When the World Shook
by H. Rider Haggard
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman

Being an Account of the Great Adventure
of Bastin, Bickley and Arbuthnot

by H. Rider Haggard

DEDICATION

Ditchingham, 1918.
MY DEAR CURZON,

More than thirty years ago you tried to protect me, then a
stranger to you, from one of the falsest and most malignant
accusations ever made against a writer.

So complete was your exposure of the methods of those at work
to blacken a person whom they knew to be innocent, that, as you
will remember, they refused to publish your analysis which
destroyed their charges and, incidentally, revealed their
motives.

Although for this reason vindication came otherwise, your
kindness is one that I have never forgotten, since, whatever the
immediate issue of any effort, in the end it is the intention
that avails.

Therefore in gratitude and memory I ask you to accept this
romance, as I know that you do not disdain the study of romance
in the intervals of your Imperial work.

The application of its parable to our state and possibilities--
beneath or beyond these glimpses of the moon--I leave to your
discernment.

Believe me,
Ever sincerely yours,
H. RIDER HAGGARD.

To
The Earl Curzon of Kedleston, K.G.

CONTENTS

1. ARBUTHNOT DESCRIBES HIMSELF

2. BASTIN AND BICKLEY

3. NATALIE

4. DEATH AND DEPARTURE

5. THE CYCLONE

6. LAND

7. THE OROFENANS

8. BASTIN ATTEMPTS THE MARTYR'S CROWN

9. THE ISLAND IN THE LAKE

10. THE DWELLERS IN THE TOMB

11. RESURRECTION

12. TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND YEARS!

13. ORO SPEAKS AND BASTIN ARGUES

14. THE UNDER-WORLD

15. ORO IN HIS HOUSE

16. VISIONS OF THE PAST

17. YVA EXPLAINS

18. THE ACCIDENT

19. THE PROPOSALS OF BASTIN AND BICKLEY

20. ORO AND ARBUTHNOT TRAVEL BY NIGHT

21. LOVE'S ETERNAL ALTAR

22. THE COMMAND

23. IN THE TEMPLE OF FATE

24. THE CHARIOT OF THE PIT

25. SACRIFICE

26. TOMMY

27. BASTIN DISCOVERS A RESEMBLANCE

28. NOTE BY J. R. BICKLEY, M.R.C.S.

When the World Shook

Chapter I

Arbuthnot Describes Himself

I suppose that I, Humphrey Arbuthnot, should begin this history
in which Destiny has caused me to play so prominent a part, with
some short account of myself and of my circumstances.

I was born forty years ago in this very Devonshire village in
which I write, but not in the same house. Now I live in the
Priory, an ancient place and a fine one in its way, with its
panelled rooms, its beautiful gardens where, in this mild
climate, in addition to our own, flourish so many plants which
one would only expect to find in countries that lie nearer to the
sun, and its green, undulating park studded with great timber
trees. The view, too, is perfect; behind and around the rich
Devonshire landscape with its hills and valleys and its scarped
faces of red sandstone, and at a distance in front, the sea.
There are little towns quite near too, that live for the most
part on visitors, but these are so hidden away by the contours of
the ground that from the Priory one cannot see them. Such is
Fulcombe where I live, though for obvious reasons I do not give
it its real name.

Many years ago my father, the Rev. Humphrey Arbuthnot, whose
only child I am, after whom also I am named Humphrey, was the
vicar of this place with which our family is said to have some
rather vague hereditary connection. If so, it was severed in the
Carolian times because my ancestors fought on the side of
Parliament.

My father was a recluse, and a widower, for my mother, a
Scotswoman, died at or shortly after my birth. Being very High
Church for those days he was not popular with the family that
owned the Priory before me. Indeed its head, a somewhat vulgar
person of the name of Enfield who had made money in trade, almost
persecuted him, as he was in a position to do, being the local
magnate and the owner of the rectorial tithes.

I mention this fact because owing to it as a boy I made up my
mind that one day I would buy that place and sit in his seat, a
wild enough idea at the time. Yet it became engrained in me, as
do such aspirations of our youth, and when the opportunity arose
in after years I carried it out. Poor old Enfield! He fell on
evil fortunes, for in trying to bolster up a favourite son who
was a gambler, a spendthrift, and an ungrateful scamp, in the end
he was practically ruined and when the bad times came, was forced
to sell the Fulcombe estate. I think of him kindly now, for after
all he was good to me and gave me many a day's shooting and leave
to fish for trout in the river.

By the poor people, however, of all the district round, for the
parish itself is very small, my father was much beloved, although
he did practise confession, wear vestments and set lighted
candles on the altar, and was even said to have openly expressed
the wish, to which however he never attained, that he could see a
censer swinging in the chancel. Indeed the church which, as monks
built it, is very large and fine, was always full on Sundays,
though many of the worshippers came from far away, some of them
doubtless out of curiosity because of its papistical repute, also
because, in a learned fashion, my father's preaching was very
good indeed.

For my part I feel that I owe much to these High-Church views.
They opened certain doors to me and taught me something of the
mysteries which lie at the back of all religions and therefore
have their home in the inspired soul of man whence religions are
born. Only the pity is that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred
he never discovers, never even guesses at that entombed
aspiration, never sinks a shaft down on to this secret but most
precious vein of ore.

I have said that my father was learned; but this is a mild
description, for never did I know anyone quite so learned. He was
one of those men who is so good all round that he became
preeminent-eminent in nothing. A classic of the first water, a very
respectable mathematician, an expert in theology, a student of
sundry foreign languages and literature in his lighter moments,
an inquirer into sociology, a theoretical musician though his
playing of the organ excruciated most people because it was too
correct, a really first-class authority upon flint instruments
and the best grower of garden vegetables in the county, also of
apples--such were some of his attainments. That was what made his
sermons so popular, since at times one or the other of these
subjects would break out into them, his theory being that God
spoke to us through all of these things.

But if I began to drift into an analysis of my father's
abilities, I should never stop. It would take a book to describe
them. And yet mark this, with them all his name is as dead to the
world to-day as though he had never been. Light reflected from a
hundred facets dissipates itself in space and is lost; that
concentrated in one tremendous ray pierces to the stars.

Now I am going to be frank about myself, for without frankness
what is the value of such a record as this? Then it becomes
simply another convention, or rather conventional method of
expressing the octoroon kind of truths with which the highly
civilised races feed themselves, as fastidious ladies eat cakes
and bread from which all but the smallest particle of nourishment
has been extracted.

The fact is, therefore, that I inherited most of my father's
abilities, except his love for flint instruments which always
bored me to distraction, because although they are by association
really the most human of things, somehow to me they never convey
any idea of humanity. In addition I have a practical side which
he lacked; had he possessed it surely he must have become an
archbishop instead of dying the vicar of an unknown parish. Also
I have a spiritual sense, mayhap mystical would be a better term,
which with all this religion was missing from my father's nature.

For I think that notwithstanding his charity and devotion he
never quite got away from the shell of things, never cracked it
and set his teeth in the kernel which alone can feed our souls.
His keen intellect, to take an example, recognised every one of
the difficulties of our faith and flashed hither and thither in
the darkness, seeking explanation, seeking light, trying to
reconcile, to explain. He was not great enough to put all this
aside and go straight to the informing Soul beneath that strives
to express itself everywhere, even through those husks which are
called the World, the Flesh and the Devil, and as yet does not
always quite succeed.

It is this boggling over exteriors, this peering into pitfalls,
this desire to prove that what such senses as we have tell us is
impossible, is in fact possible, which causes the overthrow of
many an earnest, seeking heart and renders its work, conducted on
false lines, quite nugatory. These will trust to themselves and
their own intelligence and not be content to spring from the
cliffs of human experience into the everlasting arms of that
Infinite which are stretched out to receive them and to give them
rest and the keys of knowledge. When will man learn what was
taught to him of old, that faith is the only plank wherewith he
can float upon this sea and that his miserable works avail him
nothing; also that it is a plank made of many sorts of wood,
perhaps to suit our different weights?

So to be honest, in a sense I believe myself to be my father's
superior, and I know that he agreed with me. Perhaps this is
owing to the blood of my Scotch mother which mixed well with his
own; perhaps because the essential spirit given to me, though
cast in his mould, was in fact quite different--or of another
alloy. Do we, I wonder, really understand that there are millions
and billions of these alloys, so many indeed that Nature, or
whatever is behind Nature, never uses the same twice over? That
is why no two human beings are or ever will be quite identical.
Their flesh, the body of their humiliation, is identical in all,
any chemist will prove it to you, but that which animates the
flesh is distinct and different because it comes from the home of
that infinite variety which is necessary to the ultimate
evolution of the good and bad that we symbolise as heaven and
hell.

Further, I had and to a certain extent still have another
advantage over my father, which certainly came to me from my
mother, who was, as I judge from all descriptions and such
likenesses as remain of her, an extremely handsome woman. I was
born much better looking. He was small and dark, a little man
with deep-set eyes and beetling brows. I am also dark, but tall
above the average, and well made. I do not know that I need say
more about my personal appearance, to me not a very attractive
subject, but the fact remains that they called me "handsome
Humphrey" at the University, and I was the captain of my college
boat and won many prizes at athletic sports when I had time to
train for them.

Until I went up to Oxford my father educated me, partly because
he knew that he could do it better than anyone else, and partly
to save school expenses. The experiment was very successful, as my
love of all outdoor sports and of any small hazardous adventure
that came to my hand, also of associating with fisherfolk whom
the dangers of the deep make men among men, saved me from
becoming a milksop. For the rest I learned more from my father,
whom I always desired to please because I loved him, than I
should have done at the best and most costly of schools. This was
shown when at last I went to college with a scholarship, for
there I did very well indeed, as search would still reveal.

Here I had better set out some of my shortcomings, which in
their sum have made a failure of me. Yes, a failure in the
highest sense, though I trust what Stevenson calls "a faithful
failure." These have their root in fastidiousness and that lack
of perseverance, which really means a lack of faith, again using
the word in its higher and wider sense. For if one had real faith
one would always persevere, knowing that in every work undertaken
with high aim, there is an element of nobility, however humble
and unrecognised that work may seem to be. God after all is the
God of Work, it is written large upon the face of the Universe. I
will not expand upon the thought; it would lead me too far
afield, but those who have understanding will know what I mean.

As regards what I interpret as fastidiousness, this is not very
easy to express. Perhaps a definition will help. I am like a man
with an over-developed sense of smell, who when walking through a
foreign city, however clean and well kept, can always catch the
evil savours that are inseparable from such cities. More, his
keen perception of them interferes with all other perceptions and
spoils his walks. The result is that in after years, whenever he
thinks of that beautiful city, he remembers, not its historic
buildings or its wide boulevards, or whatever it has to boast,
but rather its ancient, fish-like smell. At least he remembers
that first owing to this defect in his temperament.

So it is with everything. A lovely woman is spoiled for such a
one because she eats too much or has too high a voice; he does
not care for his shooting because the scenery is flat, or for his
fishing because the gnats bite as well as the trout. In short he
is out of tune with the world as it is. Moreover, this is a
quality which, where it exists, cannot be overcome; it affects
day-labourers as well as gentlemen at large. It is bred in the
bone.

Probably the second failure-breeding fault, lack of
perseverance, has its roots in the first, at any rate in my case.
At least on leaving college with some reputation, I was called to
the Bar where, owing to certain solicitor and other connections,
I had a good opening. Also, owing to the excellence of my memory
and powers of work, I began very well, making money even during
my first year. Then, as it happened, a certain case came my way
and, my leader falling ill suddenly after it was opened, was left
in my hands. The man whose cause I was pleading was, I think, one
of the biggest scoundrels it is possible to conceive. It was a
will case and if he won, the effect would be to beggar two most
estimable middle-aged women who were justly entitled to the
property, to which end personally I am convinced he had committed
forgery; the perjury that accompanied it I do not even mention.

Well, he did win, thanks to me, and the estimable middle-aged
ladies were beggared, and as I heard afterwards, driven to such
extremities that one of them died of her misery and the other
became a lodging-house keeper. The details do not matter, but I
may explain that these ladies were unattractive in appearance and
manner and broke down beneath my cross-examination which made
them appear to be telling falsehoods, whereas they were only
completely confused. Further, I invented an ingenious theory of
the facts which, although the judge regarded it with suspicion,
convinced an unusually stupid jury who gave me their verdict.

Everybody congratulated me and at the time I was triumphant,
especially as my leader had declared that our case was
impossible. Afterwards, however, my conscience smote me sorely,
so much so that arguing from the false premise of this business,
I came to the conclusion that the practice of the Law was not
suited to an honest man. I did not take the large view that such
matters average themselves up and that if I had done harm in this
instance, I might live to do good in many others, and perhaps
become a just judge, even a great judge. Here I may mention that
in after years, when I grew rich, I rescued that surviving old
lady from her lodging-house, although to this day she does not
know the name of her anonymous friend. So by degrees, without
saying anything, for I kept on my chambers, I slipped out of
practice, to the great disappointment of everybody connected with
me, and took to authorship.

A marvel came to pass, my first book was an enormous success.
The whole world talked of it. A leading journal, delighted to
have discovered someone, wrote it up; other journals followed
suit to be in the movement. One of them, I remember, which had
already dismissed it with three or four sneering lines, came out
with a second and two-column notice. It sold like wildfire and I
suppose had some merits, for it is still read, though few know
that I wrote it, since fortunately it was published under a
pseudonym.

Again I was much elated and set to work to write another and,
as I believe, a much better book. But jealousies had been excited
by this leaping into fame of a totally unknown person, which
were, moreover, accentuated through a foolish article that I
published in answer to some criticisms, wherein I spoke my mind
with an insane freedom and biting sarcasm. Indeed I was even mad
enough to quote names and to give the example of the very
powerful journal which at first carped at my work and then gushed
over it when it became the fashion. All of this made me many
bitter enemies, as I found out when my next book appeared.

It was torn to shreds, it was reviled as subversive of morality
and religion, good arrows in those days. It was called puerile,
half-educated stuff--I half-educated! More, an utterly false
charge of plagiarism was cooked up against me and so well and
venomously run that vast numbers of people concluded that I was a
thief of the lowest order. Lastly, my father, from whom the
secret could no longer be kept, sternly disapproved of both these
books which I admit were written from a very radical and somewhat
anti-church point of view. The result was our first quarrel and
before it was made up, he died suddenly.

Now again fastidiousness and my lack of perseverance did their
work, and solemnly I swore that I would never write another book,
an oath which I have kept till this moment, at least so far as
publication is concerned, and now break only because I consider
it my duty so to do and am not animated by any pecuniary object.

Thus came to an end my second attempt at carving out a career.
By now I had grown savage and cynical, rather revengeful also, I
fear. Knowing myself to possess considerable abilities in sundry
directions, I sat down, as it were, to think things over and
digest my past experiences. Then it was that the truth of a very
ancient adage struck upon my mind, namely, that money is power.
Had I sufficient money I could laugh at unjust critics for
example; indeed they or their papers would scarcely dare to
criticise me for fear lest it should be in my power to do them a
bad turn. Again I could follow my own ideas in life and perhaps
work good in the world, and live in such surroundings as
commended themselves to me. It was as clear as daylight, but--how
to make the money?

I had some capital as the result of my father's death, about
œ8,000 in all, plus a little more that my two books had brought
in. In what way could I employ it to the best advantage? I
remembered that a cousin of my father and therefore my own, was a
successful stock-broker, also that there had been some affection
between them. I went to him, he was a good, easy-natured man who
was frankly glad to see me, and offered to put œ5,000 into his
business, for I was not minded to risk every thing I had, if he
would give me a share in the profits. He laughed heartily at my
audacity.

"Why, my boy," he said, "being totally inexperienced at this
game, you might lose us more than that in a month. But I like
your courage, I like your courage, and the truth is that I do
want help. I will think it over and write to you."

He thought it over and in the end offered to try me for a year
at a fixed salary with a promise of some kind of a partnership if
I suited him. Meanwhile my œ5,000 remained in my pocket.

I accepted, not without reluctance since with the impatience of
youth I wanted everything at once. I worked hard in that office
and soon mastered the business, for my knowledge of figures--I
had taken a first-class mathematical degree at college--came to
my aid, as in a way did my acquaintance with Law and Literature.
Moreover I had a certain aptitude for what is called high
finance. Further, Fortune, as usual, showed me a favourable face.

In one year I got the partnership with a small share in the
large profits of the business. In two the partner above me
retired, and I took his place with a third share of the firm. In
three my cousin, satisfied that it was in able hands, began to
cease his attendance at the office and betook himself to
gardening which was his hobby. In four I paid him out altogether,
although to do this I had to borrow money on our credit, for by
agreement the title of the firm was continued. Then came that
extraordinary time of boom which many will remember to their
cost. I made a bold stroke and won. On a certain Saturday when
the books were made up, I found that after discharging all
liabilities, I should not be worth more than œ20,000. On the
following Saturday but two when the books were made up, I was
worth œ153,000! L'appetit vient en mangeant. It seemed nothing
to me when so many were worth millions.

For the next year I worked as few have done, and when I struck
a balance at the end of it, I found that on the most conservative
estimate I was the owner of a million and a half in hard cash, or
its equivalent. I was so tired out that I remember this discovery
did not excite me at all. I felt utterly weary of all wealth-
hunting and of the City and its ways. Moreover my old
fastidiousness and lack of perseverance re-asserted themselves. I
reflected, rather late in the day perhaps, on the ruin that this
speculation was bringing to thousands, of which some lamentable
instances had recently come to my notice, and once more
considered whether it were a suitable career for an upright man.
I had wealth; why should I not take it and enjoy life?

Also--and here my business acumen came in, I was sure that
these times could not last. It is easy to make money on a rising
market, but when it is falling the matter is very different. In
five minutes I made up my mind. I sent for my junior partners,
for I had taken in two, and told them that I intended to retire
at once. They were dismayed both at my loss, for really I was the
firm, and because, as they pointed out, if I withdrew all my
capital, there would not be sufficient left to enable them to
carry on.

One of them, a blunt and honest man, said to my face that it
would be dishonourable of me to do so. I was inclined to answer
him sharply, then remembered that his words were true.

"Very well," I said, "I will leave you œ600,000 on which you
shall pay me five per cent interest, but no share of the
profits."

On these terms we dissolved the partnership and in a year they
had lost the œ600,000, for the slump came with a vengeance. It
saved them, however, and to-day they are earning a reasonable
income. But I have never asked them for that œ600,000.

Chapter II

Bastin and Bickley

Behold me once more a man without an occupation, but now the
possessor of about œ900,000. It was a very considerable fortune,
if not a large one in England; nothing like the millions of which
I had dreamed, but still enough. To make the most of it and to
be sure that it remained, I invested it very well, mostly in
large mortgages at four per cent which, if the security is good,
do not depreciate in capital value. Never again did I touch a
single speculative stock, who desired to think no more about
money. It was at this time that I bought the Fulcombe property.
It cost me about œ120,000 of my capital, or with alterations,
repairs, etc., say œ150,000, on which sum it may pay a net two
and a half per cent, not more.

This œ3,700 odd I have always devoted to the upkeep of the
place, which is therefore in first-rate order. The rest I live
on, or save.

These arrangements, with the beautifying and furnishing of the
house and the restoration of the church in memory of my father,
occupied and amused me for a year or so, but when they were
finished time began to hang heavy on my hands. What was the use
of possessing about œ20,000 a year when there was nothing upon
which it could be spent? For after all my own wants were few and
simple and the acquisition of valuable pictures and costly
furniture is limited by space. Oh! in my small way I was like
the weary King Ecclesiast. For I too made me great works and had
possessions of great and small cattle (I tried farming and lost
money over it!) and gathered me silver and gold and the peculiar
treasure of kings, which I presume means whatever a man in
authority chiefly desires, and so forth. But "behold all was
vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the
sun."

So, notwithstanding my wealth and health and the deference
which is the rich man's portion, especially when the limit of his
riches is not known, it came about that I too "hated life," and
this when I was not much over thirty. I did not know what to do;
for Society as the word is generally understood, I had no taste;
it bored me; horse-racing and cards I loathed, who had already
gambled too much on a big scale. The killing of creatures under
the name of sport palled upon me, indeed I began to doubt if it
were right, while the office of a junior county magistrate in a
place where there was no crime, only occupied me an hour or two a
month.

Lastly my neighbours were few and with all due deference to
them, extremely dull. At least I could not understand them
because in them there did not seem to be anything to understand,
and I am quite certain that they did not understand me. More,
when they came to learn that I was radical in my views and had
written certain "dreadful" and somewhat socialistic books in the
form of fiction, they both feared and mistrusted me as an enemy
to their particular section of the race. As I had not married and
showed no inclination to do so, their womenkind also, out of
their intimate knowledge, proclaimed that I led an immoral life,
though a little reflection would have shown them that there was
no one in the neighbourhood which for a time I seldom left, who
could possibly have tempted an educated creature to such courses.

Terrible is the lot of a man who, while still young and
possessing the intellect necessary to achievement, is deprived of
all ambition. And I had none at all. I did not even wish to
purchase a peerage or a baronetcy in this fashion or in that,
and, as in my father's case, my tastes were so many and so
catholic that I could not lose myself in any one of them. They
never became more than diversions to me. A hobby is only really
amusing when it becomes an obsession.

At length my lonesome friendliness oppressed me so much that I
took steps to mitigate it. In my college life I had two
particular friends whom I think I must have selected because they
were so absolutely different from myself.

They were named Bastin and Bickley. Bastin--Basil was his
Christian name--was an uncouth, shock-headed, flat-footed person
of large, rugged frame and equally rugged honesty, with a mind
almost incredibly simple. Nothing surprised him because he lacked
the faculty of surprise. He was like that kind of fish which lies
at the bottom of the sea and takes every kind of food into its
great maw without distinguishing its flavour. Metaphorically
speaking, heavenly manna and decayed cabbage were just the same
to Bastin. He was not fastidious and both were mental pabulum--of
a sort--together with whatever lay between these extremes. Yet he
was good, so painfully good that one felt that without exertion
to himself he had booked a first-class ticket straight to Heaven;
indeed that his guardian angel had tied it round his neck at
birth lest he should lose it, already numbered and dated like an
identification disc.

I am bound to add that Bastin never went wrong because he never
felt the slightest temptation to do so. This I suppose
constitutes real virtue, since, in view of certain Bible sayings,
the person who is tempted and would like to yield to the
temptation, is equally a sinner with the person who does yield.
To be truly good one should be too good to be tempted, or too
weak to make the effort worth the tempter's while--in short not
deserving of his powder and shot.

I need hardly add that Bastin went into the Church; indeed, he
could not have gone anywhere else; it absorbed him naturally, as
doubtless Heaven will do in due course. Only I think it likely
that until they get to know him he will bore the angels so much
that they will continually move him up higher. Also if they have
any susceptibilities left, probably he will tread upon their
toes--an art in which I never knew his equal. However, I always
loved Bastin, perhaps because no one else did, a fact of which he
remained totally unconscious, or perhaps because of his brutal
way of telling one what he conceived to be the truth, which, as
he had less imagination than a dormouse, generally it was not.
For if the truth is a jewel, it is one coloured and veiled by
many different lights and atmospheres.

It only remains to add that he was learned in his theological
fashion and that among his further peculiarities were the slow,
monotonous voice in which he uttered his views in long sentences,
and his total indifference to adverse argument however sound and
convincing.

My other friend, Bickley, was a person of a quite different
character. Like Bastin, he was learned, but his tendencies faced
another way. If Bastin's omnivorous throat could swallow a camel,
especially a theological camel, Bickley's would strain at the
smallest gnat, especially a theological gnat. The very best and
most upright of men, yet he believed in nothing that he could not
taste, see or handle. He was convinced, for instance, that man is
a brute-descended accident and no more, that what we call the
soul or the mind is produced by a certain action of the grey
matter of the brain; that everything apparently inexplicable has
a perfectly mundane explanation, if only one could find it; that
miracles certainly never did happen, and never will; that all
religions are the fruit of human hopes and fears and the most
convincing proof of human weakness; that notwithstanding our
infinite variations we are the subjects of Nature's single law
and the victims of blind, black and brutal chance.

Such was Bickley with his clever, well-cut face that always
reminded me of a cameo, and thoughtful brow; his strong, capable
hands and his rather steely mouth, the mere set of which
suggested controversy of an uncompromising kind. Naturally as the
Church had claimed Bastin, so medicine claimed Bickley.

Now as it happened the man who succeeded my father as vicar of
Fulcombe was given a better living and went away shortly after I
had purchased the place and with it the advowson. Just at this
time also I received a letter written in the large, sprawling
hand of Bastin from whom I had not heard for years. It went
straight to the point, saying that he, Bastin, had seen in a
Church paper that the last incumbent had resigned the living of
Fulcombe which was in my gift. He would therefore be obliged if I
would give it to him as the place he was at in Yorkshire did not
suit his wife's health.

Here I may state that afterwards I learned that what did not
suit Mrs. Bastin was the organist, who was pretty. She was by
nature a woman with a temperament so insanely jealous that
actually she managed to be suspicious of Bastin, whom she had
captured in an unguarded moment when he was thinking of something
else and who would as soon have thought of even looking at any
woman as he would of worshipping Baal. As a matter of fact it
took him months to know one female from another. Except as
possible providers of subscriptions and props of Mothers'
Meetings, women had no interest for him.

To return--with that engaging honesty which I have mentioned--
Bastin's letter went on to set out all his own disabilities,
which, he added, would probably render him unsuitable for the
place he desired to fill. He was a High Churchman, a fact which
would certainly offend many; he had no claims to being a preacher
although he was extraordinarily well acquainted with the writings
of the Early Fathers. (What on earth had that to do with the
question, I wondered.) On the other hand he had generally been
considered a good visitor and was fond of walking (he meant to
call on distant parishioners, but did not say so).

Then followed a page and a half on the evils of the existing
system of the presentation to livings by private persons, ending
with the suggestion that I had probably committed a sin in buying
this particular advowson in order to increase my local authority,
that is, if I had bought it, a point on which he was ignorant.
Finally he informed me that as he had to christen a sick baby
five miles away on a certain moor and it was too wet for him to
ride his bicycle, he must stop. And he stopped.

There was, however, a P.S. to the letter, which ran as follows:

"Someone told me that you were dead a few years ago, and of
course it may be another man of the same name who owns Fulcombe.
If so, no doubt the Post Office will send back this letter."

That was his only allusion to my humble self in all those
diffuse pages. It was a long while since I had received an
epistle which made me laugh so much, and of course I gave him the
living by return of post, and even informed him that I would
increase its stipend to a sum which I considered suitable to the
position.

About ten days later I received another letter from Bastin
which, as a scrawl on the flap of the envelope informed me, he
had carried for a week in his pocket and forgotten to post.
Except by inference it returned no thanks for my intended
benefits. What it did say, however, was that he thought it wrong
of me to have settled a matter of such spiritual importance in so
great a hurry, though he had observed that rich men were nearly
always selfish where their time was concerned. Moreover, he
considered that I ought first to have made inquiries as to his
present character and attainments, etc., etc.

To this epistle I replied by telegraph to the effect that I
should as soon think of making inquiries about the character of
an archangel, or that of one of his High Church saints. This
telegram, he told me afterwards, he considered unseemly and even
ribald, especially as it had given great offence to the
postmaster, who was one of the sidesmen in his church.

Thus it came about that I appointed the Rev. Basil Bastin to
the living of Fulcombe, feeling sure that he would provide me
with endless amusement and act as a moral tonic and discipline.
Also I appreciated the man's blunt candour. In due course he
arrived, and I confess that after a few Sundays of experience I
began to have doubts as to the wisdom of my choice, glad as I was
to see him personally. His sermons at once bored me, and, when
they did not send me to sleep, excited in me a desire for debate.
How could he be so profoundly acquainted with mysteries before
which the world had stood amazed for ages? Was there nothing too
hot or too heavy in the spiritual way for him to dismiss in a few
blundering and casual words, as he might any ordinary incident of
every-day life, I wondered? Also his idea of High Church
observances was not mine, or, I imagine, that of anybody else.
But I will not attempt to set it out.

His peculiarities, however, were easy to excuse and entirely
swallowed up by the innate goodness of his nature which soon made
him beloved of everyone in the place, for although he thought
that probably most things were sins, I never knew him to discover
a sin which he considered to be beyond the reach of forgiveness.
Bastin was indeed a most charitable man and in his way
wide-minded.

The person whom I could not tolerate, however, was his wife,
who, to my fancy, more resembled a vessel, a very unattractive
vessel, full of vinegar than a woman. Her name was Sarah and she
was small, plain, flat, sandy-haired and odious, quite obsessed,
moreover, with her jealousies of the Rev. Basil, at whom it
pleased her to suppose that every woman in the countryside under
fifty was throwing herself.

Here I will confess that to the best of my ability I took care
that they did in outward seeming, that is, whenever she was
present, instructing them to sit aside with him in darkened
corners, to present him with flowers, and so forth. Several of
them easily fell into the humour of the thing, and I have seen
him depart from a dinner-party followed by that glowering Sarah,
with a handful of rosebuds and violets, to say nothing of the
traditional offerings of slippers, embroidered markers and the
like. Well, it was my only way of coming even with her, which I
think she knew, for she hated me poisonously.

