Maître du monde. English

by Jules Verne

  Chapter 3

  THE GREAT EYRIE

  The next day at dawn, Elias Smith and I left Morganton by a roadwhich, winding along the left bank of the Catawba River, led to thevillage of Pleasant Garden. The guides accompanied us, Harry Horn, aman of thirty, and James Bruck, aged twenty-five. They were bothnatives of the region, and in constant demand among the tourists whoclimbed the peaks of the Blueridge and Cumberland Mountains.

  A light wagon with two good horses was provided to carry us to thefoot of the range. It contained provisions for two or three days,beyond which our trip surely would not be protracted. Mr. Smith hadshown himself a generous provider both in meats and in liquors. As towater the mountain springs would furnish it in abundance, increasedby the heavy rains, frequent in that region during springtime.

  It is needless to add that the Mayor of Morganton in his role ofhunter, had brought along his gun and his dog, Nisko, who gamboledjoyously about the wagon. Nisko, however, was to remain behind at thefarm at Wildon, when we attempted our ascent. He could not possiblyfollow us to the Great Eyrie with its cliffs to scale and itscrevasses to cross.

  The day was beautiful, the fresh air in that climate is still cool ofan April morning. A few fleecy clouds sped rapidly overhead, drivenby a light breeze which swept across the long plains, from thedistant Atlantic. The sun peeping forth at intervals, illumined allthe fresh young verdure of the countryside.

  An entire world animated the woods through which we passed. Frombefore our equipage fled squirrels, field-mice, parroquets ofbrilliant colors and deafening loquacity. Opossums passed in hurriedleaps, bearing their young in their pouches. Myriads of birds werescattered amid the foliage of banyans, palms, and masses ofrhododendrons, so luxuriant that their thickets were impenetrable.

  We arrived that evening at Pleasant Garden, where we were comfortablylocated for the night with the mayor of the town, a particular friendof Mr. Smith. Pleasant Garden proved little more than a village; butits mayor gave us a warm and generous reception, and we suppedpleasantly in his charming home, which stood beneath the shades ofsome giant beech-trees.

  Naturally the conversation turned upon our attempt to explore theinterior of the Great Eyrie. "You are right," said our host, "untilwe all know what is hidden within there, our people will remainuneasy."

  "Has nothing new occurred," I asked, "since the last appearance offlames above the Great Eyrie?"

  "Nothing, Mr. Strock. From Pleasant Garden we can see the entirecrest of the mountain. Not a suspicious noise has come down to us.Not a spark has risen. If a legion of devils is in hiding there, theymust have finished their infernal cookery, and soared away to someother haunt."

  "Devils!" cried Mr. Smith. "Well, I hope they have not decampedwithout leaving some traces of their occupation, some parings ofhoofs or horns or tails. We shall find them out."

  On the morrow, the twenty-ninth of April, we started again at dawn.By the end of this second day, we expected to reach the farm ofWildon at the foot of the mountain. The country was much the same asbefore, except that our road led more steeply upward. Woods andmarshes alternated, though the latter grew sparser, being drained bythe sun as we approached the higher levels. The country was also lesspopulous. There were only a few little hamlets, almost lost beneaththe beech trees, a few lonely farms, abundantly watered by the manystreams that rushed downward toward the Catawba River.

  The smaller birds and beasts grew yet more numerous. "I am muchtempted to take my gun," said Mr. Smith, "and to go off with Nisko.This will be the first time that I have passed here without trying myluck with the partridges and hares. The good beasts will notrecognize me. But not only have we plenty of provisions, but we havea bigger chase on hand today. The chase of a mystery."

  "And let us hope," added I, "we do not come back disappointedhunters."

  In the afternoon the whole chain of the Blueridge stretched before usat a distance of only six miles. The mountain crests were sharplyoutlined against the clear sky. Well wooded at the base, they grewmore bare and showed only stunted evergreens toward the summit. Therethe scraggly trees, grotesquely twisted, gave to the rocky heights ableak and bizarre appearance. Here and there the ridge rose in sharppeaks. On our right the Black Dome, nearly seven thousand feet high,reared its gigantic head, sparkling at times above the clouds.

