about. Ever heard of implosion?'

  'No.'

  'It's the opposite of explosion and even more horrible. When something explodes near you there is at least a sport ing chance of being blown clear and suffering nothing worse than concussion, but from implosion there is not the faintest hope of escape. If one of the ports of the bathysphere gave way under the immense pressure at six thousand feet the implosion would be so terrific that anyone inside it would be crushed as flat as a piece of tissue paper before they could flicker an eyelid. That's why the old sailor man prefers to stay on deck and smoke his pipe.'

  'But the bathysphere has been specially made to resist pressure at that depth.'

  'Maybe—still all sorts of things might happen. Say the cable snapped. Where would they be then ... Down in Davy Jones' locker for keeps.'

  'I don't understand you,' Sally shook her head. 'They will send it down empty before each dive so where is the tremendous danger—and after all—to have any fun in life one's got to be prepared to take a little risk.'

  'A little risk eh! Well I've only survived to this age because I've always refused to take any risks that weren't strictly necessary.'

  'And yet you got the V.C. The highest decoration for valour that your country gives. I can't make up my mind if you're really brave or not."

  'Nor can I m'dear,' smiled the McKay. 'It's a thing that I've often wondered but never been quite certain about.'

  The gallant McKay was still in doubt upon the point when, five hours later he woke with a start to see his cabin door swing softly back, and beheld two men silhouetted against the light of the passage both of whom held pistols which were pointing at his head.

  The Gentleman in the 'Old School Tie'

  The McKay raised himself on one elbow. From years of responsibility in the ships he had commanded he was by habit a light sleeper. It was that which had brought him wide awake the second his cabin door had been unhooked and swung softly open. It was that too which had half roused him a little time before to the knowledge that a launch had come alongside and that people were moving about on the deck above. He had wondered vaguely then what they were up to at such an hour, but put it down to a shore party among the crew returning late from a binge in Horta. As a passenger such things were none of his business so he had dropped off to sleep again, but this was a very different affair.

  "What the hell!' he exclaimed sharply.

  'Get up!' said the taller of the two men, switching on the light.

  The McKay blinked for a moment and stared at the intruders. They were hard-faced looking fellows clad in flashy, striped lounge suits.

  'What the thunderin' blazes—' he began, but the taller man cut him short again.

  'Get up,' he repeated tonelessly.

  The McKay proceeded to show a leg. He was far too old a bird to contemplate any heroics against these purposeful looking gunmen.

  'Hurry!' said the man. 'You're wanted in the deck parlour.'

  'Who wants me?' enquired the McKay, struggling into his slippers.

  'Oxford Kate wants you.'

  'Does she indeed. Well I'd hate to keep a lady waiting.'

  'Oxford's no skirt an' he'll make it hot fer you plenty if you don't make it snappy.'

  The McKay did not like the look of things at all. He was thinking that Sally and Camilla would get a very nasty shock if they received a similar visitation. However he could do nothing for the moment except save loss of 'face' as far as possible. It would never do to allow these raiders to suppose that he was scared so, as he ran a comb through his crisp sandy greyish hair that had once been fiery red, he said curtly:

  'If one of you care to take a message you can say that Captain McKay presents his compliments to Mr. Oxford Kate and will be with him in two minutes.'

  Both men ignored the remark so he took his silk dressing-gown off its hook and handed the garment to the man who had so far remained silent.

  The fellow stretched out his free hand and had taken it by the collar before he realised quite what he was doing. Then, as the McKay turned his back and slipped one arm through a sleeve, the man's mouth dropped open.

  'Well!' he exclaimed, 'can yer beat that?'

  'It'll be a great laugh for the bunch.' the other's lip curled in a sneer. 'Jeff the Razz turns clothes help to English society man.'

  'You'd better! You spill that an' I'll—' the smaller man began venomously.

  'Aw can it now,' his friend cut in harshly. 'Kate's up above.'

  The McKay hoped for a second that they might go for each other but seeing that there was no likelihood of the quarrel becoming violent he tightened the girdle of his robe and said:

  'Now I'm ready to go and see the owner.'

  The who?

  'Your friend who has apparently taken control of this ship.'

  'Oh sure—come on then.' The taller of the two jerked his head towards the door. 'Get in front and head fer the deck parlour. Any funny business an' you're for it—see!'

  The McKay had seen several moments before, that from the way they handled their guns his two visitors were evidently accustomed to using them so, without further comment, he preceded them along the passage and up the hatchway.

  The lounge was fully lit and as the McKay glanced round it he took an even grimmer view of the situation.

  At the doorway stood two more gunmen, impassive but watchful, with their weapons prominently displayed. To the right, Nicky, clad in silks which for their colours would have rivalled the plumage of the bird of paradise, lounged sullenly upon a settee, his legs stuck out before him. Beside him was the Doctor, swathed in thick flannel night attire and looking more worried than ever while, at their feet, Prince Vladimir, breathing stertorously, was laid out neatly with a pillow beneath his head—unconscious on the floor.

  Opposite this unhappy little group stood Slinger and Captain Ardow, both fully dressed, but the figure who immediately engaged the McKay's attention was a well made man of about forty, with a broad forehead and shrewd blue eyes, who sat behind a desk that occupied the middle of the apartment. His fair hair was a trifle thin, parted in the centre and brushed neatly back. The striped tie of a well known public school lent a patch of colour to his admirably cut lounge suit. Something about him suggested a combination of racing motorist, banker, and dandy, all merged into one strong personality.

  'Captain McKay.' It was a statement rather than an enquiry
which came from the man at the desk and even the intonation of those words spoken with quick assurance were enough to suggest the reason for his soubriquet 'Oxford'.

  'Guilty,' replied McKay. 'Mr. Kate I imagine?'

  The other smiled although his blue eyes remained hard and cold. 'A somewhat vulgar witticism* on the part of my henchmen, derived perhaps from my preference for silk shirting and my choice of socks. The ancient firm of Seal and Unman who supply them would be quite horrified if they knew that, I think—don't you?'

  'I've never heard of 'em,' replied the McKay abruptly.

  'Never mind—the name serves as well as any other—sit down.' Mr. Kate carefully ticked the McKay's name on a list which he had in front of him and, as he looked up again, Count Axel was marched in between two more of his men.

  'Count Axel Fersan?' he enquired sharply.

  'That is my name,' Count Axel regarded him steadily from beneath lowered lids.

  'You, I am sure have heard of Seal and Unman—am I right?'

  The Count's face went blank with surprise for a second then he smiled. 'Of course, when I can afford such luxuries I still get my things from them.'

  'Do you? In that case my people will probably call you Maud—be seated please.' Despite the cynical jest Mr. Kate's blue eyes remained cold and unsmiling as he ticked off the Count's name on his paper.

  The McKay's two captors had disappeared and, after a few moments of almost electric silence, they reappeared with Sally between them.

  'Miss Hart I think?' the man behind the desk rose to his feet politely as he asked the question.

  Sally stared at him angrily. Her hair was scraped back from her forehead and, below her dressing-gown which she clutched tightly round her, portions of her seductive pyjamas were visible.