So much for Basil Bastin. Now for Bickley. Him I had met on
several occasions since our college days, and after I was settled
at the Priory from time to time I asked him to stay with me. At
length he came, and I found out that he was not at all
comfortable in his London practice which was of a nature
uncongenial to him; further, that he did not get on with his
partners. Then, after reflection, I made a suggestion to him. I
pointed out that, owing to its popularity amongst seaside
visitors, the neighbourhood of Fulcombe was a rising one, and
that although there were doctors in it, there was no really
first-class surgeon for miles.

Now Bickley was a first-class surgeon, having held very high
hospital appointments, and indeed still holding them. Why, I
asked, should he not come and set up here on his own? I would
appoint him doctor to the estate and also give him charge of a
cottage hospital which I was endowing, with liberty to build and
arrange it as he liked. Further, as I considered that it would be
of great advantage to me to have a man of real ability within
reach, I would guarantee for three years whatever income he was
earning in London.

He thanked me warmly and in the end acted on the idea, with
startling results so far as his prospects were concerned. Very
soon his really remarkable skill became known and he was earning
more money than as an unmarried man he could possibly want.
Indeed, scarcely a big operation took place at any town within
twenty miles, and even much farther away, at which he was not
called in to assist.

Needless to say his advent was a great boon to me, for as he
lived in a house I let him quite near by, whenever he had a spare
evening he would drop in to dinner, and from our absolutely
opposite standpoints we discussed all things human and divine.
Thus I was enabled to sharpen my wits upon the hard steel of his
clear intellect which was yet, in a sense, so limited.

I must add that I never converted him to my way of thinking and
he never converted me to his, any more than he converted Bastin,
for whom, queerly enough, he had a liking. They pounded away at
each other, Bickley frequently getting the best of it in the
argument, and when at last Bastin rose to go, he generally made
the same remark. It was:

"It really is sad, my dear Bickley, to find a man of your
intellect so utterly wrongheaded and misguided. I have convicted
you of error at least half a dozen times, and not to confess it
is mere pigheadedness. Good night. I am sure that Sarah will be
sitting up for me."

"Silly old idiot!" Bickley would say, shaking his fist after
him. "The only way to get him to see the truth would be to saw
his head open and pour it in."

Then we would both laugh.

Such were my two most intimate friends, although I admit it was
rather like the equator cultivating close relationships with the
north and south poles. Certainly Bastin was as far from Bickley
as those points of the earth are apart, while I. as it were, sat
equally distant between the two. However, we were all very happy
together, since in certain characters, there are few things that
bind men more closely than profound differences of opinion.

Now I must turn to my more personal affairs. After all, it is
impossible for a man to satisfy his soul, if he has anything of
the sort about him which in the remotest degree answers to that
description, with the husks of wealth, luxury and indolence,
supplemented by occasional theological and other arguments
between his friends; Becoming profoundly convinced of this truth,
I searched round for something to do and, like Noah's dove on the
waste of waters, found nothing. Then I asked Bickley and Bastin
for their opinions as to my best future course. Bickley proved a
barren draw. He rubbed his nose and feebly suggested that I might
go in for "research work," which, of course, only represented his
own ambitions. I asked him indignantly how I could do such a
thing without any scientific qualifications whatever. He admitted
the difficulty, but replied that I might endow others who had the
qualifications.

"In short, become a much cow for sucking scientists," I
replied, and broke off the conversation.

Bastin's idea was, first, that I should teach in a Sunday
School; secondly, that if this career did not satisfy all my
aspirations, I might be ordained and become a missionary.

On my rejection of this brilliant advice, he remarked that the
only other thing he could think of was that I should get married
and have a large family, which might possibly advantage the
nation and ultimately enrich the Kingdom of Heaven, though of
such things no one could be quite sure. At any rate, he was
certain that at present I was in practice neglecting my duty,
whatever it might be, and in fact one of those cumberers of the
earth who, he observed in the newspaper he took in and read when
he had time, were "very happily named--the idle rich."

"Which reminds me," he added, "that the clothing-club finances
are in a perfectly scandalous condition; in fact, it is œ25 in
debt, an amount that as the squire of the parish I consider it
incumbent on you to make good, not as a charity but as an
obligation."

"Look here, my friend," I said, ignoring all the rest, "will
you answer me a plain question? Have you found marriage such a
success that you consider it your duty to recommend it to others?
And if you have, why have you not got the large family of which
you speak?"

"Of course not," he replied with his usual frankness. "Indeed,
it is in many ways so disagreeable that I am convinced it must be
right and for the good of all concerned. As regards the family I
am sure I do not know, but Sarah never liked babies, which
perhaps has something to do with it."

Then he sighed, adding, "You see, Arbuthnot, we have to take
things as we find them in this world and hope for a better."

"Which is just what I am trying to do, you unilluminating old
donkey!" I exclaimed, and left him there shaking his head over
matters in general, but I think principally over Sarah.

By the way, I think that the villagers recognised this good
lady's vinegary nature. At least, they used to call her "Sour
Sal."

Chapter III

Natalie

Now what Bastin had said about marriage stuck in my mind as his
blundering remarks had a way of doing, perhaps because of the
grain of honest truth with which they were often permeated.
Probably in my position it was more or less my duty to marry. But
here came the rub; I had never experienced any leanings that way.
I was as much a man as others, more so than many are, perhaps,
and I liked women, but at the same time they repelled me.

My old fastidiousness came in; to my taste there was always
something wrong about them. While they attracted one part of my
nature they revolted another part, and on the whole I preferred
to do without their intimate society, rather than work violence
to this second and higher part of me. Moreover, quite at the
beginning of my career I had concluded from observation that a
man gets on better in life alone, rather than with another to
drag at his side, or by whom perhaps he must be dragged. Still
true marriage, such as most men and some women have dreamed of in
their youth, had always been one of my ideals; indeed it was on
and around this vision that I wrote that first book of mine which
was so successful. Since I knew this to be unattainable in our
imperfect conditions, however, notwithstanding Bastin's
strictures, again I dismissed the whole matter from my mind as a
vain imagination.

As an alternative I reflected upon a parliamentary career which
I was not too old to begin, and even toyed with one or two
opportunities that offered themselves, as these do to men of
wealth and advanced views. They never came to anything, for in
the end I decided that Party politics were so hateful and so
dishonest, that I could not bring myself to put my neck beneath
their yoke. I was sure that if I tried to do so, I should fail
more completely than I had done at the Bar and in Literature.
Here, too, I am quite certain that I was right.

The upshot of it all was that I sought refuge in that last
expedient of weary Englishmen, travel, not as a globe-trotter,
but leisurely and with an inquiring mind, learning much but again
finding, like the ancient writer whom I have quoted already, that
there is no new thing under the sun; that with certain variations
it is the same thing over and over again.

No, I will make an exception, the East did interest me
enormously. There it was, at Benares, that I came into touch with
certain thinkers who opened my eyes to a great deal. They
released some hidden spring in my nature which hitherto had
always been striving to break through the crust of our
conventions and inherited ideas. I know now that what I was
seeking was nothing less than the Infinite; that I had "immortal
longings in me." I listened to all their solemn talk of epochs
and years measureless to man, and reflected with a thrill that
after all man might have his part in every one of them. Yes, that
bird of passage as he seemed to be, flying out of darkness into
darkness, still he might have spread his wings in the light of
other suns millions upon millions of years ago, and might still
spread them, grown radiant and glorious, millions upon millions
of years hence in a time unborn.

If only I could know the truth. Was Life (according to Bickley)
merely a short activity bounded by nothingness before and behind;
or (according to Bastin) a conventional golden-harped and haloed
immortality, a word of which he did not in the least understand
the meaning?

Or was it something quite different from either of these,
something vast and splendid beyond the reach of vision,
something God-sent, beginning and ending in the Eternal Absolute
and at last partaking of His attributes and nature and from aeon
to aeon shot through with His light? And how was the truth to be
learned? I asked my Eastern friends, and they talked vaguely of
long ascetic preparation, of years upon years of learning, from
whom I could not quite discover. I was sure it could not be from
them, because clearly they did not know; they only passed on what
they had heard elsewhere, when or how they either could not or
would not explain. So at length I gave it up, having satisfied
myself that all this was but an effort of Oriental imagination
called into life by the sweet influences of the Eastern stars.

I gave it up and went away, thinking that I should forget. But
I did not forget. I was quick with a new hope, or at any rate
with a new aspiration, and that secret child of holy desire grew
and grew within my soul, till at length it flashed upon me that
this soul of mine was itself the hidden Master from which I must
learn my lesson. No wonder that those Eastern friends could not
give his name, seeing that whatever they really knew, as
distinguished from what they had heard, and it was little enough,
each of them had learned from the teaching of his own soul.

Thus, then, I too became a dreamer with only one longing, the
longing for wisdom, for that spirit touch which should open my
eyes and enable me to see.

Yet now it happened strangely enough that when I seemed within
myself to have little further interest in the things of the
world, and least of all in women, I, who had taken another guest
to dwell with me, those things of the world came back to me and
in the shape of Woman the Inevitable. Probably it was so decreed
since is it not written that no man can live to himself alone, or
lose himself in watching and nurturing the growth of his own
soul?

It happened thus. I went to Rome on my way home from India, and
stayed there a while. On the day after my arrival I wrote my name
in the book of our Minister to Italy at that time, Sir Alfred
Upton, not because I wished him to ask me to dinner, but for the
reason that I had heard of him as a man of archeological tastes
and thought that he might enable me to see things which otherwise
I should not see.

As it chanced he knew about me through some of my Devonshire
neighbours who were friends of his, and did ask me to dinner on
the following night. I accepted and found myself one of a
considerable party, some of them distinguished English people who
wore Orders, as is customary when one dines with the
representative of our Sovereign. Seeing these, and this shows
that in the best of us vanity is only latent, for the first time
in my life I was sorry that I had none and was only plain Mr.
Arbuthnot who, as Sir Alfred explained to me politely, must go in
to dinner last, because all the rest had titles, and without even
a lady as there was not one to spare.

Nor was my lot bettered when I got there, as I found myself
seated between an Italian countess and a Russian prince, neither
of whom could talk English, while, alas, I knew no foreign
language, not even French in which they addressed me, seeming
surprised that I did not understand them. I was humiliated at my
own ignorance, although in fact I was not ignorant, only my
education had been classical. Indeed I was a good classic and had
kept up my knowledge more or less, especially since I became an
idle man. In my confusion it occurred to me that the Italian
countess might know Latin from which her own language was
derived, and addressed her in that tongue. She stared, and Sir
Alfred, who was not far off and overheard me (he also knew
Latin), burst into laughter and proceeded to explain the joke in
a loud voice, first in French and then in English, to the
assembled company, who all became infected with merriment and
also stared at me as a curiosity.

Then it was that for the first time I saw Natalie, for owing to
a mistake of my driver I had arrived rather late and had not been
introduced to her. As her father's only daughter, her mother
being dead, she was seated at the end of the table behind a
fan-like arrangement of white Madonna lilies, and she had bent
forward and, like the others, was looking at me, but in such a
fashion that her head from that distance seemed as though it were
surrounded and crowned with lilies. Indeed the greatest art could
not have produced a more beautiful effect which was, however,
really one of naked accident.

An angel looking down upon earth through the lilies of
Heaven--that was the rather absurd thought which flashed into my
mind. I did not quite realise her face at first except that it
seemed to be both dark and fair; as a fact her waving hair which
grew rather low upon her forehead, was dark, and her large, soft
eyes were grey. I did not know, and to this moment I do not know
if she was really beautiful, but certainly the light that shone
through those eyes of hers and seemed to be reflected upon her
delicate features, was beauty itself. It was like that glowing
through a thin vase of the purest alabaster within which a lamp
is placed, and I felt this effect to arise from no chance, like
that of the lily-setting, but, as it were, from the lamp of the
spirit within.

Our eyes met, and I suppose that she saw the wonder and
admiration in mine. At any rate her amused smile faded, leaving
the face rather serious, though still sweetly serious, and a
tinge of colour crept over it as the first hue of dawn creeps
into a pearly sky. Then she withdrew herself behind the screen of
lilies and for the rest of that dinner which I thought was never
coming to an end, practically I saw her no more. Only I noted as
she passed out that although not tall, she was rounded and
graceful in shape and that her hands were peculiarly delicate.

Afterwards in the drawing-room her father, with whom I had
talked at the table, introduced me to her, saying:

"My daughter is the real archaeologist, Mr. Arbuthnot, and I
think if you ask her, she may be able to help you."

Then he bustled away to speak to some of his important guests,
from whom I think he was seeking political information.

"My father exaggerates," she said in a soft and very
sympathetic voice, "but perhaps"--and she motioned me to a seat
at her side.

Then we talked of the places and things that I more
particularly desired to see and, well, the end of it was that I
went back to my hotel in love with Natalie; and as she afterwards
confessed, she went to bed in love with me.

It was a curious business, more like meeting a very old friend
from whom one had been separated by circumstances for a score of
years or so than anything else. We were, so to speak, intimate
from the first; we knew all about each other, although here and
there was something new, something different which we could not
remember, lines of thought, veins of memory which we did not
possess in common. On one point I am absolutely clear: it was not
solely the everyday and ancient appeal of woman to man and man to
woman which drew us together, though doubtless this had its part
in our attachment as under our human conditions it must do,
seeing that it is Nature's bait to ensure the continuance of the
race. It was something more, something quite beyond that
elementary impulse.

At any rate we loved, and one evening in the shelter of the
solemn walls of the great Coliseum at Rome, which at that hour
were shut to all except ourselves, we confessed our love. I
really think we must have chosen the spot by tacit but mutual
consent because we felt it to be fitting. It was so old, so
impregnated with every human experience, from the direst crime of
the tyrant who thought himself a god, to the sublimest sacrifice
of the martyr who already was half a god; with every vice and
virtue also which lies between these extremes, that it seemed to
be the most fitting altar whereon to offer our hearts and all
that caused them to beat, each to the other.

So Natalie and I were betrothed within a month of our first
meeting. Within three we were married, for what was there to
prevent or delay? Naturally Sir Alfred was delighted, seeing that
he possessed but small private resources and I was able to make
ample provision for his daughter who had hitherto shown herself
somewhat difficult in this business of matrimony and now was
bordering on her twenty-seventh year. Everybody was delighted,
everything went smoothly as a sledge sliding down a slope of
frozen snow and the mists of time hid whatever might be at the
end of that slope. Probably a plain; at the worst the upward rise
of ordinary life.

That is what we thought, if we thought at all. Certainly we
never dreamed of a precipice. Why should we, who were young, by
comparison, quite healthy and very rich? Who thinks of precipices
under such circumstances, when disaster seems to be eliminated
and death is yet a long way off?

And yet we ought to have done so, because we should have known
that smooth surfaces without impediment to the runners often end
in something of the kind.

I am bound to say that when we returned home to Fulcombe, where
of course we met with a great reception, including the ringing
(out of tune) of the new peal of bells that I had given to the
church, Bastin made haste to point this out.

"Your wife seems a very nice and beautiful lady, Arbuthnot," he
reflected aloud after dinner, when Mrs. Bastin, glowering as
usual, though what at I do not know, had been escorted from the
room by Natalie, "and really, when I come to think of it, you are
an unusually fortunate person. You possess a great deal of money,
much more than you have any right to; which you seem to have done
very little to earn and do not spend quite as I should like you
to do, and this nice property, that ought to be owned by a great
number of people, as, according to the views you express, I
should have thought you would acknowledge, and everything else
that a man can want. It is very strange that you should be so
favoured and not because of any particular merits of your own
which one can see. However, I have no doubt it will all come even
in the end and you will get your share of troubles, like others.
Perhaps Mrs. Arbuthnot will have no children as there is so much
for them to take. Or perhaps you will lose all your money and
have to work for your living, which might be good for you. Or,"
he added, still thinking aloud after his fashion, "perhaps she
will die young--she has that kind of face, although, of course, I
hope she won't," he added, waking up.

I do not know why, but his wandering words struck me cold; the
proverbial funeral bell at the marriage feast was nothing to
them. I suppose it was because in a flash of intuition I knew
that they would come true and that he was an appointed Cassandra.
Perhaps this uncanny knowledge overcame my natural indignation at
such super-gaucherie of which no one but Bastin could have been
capable, and even prevented me from replying at all, so that I
merely sat still and looked at him.

But Bickley did reply with some vigour.

"Forgive me for saying so, Bastin," he said, bristling all over
as it were, "but your remarks, which may or may not be in
accordance with the principles of your religion, seem to me to be
in singularly bad taste. They would have turned the stomachs of a
gathering of early Christians, who appear to have been the worst
mannered people in the world, and at any decent heathen feast
your neck would have been wrung as that of a bird of ill omen."

"Why?" asked Bastin blankly. "I only said what I thought to be
the truth. The truth is better than what you call good taste."

"Then I will say what I think also to be the truth," replied
Bickley, growing furious. "It is that you use your Christianity
as a cloak for bad manners. It teaches consideration and sympathy
for others of which you seem to have none. Moreover, since you
talk of the death of people's wives, I will tell you something
about your own, as a doctor, which I can do as I never attended
her. It is highly probable, in my opinion, that she will die
before Mrs. Arbuthnot, who is quite a healthy person with a good
prospect of life."

"Perhaps," said Bastin. "If so, it will be God's will and I
shall not complain" (here Bickley snorted), "though I do not see
what you can know about it. But why should you cast reflections
on the early Christians who were people of strong principle
living in rough times, and had to wage war against an established
devil-worship? I know you are angry because they smashed up the
statues of Venus and so forth, but had I been in their place I
should have done the same."

"Of course you would, who doubts it? But as for the early
Christians and their iconoclastic performances--well, curse them,
that's all!" and he sprang up and left the room.

I followed him.

Let it not be supposed from the above scene that there was any
ill-feeling between Bastin and Bickley. On the contrary they were
much attached to each other, and this kind of quarrel meant no
more than the strong expression of their individual views to
which they were accustomed from their college days. For instance
Bastin was always talking about the early Christians and
missionaries, while Bickley loathed both, the early Christians
because of the destruction which they had wrought in Egypt,
Italy, Greece and elsewhere, of all that was beautiful; and the
missionaries because, as he said, they were degrading and
spoiling the native races and by inducing them to wear clothes,
rendering them liable to disease. Bastin would answer that their
souls were more important than their bodies, to which Bickley
replied that as there was no such thing as a soul except in the
stupid imagination of priests, he differed entirely on the point.
As it was quite impossible for either to convince the other,
there the conversation would end, or drift into something in
which they were mutually interested, such as natural history and
the hygiene of the neighbourhood.

Here I may state that Bickley's keen professional eye was not
mistaken when he diagnosed Mrs. Bastin's state of health as
dangerous. As a matter of fact she was suffering from heart
disease that a doctor can often recognise by the colour of the
lips, etc., which brought about her death under the following
circumstances:

Her husband attended some ecclesiastical function at a town
over twenty miles away and was to have returned by a train which
would have brought him home about five o'clock. As he did not
arrive she waited at the station for him until the last train
came in about seven o'clock--without the beloved Basil. Then, on
a winter's night she tore up to the Priory and begged me to lend
her a dog-cart in which to drive to the said town to look for
him. I expostulated against the folly of such a proceeding,
saying that no doubt Basil was safe enough but had forgotten to
telegraph, or thought that he would save the sixpence which the
wire cost.

Then it came out, to Natalie's and my intense amusement, that
all this was the result of her jealous nature of which I have
spoken. She said she had never slept a night away from her
husband since they were married and with so many "designing
persons" about she could not say what might happen if she did so,
especially as he was "such a favourite and so handsome." (Bastin
was a fine looking man in his rugged way.)

I suggested that she might have a little confidence in him, to
which she replied darkly that she had no confidence in anybody.

The end of it was that I lent her the cart with a fast horse
and a good driver, and off she went. Reaching the town in
question some two and a half hours later, she searched high and
low through wind and sleet, but found no Basil. He, it appeared,
had gone on to Exeter, to look at the cathedral where some
building was being done, and missing the last train had there
slept the night.

About one in the morning, after being nearly locked up as a mad
woman, she drove back to the Vicarage, again to find no Basil.
Even then she did not go to bed but raged about the house in her
wet clothes, until she fell down utterly exhausted. When her
husband did return on the following morning, full of information
about the cathedral, she was dangerously ill, and actually passed
away while uttering a violent tirade against him for his supposed
suspicious proceedings.

That was the end of this truly odious British matron.

In after days Bastin, by some peculiar mental process,
canonised her in his imagination as a kind of saint. "So loving,"
he would say, "such a devoted wife! Why, my dear Humphrey, I can
assure you that even in the midst of her death-struggle her last
thoughts were of me," words that caused Bickley to snort with
more than usual vigour, until I kicked him to silence beneath the
table.

Chapter IV

Death and Departure

Now I must tell of my own terrible sorrow, which turned my life
to bitterness and my hopes to ashes.

Never were a man and a woman happier together than I and
Natalie. Mentally, physically, spiritually we were perfectly
mated, and we loved each other dearly. Truly we were as one. Yet
there was something about her which filled me with vague fears,
especially after she found that she was to become a mother. I
would talk to her of the child, but she would sigh and shake her
head, her eyes filling with tears, and say that we must not count
on the continuance of such happiness as ours, for it was too
great.

I tried to laugh away her doubts, though whenever I did so I
seemed to hear Bastin's slow voice remarking casually that she
might die, as he might have commented on the quality of the
claret. At last, however, I grew terrified and asked her bluntly
what she meant.

"I don't quite know, dearest," she replied, "especially as I am
wonderfully well. But--but--"

"But what?" I asked.

"But I think that our companionship is going to be broken for a
little while."

"For a little while!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, Humphrey. I think that I shall be taken away from you--
you know what I mean," and she nodded towards the churchyard.

"Oh, my God!" I groaned.

"I want to say this," she added quickly, "that if such' a thing
should happen, as it happens every day, I implore you, dearest
Humphrey, not to be too much distressed, since I am sure that you
will find me again. No, I can't explain how or when or where,
because I do not know. I have prayed for light, but it has not
come to me. All I know is that I am not talking of reunion in Mr.
Bastin's kind of conventional heaven, which he speaks about as
though to reach it one stumbled through darkness for a minute
into a fine new house next door, where excellent servants had
made everything ready for your arrival and all the lights were
turned up. It is something quite different from that and very
much more real."

Then she bent down ostensibly to pat the head of a little black
cocker spaniel called Tommy which had been given to her as a
puppy, a highly intelligent and affectionate animal that we both
adored and that loved her as only a dog can love. Really, I knew,
it was to hide her tears, and fled from the room lest she should
see mine.

As I went I heard the dog whimpering in a peculiar way, as
though some sympathetic knowledge had been communicated to its
wonderful animal intelligence.

That night I spoke to Bickley about the matter, repeating
exactly what had passed. As I expected, he smiled in his grave,
rather sarcastic way, and made light of it.

"My dear Humphrey," he said, "don't torment yourself about such
fancies. They are of everyday occurrence among women in your
wife's condition. Sometimes they take one form, sometimes
another. When she has got her baby you will hear no more of
them."

I tried to be comforted but in vain.

The days and weeks went by like a long nightmare and in due
course the event happened. Bickley was not attending the case; it
was not in his line, he said, and he preferred that where a
friend's wife was concerned, somebody else should be called in.
So it was put in charge of a very good local man with a large
experience in such domestic matters.

How am I to tell of it? Everything went wrong; as for the
details, let them be. Ultimately Bickley did operate, and if
surpassing skill could have saved her, it would have been done.
But the other man had misjudged the conditions; it was too late,
nothing could help either mother or child, a little girl who died
shortly after she was born but not before she had been
christened, also by the name of Natalie.

I was called in to say farewell to my wife and found her
radiant, triumphant even in her weakness.

"I know now," she whispered in a faint voice. "I understood as
the chloroform passed away, but I cannot tell you. Everything is
quite well, my darling. Go where you seem called to go, far away.
Oh! the wonderful place in which you will find me, not knowing
that you have found me. Good-bye for a little while; only for a
little while, my own, my own!"

Then she died. And for a time I too seemed to die, but could
not. I buried her and the child here at Fulcombe; or rather I
buried their ashes since I could not endure that her beloved body
should see corruption.

Afterwards, when all was over, I spoke of these last words of
Natalie's with both Bickley and Bastin, for somehow I seemed to
wish to learn their separate views.

The latter I may explain, had been present at the end in his
spiritual capacity, but I do not think that he in the least
understood the nature of the drama which was passing before his
eyes. His prayers and the christening absorbed all his attention,
and he never was a man who could think of more than one thing at
a time.

When I told him exactly what had happened and repeated the
words that Natalie spoke, he was much interested in his own
nebulous way, and said that it was delightful to meet with an
example of a good Christian, such as my wife had been, who
actually saw something of Heaven before she had gone there. His
own faith was, he thanked God, fairly robust, but still an
undoubted occurrence of the sort acted as a refreshment, "like
rain on a pasture when it is rather dry, you know," he added,
breaking into simile.

I remarked that she had not seemed to speak in the sense he
indicated, but appeared to allude to something quite near at hand
and more or less immediate.

"I don't know that there is anything nearer at hand than the
Hereafter," he answered. "I expect she meant that you will
probably soon die and join her in Paradise, if you are worthy to
do so. But of course it is not wise to put too much reliance upon
words spoken by people at the last, because often they don't
quite know what they are saying. Indeed sometimes I think this
was so in the case of my own wife, who really seemed to me to
talk a good deal of rubbish. Good-bye, I promised to see Widow
Jenkins this afternoon about having her varicose veins cut out,
and I mustn't stop here wasting time in pleasant conversation.
She thinks just as much of her varicose veins as we do of the
loss of our wives."

I wonder what Bastin's ideas of unpleasant conversation may be,
thought I to myself, as I watched him depart already
wool-gathering on some other subject, probably the heresy of one
of those "early fathers" who occupied most of his thoughts.

Bickley listened to my tale in sympathetic silence, as a doctor
does to a patient. When he was obliged to speak, he said that it
was interesting as an example of a tendency of certain minds
towards romantic vision which sometimes asserts itself, even in
the throes of death.

"You know," he added, "that I put faith in none of these
things. I wish that I could, but reason and science both show me
that they lack foundation. The world on the whole is a sad place,
where we arrive through the passions of others implanted in them
by Nature, which, although it cares nothing for individual death,
is tender towards the impulse of races of every sort to preserve
their collective life. Indeed the impulse is Nature, or at least
its chief manifestation. Consequently, whether we be gnats or
elephants, or anything between and beyond, even stars for aught I
know, we must make the best of things as they are, taking the
good and the evil as they come and getting all we can out of life
until it leaves us, after which we need not trouble. You had a
good time for a little while and were happy in it; now you are
having a bad time and are wretched. Perhaps in the future, when
your mental balance has re-asserted itself, you will have other
good times in the afternoon of your days, and then follow
twilight and the dark. That is all there is to hope for, and we
may as well look the thing in the face. Only I confess, my dear
fellow, that your experience convinces me that marriage should be
avoided at whatever inconvenience. Indeed I have long wondered
that anyone can take the responsibility of bringing a child into
the world. But probably nobody does in cold blood, except
misguided idiots like Bastin," he added. "He would have twenty,
had not his luck intervened."

"Then you believe in nothing, Friend," I said.

"Nothing, I am sorry to say, except what I see and my five
senses appreciate."

"You reject all possibility of miracle, for instance?"

"That depends on what you mean by miracle. Science shows us all
kinds of wonders which our great grandfathers would have called
miracles, but these are nothing but laws that we are beginning to
understand. Give me an instance."

"Well," I replied at hazard, "if you were assured by someone
that a man could live for a thousand years?"

"I should tell him that he was a fool or a liar, that is all.
It is impossible."

"Or that the same identity, spirit, animating principle--call
it what you will--can flit from body to body, say in successive
ages? Or that the dead can communicate with the living?"

"Convince me of any of these things, Arbuthnot, and mind you I
desire to be convinced, and I will take back every word I have
said and walk through Fulcombe in a white sheet proclaiming
myself the fool. Now, I must get off to the Cottage Hospital to
cut out Widow Jenkins's varicose veins. They are tangible and
real at any rate; about the largest I ever saw, indeed. Give up
dreams, old boy, and take to something useful. You might go back
to your fiction writing; you seem to have leanings that way, and
you know you need not publish the stories, except privately for
the edification of your friends."

With this Parthian shaft Bickley took his departure to make a
job of Widow Jenkins's legs.

I took his advice. During the next few months I did write
something which occupied my thoughts for a while, more or less.
It lies in my safe to this minute, for somehow I have never been
able to make up my mind to burn what cost me so much physical and
mental toil.

When it was finished my melancholy returned to me with added
force. Everything in the house took a tongue and cried to me of
past days. Its walls echoed a voice that I could never hear
again; in the very looking-glasses I saw the reflection of a lost
presence. Although I had moved myself for the purposes of sleep
to a little room at the further end of the building, footsteps
seemed to creep about my bed at night and I heard the rustle of a
remembered dress without the door. The place grew hateful to me.
I felt that I must get away from it or I should go mad.

One afternoon Bastin arrived carrying a book and in a state of
high indignation. This work, written, as he said, by some ribald
traveller, grossly traduced the character of missionaries to the
South Sea Islands, especially of those of the Society to which he
subscribed, and he threw it on the table in his righteous wrath.
Bickley picked it up and opened it at a photograph of a very
pretty South Sea Island girl clad in a few flowers and nothing
else, which he held towards Bastin, saying:

"Is it to this child of Nature. that you object? I call her
distinctly attractive, though perhaps she does wear her hibiscus
blooms with a difference to our women--a little lower down."