  "Have you ever climbed that dome, Mr. Smith?" I asked.

  "No," answered he, "but I am told that it is a very difficult ascent.A few mountaineers have climbed it; but they report that it has nooutlook commanding the crater of the Great Eyrie."

  "That is so," said the guide, Harry Horn. "I have tried it myself."

  "Perhaps," suggested I, "the weather was unfavorable."

  "On the contrary, Mr. Strock, it was unusually clear. But the wall ofthe Great Eyrie on that side rose so high, it completely hid theinterior."

  "Forward," cried Mr. Smith. "I shall not be sorry to set foot whereno person has ever stepped, or even looked, before."

  Certainly on this day the Great Eyrie looked tranquil enough. As wegazed upon it, there rose from its heights neither smoke nor flame.

  Toward five o'clock our expedition halted at the Wildon farm, wherethe tenants warmly welcomed their landlord. The farmer assured usthat nothing notable had happened about the Great Eyrie for sometime. We supped at a common table with all the people of the farm;and our sleep that night was sound and wholly untroubled bypremonitions of the future.

  On the morrow, before break of day, we set out for the ascent of themountain. The height of the Great Eyrie scarce exceeds five thousandfeet. A modest altitude, often surpassed in this section of theAlleghanies. As we were already more than three thousand feet abovesea level, the fatigue of the ascent could not be great. A few hoursshould suffice to bring us to the crest of the crater. Of course,difficulties might present themselves, precipices to scale, cleftsand breaks in the ridge might necessitate painful and even dangerousdetours. This was the unknown, the spur to our attempt. As I said,our guides knew no more than we upon this point. What made meanxious, was, of course, the common report that the Great Eyrie waswholly inaccessible. But this remained unproven. And then there wasthe new chance that a fallen block had left a breach in the rockywall.

  "At last," said Mr. Smith to me, after lighting the first pipe of thetwenty or more which he smoked each day, "we are well started. As towhether the ascent will take more or less time--"

  "In any case, Mr. Smith," interrupted I, "you and I are fullyresolved to pursue our quest to the end."

  "Fully resolved, Mr. Strock."

  "My chief has charged me to snatch the secret from this demon of theGreat Eyrie."

  "We will snatch it from him, willing or unwilling," vowed Mr. Smith,calling Heaven to witness. "Even if we have to search the very bowelsof the mountain."

  "As it may happen, then," said I, "that our excursion will beprolonged beyond today, it will be well to look to our provisions."

  "Be easy, Mr. Strock; our guides have food for two days in theirknapsacks, besides what we carry ourselves. Moreover, though I leftmy brave Nisko at the farm, I have my gun. Game will be plentiful inthe woods and gorges of the lower part of the mountain, and perhapsat the top we shall find a fire to cook it, already lighted."

  "Already lighted, Mr. Smith?"

  "And why not, Mr. Strock? These flames! These superb flames, whichhave so terrified our country folk! Is their fire absolutely cold, isno spark to be found beneath their ashes? And then, if this is trulya crater, is the volcano so wholly extinct that we cannot find therea single ember? Bah! This would be but a poor volcano if it hasn'tenough fire even to cook an egg or roast a potato. Come, I repeat, weshall see! We shall see!"

  At that point of the investigation I had, I confess, no opinionformed. I had my orders to examine the Great Eyrie. If it provedharmless, I would announce it, and people would be reassured. But atheart, I must admit, I had the very natural desire of a man possessedby the demon of curiosity. I should be glad, both for my own sake,and
for the renown which would attach to my mission if the GreatEyrie proved the center of the most remarkable phenomena--of which Iwould discover the cause.

  Our ascent began in this order. The two guides went in front to seekout the most practicable paths. Elias Smith and I followed moreleisurely. We mounted by a narrow and not very steep gorge amid rocksand trees. A tiny stream trickled downward under our feet. During therainy season or after a heavy shower, the water doubtless boundedfrom rock to rock in tumultuous cascades. But it evidently was fedonly by the rain, for now we could scarcely trace its course. Itcould not be the outlet of any lake within the Great Eyrie.