"The devil is always attractive," replied Bastin gloomily.
"Child of Nature indeed! I call her Child of Sin. That photograph
is enough to make my poor Sarah turn in her grave."

"Why?" asked Bickley; "seeing that wide seas roll between you
and this dusky Venus. Also I thought that according to your
Hebrew legend sin came in with bark garments."

"You should search the Scriptures, Bickley," I broke in, "and
cultivate accuracy. It was fig-leaves that symbolised its
arrival. The garments, which I think were of skin, developed
later."

"Perhaps," went on Bickley, who had turned the page, "she" (he
referred to the late Mrs. Bastin) "would have preferred her
thus," and he held up another illustration of the same woman.

In this the native belle appeared after conversion, clad in
broken-down stays--I suppose they were stays--out of which she
seemed to bulge and flow in every direction, a dirty white dress
several sizes too small, a kind of Salvation Army bonnet without
a crown and a prayer-book which she held pressed to her middle;
the general effect being hideous, and in some curious way,
improper.

"Certainly," said Bastin, "though I admit her clothes do not
seem to fit and she has not buttoned them up as she ought. But it
is not of the pictures so much as of the letterpress with its
false and scandalous accusations, that I complain."

"Why do you complain?" asked Bickley. "Probably it is quite
true, though that we could never ascertain without visiting the
lady's home."

"If I could afford it," exclaimed Bastin with rising anger, "I
should like to go there and expose this vile traducer of my
cloth."

"So should I," answered Bickley, "and expose these introducers
of consumption, measles and other European diseases, to say
nothing of gin, among an innocent and Arcadian people."

"How can you call them innocent, Bickley, when they murder and
eat missionaries?"

"I dare say we should all eat a missionary, Bastin, if we were
hungry enough," was the answer, after which something occurred to
change the conversation.

But I kept the book and read it as a neutral observer, and came
to the conclusion that these South Sea Islands, a land where it
was always afternoon, must be a charming place, in which perhaps
the stars of the Tropics and the scent of the flowers might
enable one to forget a little, or at least take the edge off
memory. Why should I not visit them and escape another long and
dreary English winter? No, I could not do so alone. If Bastin and
Bickley were there, their eternal arguments might amuse me. Well,
why should they not come also? When one has money things can
always be arranged.

The idea, which had its root in this absurd conversation, took
a curious hold on me. I thought of it all the evening, being
alone, and that night it re-arose m my dreams. I dreamed that my
lost Natalie appeared to me and showed me a picture. It was of a
long, low land, a curving shore of which the ends were out of the
picture, whereon grew tall palms, and where great combers broke
upon gleaming sand.

Then the picture seemed to become a reality and I saw Natalie
herself, strangely changeful in her aspect, strangely varying in
face and figure, strangely bright, standing in the mouth of a
pass whereof the little bordering cliffs were covered with bushes
and low trees, whose green was almost hid in lovely flowers.
There in my dream she stood, smiling mysteriously, and stretched
out her arms towards me.

As I awoke I seemed to hear her voice, repeating her dying
words: "Go where you seem called to go, far away. Oh! the
wonderful place in which you will find me, not knowing that you
have found me."

With some variations this dream visited me twice that night. In
the morning I woke up quite determined that I would go to the
South Sea Islands, even if I must do so alone. On that same
evening Bastin and Bickley dined with me. I said nothing to them
about my dream, for Bastin never dreamed and Bickley would have
set it down to indigestion. But when the cloth had been cleared
away and we were drinking our glass of port--both Bastin and
Bickley only took one, the former because he considered port a
sinful indulgence of the flesh, the latter because he feared it
would give him gout--I remarked casually that they both looked
very run down and as though they wanted a rest. They agreed, at
least each of them said he had noticed it in the other. Indeed
Bastin added that the damp and the cold in the church, in which
he held daily services to no congregation except the old woman
who cleaned it, had given him rheumatism, which prevented him
from sleeping.

"Do call things by their proper names," interrupted Bickley. "I
told you yesterday that what you are suffering from is neuritis
in your right arm, which will become chronic if you neglect it
much longer. I have the same thing myself, so I ought to know,
and unless I can stop operating for a while I believe my fingers
will become useless. Also something is affecting my sight,
overstrain, I suppose, so that I am obliged to wear stronger and
stronger glasses. I think I shall have to leave Ogden" (his
partner) "in charge for a while, and get away into the sun. There
is none here before June."

"I would if I could pay a locum tenens and were quite sure it
isn't wrong," said Bastin.

"I am glad you both think like that," I remarked, "as I have a
suggestion to make to you. I want to go to the South Seas about
which we were talking yesterday, to get the thorough change that
Bickley has been advising for me, and I should be very grateful
if you would both come as my guests. You, Bickley, make so much
money out of cutting people about, that you can arrange your own
affairs during your absence. But as for you, Bastin, I will see
to the wherewithal for the locum tenens, and everything else."

"You are very kind," said Bastin, "and certainly I should like
to expose that misguided author, who probably published his
offensive work without thinking that what he wrote might affect
the subscriptions to the missionary societies, also to show
Bickley that he is not always right, as he seems to think. But I
could never dream of accepting without the full approval of the
Bishop.

"You might get that of your nurse also, if she happens to be
still alive," mocked Bickley. "As for his Lordship, I don't think
he will raise any objection when he sees the certificate I will
give you about the state of your health. He is a great believer
in me ever since I took that carbuncle out of his neck which he
got because he will not eat enough. As for me, I mean to come if
only to show you how continually and persistently you are wrong.
But, Arbuthnot, how do you mean to go?"

"I don't know. In a mail steamer, I suppose."

"If you can run to it, a yacht would be much better."

"That's a good idea, for one could get out of the beaten tracks
and see the places that are never, or seldom, visited. I will
make some inquiries. And now, to celebrate the occasion, let us
all have another glass of port and drink a toast."

They hesitated and were lost, Bastin murmuring something about
doing without his stout next day as a penance. Then they both
asked what was the toast, each of them, after thought, suggesting
that it should be the utter confusion of the other.

I shook my head, whereon as a result of further cogitation,
Bastin submitted that the Unknown would be suitable. Bickley said
that he thought this a foolish idea as everything worth knowing
was already known, and what was the good of drinking to the rest?
A toast to the Truth would be better.

A notion came to me.

"Let us combine them," I said, "and drink to the Unknown
Truth."

So we did, though Bastin grumbled that the performance made him
feel like Pilate.

"We are all Pilates in our way," I replied with a sigh.

"That is what I think every time I diagnose a case," exclaimed
Bickley.

As for me I laughed and for some unknown reason felt happier
than I had done for months. Oh! if only the writer of that
tourist tale of the South Sea Islands could have guessed what
fruit his light-thrown seed would yield to us and to the world!

I made my inquiries through a London agency which hired out
yachts or sold them to the idle rich. As I expected, there were
plenty to be had, at a price, but wealthy as I was, the figure
asked of the buyer of any suitable craft, staggered me. In the
end, however, I chartered one for six months certain and at so
much per month for as long as I liked afterwards. The owners paid
insurance and everything else on condition that they appointed
the captain and first mate, also the engineer, for this yacht,
which was named Star of the South, could steam at about ten knots
as well as sail.

I know nothing about yachts, and therefore shall not attempt to
describe her, further than to say that she was of five hundred
and fifty tons burden, very well constructed, and smart to look
at, as well she might be, seeing that a deceased millionaire from
whose executors I hired her had spent a fortune in building and
equipping her in the best possible style. In all, her crew
consisted of thirty-two hands. A peculiarity of the vessel was
that owing to some fancy of the late owner, the passenger
accommodation, which was splendid, lay forward of the bridge,
this with the ship's store-rooms, refrigerating chamber, etc.,
being almost in the bows. It was owing to these arrangements,
which were unusual, that the executors found it impossible to
sell, and were therefore glad to accept such an offer as mine in
order to save expenses. Perhaps they hoped that she might go to
the bottom, being heavily insured. If so, the Fates did not
disappoint them.

The captain, named Astley, was a jovial person who held every
kind of certificate. He seemed so extraordinarily able at his
business that personally I suspected him of having made mistakes
in the course of his career, not unconnected with the worship of
Bacchus. In this I believe I was right; otherwise a man of such
attainments would have been commanding something bigger than a
private yacht. The first mate, Jacobsen, was a melancholy Dane, a
spiritualist who played the concertina, and seemed to be able to
do without sleep. The crew were a mixed lot, good men for the
most part and quite unobjectionable, more than half of them being
Scandinavian. I think that is all I need say about the Star of
the South.

The arrangement was that the Star of the South should proceed
through the Straits of Gibraltar to Marseilles, where we would
join her, and thence travel via the Suez Canal, to Australia and
on to the South Seas, returning home as our fancy or convenience
might dictate.

All the first part of the plan we carried out to the letter. Of
the remainder I say nothing at present.

The Star of the South was amply provided with every kind of
store. Among them were medicines and surgical instruments,
selected by Bickley, and a case of Bibles and other religious
works in sundry languages of the South Seas, selected by Bastin,
whose bishop, when he understood the pious objects of his
journey, had rather encouraged than hindered his departure on
sick leave, and a large number of novels, books of reference,
etc., laid in by myself. She duly sailed from the Thames and
reached Marseilles after a safe and easy passage, where all three
of us boarded her.

I forgot to add that she had another passenger, the little
spaniel, Tommy. I had intended to leave him behind, but while I
was packing up he followed me about with such evident
understanding of my purpose that my heart was touched. When I
entered the motor to drive to the station he escaped from the
hands of the servant, whimpering, and took refuge on my knee.
After this I felt that Destiny intended him to be our companion.
Moreover, was he not linked with my dead past, and, had I but
known it, with my living future also?

Chapter V

The Cyclone

We enjoyed our voyage exceedingly. In Egypt, a land I was glad
to revisit, we only stopped a week while the Star of the South,
which we rejoined at Suez, coaled and went through the Canal.
This, however, gave us time to spend a few days in Cairo, visit
the Pyramids and Sakkara which Bastin and Bickley had never seen
before, and inspect the great Museum. The journey up the Nile was
postponed until our return. It was a pleasant break and gave
Bickley, a most omnivorous reader who was well acquainted with
Egyptian history and theology, the opportunity of trying to prove
to Bastin that Christianity was a mere development of the ancient
Egyptian faith. The arguments that ensued may be imagined. It
never seemed to occur to either of them that all faiths may be
and indeed probably are progressive; in short, different rays of
light thrown from the various facets of the same crystal, as in
turn these are shone upon by the sun of Truth.

Our passage down the Red Sea was cool and agreeable. Thence we
shaped our course for Ceylon. Here again we stopped a little
while to run up to Kandy and to visit the ruined city of
Anarajapura with its great Buddhist topes that once again gave
rise to religious argument between my two friends. Leaving Ceylon
we struck across the Indian Ocean for Perth in Western Australia.

It was a long voyage, since to save our coal we made most of it
under canvas. However, we were not dull as Captain Astley was a
good companion, and even out of the melancholy Dane, Jacobsen, we
had entertainment. He insisted on holding seances in the cabin,
at which the usual phenomena occurred. The table twisted about,
voices were heard and Jacobsen's accordion wailed out tunes above
our heads. These happenings drove Bickley to a kind of madness,
for here were events which he could not explain. He was convinced
that someone was playing tricks upon him, and devised the most
elaborate snares to detect the rogue, entirely without result.

First he accused Jacobsen, who was very indignant, and then me,
who laughed. In the end Jacobsen and I left the "circle" and the
cabin, which was locked behind us; only Bastin and Bickley
remaining there in the dark. Presently we heard sounds of
altercation, and Bickley emerged looking very red in the face,
followed by Bastin, who was saying:

"Can I help it if something pulled your nose and snatched off
your eyeglasses, which anyhow are quite useless to you when there
is no light? Again, is it possible for me, sitting on the other
side of that table, to have placed the concertina on your head
and made it play the National Anthem, a thing that I have not the
slightest idea how to do?"

"Please do not try to explain," snapped Bickley. "I am
perfectly aware that you deceived me somehow, which no doubt you
think a good joke."

"My dear fellow," I interrupted, "is it possible to imagine old
Basil deceiving anyone?"

"Why not," snorted Bickley, "seeing that he deceives himself
from one year's end to the other?"

"I think," said Bastin, "that this is an unholy business and
that we are both deceived by the devil. I will have no more to do
with it," and he departed to his cabin, probably to say some
appropriate prayers.

After this the seances were given up but Jacobsen produced an
instrument called a planchette and with difficulty persuaded
Bickley to try it, which he did after many precautions. The
thing, a heart-shaped piece of wood mounted on wheels and with a
pencil stuck at its narrow end, cantered about the sheet of paper
on which it was placed, Bickley, whose hands rested upon it,
staring at the roof of the cabin. Then it began to scribble and
after a while stopped still.

"Will the Doctor look?" said Jacobsen. "Perhaps the spirits
have told him something."

"Oh! curse all this silly talk about spirits," exclaimed
Bickley, as he arranged his eyeglasses and held up the paper to
the light, for it was after dinner.

He stared, then with an exclamation which I will not repeat,
and a glance of savage suspicion at the poor Dane and the rest of
us, threw it down and left the cabin. I picked it up and next
moment was screaming with laughter. There on the top of the sheet
was a rough but entirely recognizable portrait of Bickley with
the accordion on his head, and underneath, written in a delicate,
Italian female hand, absolutely different from his own, were
these words taken from one of St. Paul's Epistles--"Oppositions
of science falsely so called." Underneath them again in a
scrawling, schoolboy fist, very like Bastin's, was inscribed,
"Tell us how this is done, you silly doctor, who think yourself
so clever."

"It seems that the devil really can quote Scripture," was
Bastin's only comment, while Jacobsen stared before him and
smiled.

Bickley never alluded to the matter, but for days afterwards I
saw him experimenting with paper and chemicals, evidently trying
to discover a form of invisible ink which would appear upon the
application of the hand. As he never said anything about it, I
fear that he failed.

This planchette business had a somewhat curious ending. A few
nights later Jacobsen was working it and asked me to put a
question. To oblige him I inquired on what day we should reach
Fremantle, the port of Perth. It wrote an answer which, I may
remark, subsequently proved to be quite correct.

"That is not a good question," said Jacobsen, "since as a
sailor I might guess the reply. Try again, Mr. Arbuthnot."

"Will anything remarkable happen on our voyage to the South
Seas?" I inquired casually.

The planchette hesitated a while then wrote rapidly and
stopped. Jacobsen took up the paper and began to read the answer
aloud--"To A, B the D, and B the C, the most remarkable things
will happen that have happened to men living in the world."

"That must mean me, Bickley the doctor and Bastin the
clergyman," I said, laughing.

Jacobsen paid no attention, for he was reading what followed.
As he did so I saw his face turn white and his eyes begin to
start from his head. Then suddenly he tore the paper in pieces
which he thrust into his pocket. Lifting his great fist he
uttered some Danish oath and with a single blow smashed the
planchette to fragments, after which he strode away, leaving me
astonished and somewhat disturbed. When I met him the next
morning I asked him what was on the paper.

"Oh!" he said quietly, "something I should not like you too-
proper English gentlemens to see. Something not nice. You
understand. Those spirits not always good; they do that kind of
thing sometimes. That's why I broke up this planchette."

Then he began to talk of something else and there the matter
ended.

I should have said that, principally with a view to putting
themselves in a position to confute each other, ever since we had
started from Marseilles both Bastin and Bickley spent a number of
hours each day in assiduous study of the language of the South
Sea Islands. It became a kind of competition between them as to
which could learn the most. Now Bastin, although simple and even
stupid in some ways, was a good scholar, and as I knew at
college, had quite a faculty for acquiring languages in which he
had taken high marks at examinations. Bickley, too, was an
extraordinarily able person with an excellent memory, especially
when he was on his mettle. The result was that before we ever
reached a South Sea island they had a good working knowledge of
the local tongues.

As it chanced, too, at Perth we picked up a Samoan and his wife
who, under some of the "white Australia" regulations, were not
allowed to remain in the country and offered to work as servants
in return for a passage to Apia where we proposed to call some
time or other. With these people Bastin and Bickley talked all
day long till really they became fairly proficient in their soft
and beautiful dialect. They wished me to learn also, but I said
that with two such excellent interpreters and the natives while
they remained with us, it seemed quite unnecessary. Still, I
picked up a good deal in a quiet way, as much as they did
perhaps.

At length, travelling on and on as a voyager to the planet Mars
might do, we sighted the low shores of Australia and that same
evening were towed, for our coal was quite exhausted, to the
wharf at Fremantle. Here we spent a few days exploring the
beautiful town of Perth and its neighbourhood where it was very
hot just then, and eating peaches and grapes till we made
ourselves ill, as a visitor often does who is unaware that fruit
should not be taken in quantity in Australia while the sun is
high. Then we departed for Melbourne almost before our arrival
was generally known, since I did not wish to advertise our
presence or the object of our journey.

We crossed the Great Australian Bight, of evil reputation, in
the most perfect weather; indeed it might have been a mill pond,
and after a short stay at Melbourne, went on to Sydney, where we
coaled again and laid in supplies.

Then our real journey began. The plan we laid out was to sail
to Suva in Fiji, about 1,700 miles away, and after a stay there,
on to Hawaii or the Sandwich Islands, stopping perhaps at the
Phoenix Islands and the Central Polynesian Sporades, such as
Christmas and Fanning Isles. Then we proposed to turn south again
through the Marshall Archipelago and the Caroline Islands, and so
on to New Guinea and the Coral Sea. Particularly did we wish to
visit Easter Island on account of its marvelous sculptures that
are supposed to be the relics of a preeminent-historic race. In truth,
however, we had no fixed plan except to go wherever circumstance
and chance might take us. Chance, I may add, or something else,
took full advantage of its opportunities.

We came to Suva in safety and spent a while in exploring the
beautiful Fiji Isles where both Bastin and Bickley made full
inquiries about the work of the missionaries, each of them
drawing exactly opposite conclusions from the same set of
admitted facts. Thence we steamed to Samoa and put our two
natives ashore at Apia, where we procured some coal. We did not
stay long enough in these islands to investigate them, however,
because persons of experience there assured us from certain
familiar signs that one of the terrible hurricanes with which
they are afflicted, was due to arrive shortly and that we should
do well to put ourselves beyond its reach. So having coaled and
watered we departed in a hurry.

Up to this time I should state we had met with the most
wonderful good fortune in the matter of weather, so good indeed
that never on one occasion since we left Marseilles, had we been
obliged to put the fiddles on the tables. With the superstition
of a sailor Captain Astley, when I alluded to the matter, shook
his head saying that doubtless we should pay for it later on,
since "luck never goes all the way" and cyclones were reported to
be about.

Here I must tell that after we were clear of Apia, it was
discovered that the Danish mate who was believed to be in his
cabin unwell from something he had eaten, was missing. The
question arose whether we should put back to find him, as we
supposed that he had made a trip inland and met with an accident,
or been otherwise delayed. I was in favour of doing so though the
captain, thinking of the threatened hurricane, shook his head and
said that Jacobsen was a queer fellow who might just as well have
gone overboard as anywhere else, if he thought he heard "the
spirits, of whom he was so fond," calling him. While the matter
was still in suspense I happened to go into my own stateroom and
there, stuck in the looking-glass, saw an envelope in the Dane's
handwriting addressed to myself. On opening it I found another
sealed letter, unaddressed, also a note that ran as follows:

"Honoured Sir,

"You will think very badly of me for leaving you, but the
enclosed which I implore you not to open until you have seen the
last of the Star of the South, will explain my reason and I hope
clear my reputation. I thank you again and again for all your
kindness and pray that the Spirits who rule the world may bless
and preserve you, also the Doctor and Mr. Bastin."

This letter, which left the fate of Jacobsen quite unsolved,
for it might mean either that he had deserted or drowned himself,
I put away with the enclosure in my pocket. Of course there was
no obligation on me to refrain from opening the letter, but I
shrank from doing so both from some kind of sense of honour and,
to tell the truth, for fear of what it might contain. I felt that
this would be disagreeable; also, although there was nothing to
connect them together, I bethought me of the scene when Jacobsen
had smashed the planchette.

On my return to the deck I said nothing whatsoever about the
discovery of the letter, but only remarked that on reflection I
had changed my mind and agreed with the captain that it would be
unwise to attempt to return in order to look for Jacobsen. So the
boatswain, a capable individual who had seen better days, was
promoted to take his watches and we went on as before. How
curiously things come about in the world! For nautical reasons
that were explained to me, but which I will not trouble to set
down, if indeed I could remember them, I believe that if we had
returned to Apia we should have missed the great gale and
subsequent cyclone, and with these much else. But it was not so
fated.

It was on the fourth day, when we were roughly seven hundred
miles or more north of Samoa, that we met the edge of this gale
about sundown. The captain put on steam in the hope of pushing
through it, but that night we dined for the first time with the
fiddles on, and by eleven o'clock it was as much as one could do
to stand in the cabin, while the water was washing freely over
the deck. Fortunately, however, the wind veered more aft of us,
so that by putting about her head a little (seamen must forgive
me if I talk of these matters as a landlubber) we ran almost
before the wind, though not quite in the direction that we wished
to go.

When the light came it was blowing very hard indeed, and the
sky was utterly overcast, so that we got no glimpse of the sun,
or of the stars on the following night. Unfortunately, there was
no moon visible; indeed, if there had been I do not suppose that
it would have helped us because of the thick pall of clouds. For
quite seventy-two hours we ran on beneath bare poles before that
gale. The little vessel behaved splendidly, riding the seas like
a duck, but I could see that Captain Astley was growing alarmed.
When I said something complimentary to him about the conduct of
the Star of the South, he replied that she was forging ahead all
right, but the question was--where to? He had been unable to take
an observation of any sort since we left Samoa; both his patent
logs had been carried away, so that now only the compass
remained, and he had not the slightest idea where we were in that
great ocean studded with atolls and islands.

I asked him whether we could not steam back to our proper
course, but he answered that to do so he would have to travel
dead in the eye of the gale, and he doubted whether the engines
would stand it. Also there was the question of coal to be
considered. However, he had kept the fires going and would do
what he could if the weather moderated.

That night during dinner which now consisted of tinned foods
and whisky and water, for the seas had got to the galley fire,
suddenly the gale dropped, whereat we rejoiced exceedingly. The
captain came down into the saloon very white and shaken, I
thought, and I asked him to have a nip of whisky to warm him up,
and to celebrate our good fortune in having run out of the wind.
He took the bottle and, to my alarm, poured out a full half
tumbler of spirit, which he swallowed undiluted in two or three
gulps.

"That's better!" he said with a hoarse laugh. "But man, what is
it you are saying about having run out of the wind? Look at the
glass!"

"We have," said Bastin, "and it is wonderfully steady. About 29
degrees or a little over, which it has been for the last three
days."

Again Astley laughed in a mirthless fashion, as he answered:

"Oh, that thing! That's the passengers' glass. I told the
'steward to put it out of gear so that you might not be
frightened; it is an old trick. Look at this," and he produced
one of the portable variety out of his pocket.

We looked, and it stood somewhere between 27 degrees and 28
degrees.

"That's the lowest glass I ever saw in the Polynesian or any
other seas during thirty years. It's right, too, for I have
tested it by three others," he said.

"What does it mean?" I asked rather anxiously.

"South Sea cyclone of the worst breed," he replied. "That
cursed Dane knew it was coming and that's why he left the ship.
Pray as you never prayed before," and again he stretched out his
hand towards the whisky bottle. But I stepped between him and it,
shaking my head. Thereon he laughed for the third time and left
the cabin. Though I saw him once or twice afterwards, these were
really the last words of intelligible conversation that I ever
had with Captain Astley.

"It seems that we are in some danger," said Bastin, in an
unmoved kind of way. "I think that was a good idea of the
captain's, to put up a petition, I mean, but as Bickley will
scarcely care to join in it I will go into the cabin and do so
myself."

Bickley snorted, then said:

"Confound that captain! Why did he play such a trick upon us
about the barometer? Humphrey, I believe he had been drinking."

"So do I," I said, looking at the whisky bottle. "Otherwise,
after taking those precautions to keep us in the dark, he would
not have let on like that."

"Well," said Bickley, "he can't get to the liquor, except
through this saloon, as it is locked up forward with the other
stores."

"That's nothing," I replied, "as doubtless he has a supply of
his own; rum, I expect. We must take our chance."

Bickley nodded, and suggested that we should go on deck to see
what was happening. So we went. Not a breath of wind was
stirring, and even the sea seemed to be settling down a little.
At least, so we judged from the motion, for we could not see
either it or the sky; everything was as black as pitch. We heard
the sailors, however, engaged in rigging guide ropes fore and
aft, and battening down the hatches with extra tarpaulins by the
light of lanterns. Also they were putting ropes round the boats
and doing something to the spars and topmasts.

Presently Bastin joined us, having, I suppose, finished his
devotions.

"Really, it is quite pleasant here," he said. "One never knows
how disagreeable so much wind is until it stops."

I lit my pipe, making no answer, and the match burned quite
steadily there in the open air.

"What is that?" exclaimed Bickley, staring at something which
now I saw for the first time. It looked like a line of white
approaching through the gloom. With it came a hissing sound, and
although there was still no wind, the rigging began to moan
mysteriously like a thing in pain. A big drop of water also fell
from the sides into my pipe and put it out. Then one of the
sailors cried in a hoarse voice:

"Get down below, governors, unless you want to go out to sea!"

"Why?" inquired Bastin.

"Why? Becos the 'urricane is coming, that's all. Coming as
though the devil had kicked it out of 'ell."

Bastin seemed inclined to remonstrate at this sort of language,
but we pushed him down the companion and followed, propelling the
spaniel Tommy in front of us. Next moment I heard the sailors
battening the hatch with hurried blows, and when this was done to
their satisfaction, heard their feet also as they ran into
shelter.

Another instant and we were all lying in a heap on the cabin
floor with poor Tommy on top of us. The cyclone had struck the
ship! Above the wash of water and the screaming of the gale we
heard other mysterious sounds, which doubtless were caused by the
yards hitting the seas, for the yacht was lying on her side. I
thought that all was over, but presently there came a rending,
crashing noise. The masts, or one of them, had gone, and by
degrees we righted.

"Near thing!" said Bickley. "Good heavens, what's that?"

I listened, for the electric light had temporarily gone out,
owing, I suppose, to the dynamo having stopped for a moment. A
most unholy and hollow sound was rising from the cabin floor. It
might have been caused by a bullock with its windpipe cut, trying
to get its breath and groaning. Then the light came on again and
we saw Bastin lying at full length on the carpet.

"He's broken his neck or something," I said.

Bickley crept to him and having looked, sang out:

"It's all right! He's only sea-sick. I thought it would come to
that if he drank so much tea."

"Sea-sick," I said faintly--"sea-sick?"

"That's all," said Bickley. "The nerves of the stomach acting
on the brain or vice-versa--that is, if Bastin has a brain," he
added sotto voce.

"Oh!" groaned the prostrate clergyman. "I wish that I were
dead!"

"Don't trouble about that," answered Bickley. "I expect you
soon will be. Here, drink some whisky, you donkey."

Bastin sat up and obeyed, out of the bottle, for it was
impossible to pour anything into a glass, with results too
dreadful to narrate.

"I call that a dirty trick," he said presently, in a feeble
voice, glowering at Bickley.

"I expect I shall have to play you a dirtier before long, for
you are a pretty bad case, old fellow."

As a matter of fact he had, for once Bastin had begun really we
thought that he was going to die. Somehow we got him into his
cabin, which opened off the saloon, and as he could drink nothing
more, Bickley managed to inject morphia or some other compound
into him, which made him insensible for a long while.

"He must be in a poor way," he said, "for the needle went more
than a quarter of an inch into him, and he never cried out or
stirred. Couldn't help it in that rolling."

But now I could hear the engines working, and I think that the
bow of the vessel was got head on to the seas, for instead of
rolling we pitched, or rather the ship stood first upon one end
and then upon the other. This continued for a while until the
first burst of the cyclone had gone by. Then suddenly the engines
stopped; I suppose that they had broken down, but I never
learned, and we seemed to veer about, nearly sinking in the
process, and to run before the hurricane at terrific speed.

"I wonder where we are going to?" I said to Bickley. "To the
land of sleep, Humphrey, I imagine," he replied in a more gentle
voice than I had often heard him use, adding: "Good-bye, old boy,
we have been real friends, haven't we, notwithstanding my
peculiarities? I only wish that I could think that there was
anything in Bastin's views. But I can't, I can't. It's good night
for us poor creatures!"

Chapter VI

Land

At last the electric light really went out. I had looked at my
watch just before this happened and wound it up, which, Bickley
remarked, was superfluous and a waste of energy. It then marked
3.20 in the morning. We had wedged Bastin, who was now snoring
comfortably, into his berth, with pillows, and managed to tie a
cord over him--no, it was a large bath towel, fixing one end of
it to the little rack over his bed and the other to its
framework. As for ourselves, we lay down on the floor between the
table legs, which, of course, were screwed, and the settee,
protecting ourselves as best we were able by help of the
cushions, etc., between two of which we thrust the terrified
Tommy who had been sliding up and down the cabin floor. Thus we
remained, expecting death every moment till the light of day, a
very dim light, struggling through a port-hole of which the iron
cover had somehow been wrenched off. Or perhaps it was never
shut, I do not remember.

About this time there came a lull in the hellish, howling
hurricane; the fact being, I suppose, that we had reached the
centre of the cyclone. I suggested that we should try to go on
deck and see what was happening. So we started, only to find the
entrance to the companion so faithfully secured that we could not
by any means get out. We knocked and shouted, but no one
answered. My belief is that at this time everyone on the yacht
except ourselves had been washed away and drowned.

Then we returned to the saloon, which, except for a little
water trickling about the floor, was marvelously dry, and, being
hungry, retrieved some bits of food and biscuit from its corners
and ate. At this moment the cyclone began to blow again worse
than ever, but it seemed to us, from another direction, and
before it sped our poor derelict barque. It blew all day till for
my part I grew utterly weary and even longed for the inevitable
end. If my views were not quite those of Bastin, certainly they
were not those of Bickley. I had believed from my youth up that
the individuality of man, the ego, so to speak, does not die when
life goes out of his poor body, and this faith did not desert me
then. Therefore, I wished to have it over and learn what there
might be upon the other side.

We could not speak much because of the howling of the wind, but
Bickley did manage to shout to me something to the effect that
his partners would, in his opinion, make an end of their great
practice within two years, which, he added, was a pity. I nodded
my head, not caring twopence what happened to Bickley's partners
or their business, or to my own property, or to anything else.
When death is at hand most of us do not think much of such things
because then we realise how small they are. Indeed I was
wondering whether within a few minutes or hours I should or
should not see Natalie again, and if this were the end to which
she had seemed to beckon me in that dream.

On we sped, and on. About four in the afternoon we heard sounds
from Bastin's cabin which faintly reminded me of some tune. I
crept to the door and listened. Evidently he had awakened and was
singing or trying to sing, for music was not one of his strong
points, "For those in peril on the sea." Devoutly did I wish that
it might be heard. Presently it ceased, so I suppose he went to
sleep again.

The darkness gathered once more. Then of a sudden something
fearful happened. There were stupendous noises of a kind I had
never heard; there were convulsions. It seemed to us that the
ship was flung right up into the air a hundred feet or more.

"Tidal wave, I expect," shouted Bickley.

Almost as he spoke she came down with the most appalling crash
on to something hard and nearly jarred the senses out of us. Next
the saloon was whirling round and round and yet being carried
forward, and we felt air blowing upon us. Then our senses left
us. As I clasped Tommy to my side, whimpering and licking my
face, my last thought was that all was over, and that presently I
should learn everything or nothing.

I woke up feeling very bruised and sore and perceived that
light was flowing into the saloon. The door was still shut, but
it had been wrenched off its hinges, and that was where the light
came in; also some of the teak planks of the decking, jagged and
splintered, were sticking up through the carpet. The table had
broken from its fastenings and lay upon its side. Everything else
was one confusion. I looked at Bickley. Apparently he had not
awakened. He was stretched out still wedged in with his cushions
and bleeding from a wound in his head. I crept to him in terror
and listened. He was not dead, for his breathing was regular and
natural. The whisky bottle which had been corked was upon the
floor unbroken and about a third full. I took a good pull at the
spirit; to me it tasted like nectar from the gods. Then I tried
to force some down Bickley's throat but could not, so I poured a
little upon the cut on his head. The smart of it woke him in a
hurry.

"Where are we now?" he exclaimed. "You don't mean to tell me
that Bastin is right after all and that we live again somewhere
else? Oh! I could never bear that ignominy."

"I don't know about living somewhere else," I said, "although
my opinions on that matter differ from yours. But I do know that
you and I are still on earth in what remains of the saloon of the
Star of the South."

"Thank God for that! Let's go and look for old Bastin," said
Bickley. "I do pray that he is all right also."

"It is most illogical of you, Bickley, and indeed wrong,"
groaned a deep voice from the other side of the cabin door, "to
thank a God in Whom you do not believe, and to talk of praying
for one of the worst and most inefficient of His servants when
you have no faith in prayer.

"Got you there, my friend," I said.

Bickley murmured something about force of habit, and looked
smaller than I had ever seen him do before.

Somehow we forced that door open; it was not easy because it
had jammed. Within the cabin, hanging on either side of the bath
towel which had stood the strain nobly, something like a damp
garment over a linen line, was Bastin most of whose bunk seemed
to have disappeared. Yes--Bastin, pale and dishevelled and
looking shrunk, with his hair touzled and his beard apparently
growing all ways, but still Bastin alive, if very weak.

Bickley ran at him and made a cursory examination with his
fingers.

"Nothing broken," he said triumphantly. "He's all right."

"If you had hung over a towel for many hours in most violent
weather you would not say that," groaned Bastin. "My inside is a
pulp. But perhaps you would be kind enough to untie me."

"Bosh!" said Bickley as he obeyed. "All you want is something
to eat. Meanwhile, drink this," and he handed him the remains of
the whisky.

Bastin swallowed it every drop, murmuring something about
taking a little wine for his stomach's sake, "one of the Pauline
injunctions, you know," after which he was much more cheerful.
Then we hunted about and found some more of the biscuits and
other food with which we filled ourselves after a fashion.

"I wonder what has happened," said Bastin. "I suppose that,
thanks to the skill of the captain, we have after all reached the
haven where we would be."

Here he stopped, rubbed his eyes and looked towards the saloon
door which, as I have said, had been wrenched off its hinges, but
appeared to have opened wider than when I observed it last. Also
Tommy, who was recovering his spirits, uttered a series of low
growls.

"It is a most curious thing," he went on, "and I suppose I must
be suffering from hallucinations, but I could swear that just now
I saw looking through that door the same improper young woman
clothed in a few flowers and nothing else, whose photograph in
that abominable and libellous book was indirectly the cause of
our tempestuous voyage."

"Indeed!" replied Bickley. "Well, so long as she has not got on
the broken-down stays and the Salvation Army bonnet without a
crown, which you may remember she wore after she had fallen into
the hands of your fraternity, I am sure I do not mind. In fact I
should be delighted to see anything so pleasant."

At this moment a distinct sound of female tittering arose from
beyond the door. Tommy barked and Bickley stepped towards it, but
I called to him.

"Look out! Where there are women there are sure to be men. Let
us be ready against accidents."

So we armed ourselves with pistols, that is Bickley and I did,
Bastin being fortified solely with a Bible.

Then we advanced, a remarkable and dilapidated trio, and
dragged the door wide. Instantly there was a scurry and we caught
sight of women's forms wearing only flowers, and but few of
these, running over white sand towards groups of men armed with
odd-looking clubs, some of which were fashioned to the shapes of
swords and spears. To make an impression I fired two shots with
my revolver into the air, whereupon both men and women fled into
groves of trees and vanished.

"They don't seem to be accustomed to white people," said
Bickley. "Is it possible that we have found a shore upon which no
missionary has set a foot?"

"I hope so," said Bastin, "seeing that unworthy as I am, then
the opportunities for me would be very great."

We stood still and looked about us. This was what we saw. All
the after part of the ship from forward of the bridge had
vanished utterly; there was not a trace of it; she had as it were
been cut in two. More, we were some considerable distance from
the sea which was still raging over a quarter of a mile away
where great white combers struck upon a reef and spouted into the
air. Behind us was a cliff, apparently of rock but covered with
earth and vegetation, and against this cliff, in which the prow
of the ship was buried, she, or what remained of her, had come to
anchor for the last time.

"You see what has happened," I said. "A great tidal wave has
carried us up here and retreated."

"That's it," exclaimed Bickley. "Look at the debris," and he
pointed to torn-up palms, bushes and seaweed piled into heaps
which still ran salt water; also to a number of dead fish that
lay about among them, adding, "Well, we are saved anyhow."

"And yet there are people like you who say that there is no
Providence!" ejaculated Bastin.

"I wonder what the views of Captain Astley and the crew are, or
rather were, upon that matter," interrupted Bickley.

"I don't know," answered Bastin, looking about him vaguely. "It
is true that I can't see any of them, but if they are drowned no
doubt it is because their period of usefulness in this world had
ended."

"Let's get down and look about us," I remarked, being anxious
to avoid further argument.

So we scrambled from the remnant of the ship, like Noah
descending out of the ark, as Bastin said, on to the beach
beneath, where Tommy rushed to and fro, gambolling for joy. Here
we discovered a path which ran diagonally up the side of a cliff
which was nowhere more than fifty or sixty feet in height, and
possibly had once formed the shore of this land, or perhaps that
of a lake. Up this path we went, following the tracks of many
human feet, and reaching the crest of the cliff, looked about us,
basking as we did so in the beautiful morning sun, for the sky
was now clear of clouds and with that last awful effort, which
destroyed our ship, the cyclone had passed away.

We were standing on a plain down which ran a little stream of
good water whereof Tommy drank greedily, we following his
example. To the right and left of this plain, further than we
could see, stretched bushland over which towered many palms,
rather ragged now because of the lashing of the gale. Looking
inland we perceived that the ground sloped gently downwards,
ending at a distance of some miles in a large lake. Far out in
this lake something like the top of a mountain of a brown colour
rose above the water, and on the edge of it was what from that
distance appeared to be a tumbled ruin.

"This is all very interesting," I said to Bickley. "What do you
make of it?"

"I don't quite know. At first sight I should say that we are
standing on the lip of a crater of some vast extinct volcano.
Look how it curves to north and south and at the slope running
down to the lake."

I nodded.

"Lucky that the tidal wave did not get over the cliff," I said.
"If it had the people here would have all been drowned out. I
wonder where they have gone?"

As I spoke Bastin pointed to the edge of the bush some hundreds
of yards away, where we perceived brown figures slipping about
among the trees. I suggested that we should go back to the mouth
of our path, so as to have a line of retreat open in case of
necessity, and await events. So we did and there stood still. By
degrees the brown figures emerged on to the plain to the number
of some hundreds, and we saw that they were both male and female.
The women were clothed in nothing except flowers and a little
girdle; the men were all armed with wooden weapons and also wore
a girdle but no flowers. The children, of whom there were many,
were quite naked.

Among these people we observed a tall person clothed in what
seemed to be a magnificent feather cloak, and, walking around and
about him, a number of grotesque forms adorned with hideous masks
and basket-like head-dresses that were surmounted by plumes.

"The king or chief and his priests or medicine-men! This is
splendid," said Bickley triumphantly.

Bastin also contemplated them with enthusiasm as raw material
upon which he hoped to get to work.

By degrees and very cautiously they approached us. To our joy,
we perceived that behind them walked several young women who bore
wooden trays of food or fruit.

"That looks well," I said. "They would not make offerings
unless they were friendly."

"The food may be poisoned," remarked Bickley suspiciously.

The crowd advanced, we standing quite still looking as
dignified as we could, I as the tallest in the middle, with Tommy
sitting at my feet. When they were about five and twenty yards
away, however, that wretched little dog caught sight of the
masked priests. He growled and then rushed at them barking, his
long black ears flapping as he went.

The effect was instantaneous. One and all they turned and fled
precipitately, who evidently had never before seen a dog and
looked upon it as a deadly creature. Yes, even the tall chief and
his masked medicine-men fled like hares pursued by Tommy, who bit
one of them in the leg, evoking a terrific howl. I called him
back and took him into my arms. Seeing that he was safe for a
while the crowd reformed and once again advanced.

As they came we noted that they were a wonderfully handsome
people, tall and straight with regularly shaped features and
nothing of the negro about them. Some of the young women might
even be called beautiful, though those who were elderly had
become corpulent. The feather-clothed chief, however, was much
disfigured by a huge growth with a narrow stalk to it that hung
from his neck and rested on his shoulder.

"I'll have that off him before he is a week older," said
Bickley, surveying this deformity with great professional
interest.

On they came, the girls with the platters walking ahead. On one
of these were what looked like joints of baked pork, on another
some plantains and pear-shaped fruits. They knelt down and
offered these to us. We contemplated them for a while. Then
Bickley shook his head and began to rub his stomach with
appropriate contortions. Clearly they were quick-minded enough for
they saw the point. At some words the girls brought the platters
to the chief and others, who took from them portions of the food
at hazard and ate them to show that it was not poisoned, we
watching their throats the while to make sure that it was
swallowed. Then they returned again and we took some of the food
though only Bickley ate, because, as I pointed out to him, being
a doctor who understood the use of antidotes; clearly he should
make the experiment. However, nothing happened; indeed he said
that it was very good.

After this there came a pause. Then suddenly Bastin took up his
parable in the Polynesian tongue which--to a certain extent--he
had acquired with so much pains.

"What is this place called?" he asked slowly and distinctly,
pausing between each word.

His audience shook their heads and he tried again, putting the
accents on different syllables. Behold! some bright spirit
understood him and answered:

"Orofena."

"That means a hill, or an island, or a hill in an island,"
whispered Bickley to me.

"Who is your God?" asked Bastin again.

The point seemed one upon which they were a little doubtful,
but at last the chief answered, "Oro. He who fights."

"In other words, Mars," said Bickley.

"I will give you a better one," said Bastin in the same slow
fashion.

Thinking that he referred to himself these children of Nature
contemplated his angular form doubtfully and shook their heads.
Then for the first time one of the men who was wearing a mask and
a wicker crate on his head, spoke in a hollow voice, saying:

"If you try Oro will eat you up."

"Head priest!" said Bickley, nudging me. "Old Bastin had better
be careful or he will get his teeth into him and call them
Oro's."

Another pause, after which the man in a feather cloak with the
growth on his neck that a servant was supporting, said:

"I am Marama, the chief of Orofena. We have never seen men like
you before, if you are men. What brought you here and with you
that fierce and terrible animal, or evil spirit which makes a
noise and bites?"

Now Bickley pretended to consult me who stood brooding and
majestic, that is if I can be majestic. I whispered something and
he answered:

"The gods of the wind and the sea."

"What nonsense," ejaculated Bastin, "there are no such things."

"Shut up," I said, "we must use similes here," to which he
replied:

"I don't like similes that tamper with the truth."

"Remember Neptune and Aeolus," I suggested, and he lapsed into
consideration of the point.

"We knew that you were coming," said Marama. "Our doctors told
us all about you a moon ago. But we wish that you would come more
gently, as you nearly washed away our country."

After looking at me Bickley replied:

"How thankful should you be that in our kindness we have spared
you."

"What do you come to do?" inquired Marama again. After the
usual formula of consulting me Bickley answered:

"We come to take that mountain (he meant lump) off your neck
and make you beautiful; also to cure all the sickness among your
people."

"And I come," broke in Bastin, "to give you new hearts."

These announcements evidently caused great excitement. After
consultation Marama answered:

"We do not want new hearts as the old ones are good, but we
wish to be rid of lumps and sicknesses. If you can do this we
will make you gods and worship you and give you many wives."
(Here Bastin held up his hands in horror.) "When will you begin
to take away the lumps?"

"To-morrow," said Bickley. "But learn that if you try to harm
us we will bring another wave which will drown all your country."

Nobody seemed to doubt our capacities in this direction, but
one inquiring spirit in a wicker crate did ask how it came about
that if we controlled the ocean we had arrived in half a canoe
instead of a whole one.

Bickley replied to the effect that it was because the gods
always travelled in half-canoes to show their higher nature,
which seemed to satisfy everyone. Then we announced that we had
seen enough of them for that day and would retire to think.
Meanwhile we should be obliged if they would build us a house and
keep us supplied with whatever food they had.

"Do the gods eat?" asked the sceptic again.

"That fellow is a confounded radical," I whispered to Bickley.
"Tell him that they do when they come to Orofena."

He did so, whereon the chief said:

"Would the gods like a nice young girl cooked?"

At this point Bastin retired down the path, realising that he
had to do with cannibals. We said that we preferred to look at
the girls alive and would meet them again to-morrow morning, when
we hoped that the house would be ready.

So our first interview with the inhabitants of Orofena came to
an end, on which we congratulated ourselves.

On reaching the remains of the Star of the South we set to work
to take stock of what was left to us. Fortunately it proved to be
a very great deal. As I think I mentioned, all the passenger part
of the yacht lay forward of the bridge, just in front of which
the vessel had been broken in two, almost as cleanly as though
she were severed by a gigantic knife. Further our stores were
forward and practically everything else that belonged to us, even
down to Bickley's instruments and medicines and Bastin's
religious works, to say nothing of a great quantity of tinned
food and groceries. Lastly on the deck above the saloon had stood
two large lifeboats. Although these were amply secured at the
commencement of the gale one of them, that on the port side, was
smashed to smithers; probably some spar had fallen upon it. The
starboard boat, however, remained intact and so far as we could
judge, seaworthy, although the bulwarks were broken by the waves.

"There's something we can get away in if necessary," I said.

"Where to?" remarked Bastin. "We don't know where we are or if
there is any other land within a thousand miles. I think we had
better stop here as Providence seems to have intended, especially
when there is so much work to my hand."

"Be careful," answered Bickley, "that the work to your hand
does not end in the cutting of all our throats. It is an awkward
thing interfering with the religion of savages, and I believe
that these untutored children of Nature sometimes eat
missionaries."

"Yes, I have heard that," said Bastin; "they bake them first as
they do pigs. But I don't know that they would care to eat me,"
and he glanced at his bony limbs, "especially when you are much
plumper. Anyhow one can't stop for a risk of that sort."

Deigning no reply, Bickley walked away to fetch some fine fish
which had been washed up by the tidal wave and were still
flapping about in a little pool of salt water. Then we took
counsel as to how to make the best of our circumstances, and as a
result set to work to tidy up the saloon and cabins, which was
not difficult as what remained of the ship lay on an even keel.
Also we got out some necessary stores, including paraffin for the
swinging lamps with which the ship was fitted in case of accident
to the electric light, candles, and the guns we had brought with
us so that they might be handy in the event of attack. This done,
by the aid of the tools that were in the storerooms, Bickley, who
was an excellent carpenter, repaired the saloon door, all that
was necessary to keep us private, as the bulkhead still remained.

"Now," he said triumphantly when he had finished and got the
lock and bolts to work to his satisfaction, "we can stand a siege
if needed, for as the ship is iron built they can't even burn us
out and that teak door would take some forcing. Also we can shore
it up."

"How about something to eat? I want my tea," said Bastin.

"Then, my reverend friend," replied Bickley, "take a couple of
the fire buckets and fetch some water from the stream. Also
collect driftwood of which there is plenty about, clean those
fish and grill them over the saloon stove."

"I'll try," said Bastin, "but I never did any cooking before."

"No," replied Bickley, "on second thoughts I will see to that
myself, but you can get the fish ready."

So, with due precautions, Bastin and I fetched water from the
stream which we found flowed over the edge of the cliff quite
close at hand into a beautiful coral basin that might have been
designed for a bath of the nymphs. Indeed one at a time, while
the other watched, we undressed and plunged into it, and never
was a tub more welcome than after our long days of tempest. Then
we returned to find that Bickley had already set the table and
was engaged in frying the fish very skilfully on the saloon
stove, which proved to be well adapted to the purpose. He was
cross, however, when he found that we had bathed and that it was
now too late for him to do likewise.

While he was cleaning himself as well as he could in his cabin
basin and Bastin was boiling water for tea, suddenly I remembered
the letter from the Danish mate Jacobsen. Concluding that it
might now be opened as we had certainly parted with most of the
Star of the South for the last time, I read it. It was as
follows:

"The reason, honoured Sir, that I am leaving the ship is that
on the night I tore up the paper, the spirit controlling the
planchette wrote these words: 'After leaving Samoa the Star of
the South will be wrecked in a hurricane and everybody on board
drowned except A. B. and B. Get out of her! Get out of her! Don't
be a fool, Jacob, unless you want to come over here at once. Take
our advice and get out of her and you will live to be old.--
SKOLL."

"Sir, I am not a coward but I know that this will happen, for
that spirit which signs itself Skoll never tells a lie. I did try
to give the captain a hint to stop at Apia, but he had been
drinking and openly cursed me and called me a sneaking cheat. So
I am going to run away, of which I am very much ashamed. But I do
not wish to be drowned yet as there is a girl whom I want to
marry, and my mother I support. You will be safe and I hope you
will not think too badly of me.--JACOB JACOBSEN.

"P.S.--It is an awful thing to know the future. Never try to
learn that."

I gave this letter to Bastin and Bickley to read and asked them
what they thought of it.

"Coincidence," said Bickley. "The man is a weak-minded idiot
and heard in Samoa that they expected a hurricane."

"I think," chimed in Bastin, "that the devil knows how to look
after his own at any rate for a little while. I dare say it would
have been much better for him to be drowned."

"At least he is a deserter and failed in his duty. I never wish
to hear of him again," I said.

As a matter of fact I never have. But the incident remains
quite unexplained either by Bickley or Bastin.

Chapter VII

The Orofenans

To our shame we had a very pleasant supper that night off the
grilled fish, which was excellent, and some tinned meat. I say to
our shame, in a sense, for on our companions the sharks were
supping and by rights we should have been sunk in woe. I suppose
that the sense of our own escape intoxicated us. Also,
notwithstanding his joviality, none of us had cared much for the
captain, and his policy had been to keep us somewhat apart from
the crew, of whom therefore we knew but little. It is true that
Bastin held services on Sundays, for such as would attend, and
Bickley had doctored a few of them for minor ailments, but there,
except for a little casual conversation, our intercourse began
and ended.

Now the sad fact is that it is hard to be overwhelmed with
grief for those with whom we are not intimate. We were very sorry
and that is all that can be said, except that Bastin, being High
Church, announced in a matter-of-fact way that he meant to put up
some petitions for the welfare of their souls. To this Bickley
retorted that from what he had seen of their bodies he was sure
they needed them.

Yes, it was a pleasant supper, not made less so by a bottle of
champagne which Bickley and I shared. Bastin stuck to his tea,
not because he did not like champagne, but because, as he
explained, having now come in contact with the heathen it would
never do for him to set them an example in the use of spirituous
liquors.

"However much we may differ, Bastin, I respect you for that
sentiment," commented Bickley.

"I don't know why you should," answered Bastin; "but if so, you
might follow my example."

That night we slept like logs, trusting to our teak door which
we barricaded, and to Tommy, who was a most excellent watch-dog,
to guard us against surprise. At any rate we took the risk. As a
matter of fact, nothing happened, though before dawn Tommy did
growl a good deal, for I heard him, but as he sank into slumber
again on my bed, I did not get up. In the morning I found from
fresh footprints that two or three men had been prowling about
the ship, though at a little distance.

We rose early, and taking the necessary precautions, bathed in
the pool. Then we breakfasted, and having filled every available
receptacle with water, which took us a long time as these
included a large tank that supplied the bath, so that we might
have at least a week's supply in case of siege, we went on deck
and debated what we should do. In the end we determined to stop
where we were and await events, because, as I pointed out, it was
necessary that we should discover whether these natives were
hostile or friendly. In the former event we could hold our own on
the ship, whereas away from it we must be overwhelmed; in the
latter there was always time to move inland.

About ten o'clock when we were seated on stools smoking, with
our guns by our side--for here, owing to the overhanging cliff in
which it will be remembered the prow of the ship was buried, we
could not be reached by missiles thrown from above--we saw
numbers of the islanders advancing upon us along the beach on
either side. They were preceded as before by women who bore food
on platters and in baskets. These people, all talking excitedly
and laughing after their fashion, stopped at a distance, so we
took no notice of them. Presently Marama, clad in his feather
cloak, and again accompanied by priests or medicine-men, appeared
walking down the path on the cliff face, and, standing below,
made salutations and entered into a conversation with us of which
I give the substance--that is, so far as we could understand it.

He reproached us for not having come to him as he expected we
would do. We replied that we preferred to remain where we were
until we were sure of our greeting and asked him what was the
position. He explained that only once before, in the time of his
grandfather, had any people reached their shores, also during a
great storm as we had done. They were dark-skinned men like
themselves, three of them, but whence they came was never known,
since they were at once seized and sacrificed to the god Oro,
which was the right thing to do in such a case.

We asked whether he would consider it right to sacrifice us. He
replied:

Certainly, unless we were too strong, being gods ourselves, or
unless an arrangement could be concluded. We asked--what
arrangement? He replied that we must make them gifts; also that
we must do what we had promised and cure him--the chief--of the
disease which had tormented him for years. In that event
everything would be at our disposal and we, with all our
belongings, should become taboo, holy, not to be touched. None
would attempt to harm us, nothing should be stolen under penalty
of death.

We asked him to come up on the deck with only one companion
that his sickness might be ascertained, and after much hesitation
he consented to do so. Bickley made an examination of the growth
and announced that he believed it could be removed with perfect
safety as the attachment to the neck was very slight, but of
course there was always a risk. This was explained to him with
difficulty, and much talk followed between him and his followers
who gathered on the beach beneath the ship. They seemed adverse
to the experiment, till Mamma grew furious with them and at last
burst into tears saying that he could no longer drag this
terrible burden about with him, and he touched the growth. He
would rather die. Then they gave way.

I will tell the rest as shortly as I can.

A hideous wooden idol was brought on board, wrapped in leaves
and feathers, and upon it the chief and his head people swore
safety to us whether he lived or died, making us the guests of
their land. There were, however, two provisos made, or as such we
understood them. These seemed to be that we should offer no
insult or injury to their god, and secondly, that we should not
set foot on the island in the lake. It was not till afterwards
that it occurred to me that this must refer to the mountain top
which appeared in the inland sheet of water. To those
stipulations we made no answer. Indeed, the Orofenans did all the
talking. Finally, they ratified their oaths by a man who, I
suppose, was a head priest, cutting his arm and rubbing the blood
from it on the lips of the idol; also upon those of the chief. I
should add that Bastin had retired as soon as he saw that false
god appear, of which I was glad, since I felt sure that he would
make a scene.

The operation took place that afternoon and on the ship, for
when once Marama had made up his mind to trust us he did so very
thoroughly. It was performed on deck in the presence of an awed
multitude who watched from the shore, and when they saw Bickley
appear in a clean nightshirt and wash his hands, uttered a groan
of wonder. Evidently they considered it a magical and religious
ceremony; indeed ever afterwards they called Bickley the Great
Priest, or sometimes the Great Healer in later days. This was a
grievance to Bastin who considered that he had been robbed of his
proper title, especially when he learned that among themselves he
was only known as "the Bellower," because of the loud voice in
which he addressed them. Nor did Bickley particularly appreciate
the compliment.

With my help he administered the chloroform, which was done
under shelter of a sail for fear lest the people should think
that we were smothering their chief. Then the operation went on
to a satisfactory conclusion. I omit the details, but an electric
battery and a red-hot wire came into play.

"There," said Bickley triumphantly when he had finished tying
the vessels and made everything neat and tidy with bandages, "I
was afraid he might bleed to death, but I don't think there is
any fear of that now, for I have made a real job of it." Then
advancing with the horrid tumour in his hands he showed it in
triumph to the crowd beneath, who groaned again and threw
themselves on to their faces. Doubtless now it is the most sacred
relic of Orofena.

When Marama came out of the anesthetic, Bickley gave him
something which sent him to sleep for twelve hours, during all
which time his people waited beneath. This was our dangerous
period, for our difficulty was to persuade them that he was not
dead, although Bickley had assured them that he would sleep for a
time while the magic worked. Still, I was very glad when he woke
up on the following morning, and two or three of his leading men
could see that he was alive. The rest was lengthy but simple,
consisting merely in keeping him quiet and on a suitable diet
until there was no fear of the wound opening. We achieved it
somehow with the help of an intelligent native woman who, I
suppose, was one of his wives, and five days later were enabled
to present him healed, though rather tottery, to his affectionate
subjects.

It was a great scene, which may be imagined. They bore him away
in a litter with the native woman to watch him and another to
carry the relic preserved in a basket, and us they acclaimed as
gods. Thenceforward we had nothing to fear in Orofena--except
Bastin, though this we did not know at the time.

All this while we had been living on our ship and growing very
bored there, although we employed the empty hours in conversation
with selected natives, thereby improving our knowledge of the
language. Bickley had the best of it, since already patients
began to arrive which occupied him. One of the first was that man
whom Tommy had bitten. He was carried to us in an almost comatose
state, suffering apparently from the symptoms of snake poisoning.

Afterward it turned out that he conceived Tommy to be a divine
but most venomous lizard that could make a very horrible noise,
and began to suffer as one might do from the bite of such a
creature. Nothing that Bickley could do was enough to save him
and ultimately he died in convulsions, a circumstance that
enormously enhanced Tommy's reputation. To tell the truth, we
took advantage of it to explain that Tommy was in fact a
supernatural animal, a sort of tame demon which only harmed
people who had malevolent intentions towards those he served or
who tried to steal any of their possessions or to intrude upon
them at inconvenient hours, especially in the dark. So terrible
was he, indeed, that even the skill of the Great Priest, i.e.,
Bickley, could not avail to save any whom once he had bitten in
his rage. Even to be barked at by him was dangerous and conveyed
a curse that might last for generations.

All this we set out when Bastin was not there. He had wandered
off, as he said, to look for shells, but as we knew, to practise
religious orations in the Polynesian tongue with the waves for
audience, as Demosthenes is said to have done to perfect himself
as a political orator. Personally I admit that I relied more on
the terrors of Tommy to safeguard us from theft and other
troubles than I did upon those of the native taboo and the
priestly oaths.