  After an hour of climbing, the slope became so steep that we had toturn, now to the right, now to the left; and our progress was muchdelayed. Soon the gorge became wholly impracticable; its cliff-likesides offered no sufficient foothold. We had to cling by branches, tocrawl upon our knees. At this rate the top would not be reachedbefore sundown.

  "Faith!" cried Mr. Smith, stopping for breath, "I realize why theclimbers of the Great Eyrie have been few, so few, that it has neverbeen ascended within my knowledge."

  "The fact is," I responded, "that it would be much toil for verylittle profit. And if we had not special reasons to persist in ourattempt."

  "You never said a truer word," declared Harry Horn. "My comrade and Ihave scaled the Black Dome several times, but we never met suchobstacles as these."

  "The difficulties seem almost impassable," added James Bruck.

  The question now was to determine to which side we should turn for anew route; to right, as to left, arose impenetrable masses of treesand bushes. In truth even the scaling of cliffs would have been moreeasy. Perhaps if we could get above this wooded slope we couldadvance with surer foot. Now, we could only go ahead blindly, andtrust to the instincts of our two guides. James Bruck was especiallyuseful. I believe that that gallant lad would have equaled a monkeyin lightness and a wild goat in agility. Unfortunately, neither EliasSmith nor I was able to climb where he could.

  However, when it is a matter of real need with me, I trust I shallnever be backward, being resolute by nature and well-trained in bodilyexercise. Where James Bruck went, I was determined to go, also;though it might cost me some uncomfortable falls. But it was not thesame with the first magistrate of Morganton, less young, lessvigorous, larger, stouter, and less persistent than we others.Plainly he made every effort, not to retard our progress, but hepanted like a seal, and soon I insisted on his stopping to rest.

  In short, it was evident that the ascent of the Great Eyrie wouldrequire far more time than we had estimated. We had expected to reachthe foot of the rocky wall before eleven o'clock, but we now saw thatmid-day would still find us several hundred feet below it.

  Toward ten o'clock, after repeated attempts to discover some morepracticable route, after numberless turnings and returnings, one ofthe guides gave the signal to halt. We found ourselves at last on theupper border of the heavy wood. The trees, more thinly spaced,permitted us a glimpse upward to the base of the rocky wall whichconstituted the true Great Eyrie.

  "Whew!" exclaimed Mr. Smith, leaning against a mighty pine tree, "alittle respite, a little repose, and even a little repast would notgo badly."

  "We will rest an hour," said I.

  "Yes; after working our lungs and our legs, we will make our stomachswork."

  We were all agreed on this point. A rest would certainty freshen us.Our only cause for inquietude was now the appearance of theprecipitous slope above us. We looked up toward one of those barestrips called in that region, slides. Amid this loose earth, theseyielding stones, and these abrupt rocks there was no roadway.

  Harry Horn said to his comrade, "It will not be easy."

  "Perhaps impossible," responded Bruck.

  Their comments caused me secret uneasiness. If I returned withouteven having scaled the mountain, my mission would be a completefailure, without speaking of the torture to my curiosity. And when Istood again before Mr. Ward, shamed and confused, I should cut but asorry figure.

  We opened our knapsacks and lunched moderately on bread and coldmeat. Our repast finished, in less than half an hour, Mr. Smithsprang up eager to push forward once more. James Bruck took the lead;and we had only to follow him as best we could.

  We advanced slowly. Our guides did not attempt to conceal their doubtand hesitation. Soon Horn left us and went far ahead to spy out whichroad promised most chance of success.

  Twenty minutes later he returned and led us onward toward thenorthwest. It was on this side that the Black Dome rose at a distanceof three or four miles. Our path was still difficult and painful,amid the sliding stones, held in place only occasionally by wirybushes. At length after a weary struggle, we gained some twohundred feet further upward and found ourselves facing a great gash,which, broke the earth at this spot. Here and there were scatteredroots recently uptorn, branches broken off, huge stones reduced topowder, as if an avalanche had rushed down this flank of the mountain.