The end of it all was that we left our ship, having padlocked
up the door (the padlock, we explained, was a magical instrument
that bit worse than Tommy), and moved inland in a kind of
triumphal procession, priests and singers going before (the
Orofenans sang extremely well) and minstrels following after
playing upon instruments like flutes, while behind came the
bearers carrying such goods as we needed. They took us to a
beautiful place in a grove of palms on a ridge where grew many
breadfruit trees, that commanded a view of the ocean upon one
side and of the lake with the strange brown mountain top on the
other. Here in the midst of the native gardens we found that a
fine house had been built for us of a kind of mud brick and
thatched with palm leaves, surrounded by a fenced courtyard of
beaten earth and having wide overhanging verandahs; a very
comfortable place indeed in that delicious climate. In it we took
up our abode, visiting the ship occasionally to see that all was
well there, and awaiting events.

For Bickley these soon began to happen in the shape of an
ever-increasing stream of patients. The population of the island
was considerable, anything between five and ten thousand, so far
as we could judge, and among these of course there were a number
of sick. Ophthalmia, for instance, was a prevalent disease, as
were the growths such as Marama had suffered from, to say nothing
of surgical cases and those resulting from accident or from
nervous ailments. With all of these Bickley was called upon to
deal, which he did with remarkable success by help of his books
on Tropical Diseases and his ample supplies of medical
necessaries.

At first he enjoyed it very much, but when we had been
established in the house for about three weeks he remarked, after
putting in a solid ten hours of work, that for all the holiday he
was getting he might as well be back at his old practice, with
the difference that there he was earning several thousands a
year. Just then a poor woman arrived with a baby in convulsions
to whose necessities he was obliged to sacrifice his supper,
after which came a man who had fallen from a palm tree and broken
his leg.

Nor did I escape, since having somehow or other established a
reputation for wisdom, as soon as I had mastered sufficient of
the language, every kind of knotty case was laid before me for
decision. In short, I became a sort of Chief Justice--not an easy
office as it involved the acquirement of the native law which was
intricate and peculiar, especially in matrimonial cases.

At these oppressive activities Bastin looked on with a gloomy
eye.

"You fellows seem very busy," he said one evening; "but I can
find nothing to do. They don't seem to want me, and merely to set
a good example by drinking water or tea while you swallow whisky
and their palm wine, or whatever it is, is very negative kind of
work, especially as I am getting tired of planting things in the
garden and playing policeman round the wreck which nobody goes
near. Even Tommy is better off, for at least he can bark and hunt
rats."

"You see," said Bickley, "we are following our trades.
Arbuthnot is a lawyer and acts as a judge. I am a surgeon and I
may add a general--a very general--practitioner and work at
medicine in an enormous and much-neglected practice. Therefore,
you, being a clergyman, should go and do likewise. There are some
ten thousand people here, but I do not observe that as yet you
have converted a, single one."

Thus spoke Bickley in a light and unguarded moment with his
usual object of what is known as "getting a rise" out of Bastin.
Little did he guess what he was doing.

Bastin thought a while ponderously, then said:

"It is very strange from what peculiar sources Providence
sometimes sends inspirations. If wisdom flows from babes and
sucklings, why should it not do so from the well of agnostics and
mockers?"

"There is no reason which I can see," scoffed Bickley, "except
that as a rule wells do not flow."

"Your jest is ill-timed and I may add foolish," continued
Bastin. "What I was about to add was that you have given me an
idea, as it was no doubt intended that you should do. I will,
metaphorically speaking, gird up my loins and try to bear the
light into all this heathen blackness."

"Then it is one of the first you ever had, old fellow. But
what's the need of girding up your loins in this hot climate?"
inquired Bickley with innocence. "Pyjamas and that white and
green umbrella of yours would do just as well."

Bastin vouchsafed no reply and sat for the rest of that evening
plunged in deep thought.

On the following morning he approached Marama and asked his
leave to teach the people about the gods. The chief readily
granted this, thinking, I believe, that he alluded to ourselves,
and orders were issued accordingly. They were to the effect that
Bastin was to be allowed to go everywhere unmolested and to talk
to whom he would about what he would, to which all must listen
with respect.

Thus he began his missionary career in Orofena, working at it,
good and earnest man that he was, in a way that excited even the
admiration of Bickley. He started a school for children,. which
was held under a fine, spreading tree. These listened well, and
being of exceedingly quick intellect soon began to pick up the
elements of knowledge. But when he tried to persuade them to
clothe their little naked bodies his failure was complete,
although after much supplication some of the bigger girls did
arrive with a chaplet of flowersÄround their necks!

Also he preached to the adults, and here again was very
successful in a way, especially after he became more familiar
with the language. They listened; to a certain extent they
understood; they argued and put to poor Bastin the most awful
questions such as the whole Bench of Bishops could not have
answered. Still he did answer them somehow, and they politely
accepted his interpretation of their theological riddles. I
observed that he got on best when he was telling them stories out
of the Old Testament, such as the account of the creation of the
world and of human beings, also of the Deluge, etc. Indeed one of
their elders said--Yes, this was quite true. They had heard it
all before from their fathers, and that once the Deluge had taken
place round Orofena, swallowing up great countries, but sparing
them because they were so good.

Bastin, surprised, asked them who had caused the deluge. They
replied, Oro which was the name of their god, Oro who dwelt
yonder on the mountain in the lake, and whose representation they
worshipped in idols. He said that God dwelt in Heaven, to which
they replied with calm certainty:

"No, no, he dwells on the mountain in the lake," which was why
they never dared to approach that mountain.

Indeed it was only by giving the name Oro to the Divinity and
admitting that He might dwell in the mountain as well as
everywhere else, that Bastin was able to make progress. Having
conceded this, not without scruples, however, he did make
considerable progress, so much, in fact, that I perceived that
the priests of Oro were beginning to grow very jealous of him and
of his increasing authority with the people. Bastin was naturally
triumphant, and even exclaimed exultingly that within a year he
would have half of the population baptised.

"Within a year, my dear fellow," said Bickley, "you will have
your throat cut as a sacrifice, and probably ours also. It is a
pity, too, as within that time I should have stamped out
ophthalmia and some other diseases in the island."

Here, leaving Bastin and his good work aside for a while, I
will say a little about the country. From information which I
gathered on some journeys that I made and by inquiries from the
chief Marama, who had become devoted to us, I found that Orofena
was quite a large place. In shape the island was circular, a
broad band of territory surrounding the great lake of which I
have spoken, that in its turn surrounded a smaller island from
which rose the mountain top. No other land was known to be near
the shores of Orofena, which had never been visited by anyone
except the strangers a hundred years ago or so, who were
sacrificed and eaten. Most of the island was covered with forest
which the inhabitants lacked the energy, and indeed had no tools,
to fell. They were an extremely lazy people and would only
cultivate enough bananas and other food to satisfy their
immediate needs. In truth they lived mostly upon breadfruit and
other products of the wild trees.

Thus it came about that in years of scarcity through drought or
climatic causes, which prevented the forest trees from bearing,
they suffered very much from hunger. In such years hundreds of
them would perish and the remainder resorted to the dreadful
expedient of cannibalism. Sometimes, too, the shoals of fish
avoided their shores, reducing them to great misery. Their only
domestic animal was the pig which roamed about half wild and in
no great numbers, for they had never taken the trouble to breed
it in captivity. Their resources, therefore, were limited, which
accounted for the comparative smallness of the population,
further reduced as it was by a wicked habit of infanticide
practised in order to lighten the burden of bringing up children.

They had no traditions as to how they reached this land, their
belief being that they had always been there but that their
forefathers were much greater than they. They were poetical, and
sang songs in a language which themselves they could not
understand; they said that it was the tongue their forefathers
had spoken. Also they had several strange customs of which they
did not know the origin. My own opinion, which Bickley shared,
was that they were in fact a shrunken and deteriorated remnant of
some high race now coming to its end through age and
inter-breeding. About them indeed, notwithstanding their
primitive savagery which in its qualities much resembled that of
other Polynesians, there was a very curious air of antiquity. One
felt that they had known the older world and its mysteries,
though now both were forgotten. Also their language, which in
time we came to speak perfectly, was copious, musical, and
expressive in its idioms.

One circumstance I must mention. In walking about the country I
observed all over it enormous holes, some of them measuring as
much as a hundred yards across, with a depth of fifty feet or
more, and this not on alluvial lands although there traces of
them existed also, but in solid rock. What this rock was I do not
know as none of us were geologists, but it seemed to me to
partake of the nature of granite. Certainly it was not coral like
that on and about the coast, but of a primeval formation.

When I asked Marama what caused these holes, he only shrugged
his shoulders and said he did not know, but their fathers had
declared that they were made by stones falling from heaven. This,
of course, suggested meteorites to my mind. I submitted the idea
to Bickley, who, in one of his rare intervals of leisure, came
with me to make an examination.

"If they were meteorites," he said, "of which a shower struck
the earth in some past geological age, all life must have been
destroyed by them and their remains ought to exist at the bottom
of the holes. To me they look more like the effect of high
explosives, but that, of course, is impossible, though I don't
know what else could have caused such craters."

Then he went back to his work, for nothing that had to do with
antiquity interested Bickley very much. The present and its
problems were enough for him, he would say, who neither had lived
in the past nor expected to have any share in the future.

As I remained curious I made an opportunity to scramble to the
bottom of one of these craters, taking with me some of the
natives with their wooden tools. Here I found a good deal of soil
either washed down from the surface or resulting from the
decomposition of the rock, though oddly enough in it nothing
grew. I directed them to dig. After a while to my astonishment
there appeared a corner of a great worked stone quite unlike that
of the crater, indeed it seemed to me to be a marble. Further
examination showed that this block was most beautifully carved in
bas-relief, apparently with a design of leaves and flowers. In
the disturbed soil also I picked up a life-sized marble hand of a
woman exquisitely finished and apparently broken from a statue
that might have been the work of one of the great Greek
sculptors. Moreover, on the third finger of this hand was a
representation of a ring whereof, unfortunately, the bezel had
been destroyed.

I put the hand in my pocket, but as darkness was coming on, I
could not pursue the research and disinter the block. When I
wished to return the next day, I was informed politely by Marama
that it would not be safe for me to do so as the priests of Oro
declared that if I sought to meddle with the "buried things the
god would grow angry and bring disaster on me."

When I persisted he said that at least I must go alone since no
native would accompany me, and added earnestly that he prayed me
not to go. So to my great regret and disappointment I was obliged
to give up the idea.

Chapter VIII

Bastin Attempts the Martyr's Crown

That carved stone and the marble hand took a great hold of my
imagination. What did they mean? How could they have come to the
bottom of that hole, unless indeed they were part of some
building and its ornaments which had been destroyed in the
neighbourhood? The stone of which we had only uncovered a corner
seemed far too big to have been carried there from any ship; it
must have weighed several tons. Besides, ships do not carry such
things about the world, and none had visited this island during
the last two centuries at any rate, or local tradition would have
recorded so wonderful a fact. Were there, then, once edifices
covered with elegant carving standing on this place, and were
they adorned with lovely statues that would not have disgraced
the best period of Greek art? The thing was incredible except on
the supposition that these were relics of an utterly lost
civilisation.

Bickley was as much puzzled as myself. All he could say was
that the world was infinitely old and many things might have
happened in it whereof we had no record. Even Bastin was excited
for a little while, but as his imagination was represented by
zero, all he could say was:

"I suppose someone left them there, and anyhow it doesn't
matter much, does it?"

But I, who have certain leanings towards the ancient and
mysterious, could not be put off in this fashion. I remembered
that unapproachable mountain in the midst of the lake and that on
it appeared to be something which looked like ruins as seen from
the top of the cliff through glasses. At any rate this was a
point, that I might clear up.

Saying nothing to anybody, one morning I slipped away and
walked to the edge of the lake, a distance of five or six miles
over rough country. Having arrived there I perceived that the
cone-shaped mountain in the centre, which was about a mile from
the lake shore, was much larger than I had thought, quite three
hundred feet high indeed, and with a very large circumference.
Further, its sides evidently once had been terraced, and it was
on one of these broad terraces, half-way up and facing towards
the rising sun, that the ruin-like remains were heaped. I
examined them through my glasses. Undoubtedly it was a cyclopean
ruin built of great blocks of coloured stone which seemed to have
been shattered by earthquake or explosion. There were the pillars
of a mighty gateway and the remains of walls.

I trembled with excitement as I stared and stared. Could I not
get to the place and see for myself? I observed that from the
flat bush-clad land at the foot of the mountain, ran out what
seemed to be the residue of a stone pier which ended in a large
table-topped rock between two and three hundred feet across. But
even this was too far to reach by swimming, besides for aught I
knew there might be alligators in that lake. I walked up and down
its borders, till presently I came to a path which led into a
patch of some variety of cotton palm.

Following this path I discovered a boat-house thatched over
with palm leaves. Inside it were two good canoes with their
paddles, floating and tied to the stumps of trees by fibre ropes.
Instantly I made up my mind that I would paddle to the island and
investigate. Just as I was about to step into one of the canoes
the light was cut off. Looking up I saw that a man was crouching
in the door-place of the boat-house in order to enter, and paused
guiltily.

"Friend-from-the-Sea" (that was the name that these islanders
had given to me), said the voice of Marama, "say--what are you
doing here?"

"I am about to take a row on the lake, Chief," I answered
carelessly.

"Indeed, Friend. Have we then treated you so badly that you are
tired of life?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Come out into the sunlight, Friend, and I will explain to
you."

I hesitated till I saw Marama lifting the heavy wooden spear he
carried and remembered that I was unarmed. Then I came out.

"What does all this mean, Chief?" I asked angrily when we were
clear of the patch of cotton palm.

"I mean, Friend, that you have been very near to making a
longer journey than you thought. Have patience now and listen to
me. I saw you leaving the village this morning and followed,
suspecting your purpose. Yes, I followed alone, saying nothing to
the priests of Oro who fortunately were away watching the
Bellower for their own reasons. I saw you searching out the
secrets of the mountain with those magic tubes that make things
big that are small, and things that are far off come near, and I
followed you to the canoes."

"All that is plain enough, Marama. But why?"

"Have I not told you, Friend-from-the-Sea, that yonder hill
which is called Orofena, whence this island takes its name, is
sacred?"

"You said so, but what of it?"

"This: to set foot thereon is to die and, I suppose, great as
you are, you, too, can die like others. At least, although I love
you, had you not come away from that canoe I was about to
discover whether this is so."

"Then for what are the canoes used?" I asked with irritation.

"You see that flat rock, Friend, with the hole beyond, which is
the mouth of a cave that appeared only in the great storm that
brought you to our land? They are used to convey offerings which
are laid upon the rock. Beyond it no man may go, and since the
beginning no man has ever gone."

"Offerings to whom?"

"To the Oromatuas, the spirits of the great dead who live
there."

"Oromatuas? Oro! It is always something to do with Oro. Who and
what is Oro?"

"Oro is a god, Friend, though it is true that the priests say
that above him there is a greater god called Degai, the Creator,
the Fate who made all things and directs all things."

"Very well, but why do you suppose that Oro, the servant of
Degai, lives in that mountain? I thought that he lived in a grove
yonder where your priests, as I am told, have an image of him."

"I do not know, Friend-from-the-Sea, but so it has been held
from the beginning. The image in the grove is only visited by his
spirit from time to time. Now, I pray you, come back and before
the priests discover that you have been here, and forget that
there are any canoes upon this lake."

So, thinking it wisest, I turned the matter with a laugh and
walked away with him to the village. On our road I tried to
extract some more information but without success. He did not
know who built the ruin upon the mountain, or who destroyed it.
He did not know how the terraces came there. All he knew was that
during the convulsion of Nature which resulted in the tidal wave
that had thrown our ship upon the island, the mountain had been
seen to quiver like a tree in the wind as though within it great
forces were at work. Then it was observed to have risen a good
many more feet above the surface of the lake, as might be noted
by the water mark upon the shore, and then also the mouth of the
cave had appeared. The priests said that all this was because the
Oromatuas who dwelt there were stirring, which portended great
things. Indeed great things had happened--for had we not arrived
in their land?

I thanked him for what he had told me, and, as there was
nothing more to be learned, dropped the subject which was never
mentioned between us again, at least not for a long while. But in
my heart I determined that I would reach that mountain even
though to do so I must risk my life. Something seemed to call me
to the place; it was as though I were being drawn by a magnet.

As it happened, before so very long I did go to the mountain,
not of my own will but because I was obliged. It came about thus.
One night I asked Bastin how he was getting on with his
missionary work. He replied: Very well indeed, but there was one
great obstacle in his path, the idol in the Grove. Were it not
for this accursed image he believed that the whole island would
become Christian. I asked him to be more plain. He explained that
all his work was thwarted by this idol, since his converts
declared that they did not dare to be baptised while it sat there
in the Grove. If they did, the spirit that was in it would
bewitch them and perhaps steal out at night and murder them.

"The spirit being our friends the sorcerers," I suggested.

"That's it, Arbuthnot. Do you know, I believe those devilish
men sometimes offer human sacrifices to this satanic fetish, when
there is a drought or anything of that sort."

"I can quite believe it," I answered, "but as they will
scarcely remove their god and with it their own livelihood and
authority, I am afraid that as we don't want to be sacrificed,
there is nothing to be done."

At this moment I was called away. As I went I heard Bastin
muttering something about martyrs, but paid no attention. Little
did I guess what was going on in his pious but obstinate mind. In
effect it was this--that if no one else would remove that idol he
was quite ready to do it himself.

However, he was very cunning over that business, almost
Jesuitical indeed. Not one word did he breathe of his dark plans
to me, and still less to Bickley. He just went on with his
teaching, lamenting from time to time the stumbling-block of the
idol and expressing wonder as to how it might be circumvented by
a change in the hearts of the islanders, or otherwise. Sad as it
is to record, in fact, dear old Bastin went as near to telling a
fib in connection with this matter as I suppose he had ever done
in his life. It happened thus. One day Bickley's sharp eye caught
sight of Bastin walking about with what looked like a bottle of
whisky in his pocket.

"Hallo, old fellow," he said, "has the self-denying ordinance
broken down? I didn't know that you took pegs on the sly," and he
pointed to the bottle.

"If you are insinuating, Bickley, that I absorb spirits
surreptitiously, you are more mistaken than usual, which is
saying a good deal. This bottle contains, not Scotch whisky but
paraffin, although I admit that its label may have misled you,
unintentionally, so far as I am concerned."

"What are you going to do with the paraffin?" asked Bickley.

Bastin coloured through his tan and replied awkwardly:

"Paraffin is very good to keep away mosquitoes if one can stand
the smell of it upon one's skin. Not that I have brought it here
with that sole object. The truth is that I am anxious to
experiment with a lamp of my own design made--um--of native
wood," and he departed in a hurry.

"When next old Bastin wants to tell a lie," commented Bickley,
"he should make up his mind as to what it is to be, and stick to
it. I wonder what he is after with that paraffin? Not going to
dose any of my patients with it, I hope. He was arguing the other
day that it is a great remedy taken internally, being quite
unaware that the lamp variety is not used for that purpose."

"Perhaps he means to swallow some himself, just to show that he
is right," I suggested.

"The stomach-pump is at hand," said Bickley, and the matter
dropped.

Next morning I got up before it was light. Having some
elementary knowledge of the main facts of astronomy, which
remained with me from boyhood when I had attended lectures on the
subject, which I had tried to refresh by help of an encyclopedia
I had brought from the ship, I wished to attempt to obtain an
idea of our position by help of the stars. In this endeavour, I
may say, I failed absolutely, as I did not know how to take a
stellar or any other observation.

On my way out of our native house I observed, by the lantern I
carried, that the compartment of it occupied by Bastin was empty,
and wondered whither he had gone at that hour. On arriving at my
observation-post, a rocky eminence on open ground, where, with
Tommy at my side, I took my seat with a telescope, I was
astonished to see or rather to hear a great number of the natives
walking past the base of the mound towards the bush. Then I
remembered that some one, Marama, I think, had informed me that
there was to be a great sacrifice to Oro at dawn on that day.
After this I thought no more of the matter but occupied myself in
a futile study of the heavenly bodies. At length the dawn broke
and put a period to my labours.

Glancing round me before I descended from the little hill, I
saw a flame of light appear suddenly about half a mile or more
away among those trees which I knew concealed the image of Oro.
On this personally I had never had the curiosity to look, as I
knew that it was only a hideous idol stuck over with feathers and
other bedizenments. The flame shot suddenly straight into the
still air and was followed a few seconds later by the sound of a
dull explosion, after which it went out. Also it was followed by
something else--a scream of rage from an infuriated mob.

At the foot of the hill I stopped to wonder what these sounds
might mean. Then of a sudden appeared Bickley, who had been
attending some urgent case, and asked me who was exploding
gunpowder. I told him that I had no idea.

"Then I have," he answered. "It is that ass Bastin up to some
game. Now I guess why he wanted that paraffin. Listen to the row.
What are they after?"

"Sacrificing Bastin, perhaps," I replied, half in jest. "Have
you your revolver?"

He nodded. We always wore our pistols if we went out during the
dark hours.

"Then perhaps we had better go to see."

We started, and had not covered a hundred yards before a girl,
whom I recognised as one of Bastin's converts, came flying
towards us and screaming out, "Help! Help! They kill the Bellower
with fire! They cook him like a pig!"

"Just what I expected," said Bickley.

Then we ran hard, as evidently there was no time to lose. While
we went I extracted from the terrified girl, whom we forced to
show us the way, that as the sacrifice was about to be offered
Bastin had appeared, and, "making fire," applied it to the god
Oro, who instantly burst into flame. Then he ran back, calling
out that the devil was dead. As he did so there was a loud
explosion and Oro flew into pieces. His burning head went a long
way into the air and, falling on to one of the priests, killed
him. Thereon the other priests and the people seized the Bellower
and made him fast. Now they were engaged in heating an oven in
which to put him to cook. When it was ready they would eat him in
honour of Oro.

"And serve him right too!" gasped Bickley, who, being stout,
was not a good runner. "Why can't he leave other people's gods
alone instead of blowing them up with gunpowder?"

"Don't know," I answered. "Hope we shall get there in time!"

"To be cooked and eaten with Bastin!" wheezed Bickley, after
which his breath gave out.

As it chanced we did, for these stone ovens take a long time to
heat. There by the edge of his fiery grave with his hands and
legs bound in palm-fibre shackles, stood Bastin, quite unmoved,
smiling indeed, in a sort of seraphic way which irritated us both
extremely. Round him danced the infuriated priests of Oro, and
round them, shrieking and howling with rage, was most of the
population of Orofena. We rushed up so suddenly that none tried
to stop us, and took our stand on either side of him, producing
our pistols as we did so.

"Thank you for coming," said Bastin in the silence which
followed; "though I don't think it is the least use. I cannot
recall that any of the early martyrs were ever roasted and eaten,
though, of course, throwing them into boiling oil or water was
fairly common. I take it that the rite is sacrificial and even in
a low sense, sacramental, not merely one of common cannibalism."

I stared at him, and Bickley gasped out:

"If you are to be eaten, what does it matter why you are
eaten?"

"Oh!" replied Bastin; "there is all the difference in the
world, though it is one that I cannot expect you to appreciate.
And now please be quiet as I wish to say my prayers. I imagine
that those stones will be hot enough to do their office within
twenty minutes or so, which is not very long."

At that moment Marama appeared, evidently in a state of great
perturbation. With him were some of the priests or sorcerers who
were dancing about as I imagine the priests of Baal must have
done, and filled with fury. They rolled their eyes, they stuck
out their tongues, they uttered weird cries and shook their
wooden knives at the placid Bastin.

"What is the matter?" I asked sternly of the chief.

"This, Friend-from-the-Sea. The Bellower there, when the
sacrifice was about to be offered to Oro at the dawn, rushed
forward, and having thrust something between the legs of the
image of the god, poured yellow water over it, and with fire
caused it to burst into fierce flame. Then he ran away and mocked
the god who presently, with a loud report, flew into pieces and
killed that man. Therefore the Bellower must be sacrificed."

"What to?" I asked. "The image has gone and the piece of it
that ascended fell not upon the Bellower, as would have happened
if the god had been angry with him, but on one of its own
priests, whom it killed. Therefore, having been sacrificed by the
god itself, he it is that should be eaten, not the Bellower, who
merely did what his Spirit bade him."

This ingenious argument seemed to produce some effect upon
Marama, but to the priests it did not at all appeal.

"Eat them all!" these cried. "They are the enemies of Oro and
have worked sacrilege!"

Moreover, to judge from their demeanour, the bulk of the people
seemed to agree with them. Things began to look very ugly. The
priests rushed forward, threatening us with their wooden weapons,
and one of them even aimed a blow at Bickley, which only missed
him by an inch or two.

"Look here, my friend," called the doctor whose temper was
rising, "you name me the Great Priest or Great Healer, do you
not? Well, be careful, lest I should show you that I can kill as
well as heal!"

Not in the least intimidated by this threat the man, a great
bedizened fellow who literally was foaming at the mouth with
rage, rushed forward again, his club raised, apparently with the
object of dashing out Bickley's brains.

Suddenly Bickley lifted his revolver and fired. The man, shot
through the heart, sprang into the air and fell upon his face--
stone dead. There was consternation, for these people had never
seen us shoot anything before, and were quite unacquainted with
the properties of firearms, which they supposed to be merely
instruments for making a noise. They stared, they gasped in fear
and astonishment, and then they fled, pursued by Tommy, barking,
leaving us alone with the two dead men.

"It was time to teach them a lesson," said Bickley as he
replaced the empty cartridge, and, seizing the dead man, rolled
him into the burning pit.

"Yes," I answered; "but presently, when they have got over
their fright, they will come back to teach us one."

Bastin said nothing; he seemed too dazed at the turn events had
taken.

"What do you suggest?" asked Bickley.

"Flight," I answered.

"Where to--the ship? We might hold that."

"No; that is what they expect. Look! They are cutting off our
road there. To the island in the lake where they dare not follow
us, for it is holy ground."

"How are we going to live on the island?" asked Bickley.

"I don't know," I replied; "but I am quite certain that if we
stay here we shall die."

"Very well," he said; "let us try it."

While we were speaking I was cutting Bastin's bonds. "Thank
you," he said. "It is a great relief to stretch one's arms after
they have been compressed with cords. But at the same time, I do
not know that I am really grateful. The martyr's crown was
hanging above me, so to speak, and now it has vanished into the
pit, like that man whom Bickley murdered."

"Look here," exclaimed the exasperated Bickley, "if you say
much more, Bastin, I'll chuck you into the pit too, to look for
your martyr's crown, for I think you have done enough mischief
for one morning."

"If you are trying to shift the responsibility for that
unfortunate man's destruction on to me--"

"Oh! shut it and trot," broke in Bickley. "Those infernal
savages are coming with your blessed converts leading the van."

So we "trotted" at no mean pace. As we passed it, Bastin
stooped down and picked up the head of the image of Oro, much as
Atalanta in Academy pictures is represented as doing to the
apples, and bore it away in triumph.

"I know it is scorched," he ejaculated at intervals, "but they
might trim it up and stick it on to a new body as the original
false god. Now they can't, for there's nothing left."

As a matter of fact, we were never in any real danger, for our
pursuit was very half-hearted indeed. To begin with, now that
their first rage was over, the Orofenans who were fond of us had
no particular wish to do us to death, while the ardour of their
sorcerers, who wished this very much, had been greatly cooled by
the mysterious annihilation of their idol and the violent deaths
of two of their companions, which they thought might be
reduplicated in their own persons. So it came about that the
chase, if noisy, was neither close nor eager.

We reached the edge of the lake where was the boat-house of
which I have spoken already, travelling at little more than a
walk. Here we made Bastin unfasten the better of the two canoes
that by good luck was almost filled with offerings, which
doubtless, according to custom, must be made upon the day of this
feast to Oro, while we watched against surprise at the boat-house
door. When he was ready we slipped in and took our seats, Tommy
jumping in after us, and pushed the canoe, now very heavily
laden, out into the lake.

Here, at a distance of about forty paces, which we judged to be
beyond wooden spear-throw, we rested upon our paddles to see what
would happen. All the crowd of islanders had rushed to the lake
edge where they stood staring at us stupidly. Bastin, thinking
the occasion opportune, lifted the hideous head of the idol which
he had carefully washed, and began to preach on the downfall of
"the god of the Grove."

This action of his appeared to awake memories or forebodings in
the minds of his congregation. Perhaps some ancient prophecy was
concerned--I do not know. At any rate, one of the priests shouted
something, whereon everybody began to talk at once. Then,
stooping down, they threw water from the lake over themselves and
rubbed its sand and mud into their hair, all the while making
genuflexions toward the mountain in the middle, after which they
turned and departed.

"Don't you think we had better go back?" asked Bastin.
"Evidently my words have touched them and their minds are melting
beneath the light of Truth."

"Oh! by all means," replied Bickley with sarcasm; "for then
their spears will touch us, and our bodies will soon be melting
above the fires of that pit."

"Perhaps you are right," said Bastin; "at least, I admit that
you have made matters very difficult by your unjustifiable
homicide of that priest who I do not think meant to injure you
seriously, and really was not at all a bad fellow, though
opinionated in some ways. Also, I do not suppose that anybody is
expected, as it were, to run his head into the martyr's crown.
When it settles there of itself it is another matter."

"Like a butterfly!" exclaimed the enraged Bickley.

"Yes, if you like to put it that way, though the simile seems a
very poor one; like a sunbeam would be better."

Here Bickley gave way with his paddle so vigorously that the
canoe was as nearly as possible upset into the lake.

In due course we reached the flat Rock of Offerings, which
proved to be quite as wide as a double croquet lawn and much
longer.

"What are those?" I asked, pointing to certain knobs on the
edge of the rock at a spot where a curved projecting point made a
little harbour.

Bickley examined them, and answered:

"I should say that they are the remains of stone mooring-posts
worn down by many thousands of years of weather. Yes, look, there
is the cut of the cables upon the base of that one, and very big
cables they must have been."

We stared at one another--that is, Bickley and I did, for
Bastin was still engaged in contemplating the blackened head of
the god which he had overthrown.

Chapter IX

The Island in the Lake

We made the canoe fast and landed on the great rock, to
perceive that it was really a peninsula. That is to say, it was
joined to the main land of the lake island by a broad roadway
quite fifty yards across, which appeared to end in the mouth of
the cave. On this causeway we noted a very remarkable thing,
namely, two grooves separated by an exact distance of nine feet
which ran into the mouth of the cave and vanished there.

"Explain!" said Bickley.

"Paths," I said, "worn by countless feet walking on them for
thousands of years."

"You should cultivate the art of observation, Arbuthnot. What
do you say, Bastin?"

He stared at the grooves through his spectacles, and replied:

"I don't say anything, except that I can't see anybody to make
paths here. Indeed, the place seems quite unpopulated, and all
the Orofenans told me that they never landed on it because if
they did they would die. It is a part of their superstitious
nonsense. If you have any idea in your head you had better tell
us quickly before we breakfast. I am very hungry."

"You always are," remarked Bickley; "even when most people's
appetites might have been affected. Well, I think that this great
plateau was once a landing-place for flying machines, and that
there is the air-shed or garage."

Bastin stared at him.

"Don't you think we had better breakfast?" he said. "There are
two roast pigs in that canoe, and lots of other food, enough to
last us a week, I should say. Of course, I understand that the
blood you have shed has thrown you off your balance. I believe it
has that effect, except on the most hardened. Flying machines
were only invented a few years ago by the brothers Wright in
America."

"Bastin," said Bickley, "I begin to regret that I did not leave
you to take part in another breakfast yonder--I mean as the
principal dish."

"It was Providence, not you, who prevented it, Bickley,
doubtless because I am unworthy of such a glorious end."

"Then it is lucky that Providence is a good shot with a pistol.
Stop talking nonsense and listen. If those were paths worn by
feet they would run to the edge of the rock. They do not. They
begin there in that gentle depression and slope upwards somewhat
steeply. The air machines, which were evidently large, lit in the
depression, possibly as a bird does, and then ran on wheels or
sledge skids along the grooves to the air-shed in the mountain.
Come to the cave and you will see."

"Not till we have breakfast," said Bastin. "I will get out a
pig. As a matter of fact, I had no supper last night, as I was
taking a class of native boys and making some arrangements of my
own."

As for me, I only whistled. It all seemed very feasible. And
yet how could such things be?

We unloaded the canoe and ate. Bastin's appetite was splendid.
Indeed, I had to ask him to remember that when this supply was
done I did not know where we should find any more.

"Take no thought for the morrow," he replied. "I have no doubt
it will come from somewhere," and he helped himself to another
chop.

Never had I admired him so much. Not a couple of hours before
he was about to be cruelly murdered and eaten. But this did not
seem to affect him in the least. Bastin was the only man I have
ever known with a really perfect faith. It is a quality worth
having and one that makes for happiness. What a great thing not
to care whether you are breakfasted on, or breakfast!

"I see that there is lots of driftwood about here," he
remarked, "but unfortunately we have no tea, so in this climate
it is of little use, unless indeed we can catch some fish and
cook them."

"Stop talking about eating and help us to haul up the canoe,"
said Bickley.

Between the three of us we dragged and carried the canoe a long
way from the lake, fearing lest the natives should come and bear
it off with our provisions. Then, having given Tommy his
breakfast off the scraps, we walked to the cave. I glanced at my
companions. Bickley's face was alight with scientific eagerness.
Here are not dreams or speculations, but facts to be learned, it
seemed to say, and I will learn them. The past is going to show
me some of its secrets, to tell me how men of long ago lived and
died and how far they had advanced to that point on the road of
civilisation at which I stand in my little hour of existence.

That of Bastin was mildly interested, no more. Obviously, with
half his mind he was thinking of something else, probably of his
converts on the main island and of the school class fixed for
this hour which circumstances prevented him from attending.
Indeed, like Lot's wife he was casting glances behind him towards
the wicked place from which he had been forced to flee.

Neither the past nor the future had much real interest for
Bastin; any more than they had for Bickley, though for different
reasons. The former was done with; the latter he was quite
content to leave in other hands. If he had any clear idea
thereof, probably that undiscovered land appeared to him as a
big, pleasant place where are no unbelievers or erroneous
doctrines, and all sinners will be sternly repressed, in which,
clad in a white surplice with all proper ecclesiastical
trappings, he would argue eternally with the Early Fathers and in
due course utterly annihilate Bickley, that is in a moral sense.
Personally and as a man he was extremely attached to Bickley as a
necessary and wrong-headed nuisance to which he had become
accustomed.

And I! What did I feel? I do not know; I cannot describe. An
extraordinary attraction, a semi-spiritual exaltation, I think.
That cave mouth might have been a magnet drawing my soul. With my
body I should have been afraid, as I daresay I was, for our
circumstances were sufficiently desperate. Here we were,
castaways upon an island, probably uncharted, one of thousands in
the recesses of a vast ocean, from which we had little chance of
escape. More, having offended the religious instincts of the
primeval inhabitants of that island, we had been forced to flee
to a rocky mountain in the centre of a lake, where, after the
food we had brought with us by accident was consumed, we should
no doubt be forced to choose between death by starvation, or, if
we attempted to retreat, at the hands of justly infuriated
savages. Yet these facts did not oppress me, for I was being
drawn, drawn to I knew not what, and if it were to doom--well, no
matter.

Therefore, none of us cared: Bastin because his faith was equal
to any emergency and there was always that white-robed heaven
waiting for him beyond which his imagination did not go (I often
wondered whether he pictured Mrs. Bastin as also waiting; if so,
he never said anything about her); Bickley because as a child of
the Present and a servant of knowledge he feared no future,
believing it to be for him non-existent, and was careless as to
when his strenuous hour of life should end; and I because I felt
that yonder lay my true future; yes, and my true past, even
though to discover them I must pass through that portal which we
know as Death.

We reached the mouth of the cave. It was a vast place; perhaps
the arch of it was a hundred feet high, and I could see that once
all this arch had been adorned with sculptures. Protected as
these were by the overhanging rock, for the sculptured mouth of
the cave was cut deep into the mountain face, they were still so
worn that it was impossible to discern their details. Time had
eaten them away like an acid. But what length of time? I could
not guess, but it must have been stupendous to have worked thus
upon that hard and sheltered rock.

This came home to me with added force when, from subsequent
examination, we learned that the entire mouth of this cave had
been sealed up for unnumbered ages. It will be remembered that
Marama told me the mountain in the lake had risen much during the
frightful cyclone in which we were wrecked and with it the cave
mouth which previously had been invisible. From the markings on
the mountain side it was obvious that something of the sort had
happened very recently, at any rate on this eastern face. That
is, either the flat rock had sunk or the volcano had been thrown
upwards.

Once in the far past the cave had been as it was when we found
it. Then it had gone down in such a way that the table-rock
entirely sealed the entrance. Now this entrance was once more
open, and although of course there was a break in them, the
grooves of which I have spoken ran on into the cave at only a
slightly different level from that at which they lay upon the
flat rock. And yet, although they had been thus sheltered by a
great stone curtain in front of them, still these sculptures were
worn away by the tooth of Time. Of course, however, this may have
happened to them before they were buried in some ancient
cataclysm, to be thus resurrected at the hour of our arrival upon
the island.

Without pausing to make any closer examination of these
crumbled carvings, we entered the yawning mouth of that great
place, following and indeed walking in the deep grooves that I
have mentioned. Presently it seemed to open out as a courtyard
might at the end of a passage; yes, to open on to some vast place
whereof in that gloom we could not see the roof or the limits.
All we knew was that it must be enormous--the echoes of our
voices and footsteps told us as much, for these seemed to come
back to us from high, high above and from far, far away. Bickley
and I said nothing; we were too overcome. But Bastin remarked:

"Did you ever go to Olympia? I did once to see a kind of play
where the people said nothing, only ran about dressed up. They
told me it was religious, the sort of thing a clergyman should
study. I didn't think it religious at all. It was all about a nun
who had a baby."

"Well, what of it?" snapped Bickley.

"Nothing particular, except that nuns don't have babies, or if
they do the fact should not be advertised. But I wasn't thinking
of that. I was thinking that this place is like an underground
Olympia."

"Oh, be quiet!" I said, for though Bastin's description was not
bad, his monotonous, drawling voice jarred on me in that
solemnity.

"Be careful where you walk," whispered Bickley, for even he
seemed awed, "there may be pits in this floor."

"I wish we had a light," I said, halting.

"If candles are of any use," broke in Bastin, "as it happens I
have a packet in my pocket. I took them with me this morning for
a certain purpose."

"Not unconnected with the paraffin and the burning of the idol,
I suppose?" said Bickley. "Hand them over."

"Yes; if I had been allowed a little more time I intended--"

"Never mind what you intended; we know what you did and that's
enough," said Bickley as he snatched the packet from Bastin's
hand and proceeded to undo it, adding, "By heaven! I have no
matches, nor have you, Arbuthnot!"

"I have a dozen boxes of wax vestas in my other pocket," said
Bastin. "You see, they burn so well when you want to get up a
fire on a damp idol. As you may have noticed, the dew is very
heavy here."

In due course these too were produced. I took possession of
them as they were too valuable to be left in the charge of
Bastin, and, extracting a box from the packet, lit two of the
candles which were of the short thick variety, like those used in
carriage-lamps.

Presently they burned up, making two faint stars of light
which, however, were not strong enough to show us either the roof
or the sides of that vast place. By their aid we pursued our
path, still following the grooves till suddenly these came to an
end. Now all around us was a flat floor of rock which, as we
perceived clearly when we pushed aside the dust that had gathered
thickly on it in the course of ages, doubtless from the gradual
disintegration of the stony walls, had once been polished till it
resembled black marble. Indeed, certain cracks in the floor
appeared to have been filled in with some dark-coloured cement. I
stood looking at them while Bickley wandered off to the right and
a little forward, and presently called to me. I walked to him,
Bastin sticking close to me as I had the other candle, as did the
little dog, Tommy, who did not like these new surroundings and
would not leave my heels.

"Look," said Bickley, holding up his candle, "and tell me--
what's that?"

Before me, faintly shown, was some curious structure of
gleaming rods made of yellowish metal, which rods appeared to be
connected by wires. The structure might have been forty feet high
and perhaps a hundred long. Its bottom part was buried in dust.

"What is that?" asked Bickley again.

I made no answer, for I was thinking. Bastin, however, replied:

"It's difficult to be sure in this light, but I should think
that it may be the remains of a cage in which some people who
lived here kept monkeys, or perhaps it was an aviary. Look at
those little ladders for the monkeys to climb by, or possibly for
the birds to sit on."

"Are you sure it wasn't tame angels?" asked Bickley.

"What a ridiculous remark! How can you keep an angel in a cage?
I--"

"Aeroplane!" I almost whispered to Bickley.

"You've got it!" he answered. "The framework of an aeroplane
and a jolly large one, too. Only why hasn't it oxidised?"

"Some indestructible metal," I suggested. "Gold, for instance,
does not oxidise."

He nodded and said:

"We shall have to dig it out. The dust is feet thick about it;
we can do nothing without spades. Come on."

We went round to the end of the structure, whatever it might
be, and presently came to another. Again we went on and came to
another, all of them being berthed exactly in line.

"What did I tell you?" said Bickley in a voice of triumph. "A
whole garage full, a regular fleet of aeroplanes!"

"That must be nonsense," said Bastin, "for I am quite sure that
these Orofenans cannot make such things. Indeed they have no
metal, and even cut the throats of pigs with wooden knives."

Now I began to walk forward, bearing to the left so as to
regain our former line. We could do nothing with these metal
skeletons, and I felt that there must be more to find beyond.
Presently I saw something looming ahead of me and quickened my
pace, only to recoil. For there, not thirty feet away and perhaps
three hundred yards from the mouth of the cave, suddenly appeared
what looked like a gigantic man. Tommy saw it also and barked as
dogs do when they are frightened, and the sound of his yaps
echoed endlessly from every quarter, which scared him to silence.
Recovering myself I went forward, for now I guessed the truth. It
was not a man but a statue.

The thing stood upon a huge base which lessened by successive
steps, eight of them, I think, to its summit. The foot of this
base may have been a square of fifty feet or rather more; the
real support or pedestal of the statue, however, was only a
square of about six feet. The figure itself was little above
life-size, or at any rate above our life-size, say seven feet in
height. It was very peculiar in sundry ways.

To begin with, nothing of the body was visible, for it was
swathed like a corpse. From these wrappings projected one arm,
the right, in the hand of which was the likeness of a lighted
torch. The head was not veiled. It was that of a man, long-nosed,
thin-lipped, stern-visaged; the countenance pervaded by an awful
and unutterable calm, as deep as that of Buddha only less benign.
On the brow was a wreathed head-dress, not unlike an Eastern
turban, from which sprang two little wings resembling in some
degree those on the famous Greek head of Hypnos, lord of Sleep.
Between the folds of the wrappings on the back sprang two other
wings, enormous wings bent like those of a bird about to take
flight. Indeed the whole attitude of the figure suggested that it
was springing from earth to air. It was executed in black basalt
or some stone of the sort, and very highly finished. For
instance, on the bare feet and the arm which held the torch could
be felt every muscle and even some of the veins. In the same way
the details of the skull were perfectly perceptible to the touch,
although at first sight not visible on the marble surface. This
was ascertained by climbing on the pedestal and feeling the face
with our hands.

Here I may say that its modelling as well as that of the feet
and the arm filled Bickley, who, of course, was a highly trained
anatomist, with absolute amazement. He said that he would never
have thought it possible that such accuracy could have been
reached by an artist working in so hard a material.

When the others had arrived we studied this relic as closely as
our two candles would allow, and in turn expressed our opinions
of its significance. Bastin thought that if those things down
there were really the remains of aeroplanes, which he did not
believe, the statue had something to do with flying, as was shown
by the fact that it had wings on its head and shoulders. Also, he
added, after examining the face, the head was uncommonly like
that of the idol that he had blown up. It had the same long nose
and severe shut mouth. If he was right, this was probably another
effigy of Oro which we should do well to destroy at once before
the islanders came to worship it.

Bickley ground his teeth as he listened to him.

"Destroy that!" he gasped. "Destroy! Oh! you, you--early
Christian."

Here I may state that Bastin was quite right, as we proved
subsequently when we compared the head of the fetish, which, as
it will be remembered, he had brought away with him, with that of
the statue. Allowing for an enormous debasement of art, they were
essentially identical in the facial characteristics. This would
suggest the descent of a tradition through countless generations.
Or of course it may have been accidental. I am sure I do not
know, but I think it possible that for unknown centuries other
old statues may have existed in Orofena from which the idol was
copied. Or some daring and impious spirit may have found his way
to the cave in past ages and fashioned the local god upon this
ancient model.

Bickley was struck at once, as I had been, with the resemblance
of the figure to that of the Egyptian Osiris. Of course there
were differences. For instance, instead of the crook and the
scourge, this divinity held a torch. Again, in place of the crown
of Egypt it wore a winged head-dress, though it is true this was
not very far removed from the winged disc of that country. The
wings that sprang from its shoulders, however, suggested
Babylonia rather than Egypt, or the Assyrian bulls that are
similarly adorned. All of these symbolical ideas might have been
taken from that figure. But what was it? What was it?

In a flash the answer came to me. A representation of the
spirit of Death! Neither more nor less. There was the shroud;
there the cold, inscrutable countenance suggesting mysteries that
it hid. But the torch and the wings? Well, the torch was that
which lighted souls to the other world, and on the wings they
flew thither. Whoever fashioned that statue hoped for another
life, or so I was convinced.

I explained my ideas. Bastin thought them fanciful and
preferred his notion of a flying man, since by constitution he
was unable to discover anything spiritual in any religion except
his own. Bickley agreed that it was probably an allegorical
representation of death but sniffed at my interpretation of the
wings and the torch, since by constitution he could not believe
that the folly of a belief in immortality could have developed so
early in the world, that is, among a highly civilised people such
as must have produced this statue.

What we could none of us understand was why this ominous image
with its dead, cold face should have been placed in an aerodrome,
nor in fact did we ever discover. Possibly it was there long
before the cave was put to this use. At first the place may have
been a temple and have so remained until circumstances forced the
worshippers to change their habits, or even their Faith.

We examined this wondrous work and the pedestal on which it
stood as closely as we were able by the dim light of our candles.
I was anxious to go further and see what lay beyond it; indeed we
did walk a few paces, twenty perhaps, onward into the recesses of
the cave.

Then Bickley discovered something that looked like the mouth of
a well down which he nearly tumbled, and Bastin began to complain
that he was hot and very thirsty; also to point out that he
wished for no more caves and idols at present.

"Look here, Arbuthnot," said Bickley, "these candles are
burning low and we don't want to use up more if we can prevent
it, for we may need what we have got very badly later on. Now,
according to my pocket compass the mouth of this cave points due
east; probably at the beginning it was orientated to the rising
sun for purposes of astronomical observation or of worship at
certain periods of the year. From the position of the sun when we
landed on the rock this morning I imagine that just now it rises
almost exactly opposite to the mouth of the cave. If this is so,
to-morrow at dawn, for a time at least, the light should
penetrate as far as the statue, and perhaps further. What I
suggest is that we should walt till then to explore."

I agreed with him, especially as I was feeling tired, being
exhausted by wonder, and wanted time to think. So we turned back.
As we did so I missed Tommy and inquired anxiously where he was,
being afraid lest he might have tumbled down the well-like hole.

"He's all right," said Bastin. "I saw him sniffing at the base
of that statue. I expect there is a rat in there, or perhaps a
snake."

Sure enough when we reached it there was Tommy with his black
nose pressed against the lowest of the tiers that formed the base
of the statue, and sniffing loudly. Also he was scratching in the
dust as a dog does when he has winded a rabbit in a hole. So
engrossed was he in this occupation that it was with difficulty
that I coaxed him to leave the place.

I did not think much of the incident at that time, but
afterwards it came back to me, and I determined to investigate
those stones at the first opportunity.

Passing the wrecks of the machines, we emerged on to the
causeway without accident. After we had rested and washed we set
to work to draw our canoe with its precious burden of food right
into the mouth of the cave, where we hid it as well as we could.

This done we went for a walk round the base of the peak. This
proved to be a great deal larger than we had imagined, over two
miles in circumference indeed. All about it was a belt of fertile
land, as I suppose deposited there by the waters of the great
lake and resulting from the decay of vegetation. Much of this
belt was covered with ancient forest ending in mud flats that
appeared to have been thrown up recently, perhaps at the time of
the tidal wave which bore us to Orofena. On the higher part of
the belt were many of the extraordinary crater-like holes that I
have mentioned as being prevalent on the main island; indeed the
place had all the appearance of having been subjected to a
terrific and continuous bombardment.

When we had completed its circuit we set to work to climb the
peak in order to explore the terraces of which I have spoken and
the ruins which I had seen through my field-glasses. It was quite
true; they were terraces cut with infinite labour out of the
solid rock, and on them had once stood a city, now pounded into
dust and fragments. We struggled over the broken blocks of stone
to what we had taken for a temple, which stood near the lip of
the crater, for without doubt this mound was an extinct volcano,
or rather its crest. All we could make out when we arrived was
that here had once stood some great building, for its courts
could still be traced; also there lay about fragments of steps
and pillars.

Apparently the latter had once been carved, but the passage of
innumerable ages had obliterated the work and we could not turn
these great blocks over to discover if any remained beneath. It
was as though the god Thor had broken up the edifice with his
hammer, or Jove had shattered it with his thunderbolts; nothing
else would account for that utter wreck, except, as Bickley
remarked significantly, the scientific use of high explosives.

Following the line of what seemed to have been a road, we came
to the edge of the volcano and found, as we expected, the usual
depression out of which fire and lava had once been cast, as from
Hecla or Vesuvius. It was now a lake more than a quarter of a
mile across. Indeed it had been thus in the ancient days when the
buildings stood upon the terraces, for we saw the remains of
steps leading down to the water. Perhaps it had served as the
sacred lake of the temple.

We gazed with wonderment and then, wearied out, scrambled back
through the ruins, which, by the way, were of a different stone
from the lava of the mountain, to the mouth of the great cave.

Chapter X

The Dwellers in the Tomb

By now it was drawing towards sunset, so we made such
preparations as we could for the night. One of these was to
collect dry driftwood, of which an abundance lay upon the shore,
to serve us for firing, though unfortunately we had nothing that
we could cook for our meal.

While we were thus engaged we saw a canoe approaching the
table-rock and perceived that in it were the chief Marama and a
priest. After hovering about for a while they paddled the canoe
near enough to allow of conversation which, taking no notice of
their presence, we left it to them to begin.

"O, Friend-from-the-Sea," called Marama, addressing myself, "we
come to pray you and the Great Healer to return to us to be our
guests as before. The people are covered with darkness because of
the loss of your wisdom, and the sick cry aloud for the Healer;
indeed two of those whom he has cut with knives are dying."

"And what of the Bellower?" I asked, indicating Bastin.

"We should like to see him back also, Friend-from-the-Sea, that
we may sacrifice and eat him, who destroyed our god with fire and
caused the Healer to kill his priest."

"That is most unjust," exclaimed Bastin. "I deeply regret the
blood that was shed on the occasion, unnecessarily as I think."

"Then go and atone for it with your own," said Bickley, "and
everybody will be pleased."

Waving to them to be silent, I said:

"Are you mad, Marama, that you should ask us to return to
sojourn among people who tried to kill us, merely because the
Bellower caused fire to burn an image of wood and its head to fly
from its shoulders, just to show you that it had no power to hold
itself together, although you call it a god? Not so, we wash our
hands of you; we leave you to go your own way while we go ours,
till perchance in a day to come, after many misfortunes have
overtaken you, you creep about our feet and with prayers and
offerings beg us to return."

I paused to observe the effect of my words. It was excellent,
for both Marama and the priest wrung their hands and groaned.
Then I went on:

"Meanwhile we have something to tell you. We have entered the
cave where you said no man might set a foot, and have seen him
who sits within, the true god." (Here Bastin tried to interrupt,
but was suppressed by Bickley.)

They looked at each other in a frightened way and groaned more
loudly than before.

"He sends you a message, which, as he told us of your approach,
we came to the shore to deliver to you."

"How can you say that?" began Bastin, but was again violently
suppressed by Bickley.

"It is that he, the real Oro, rejoices that the false Oro,
whose face is copied from his face, has been destroyed. It is
that he commands you day by day to bring food in plenty and lay
it upon the Rock of Offerings, not forgetting a supply of fresh
fish from the sea, and with it all those things that are stored
in the house wherein we, the strangers from the sea, deigned to
dwell awhile until we left you because in your wickedness you
wished to murder us."

"And if we refuse--what then?" asked the priest, speaking for
the first time.

"Then Oro will send death and destruction upon you. Then your
food shall fail and you shall perish of sickness and want, and
the Oromatuas, the spirits of the great dead, shall haunt you in
your sleep, and Oro shall eat up your souls."

At these horrible threats both of them uttered a kind of wail,
after which, Marama asked:

"And if we consent, what then, Friend-from-the-Sea?"

"Then, perchance," I answered, "in some day to come we may
return to you, that I may give you of my wisdom and the Great
Healer may cure your sick and the Bellower may lead you through
his gate, and in his kindness make you to see with his eyes."

This last clause of my ultimatum did not seem to appeal to the
priest, who argued a while with Marama, though what he said we
could not hear. In the end he appeared to give way. At any rate
Marama called out that all should be done as we wished, and that
meanwhile they prayed us to intercede with Oro in the cave, and
to keep back the ghosts from haunting them, and to protect them
from misfortune. I replied that we would do our best, but could
guarantee nothing since their offence was very great.

Then, to show that the conversation was at an end, we walked
away with dignity, pushing Bastin in front of us, lest he should
spoil the effect by some of his ill-timed and often over-true
remarks.

"That's capital," said Bickley, when we were out of hearing.
"The enemy has capitulated. We can stop here as long as we like,
provisioned from the mainland, and if for any reason we wish to
leave, be sure of our line of retreat."

"I don't know what you call capital," exclaimed Bastin. "It
seems to me that all the lies which Arbuthnot has just told are
sufficient to bring a judgment upon us. Indeed, I think that I
will go back with Marama and explain the truth."

"I never before knew anybody who was so anxious to be cooked
and eaten," remarked Bickley. "Moreover, you are too late, for
the canoe is a hundred yards away by now, and you shan't have
ours. Remember the Pauline maxims, old fellow, which you are so
fond of quoting, and be all things to all men, and another that
is more modern, that when you are at Rome, you must do as the
Romans do; also a third, that necessity has no law, and for the
matter of that, a fourth, that all is fair in love and war."

"I am sure, Bickley, that Paul never meant his words to bear
the debased sense which you attribute to them--" began Bastin,
but at this point I hustled him off to light a fire--a process at
which I pointed out he had shown himself an expert.

We slept that night under the overhanging rock just to one side
of the cave, not in the mouth, because of the draught which drew
in and out of the great place. In that soft and balmy clime this
was no hardship, although we lacked blankets. And yet, tired
though I was, I could not rest as I should have done. Bastin
snored away contentedly, quite unaffected by his escape which to
him was merely an incident in the day's work; and so, too,
slumbered Bickley, except that he did not snore. But the
amazement and the mystery of all that we had discovered and of
all that might be left for us to discover, held me back from
sleep.

What did it mean? What could it mean? My nerves were taut as
harp strings and seemed to vibrate to the touch of invisible
fingers, although I could not interpret the music that they made.
Once or twice also I thought I heard actual music with my
physical ears, and that of a strange quality. Soft and low and
dreamful, it appeared to well from the recesses of the vast cave,
a wailing song in an unknown tongue from the lips of women, or of
a woman, multiplied mysteriously by echoes. This, however, must
have been pure fancy, since there was no singer there.

Presently I dozed off, to be awakened by the sudden sound of a
great fish leaping in the lake. I sat up and stared, fearing lest
it might be the splash of a paddle, for I could not put from my
mind the possibility of attack. All I saw, however, was the low
line of the distant shore, and above it the bright and setting
stars that heralded the coming of the sun. Then I woke the
others, and we washed and ate, since once the sun rose time would
be precious.

At length it appeared, splendid in a cloudless sky, and, as I
had hoped, directly opposite to the mouth of the cave. Taking our
candles and some stout pieces of driftwood which, with our
knives, we had shaped on the previous evening to serve us as
levers and rough shovels, we entered the cave. Bickley and I were
filled with excitement and hope of what we knew not, but Bastin
showed little enthusiasm for our quest. His heart was with his
half-converted savages beyond the lake, and of them, quite
rightly I have no doubt, he thought more than he did of all the
archaeological treasures in the whole earth. Still, he came,
bearing the blackened head of Oro with him which, with
unconscious humour, he had used as a pillow through the night
because, as he said, "it was after all softer than stone." Also,
I believe that in his heart he hoped that he might find an
opportunity of destroying the bigger and earlier edition of Oro
in the cave, before it was discovered by the natives who might
wish to make it an object of worship. Tommy came also, with
greater alacrity than I expected, since dogs do not as a rule
like dark places. When we reached the statue I learned the
reason; he remembered the smell he had detected at its base on
the previous day, which Bastin supposed to proceed from a rat,
and was anxious to continue his investigations.

We went straight to the statue, although Bickley passed the
half-buried machines with evident regret. As we had hoped, the
strong light of the rising sun fell upon it in a vivid ray,
revealing all its wondrous workmanship and the majesty--for no
other word describes it--of the somewhat terrifying countenance
that appeared above the wrappings of the shroud. Indeed, I was
convinced that originally this monument had been placed here in
order that on certain days of the year the sun might fall upon it
thus, when probably worshippers assembled to adore their hallowed
symbol. After all, this was common in ancient days: witness the
instance of the awful Three who sit in the deepest recesses of
the temple of Abu Simbel, on the Nile.

We gazed and gazed our fill, at least Bickley and I did, for
Bastin was occupied in making a careful comparison between the
head of his wooden Oro and that of the statue.

"There is no doubt that they are very much alike," he said.
"Why, whatever is that dog doing? I think it is going mad," and
he pointed to Tommy who was digging furiously at the base of the
lowest step, as at home I have seen him do at roots that
sheltered a rabbit.

Tommy's energy was so remarkable that at length it seriously
attracted our attention. Evidently he meant that it should do so,
for occasionally he sprang back to me barking, then returned and
sniffed and scratched. Bickley knelt down and smelt at the stone.

"It is an odd thing, Humphrey," he said, "but there is a
strange odour here, a very pleasant odour like that of
sandal-wood or attar of roses."

"I never heard of a rat that smelt like sandal-wood or attar of
roses," said Bastin. "Look out that it isn't a snake."