  "That must be the path taken by the huge block which broke awayfrom the Great Eyrie," commented James Bruck.

  "No doubt," answered Mr. Smith, "and I think we had better follow theroad that it has made for us."

  It was indeed this gash that Harry Horn had selected for our ascent.Our feet found lodgment in the firmer earth which had resisted thepassage of the monster rock. Our task thus became much easier, andour progress was in a straight line upward, so that toward half pasteleven we reached the upper border of the "slide."

  Before us, less than a hundred feet away, but towering a hundred feetstraight upwards in the air rose the rocky wall which formed thefinal crest, the last defence of the Great Eyrie.

  From this side, the summit of the wall showed capriciously irregular,rising in rude towers and jagged needles. At one point the outlineappeared to be an enormous eagle silhouetted against the sky, justready to take flight. Upon this side, at least, the precipice wasinsurmountable.

  "Rest a minute," said Mr. Smith, "and we will see if it is possibleto make our way around the base of this cliff."

  "At any rate," said Harry Horn, "the great block must have fallenfrom this part of the cliff; and it has left no breach for entering."

  They were both right; we must seek entrance elsewhere. After a restof ten minutes, we clambered up close to the foot of the wall, andbegan to make a circuit of its base.

  Assuredly the Great Eyrie now took on to my eyes an aspect absolutelyfantastic. Its heights seemed peopled by dragons and huge monsters.If chimeras, griffins, and all the creations of mythology hadappeared to guard it, I should have been scarcely surprised.

  With great difficulty and not without danger we continued our tour ofthis circumvallation, where it seemed that nature had worked as mandoes, with careful regularity. Nowhere was there any break in thefortification; nowhere a fault in the strata by which one mightclamber up. Always this mighty wall, a hundred feet in height!

  After an hour and a half of this laborious circuit, we regained ourstarting-place. I could not conceal my disappointment, and Mr. Smithwas not less chagrined than I.

  "A thousand devils!" cried he, "we know no better than before what isinside this confounded Great Eyrie, nor even if it is a crater."

  "Volcano, or not," said I, "there are no suspicious noises now;neither smoke nor flame rises above it; nothing whatever threatens aneruption."

  This was true. A profound silence reigned around us; and a perfectlyclear sky shone overhead. We tasted the perfect calm of greataltitudes.

  It was worth noting that the circumference of the huge wall was abouttwelve or fifteen hundred feet. As to the space enclosed within, wecould scarce reckon that without knowing the thickness of theencompassing wall. The surroundings were absolutely deserted.Probably not a living creature ever mounted to this height, exceptthe few birds of prey which soared high above us.

  Our watches showed three o'clock, and Mr. Smith cried in disgust,"What is the use of stopping here all day! We shall learn nothingmor
e. We must make a start, Mr. Strock, if we want to get back toPleasant Garden to-night."

  I made no answer, and did not move from where I was seated; so hecalled again, "Come, Mr. Strock; you don't answer."

  In truth, it cut me deeply to abandon our effort, to descend theslope without having achieved my mission. I felt an imperious need ofpersisting; my curiosity had redoubled. But what could I do? Could Itear open this unyielding earth? Overleap the mighty cliff? Throwingone last defiant glare at the Great Eyrie, I followed my companions.

  The return was effected without great difficulty. We had only toslide down where we had so laboriously scrambled up. Before fiveo'clock we descended the last slopes of the mountain, and the farmerof Wildon welcomed us to a much needed meal.

  "Then you didn't get inside?" said he.

  "No," responded Mr. Smith, "and I believe that the inside exists onlyin the imagination of our country folk."

  At half past eight our carriage drew up before the house of the Mayorof Pleasant Garden, where we passed the night. While I strove vainlyto sleep, I asked myself if I should not stop there in the villageand organize a new ascent. But what better chance had it ofsucceeding than the first? The wisest course was, doubtless, toreturn to Washington and consult Mr. Ward.

  So, the next day, having rewarded our two guides, I took leave of Mr.Smith at Morganton, and that same evening left by train forWashington.