I knelt down beside Bickley, and in clearing away the deep dust
from what seemed to be the bottom of the step, which was perhaps
four feet in height, by accident thrust my amateur spade somewhat
strongly against its base where it rested upon the rocky floor.

Next moment a wonder came to pass. The whole massive rock
began to turn outwards as though upon a pivot! I saw it coming
and grabbed Bickley by the collar, dragging him back so that we
just rolled clear before the great block, which must have weighed
several tons, fell down and crushed us. Tommy saw it too, and
fled, though a little late, for the edge of the block caught the
tip of his tail and caused him to emit a most piercing howl. But
we did not think of Tommy and his woes; we did not think of our
own escape or of anything else because of the marvel that
appeared to us. Seated there upon the ground, after our backward
tumble, we could see into the space which lay behind the fallen
step, for there the light of the sun penetrated.

The first idea it gave me was that of the jewelled shrine of
some mediaeval saint which, by good fortune, had escaped the
plunderers; there are still such existing in the world. It shone
and glittered, apparently with gold and diamonds, although, as a
matter of fact, there were no diamonds, nor was it gold which
gleamed, but some ancient metal, or rather amalgam, which is now
lost to the world, the same that was used in the tubes of the
air-machines. I think that it contained gold, but I do not know.
At any rate, it was equally lasting and even more beautiful,
though lighter in colour.

For the rest this adorned recess which resembled that of a
large funeral vault, occupying the whole space beneath the base
of the statue that was supported on its arch, was empty save for
two flashing objects that lay side by side but with nearly the
whole width of the vault between them.

I pointed at them to Bickley with my finger, for really I could
not speak.

"Coffins, by Jove!" he whispered. "Glass or crystal coffins and
people in them. Come on!"

A few seconds later we were crawling into that vault while
Bastin, still nursing the head of Oro as though it were a baby,
stood confused outside muttering something about desecrating
hallowed graves.

Just as we reached the interior, owing to the heightening of
the sun, the light passed away, leaving us in a kind of twilight.
Bickley produced carriage candles from his pocket and fumbled for
matches. While he was doing so I noticed two things--firstly,
that the place really did smell like a scent-shop, and, secondly,
that the coffins seemed to glow with a kind of phosphorescent
light of their own, not very strong, but sufficient to reveal
their outlines in the gloom. Then the candles burnt up and we
saw.

Within the coffin that stood on our left hand as we entered,
for this crystal was as transparent as plate glass, lay a most
wonderful old man, clad in a gleaming, embroidered robe. His long
hair, which was parted in the middle, as we could see beneath the
edge of the pearl-sewn and broidered cap he wore, also his beard
were snowy white. The man was tall, at least six feet four inches
in height, and rather spare. His hands were long and thin, very
delicately made, as were his sandalled feet.

But it was his face that fixed our gaze, for it was marvelous,
like the face of a god, and, as we noticed at once, with some
resemblance to that of the statue above. Thus the brow was broad
and massive, the nose straight and long, the mouth stern and
clear-cut, while the cheekbones were rather high, and the
eyebrows arched. Such are the characteristics of many handsome
old men of good blood, and as the mummies of Seti and others show
us, such they have been for thousands of years. Only this man
differed from all others because of the fearful dignity stamped
upon his features. Looking at him I began to think at once of the
prophet Elijah as he must have appeared rising to heaven,
enhanced by the more earthly glory of Solomon, for although the
appearance of these patriarchs is unknown, of them one conceives
ideas. Only it seemed probable that Elijah may have looked more
benign. Here there was no benignity, only terrible force and
infinite wisdom.

Contemplating him I shivered a little and felt thankful that he
was dead. For to tell the truth I was afraid of that awesome
countenance which, I should add, was of the whiteness of paper,
although the cheeks still showed tinges of colour, so perfect was
the preservation of the corpse.

I was still gazing at it when Bickley said in a voice of
amazement:

"I say, look here, in the other coffin."

I turned, looked, and nearly collapsed on the floor of the
vault, since beauty can sometimes strike us like a blow. Oh!
there before me lay all loveliness, such loveliness that there
burst from my lips an involuntary cry:

"Alas! that she should be dead!"

A young woman, I supposed, at least she looked young, perhaps
five or six and twenty years of age, or so I judged. There she
lay, her tall and delicate shape half hidden in masses of
rich-hued hair in colour of a ruddy blackness. I know not how
else to describe it, since never have I seen any of the same
tint. Moreover, it shone with a life of its own as though it had
been dusted with gold. From between the masses of this hair
appeared a face which I can only call divine. There was every
beauty that woman can boast, from the curving eyelashes of
extraordinary length to the sweet and human mouth. To these
charms also were added a wondrous smile and an air of kind
dignity, very different from the fierce pride stamped upon the
countenance of the old man who was her companion in death.

She was clothed in some close-fitting robe of white broidered
with gold; pearls were about her neck, lying far down upon the
perfect bosom, a girdle of gold and shining gems encircled her
slender waist, and on her little feet were sandals fastened with
red stones like rubies. In truth, she was a splendid creature,
and yet, I know not how, her beauty suggested more of the spirit
than of the flesh. Indeed, in a way, it was unearthly. My senses
were smitten, it pulled at my heart-strings, and yet its
unutterable strangeness seemed to awake memories within me,
though of what I could not tell. A wild fancy came to me that I
must have known this heavenly creature in some past life.

By now Bastin had joined us, and, attracted by my exclamation
and by the attitude of Bickley, who was staring down at the
coffin with a fixed look upon his face, not unlike that of a
pointer when he scents game, he began to contemplate the wonder
within it in his slow way.

"Well, I never!" he said. "Do you think the Glittering Lady in
there is human?"

"The Glittering Lady is dead, but I suppose that she was human
in her life," I answered in an awed whisper.

"Of course she is dead, otherwise she would not be in that
glass coffin. I think I should like to read the Burial Service
over her, which I daresay was never done when she was put in
there."

"How do you know she is dead?" asked Bickley in a sharp voice
and speaking for the first time. "I have seen hundreds of
corpses, and mummies too, but never any that looked like these."

I stared at him. It was strange to hear Bickley, the scoffer at
miracles, suggesting that this greatest of all miracles might be
possible.

"They must have been here a long time," I said, "for although
human, they are not, I think, of any people known to the world
to-day; their dress, everything, shows it, though perhaps
thousands of years ago--" and I stopped.

"Quite so," answered Bickley; "I agree. That is why I suggest
that they may have belonged to a race who knew what we do not,
namely, how to suspend animation for great periods of time."

I said no more, nor did Bastin, who was now engaged in studying
the old man, and for once, wonderstruck and overcome. Bickley,
however, took one of the candles and began to make a close
examination of the coffins. So did Tommy, who sniffed along the
join of that of the Glittering Lady until his nose reached a
certain spot, where it remained, while his black tail began to
wag in a delighted fashion. Bickley pushed him away and
investigated.

"As I thought," he said--"air-holes. See!"

I looked, and there, bored through the crystal of the coffin in
a line with the face of its occupant, were a number of little
holes that either by accident or design outlined the shape of a
human mouth.

"They are not airtight," murmured Bickley; "and if air can
enter, how can dead flesh remain like that for ages?"

Then he continued his search upon the other side.

"The lid of this coffin works on hinges," he said. "Here they
are, fashioned of the crystal itself. A living person within
could have pulled it down before the senses departed."

"No," I answered; "for look, here is a crystal bolt at the end
and it is shot from without."

This puzzled him; then as though struck by an idea, he began to
examine the other coffin.

"I've got it!" he exclaimed presently. "The old god in here"
(somehow we all thought of this old man as not quite normal)
"shut down the Glittering Lady's coffin and bolted it. His own is
not bolted, although the bolt exists in the same place. He just
got in and pulled down the lid. Oh! what nonsense I am talking--
for how can such things be? Let us get out and think."

So we crept from the sepulchre in which the perfumed air had
begun to oppress us and sat ourselves. down upon the floor of the
cave, where for a while we remained silent.

"I am very thirsty," said Bastin presently. "Those smells seem
to have dried me up. I am going to get some tea--I mean water, as
unfortunately there is no tea," and he set off towards the mouth
of the cave.

We followed him, I don't quite know why, except that we wished
to breathe freely outside, also we knew that the sepulchre and
its contents would be as safe as they had been for--well, how
long?

It proved to be a beautiful morning outside. We walked up and
down enjoying it sub-consciously, for really our--that is
Bickley's and my own--intelligences were concentrated on that
sepulchre and its contents. Where Bastin's may have been I do not
know, perhaps in a visionary teapot, since I was sure that it
would take him a day or two to appreciate the significance of our
discoveries. At any rate, he wandered off, making no remarks
about them, to drink water, I suppose.

Presently he began to shout to us from the end of the
table-rock and we went to see the reason of his noise. It proved
to be very satisfactory, for while we were in the cave the
Orofenans had brought absolutely everything belonging to us,
together with a large supply of food from the main island. Not a
single article was missing; even our books, a can with the bottom
out, and the broken pieces of a little pocket mirror had been
religiously transported, and with these a few articles that had
been stolen from us, notably my pocket-knife. Evidently a great
taboo had been laid upon all our possessions. They were now
carefully arranged in one of the grooves of the rock that Bickley
supposed had been made by the wheels of aeroplanes, which was why
we had not seen them at once.

Each of us rushed for what we desired most--Bastin for one of
the canisters of tea, I for my diaries, and Bickley for his chest
of instruments and medicines. These were removed to the mouth of
the cave, and after them the other things and the food; also a
bell tent and some camp furniture that we had brought from the
ship. Then Bastin made some tea of which he drank four large
pannikins, having first said grace over it with unwonted fervour.
Nor did we disdain our share of the beverage, although Bickley
preferred cocoa and I coffee. Cocoa and coffee we had no time to
make then, and in view of that sepulchre in the cave, what had we
to do with cocoa and coffee?

So Bickley and I said to each other, and yet presently he
changed his mind and in a special metal machine carefully made
some extremely strong black coffee which he poured into a thermos
flask, previously warmed with hot water, adding thereto about a
claret glass of brandy. Also he extracted certain drugs from his
medicine-chest, and with them, as I noted, a hypodermic syringe,
which he first boiled in a kettle and then shut up in a little
tube with a glass stopper.

These preparations finished, he called to Tommy to give him the
scraps of our meal. But there was no Tommy. The dog was missing,
and though we hunted everywhere we could not find him. Finally we
concluded that he had wandered off down the beach on business of
his own and would return in due course. We could not bother about
Tommy just then.

After making some further preparations and fidgeting about a
little, Bickley announced that as we had now some proper paraffin
lamps of the powerful sort which are known as "hurricane," he
proposed by their aid to carry out further examinations in the
cave.

"I think I shall stop where I am," said Bastin, helping himself
from the kettle to a fifth pannikin of tea. "Those corpses are
very interesting, but I don't see any use in staring at them
again at present. One can always do that at any time. I have
missed Marama once already by being away in that cave, and I have
a lot to say to him about my people; I don't want to be absent in
case he should return."

"To wash up the things, I suppose," said Bickley with a sniff;
"or perhaps to eat the tea-leaves."

"Well, as a matter of fact, I have noticed that these natives
have a peculiar taste for tea-leaves. I think they believe them
to be a medicine, but I don't suppose they would come so far for
them, though perhaps they might in the hope of getting the head
of Oro. Anyhow, I am going to stop here."

"Pray do," said Bickley. "Are you ready, Humphrey?"

I nodded, and he handed to me a felt-covered flask of the non-
conducting kind, filled with boiling water, a tin of preserved
milk, and a little bottle of meat extract of a most concentrated
sort. Then, having lit two of the hurricane lamps and seen that
they were full of oil, we started back up the cave.

Chapter XI

Resurrection

We reached the sepulchre without stopping to look at the parked
machines or even the marvelous statue that stood above it, for
what did we care about machines or statues now? As we approached
we were astonished to hear low and cavernous growlings.

"There is some wild beast in there," said Bickley, halting.
"No, by George! it's Tommy. What can the dog be after?"

We peeped in, and there sure enough was Tommy lying on the top
of the Glittering Lady's coffin and growling his very best with
the hair standing up upon his back. When he saw who it was,
however, he jumped off and frisked round, licking my hand.

"That's very strange," I exclaimed.

"Not stranger than everything else," said Bickley.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"Open these coffins," he answered, "beginning with that of the
old god, since I would rather experiment on him. I expect he will
crumble into dust. But if by chance he doesn't I'll jam a little
strychnine, mixed with some other drugs, of which you don't know
the names, into one of his veins and see if anything happens. If
it doesn't, it won't hurt him, and if it does--well, who knows?
Now give me a hand."

We went to the left-hand coffin and by inserting the hook on
the back of my knife, of which the real use is to pick stones out
of horses' hoofs, into one of the little air-holes I have
described, managed to raise the heavy crystal lid sufficiently to
enable us to force a piece of wood between it and the top. The
rest was easy, for the hinges being of crystal had not corroded.
In two minutes it was open.

From the chest came an overpowering spicy odour, and with it a
veritable breath of warm air before which we recoiled a little.
Bickley took a pocket thermometer which he had at hand and
glanced at it. It marked a temperature of 82 degrees in the
sepulchre. Having noted this, he thrust it into the coffin
between the crystal wall and its occupant. Then we went out and
waited a little while to give the odours time to dissipate, for
they made the head reel.

After five minutes or so we returned and examined the
thermometer. It had risen to 98 degrees, the natural temperature
of the human body.

"What do you make of that if the man is dead?" he whispered.

I shook my head, and as we had agreed, set to helping him to
lift the body from the coffin. It was a good weight, quite eleven
stone I should say; moreover, it was not still, for the hip
joints bent. We got it out and laid it on a blanket we had spread
on the floor of the sepulchre. Whilst I was thus engaged I saw
something that nearly caused me to loose my hold from
astonishment. Beneath the head, the centre of the back and the
feet were crystal boxes about eight inches square, or rather
crystal blocks, for in them I could see no opening, and these
boxes emitted a faint phosphorescent light. I touched one of them
and found that it was quite warm.

"Great heavens!" I exclaimed, "here's magic."

"There's no such thing," answered Bickley in his usual formula.
Then an explanation seemed to strike him and he added, "Not magic
but radium or something of the sort. That's how the temperature
was kept up. In sufficient quantity it is practically
indestructible, you see. My word! this old gentleman knew a thing
or two."

Again we waited a little while to see if the body begun to
crumble on exposure to the air, I taking the opportunity to make
a rough sketch of it in my pocket-book in anticipation of that
event. But it did not; it remained quite sound.

"Here goes," said Bickley. "If he should be alive, he will
catch cold in his lungs after lying for ages in that baby
incubator, as I suppose he has done. So it is now or never."

Then bidding me hold the man's right arm, he took the
sterilized syringe which he had prepared, and thrusting the
needle into a vein he selected just above the wrist, injected the
contents.

"It would have been better over the heart," he whispered, "but
I thought I would try the arm first. I don't like risking chills
by uncovering him."

I made no answer and again we waited and watched.

"Great heavens, he's stirring!" I gasped presently.

Stirring he was, for his fingers began to move.

Bickley bent down and placed his ear to the heart--I forgot to
say that he had tested this before with a stethoscope, but had
been unable to detect any movement.

"I believe it is beginning to beat," he said in an awed voice.

Then he applied the stethoscope, and added, "It is, it is!"

Next he took a filament of cotton wool and laid it on the man's
lips. Presently it moved; he was breathing, though very faintly.
Bickley took more cotton wool and having poured something from
his medicine-chest on to it, placed it over the mouth beneath the
man's nostrils--I believe it was sal volatile.

Nothing further happened for a little while, and to relieve the
strain on my mind I stared absently into the empty coffin. Here I
saw what had escaped our notice, two small plates of white metal
and cut upon them what I took to be star maps. Beyond these and
the glowing boxes which I have mentioned, there was nothing else
in the coffin. I had no time to examine them, for at that moment
the old man opened his mouth and began to breathe, evidently with
some discomfort and effort, as his empty lungs filled themselves
with air. Then his eyelids lifted, revealing a wonderful pair of
dark glowing eyes beneath. Next he tried to sit up but would have
fallen, had not Bickley supported him with his arm.

I do not think he saw Bickley, indeed he shut his eyes again as
though the light hurt them, and went into a kind of faint. Then
it was that Tommy, who all this while had been watching the
proceedings with grave interest, came forward, wagging his tail,
and licked the man's face. At the touch of the dog's red tongue,
he opened his eyes for the second time. Now he saw--not us but
Tommy, for after contemplating him for a few seconds, something
like a smile appeared upon his fierce but noble face. More, he
lifted his hand and laid it on the dog's head, as though to pat
it kindly. Half a minute or so later his awakening senses
appreciated our presence. The incipient smile vanished and was
replaced by a somewhat terrible frown.

Meanwhile Bickley had poured out some of the hot coffee laced
with brandy into the cup that was screwed on the top of the
thermos flask. Advancing to the man whom I supported, he put it
to his lips. He tasted and made a wry face, but presently he
began to sip, and ultimately swallowed it all. The effect of the
stimulant was wonderful, for in a few minutes he came to life
completely and was even able to sit up without support.

For quite a long while he gazed at us gravely, talking us in and
everything connected with us. For instance, Bickley's medicine-
case which lay open showing the little vulcanite tubes, a few
instruments and other outfit, engaged his particular attention,
and I saw at once that he understood what it was. Thus his arm
still smarted where the needle had been driven in and on the
blanket lay the syringe. He looked at his arm, then looked at the
syringe, and nodded. The paraffin hurricane lamps also seemed to
interest and win his approval. We two men, as I thought,
attracted him least of all; he just summed us up and our
garments, more especially the garments, with a few shrewd
glances, and then seemed to turn his thoughts to Tommy, who had
seated himself quite contentedly at his side, evidently accepting
him as a new addition to our party.

I confess that this behaviour on Tommy's part reassured me not
a little. I am a great believer in the instincts of animals,
especially of dogs, and I felt certain that if this man had not
been in all essentials human like ourselves, Tommy would not have
tolerated him. In the same way the sleeper's clear liking for
Tommy, at whom he looked much oftener and with greater kindness
than he did at us, suggested that there was goodness in him
somewhere, since although a dog in its wonderful tolerance may
love a bad person in whom it smells out hidden virtue, no really
bad person ever loved a dog, or, I may add, a child or a flower.

As a matter of fact, the "old god," as we had christened him
while he was in his coffin, during all our association with him,
cared infinitely more for Tommy than he did for any of us, a
circumstance that ultimately was not without its influence upon
our fortunes. But for this there was a reason as we learned
afterwards, also he was not really so amiable as I hoped.

When we had looked at each other for a long while the sleeper
began to arrange his beard, of which the length seemed to
surprise him, especially as Tommy was seated on one end of it.
Finding this out and apparently not wishing to disturb Tommy, he
gave up the occupation, and after one or two attempts, for his
tongue and lips still seemed to be stiff, addressed us in some
sonorous and musical language, unlike any that we had ever heard.
We shook our heads. Then by an afterthought I said "Good day" to
him in the language of the Orofenans. He puzzled over the word as
though it were more or less familiar to him, and when I repeated
it, gave it back to me with a difference indeed, but in a way
which convinced us that he quite understood what I meant. The
conversation went no further at the moment because just then some
memory seemed to strike him.

He was sitting with his back against the coffin of the
Glittering Lady, whom therefore he had not seen. Now he began to
turn round, and being too weak to do so, motioned me to help him.
I obeyed, while Bickley, guessing his purpose, held up one of the
hurricane lamps that he might see better. With a kind of fierce
eagerness he surveyed her who lay within the coffin, and after he
had done so, uttered a sigh as of intense relief.

Next he pointed to the metal cup out of which he had drunk.
Bickley filled it again from the thermos flask, which I observed
excited his keen interest, for, having touched the flask with his
hand and found that it was cool, he appeared to marvel that the
fluid coming from it should be hot and steaming. Presently he
smiled as though he had got the clue to the mystery, and
swallowed his second drink of coffee and spirit. This done, he
motioned to us to lift the lid of the lady's coffin, pointing out
a certain catch in the bolts which at first we could not master,
for it will be remembered that on this coffin these were shot.

In the end, by pursuing the same methods that we had used in
the instance of his own, we raised the coffin lid and once more
were driven to retreat from the sepulchre for a while by the
overpowering odour like to that of a whole greenhouse full of
tuberoses, that flowed out of it, inducing a kind of stupefaction
from which even Tommy fled.

When we returned it was to find the man kneeling by the side of
the coffin, for as yet he could not stand, with his glowing eyes
fixed upon the face of her who slept therein and waving his long
arms above her.

"Hypnotic business! Wonder if it will work," whispered Bickley.
Then he lifted the syringe and looked inquiringly at the man, who
shook his head, and went on with his mesmeric passes.

I crept round him and took my stand by the sleeper's head, that
I might watch her face, which was well worth watching, while
Bickley, with his medicine at hand, remained near her feet, I
think engaged in disinfecting the syringe in some spirit or acid.
I believe he was about to make an attempt to use it when
suddenly, as though beneath the influence of the hypnotic passes,
a change appeared on the Glittering Lady's face. Hitherto,
beautiful as it was, it had been a dead face though one of a
person who had suddenly been cut off while in full health and
vigour a few hours, or at the most a day or so before. Now it
began to live again; it was as though the spirit were returning
from afar, and not without toil and tribulation.

Expression after expression flitted across the features; indeed
these seemed to change so much from moment to moment that they
might have belonged to several different individuals, though each
was beautiful. The fact of these remarkable changes with the
suggestion of multiform personalities which they conveyed
impressed both Bickley and myself very much indeed. Then the
breast heaved tumultuously; it even appeared to struggle. Next
the eyes opened. They were full of wonder, even of fear, but oh!
what marvelous eyes. I do not know how to describe them, I
cannot even state their exact colour, except that it was dark,
something like the blue of sapphires of the deepest tint, and yet
not black; large, too, and soft as a deer's. They shut again as
though the light hurt them, then once more opened and wandered
about, apparently without seeing.

At length they found my face, for I was still bending over her,
and, resting there, appeared to take it in by degrees. More, it
seemed to touch and stir some human spring in the still-sleeping
heart. At least the fear passed from her features and was
replaced by a faint smile, such as a patient sometimes gives to
one known and well loved, as the effects of chloroform pass away.
For a while she looked at me with an earnest, searching gaze,
then suddenly, for the first time moving her arms, lifted them
and threw them round my neck.

The old man stared, bending his imperial brows into a little
frown, but did nothing. Bickley stared also through his glasses
and sniffed as though in disapproval, while I remained quite
still, fighting with a wild impulse to kiss her on the lips as
one would an awakening and beloved child. I doubt if I could have
done so, however, for really I was immovable; my heart seemed to
stop and all my muscles to be paralysed.

I do not know for how long this endured, but I do know how it
ended. Presently in the intense silence I heard Bastin's heavy
voice and looking round, saw his big head projecting into the
sepulchre.

"Well, I never!" he said, "you seem to have woke them up with a
vengeance. If you begin like that with the lady, there will be
complications before you have done, Arbuthnot."

Talk of being brought back to earth with a rush! I could have
killed Bastin, and Bickley, turning on him like a tiger, told him
to be off, find wood and light a large fire in front of the
statue. I think he was about to argue when the Ancient gave him a
glance of his fierce eyes, which alarmed him, and he departed,
bewildered, to return presently with the wood.

But the sound of his voice had broken the spell. The Lady let
her arms fall with a start, and shut her eyes again, seeming to
faint. Bickley sprang forward with his sal volatile and applied
it to her nostrils, the Ancient not interfering, for he seemed to
recognise that he had to deal with a man of skill and one who
meant well by them.

In the end we brought her round again and, to omit details,
Bickley gave her, not coffee and brandy, but a mixture he
compounded of hot water, preserved milk and meat essence. The
effect of it on her was wonderful, since a few minutes after
swallowing it she sat up in the coffin. Then we lifted her from
that narrow bed in which she had slept for--ah! how long? and
perceived that beneath her also were crystal boxes of the
radiant, heat-giving substance. We sat her on the floor of the
sepulchre, wrapping her also in a blanket.

Now it was that Tommy, after frisking round her as though in
welcome of an old friend, calmly established himself beside her
and laid his black head upon her knee. She noted it and smiled
for the first time, a marvelously sweet and gentle smile. More,
she placed her slender hand upon the dog and stroked him feebly.

Bickley tried to make her drink some more of his mixture, but
she refused, motioning him to give it to Tommy. This, however, he
would not do because there was but one cup. Presently both of the
sleepers began to shiver, which caused Bickley anxiety. Abusing
Bastin beneath his breath for being so long with the fire, he
drew the blankets closer about them.

Then an idea came to him and he examined the glowing boxes in
the coffin. They were loose, being merely set in prepared
cavities in the crystal. Wrapping our handkerchiefs about his
hand, he took them out and placed them around the wakened
patients, a proceeding of which the Ancient nodded approval. Just
then, too, Bastin returned with his first load of firewood, and
soon we had a merry blaze going just outside the sepulchre. I saw
that they observed the lighting of this fire by means of a match
with much interest.

Now they grew warm again, as indeed we did also--too warm. Then
in my turn I had an idea. I knew that by now the sun would be
beating hotly against the rock of the mount, and suggested to
Bickley, that, if possible, the best thing we could do would be
to get them into its life-giving rays. He agreed, if we could
make them understand and they were able to walk. So I tried.
First I directed the Ancient's attention to the mouth of the cave
which at this distance showed as a white circle of light. He
looked at it and then at me with grave inquiry. I made motions to
suggest that he should proceed there, repeating the word "Sun" in
the Orofenan tongue. He understood at once, though whether he
read my mind rather than what I said I am not sure. Apparently
the Glittering Lady understood also and seemed to be most anxious
to go. Only she looked rather pitifully at her feet and shook her
head. This decided me.

I do not know if I have mentioned anywhere that I am a tall man
and very muscular. She was tall, also, but as I judged not so
very heavy after her long fast. At any rate I felt quite certain
that I could carry her for that distance. Stooping down, I lifted
her up, signing to her to put her arms round my neck, which she
did. Then calling to Bickley and Bastin to bring along the
Ancient between them, with some difficulty I struggled out of the
sepulchre, and started down the cave. She was more heavy than I
thought, and yet I could have wished the journey longer. To begin
with she seemed quite trustful and happy in my arms, where she
lay with her head against my shoulder, smiling a little as a
child might do, especially when I had to stop and throw her long
hair round my neck like a muffler, to prevent it from trailing in
the dust.

A bundle of lavender, or a truss of new-mown hay, could not
have been more sweet to carry and there was something electric
about the touch of her, which went through and through me. Very
soon it was over, and we were out of the cave into the full glory
of the tropical sun. At first, that her eyes might become
accustomed to its light and her awakened body to its heat, I set
her down where shadow fell from the overhanging rock, in a canvas
deck chair that had been brought by Marama with the other things,
throwing the rug about her to protect her from such wind as there
was. She nestled gratefully into the soft seat and shut her eyes,
for the motion had tired her. I noted, however, that she drew in
the sweet air with long breaths.

Then I turned to observe the arrival of the Ancient, who was
being borne between Bickley and Bastin in what children know as a
dandy-chair, which is formed by two people crossing their hands
in a peculiar fashion. It says much for the tremendous dignity of
his presence that even thus, with one arm round the neck of
Bickley and the other round that of Bastin, and his long white
beard falling almost to the ground, he still looked most
imposing.

Unfortunately, however, just as they were emerging from the
cave, Bastin, always the most awkward of creatures, managed to
leave hold with one hand, so that his passenger nearly came to
the ground. Never shall I forget the look that he gave him.
Indeed, I think that from this moment he hated Bastin. Bickley he
respected as a man of intelligence and learning, although in
comparison with his own, the latter was infantile and crude; me
he tolerated and even liked; but Bastin he detested. The only one
of our party for whom he felt anything approaching real affection
was the spaniel Tommy.

We set him down, fortunately uninjured, on some rugs, and also
in the shadow. Then, after a little while, we moved both of them
into the sun. It was quite curious to see them expand there. As
Bickley said, what happened to them might well be compared to the
development of a butterfly which has just broken from the living
grave of its chrysalis and crept into the full, hot radiance of
the light. Its crinkled wings unfold, their brilliant tints
develop; in an hour or two it is perfect, glorious, prepared for
life and flight, a new creature.

So it was with this pair, from moment to moment they gathered
strength and vigour. Near-by to them, as it happened, stood a
large basket of the luscious native fruits brought that morning
by the Orofenans, and at these the Lady looked with longing. With
Bickley's permission, I offered them to her and to the Ancient,
first peeling them with my fingers. They ate of them greedily, a
full meal, and would have gone on had not the stern Bickley,
fearing untoward consequences, removed the basket. Again the
results were wonderful, for half an hour afterwards they seemed
to be quite strong. With my assistance the Glittering Lady, as I
still call her, for at that time I did not know her name, rose
from the chair, and, leaning on me, tottered a few steps forward.
Then she stood looking at the sky and all the lovely panorama of
nature beneath, and stretching out her arms as though in worship.
Oh! how beautiful she seemed with the sunlight shining on her
heavenly face!

Now for the first time I heard her voice. It was soft and deep,
yet in it was a curious bell-like tone that seemed to vibrate
like the sound of chimes heard from far away. Never have I
listened to such another voice. She pointed to the sun whereof
the light turned her radiant hair and garments to a kind of
golden glory, and called it by some name that I could not
understand. I shook my head, whereon she gave it a different name
taken, I suppose, from another language. Again I shook my head
and she tried a third time. To my delight this word was
practically the same that the Orofenans used for "sun."

"Yes," I said, speaking very slowly, "so it is called by the
people of this land."

She understood, for she answered in much the same language:

"What, then, do you call it?"

"Sun in the English tongue," I replied.

"Sun. English," she repeated after me, then added, "How are you
named, Wanderer?"

"Humphrey," I answered.

"HumÄfe-Äry!" she said as though she were learning the word,
"and those?"

"Bastin and Bickley," I replied.

Over these patronymics she shook her head; as yet they were too
much for her.

"How are you named, Sleeper?" I asked.

"Yva," she answered.

"A beautiful name for one who is beautiful," I declared with
enthusiasm, of course always in the rich Orofenan dialect which
by now I could talk well enough.

She repeated the words once or twice, then of a sudden caught
their meaning, for she smiled and even coloured, saying hastily
with a wave of her hand towards the Ancient who stood at a
distance between Bastin and Bickley, "My father, Oro; great man;
great king; great god!"

At this information I started, for it was startling to learn
that here was the original Oro, who was still worshipped by the
Orofenans, although of his actual existence they had known
nothing for uncounted time. Also I was glad to learn that he was
her father and not her old husband, for to me that would have
been horrible, a desecration too deep for words.

"How long did you sleep, Yva?" I asked, pointing towards the
sepulchre in the cave.

After a little thought she understood and shook her head
hopelessly, then by an afterthought, she said,

"Stars tell Oro to-night."

So Oro was an astronomer as well as a king and a god. I had
guessed as much from those plates in the coffin which seemed to
have stars engraved on them.

At this point our conversation came to an end, for the Ancient
himself approached, leaning on the arm of Bickley who was engaged
in an animated argument with Bastin.

"For Heaven's sake!" said Bickley, "keep your theology to
yourself at present. If you upset the old fellow and put him in a
temper he may die."

"If a man tells me that he is a god it is my duty to tell him
that he is a liar," replied Bastin obstinately.

"Which you did, Bastin, only fortunately he did not understand
you. But for your own sake I advise you not to take liberties. He
is not one, I think, with whom it is wise to trifle. I think he
seems thirsty. Go and get some water from the rain pool, not from
the lake."

Bastin departed and presently returned with an aluminum jug
full of pure water and a glass. Bickley poured some of it into a
glass and handed it to Yva who bent her head in thanks. Then she
did a curious thing. Having first lifted the glass with both
hands to the sky and held it so for a few seconds, she turned and
with an obeisance poured a little of it on the ground before her
father's feet.

A libation, thought I to myself, and evidently Bastin agreed
with me, for I heard him mutter,

"I believe she is making a heathen offering."

Doubtless we were right, for Oro accepted the homage by a
little motion of the head. After this, at a sign from him she
drank the water. Then the glass was refilled and handed to Oro
who also held it towards the sky. He, however, made no libation
but drank at once, two tumblers of it in rapid succession.

By now the direct sunlight was passing from the mouth of the
cave, and though it was hot enough, both of them shivered a
little. They spoke together in some language of which we could
not understand a word, as though they were debating what their
course of action should be. The dispute was long and earnest. Had
we known what was passing, which I learned afterwards, it would
have made us sufficiently anxious, for the point at issue was
nothing less than whether we should or should not be forthwith
destroyed--an end, it appears, that Oro was quite capable of
bringing about if he so pleased. Yva, however, had very clear
views of her own on the matter and, as I gather, even dared to
threaten that she would protect us by the use of certain powers
at her command, though what these were I do not know.

While the event hung doubtful Tommy, who was growing bored with
these long proceedings, picked up a bough still covered with
flowers which, after their pretty fashion, the Orofenans had
placed on the top of one of the baskets of food. This small bough
he brought and laid at the feet of Oro, no doubt in the hope that
he would throw it for him to fetch, a game in which the dog
delighted. For some reason Oro saw an omen in this simple canine
performance, or he may have thought that the dog was making an
offering to him, for he put his thin hand to his brow and thought
a while, then motioned to Bastin to pick up the bough and give it
to him.

Next he spoke to his daughter as though assenting to something,
for I saw her sigh in relief. No wonder, for he was conveying his
decision to spare our lives and admit us to their fellowship.

After this again they talked, but in quite a different tone and
manner. Then the Glittering Lady said to me in her slow and
archaic Orofenan:

"We go to rest. You must not follow. We come back perhaps
tonight, perhaps next night. We are quite safe. You are quite
safe under the beard of Oro. Spirit of Oro watch you. You
understand?"

I said I understood, whereon she answered:

"Good-bye, O Humfe-ry."

"Good-bye, O Yva," I replied, bowing.

Thereon they turned and refusing all assistance from us,
vanished into the darkness of the cave leaning upon each other
and walking slowly.

Chapter XII

Two Hundred and Fifty Thousand Years!

"You seem to have made the best of your time, old fellow," said
Bickley in rather a sour voice.

"I never knew people begin to call each other by their
Christian names so soon," added Bastin, looking at me with a
suspicious eye.

"I know no other," I said.

"Perhaps not, but at any rate you have another, though you
don't seem to have told it to her. Anyway, I am glad they are
gone, for I was getting tired of being ordered by everybody to
carry about wood and water for them. Also I am terribly hungry as
I can't eat before it is light. They have taken most of the best
fruit to which I was looking forward, but thank goodness they do
not seem to care for pork."

"So am I," said Bickley, who really looked exhausted. "Get the
food, there's a good fellow. We'll talk afterwards."

When we had eaten, somewhat silently, I asked Bickley what he
made of the business; also whither he thought the sleepers had
gone.

"I think I can answer the last question," interrupted Bastin.
"I expect it is to a place well known to students of the Bible
which even Bickley mentions sometimes when he is angry. At any
rate, they seem to be very fond of heat, for they wouldn't part
from it even in their coffins, and you will admit that they are
not quite natural, although that Glittering Lady is so attractive
as regards her exterior."

Bickley waved these remarks aside and addressed himself to me.

"I don't know what to think of it," he said; "but as the
experience is not natural and everything in the Universe, so far
as we know it, has a natural explanation, I am inclined to the
belief that we are suffering from hallucinations, which in their
way are also quite natural. It does not seem possible that two
people can really have been asleep for an unknown length of time
enclosed in vessels of glass or crystal, kept warm by radium or
some such substance, and then emerge from them comparatively
strong and well. It is contrary to natural law."

"How about microbes?" I asked. "They are said to last
practically for ever, and they are living things. So in their
case your natural law breaks down."

"That is true," he answered. "Some microbes in a sealed tube
and under certain conditions do appear to possess indefinite
powers of life. Also radium has an indefinite life, but that is a
mineral. Only these people are not microbes nor are they
minerals. Also, experience tells us that they could not have
lived for more than a few months at the outside in such
circumstances as we seemed to find them."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"I suggest that we did not really find them at all; that we
have all been dreaming. You know that there are certain gases
which produce illusions, laughing gas is one of them, and that
these gases are sometimes met with in caves. Now there were very
peculiar odours in that place under the statue, which may have
worked upon our imaginations in some such way. Otherwise we are
up against a miracle, and, as you know, I do not believe in
miracles."

"I do," said Bastin calmly. "You'll find all about it in the
Bible if you will only take the trouble to read. Why do you talk
such rubbish about gases?"

"Because only gas, or something of the sort, could have made us
imagine them."

"Nonsense, Bickley! Those people were here right enough. Didn't
they eat our fruit and drink the water I brought them without
ever saying thank you? Only, they are not human. They are evil
spirits, and for my part I don't want to see any more of them,
though I have no doubt Arbuthnot does, as that Glittering Lady
threw her arms round his neck when she woke up, and already he is
calling her by her Christian name, if the word Christian can be
used in connection with her. The old fellow had the impudence to
tell us that he was a god, and it is remarkable that he should
have called himself Oro, seeing that the devil they worship on
the island is also called Oro and the place itself is named
Orofena."

"As to where they have gone," continued Bickley, taking no
notice of Bastin, "I really don't know. My expectation is,
however, that when we go to look tomorrow morning--and I suggest
that we should not do so before then in order that we may give
our minds time to clear--we shall find that sepulchre place quite
empty, even perhaps without the crystal coffins we have imagined
to stand there."

"Perhaps we shall find that there isn't a cave at all and that
we are not sitting on a flat rock outside of it," suggested
Bastin with heavy sarcasm, adding, "You are clever in your way,
Bickley, but you can talk more rubbish than any man I ever knew."

"They told us they would come back tonight or tomorrow," I
said. "If they do, what will you say then, Bickley?"

"I will wait till they come to answer that question. Now let us
go for a walk and try to change our thoughts. We are all
over-strained and scarcely know what we are saying."

"One more question," I said as we rose to start. "Did Tommy
suffer from hallucinations as well as ourselves?"

"Why not?" answered Bickley. "He is an animal just as we are,
or perhaps we thought we saw Tommy do the things he did."

"When you found that basket of fruit, Bastin, which the natives
brought over in the canoe, was there a bough covered with red
flowers lying on the top of it?"

"Yes, Arbuthnot, one bough only; I threw it down on the rock as
it got in the way when I was carrying the basket."

"Which flowering bough we all thought we saw the Sleeper Oro
carry away after Tommy had brought it to him."

"Yes; he made me pick it up and give it to him," said Bastin.

"Well, if we did not see this it should still be lying on the
rock, as there has been no wind and there are no animals here to
carry it away. You will admit that, Bickley?"

He nodded.

"Then if it has gone you will admit also that the presumption
is that we saw what we thought we did see?"

"I do not know how that conclusion can be avoided, at any rate
so far as the incident of the bough is concerned," replied
Bickley with caution.

Then, without more words, we started to look. At the spot where
the bough should have been, there was no bough, but on the rock
lay several of the red flowers, bitten off, I suppose, by Tommy
while he was carrying it. Nor was this all. I think I have
mentioned that the Glittering Lady wore sandals which were
fastened with red studs that looked like rubies or carbuncles. On
the rock lay one of these studs. I picked it up and we examined
it. It had been sewn to the sandal-strap with golden thread or
silk. Some of this substance hung from the hole drilled in the
stone which served for an eye. It was as rotten as tinder,
apparently with extreme age. Moreover, the hard gem itself was
pitted as though the passage of time had taken effect upon it,
though this may have been caused by other agencies, such as the
action of the radium rays. I smiled at Bickley who looked
disconcerted and even sad. In a way it is painful to see the
effect upon an able and earnest man of the upsetting of his
lifelong theories.

We went for our walk, keeping to the flat lands at the foot of
the volcano cone, for we seemed to have had enough of wonders and
to desire to reassure ourselves, as it were, by the study of
natural and familiar things. As it chanced, too, we were rewarded
by sundry useful discoveries. Thus we found a place where the
bread-tree and other fruits, most of them now ripe, grew in
abundance, as did the yam. Also, we came to an inlet that we
noticed was crowded with large and beautiful fish from the lake,
which seemed to find it a favourite spot. Perhaps this was
because a little stream of excellent water ran in here,
overflowing from the great pool or mere which filled the crater
above.

At these finds we rejoiced greatly, for now we knew that we
need not fear starvation even should our supply of food from the
main island be cut off. Indeed, by help of some palm-leaf stalks
which we wove together roughly, Bastin, who was rather clever at
this kind of thing, managed to trap four fish weighing two or
three pounds apiece, wading into the water to do so. It was
curious to observe with what ease he adapted himself to the
manners and customs of primeval man, so much so, indeed, that
Bickley remarked that if he could believe in re-incarnation, he
would be absolutely certain that Bastin was a troglodyte in his
last sojourn on the earth.

However this might be, Bastin's primeval instincts and
abilities were of the utmost service to us. Before we had been
many days on that island he had built us a kind of native hut or
house roofed with palm leaves in which, until provided with a
better, as happened afterwards, we ate and he and Bickley slept,
leaving the tent to me. Moreover, he wove a net of palm fibre
with which he caught abundance of fish, and made fishing-lines of
the same material (fortunately we had some hooks) which he baited
with freshwater mussels and the insides of fish. By means of
these he secured some veritable monsters of the carp species that
proved most excellent eating. His greatest triumph, however, was
a decoy which he constructed of boughs, wherein he trapped a
number of waterfowl. So that soon we kept a very good table of a
sort, especially after he had learned how to cook our food upon
the native plan by means of hot stones. This suited us admirably,
as it enabled Bickley and myself to devote all our time to
archaeological and other studies which did not greatly interest
Bastin.

By the time that we got back to camp it was drawing towards
evening, so we cooked our food and ate, and then, thoroughly
exhausted, made ourselves as comfortable as we could and went to
sleep. Even our marvelous experiences could not keep Bickley and
myself from sleeping, and on Bastin such things had no effect. He
accepted them and that was all, much more readily than we did,
indeed. Triple-armed as he was in the mail of a child-like faith,
he snapped his fingers at evil spirits which he supposed the
Sleepers to be, and at everything else that other men might
dread.

Now, as I have mentioned, after our talk with Marama, although
we did not think it wise to adventure ourselves among them again
at present, we had lost all fear of the Orofenans. In this
attitude, so far as Marama himself and the majority of his people
were concerned, we were quite justified, for they were our warm
friends. But in the case of the sorcerers, the priests and all
their rascally and superstitious brotherhood, we were by no means
justified. They had not forgiven Bastin his sacrilege or for his
undermining of their authority by the preaching of new doctrines
which, if adopted, would destroy them as a hierarchy. Nor had
they forgiven Bickley for shooting one of their number, or any of
us for our escape from the vengeance of their god.

So it came about that they made a plot to seize us all and hale
us off to be sacrificed to a substituted image of Oro, which by
now they had set up. They knew exactly where we slept upon the
rock; indeed, our fire showed it to them and so far they were not
afraid to venture, since here they had been accustomed for
generations to lay their offerings to the god of the Mountain.
Secretly on the previous night, without the knowledge of Marama,
they had carried two more canoes to the borders of the lake. Now
on this night, just as the moon was setting about three in the
morning, they made their attack, twenty-one men in all, for the
three canoes were large, relying on the following darkness to get
us away and convey us to the place of sacrifice to be offered up
at dawn and before Marama could interfere.

The first we knew of the matter, for most foolishly we had
neglected to keep a watch, was the unpleasant sensation of brawny
savages kneeling on us and trussing us up with palm-fibre ropes.
Also they thrust handfuls of dry grass into our mouths to prevent
us from calling out, although as air came through the interstices
of the grass, we did not suffocate. The thing was so well done
that we never struck a blow in self-defence, and although we had
our pistols at hand, much less could we fire a shot. Of course,
we struggled as well as we were able, but it was quite useless;
in three minutes we were as helpless as calves in a net and like
calves were being conveyed to the butcher. Bastin managed to get
the gag out of his mouth for a few seconds, and I heard him say
in his slow, heavy voice:

"This, Bickley, is what comes of trafficking with evil spirits
in museum cases--" There his speech stopped, for the grass wad
was jammed down his throat again, but distinctly I heard the
inarticulate Bickley snort as he conceived the repartee he was
unable to utter. As for myself, I reflected that the business
served us right for not keeping a watch, and abandoned the issue
to fate.

Still, to confess the truth, I was infinitely more sorry to die
than I should have been forty-eight hours earlier. This is a dull
and in most ways a dreadful world, one, if we could only summon
the courage, that some of us would be glad to leave in search of
new adventures. But here a great and unprecedented adventure had
begun to befall me, and before its mystery was solved, before
even I could formulate a theory concerning it, my body must be
destroyed, and my intelligence that was caged therein, sent far
afield; or, if Bickley were right, eclipsed. It seemed so sad
just when the impossible, like an unguessed wandering moon, had
risen over the grey flats of the ascertained and made them shine
with hope and wonder.

They carried us off to the canoes, not too gently; indeed, I
heard the bony frame of Bastin bump into the bottom of one of
them and reflected, not without venom, that it served him right
as he was the fount and origin of our woes. Two stinking
magicians, wearing on their heads undress editions of their court
cages, since these were too cumbersome for active work of the
sort, and painted all over with various pigments, were just about
to swing me after him into the same, or another canoe, when
something happened. I did not know what it was, but as a result,
my captors left hold of me so that I fell to the rock, lying upon
my back.

Then, within my line of vision, which, it must be remembered,
was limited because I could not lift my head, appeared the upper
part of the tall person of the Ancient who said that he was named
Oro. I could only see him down to his middle, but I noted vaguely
that he seemed to be much changed. For instance, he wore a
different coloured dress, or rather robe; this time it was dark
blue, which caused me to wonder where on earth it came from.
Also, his tremendous beard had been trimmed and dressed, and on
his head there was a simple black cap, strangely quilted, which
looked as though it were made of velvet. Moreover, his face had
plumped out. He still looked ancient, it is true, and unutterably
wise, but now he resembled an antique youth, so great were his
energy and vigour. Also, his dark and glowing eyes shone with a
fearful intensity. In short, he seemed impressive and terrible
almost beyond imagining.

He looked about him slowly, then asked in a deep, cold voice,
speaking in the Orofenan tongue:

"What do you, slaves?"

No one seemed able to answer, they were too horror-stricken at
this sudden vision of their fabled god, whose fierce features of
wood had become flesh; they only turned to fly. He waved his thin
hand and they came to a standstill, like animals which have
reached the end of their tether and are checked by the chains
that bind them. There they stood in all sorts of postures,
immovable and looking extremely ridiculous in their paint and
feathers, with dread unutterable stamped upon their evil faces.

The Sleeper spoke again:

"You would murder as did your forefathers, O children of snakes
and hogs fashioned in the shape of men. You would sacrifice those
who dwell in my shadow to satisfy your hate because they are
wiser than you. Come hither thou," and he beckoned with a bony
finger to the chief magician.

The man advanced towards him in short jumps, as a mechanical
toy might do, and stood before him, his miniature crate and
feathers all awry and the sweat of terror melting the paint in
streaks upon his face.

"Look into the eyes of Oro, O worshipper of Oro," said the
Sleeper, and he obeyed, his own eyes starting out of his head.

"Receive the curse of Oro," said the Ancient again. Then
followed a terrible spectacle. The man went raving mad. He
bounded into the air to a height inconceivable. He threw himself
upon the ground and rolled upon the rock. He rose again and
staggered round and round, tearing pieces out of his arms with
his teeth. He yelled hideously like one possessed. He grovelled,
beating his forehead against the rock. Then he sat up, slowly
choked and--died.

His companions seemed to catch the infection of death as
terrified savages often do. They too performed dreadful antics,
all except three of them who stood paralysed. They rushed about
battering each other with their fists and wooden weapons, looking
like devils from hell in their hideous painted attire. They
grappled and fought furiously. They separated and plunged into
the lake, where with a last grimace they sank like stones.

It seemed to last a long while, but I think that as a matter of
fact within five minutes it was over; they were all dead. Only
the three paralysed ones remained standing and rolling their
eyes.

The Sleeper beckoned to them with his thin finger, and they
walked forward in step like soldiers.

"Lift that man from the boat," he said, pointing to Bastin,
"cut his bonds and those of the others."

They obeyed with a Wonderful alacrity. In a minute we stood at
liberty and were pulling the grass gags from our mouths. The
Ancient pointed to the head magician who lay dead upon the rock,
his hideous, contorted countenance staring open-eyed at heaven.

"Take that sorcerer and show him to the other sorcerers yonder,"
he said, "and tell them where your fellows are if they would find
them. Know by these signs that the Oro, god of the Mountain, who
has slept a while, is awake, and ill will it go with them who
question his power or dare to try to harm those who dwell in his
house. Bring food day by day and await commands. Begone!"

The dreadful-looking body was bundled into one of the canoes,
that out of which Bastin had emerged. A rower sprang into each of
them and presently was paddling as he had never done before. As
the setting moon vanished, they vanished with it, and once more
there was a great silence.

"I am going to find my boots," said Bastin. "This rock is hard
and I hurt my feet kicking at those poor fellows who appear to
have come to a bad end, how, I do not exactly understand.
Personally, I think that more allowances should have been made
for them, as I hope will be the case elsewhere, since after all
they only acted according to their lights."

"Curse their lights!" ejaculated Bickley, feeling his throat
which was bruised. "I'm glad they are out."

Bastin limped away in search of his boots, but Bickley and I
stood where we were contemplating the awakened Sleeper. All
recollection of the recent tumultuous scene seemed to have passed
from his mind, for he was engaged in a study of the heavens. They
were wonderfully brilliant now that the moon was down, brilliant
as they only can be in the tropics when the sky is clear.

Something caused me to look round, and there, coming towards
us, was she who said her name was Yva. Evidently all her weakness
had departed also, for now she needed no support, but walked with
a peculiar gliding motion that reminded me of a swan floating
forward on the water. Well had we named her the Glittering Lady,
for in the starlight literally she seemed to glitter. I suppose
the effect came from her golden raiment, which, however, I
noticed, as in her father's case, was not the same that she had
worn in the coffin; also from her hair that seemed to give out a
light of its own. At least, she shimmered as she came, her tall
shape swaying at every step like a willow in the wind. She drew
near, and I saw that her face, too, had filled out and now was
that of one in perfect health and vigour, while her eyes shone
softly and seemed wondrous large.

In her hands she carried those two plates of metal which I had
seen lying in the coffin of the Sleeper Oro. These she gave to
him, then fell back out of his hearing--if it were ever possible
to do this, a point on which I am not sure--and began to talk to
me. I noted at once that in the few hours during which she was
absent, her knowledge of the Orofenan tongue seemed to have
improved greatly as though she had drunk deeply from some hidden
fount of memory. Now she spoke it with readiness, as Oro had done
when he addressed the sorcerers, although many of the words she
used were not known to me, and the general form of her language
appeared archaic, as for instance that of Spenser is compared
with modern English. When she saw I did not comprehend her,
however, she would stop and cast her sentences in a different
shape, till at length I caught her meaning. Now I give the
substance of what she said.

"You are safe," she began, glancing first at the palm ropes
that lay upon the rock and then at my wrists, one of which was
cut.

"Yes, Lady Yva, thanks to your father."

"You should say thanks to me. My father was thinking of other
things, but I was thinking of you strangers, and from where I was
I saw those wicked ones coming to kill you."

"Oh! from the top of the mountain, I suppose."

She shook her head and smiled but vouchsafed no further
explanation, unless her following words can be so called. These
were:

"I can see otherwise than with my eyes, if I choose." A
statement that caused Bickley, who was listening, to mutter:

"Impossible! What the deuce can she mean? Telepathy, perhaps."

"I saw," she continued, "and told the Lord, my father. He came
forth. Did he kill them? I did not look to learn."

"Yes. They lie in the lake, all except three whom he
sent away as messengers."

"I thought so. Death is terrible, O Humphrey, but it is a sword
which those, who rule must use to smite the wicked and the
savage.

Not wishing to pursue this subject, I asked her what her father
was doing with the metal plates.

"He reads the stars," she answered, "to learn how long we have
been asleep. Before we went to sleep he made two pictures of
them, as they were then and as they should be at the time he had
set for our awakening."

"We set that time," interrupted Bickley.

"Not so. O Bickley," she answered, smiling again. "In the
divine Oro's head was the time set. You were the hand that
executed his decree."

When Bickley heard this I really thought he would have burst.
However, he controlled himself nobly, being anxious to hear the
end of this mysterious fib.

"How long was the time that the lord Oro set apart for sleep?"
I asked.

She paused as though puzzled to find words to express her
meaning, then held up her hands and said:

"Ten," nodding at her fingers. By second thoughts she took
Bickley's hands, not mine, and counted his ten fingers.

"Ten years," said Bickley. "Well, of course, it is impossible,
but perhaps--" and he paused.

"Ten tens," she went on with a deepening smile, "one hundred."

"O!" said Bickley.

"Ten hundreds, one thousand."

"I say!" said Bickley.

"Ten times ten thousand, one hundred thousand."

Bickley became silent.

"Twice one hundred thousand and half a hundred thousand, two
hundred and fifty thousand years. That was the space of time
which the lord Oro, my father, set for our sleep. Whether it has
been fulfilled he will know presently when he has read the book
of the stars and made comparison of it with what he wrote before
we laid us down to rest," and she pointed to the metal plates
which the Ancient was studying.

Bickley walked away, making sounds as though he were going to
be ill and looking so absurd in his indignation that I nearly
laughed. The Lady Yva actually did laugh, and very musical was
that laugh.

"He does not believe," she said. "He is so clever he knows
everything. But two hundred and fifty thousand years ago we
should have thought him quite stupid. Then we could read the
stars and calculate their movements for ever."

"So can we," I answered, rather nettled.

"I am glad, O Humphrey, since you will be able to show my
father if in one of them he is wrong."

Secretly I hoped that this task would not be laid on me.
Indeed, I thought it well to change the subject for the
edification of Bickley who had recovered and was drawn back by
his eager curiosity. Just then, too, Bastin joined us, happy in
his regained boots.

"You tell us, Lady Yva," I said, "that you slept, or should
have slept for two hundred and fifty thousand years." Here Bastin
opened his eyes. "If that was so, where was your mind all this
time?"

"If by my mind you mean spirit, O Humphrey, I have to answer
that at present I do not know for certain. I think, however, that
it dwelt elsewhere, perhaps in other bodies on the earth, or some
different earth. At least, I know that my heart is very full of
memories which as yet I cannot unroll and read."

"Great heavens, this is madness!" said Bickley.

"In the great heavens," she answered slowly, "there are many
things which you, poor man, would think to be madness, but yet
are truth and perfect wisdom. These things, or some of them, soon
I shall hope to show you."

"Do if you can," said Bickley.

"Why not?" interrupted Bastin. "I think the lady's remarks
quite reasonable. It seems to me highly improbable if really she
has slept for two hundred and fifty thousand years, which, of
course, I can't decide, that an immortal spirit would be allowed
to remain idle for so long. That would be wallowing in a bed of
idleness and shirking its duty which is to do its work. Also, as
she tells you, Bickley, you are not half so clever as you think
you are in your silly scepticism, and I have no doubt that there
are many things in other worlds which would expose your
ignorance, if only you could see them."

At this moment Oro turned and called his daughter. She went at
once, saying:

"Come, strangers, and you shall learn."

So we followed her.

"Daughter," he said, speaking in Orofenan, I think that we
might understand, "ask these strangers to bring one of those
lamps of theirs that by the light of it I may study these
writings."

"Perhaps this may serve," said Bickley, suddenly producing an
electric torch from his pocket and flashing it into his face. It
was his form of repartee for all he had suffered at the hands of
this incomprehensible pair. Let me say at once that it was
singularly successful. Perhaps the wisdom of the ages in which
Oro flourished had overlooked so small a matter as electric
torches, or perhaps he did not expect to meet with them in these
degenerate days. At any rate for the first and last time in my
intercourse with him I saw the god, or lord--the native word
bears either meaning--Oro genuinely astonished. He started and
stepped back, and for a moment or two seemed a little frightened.
Then muttering something as to the cleverness of this
light-producing instrument, he motioned to his daughter to take
it from Bickley and hold it in a certain position. She obeyed,
and in its illumination he began to study the engraved plates,
holding one of them in either hand.

After a while he gave me one of the plates to hold, and with
his disengaged hand pointed successively to the constellation of
Orion, to the stars Castor, Pollux, Aldebaran, Rigel, the
Pleiades, Sirius and others which with my very limited knowledge
I could not recognise offhand. Then on the plate which I held, he
showed us those same stars and constellations, checking them one
by one.

Then he remarked very quietly that all was in order, and
handing the plate he held to Yva, said:

"The calculations made so long ago are correct, nor have the
stars varied in their proper motions during what is after all but
an hour of time. If you, Stranger, who, I understand, are named
Humphrey, should be, as I gather, a heaven-master, naturally you
will ask me how I could fix an exact date by the stars without an
error of, let us say, from five to ten thousand years. I answer
you that by the proper motion of the stars alone it would have
been difficult. Therefore I remember that in order to be exact, I
calculated the future conjunctions of those two planets," and he
pointed to Saturn and Jupiter. "Finding that one of these
occurred near yonder star," and he indicated the bright orb,
Spica, "at a certain time, I determined that then I would awake.
Behold! There are the stars as I engraved them from my
foreknowledge, upon this chart, and there those two great planets
hang in conjunction. Daughter Yva, my wisdom has not failed me.
This world of ours has travelled round the sun neither less nor
more than two hundred and fifty thousand times since we laid
ourselves down to sleep. It is written here, and yonder," and he
pointed, first to the engraved plates and then to the vast
expanse of the starlit heavens.

Awe fell on me; I think that even Bickley and Bastin were awed,
at any rate for the moment. It was a terrible thing to look on a
being, to all appearance more or less human, who alleged that he
had been asleep for two hundred and fifty thousand years, and
proceeded to prove it by certain ancient star charts. Of course
at the time I could not check those charts, lacking the necessary
knowledge, but I have done so since and found that they are quite
accurate. However this made no difference, since the
circumstances and something in his manner convinced me that he
spoke the absolute truth.

He and his daughter had been asleep for two hundred and fifty
thousand years. Oh! Heavens, for two hundred and fifty thousand
years!

Chapter XIII

Oro Speaks and Bastin Argues

The reader of what I have written, should there ever be such a
person, may find the record marvelous, and therefore rashly
conclude that because it is beyond experience, it could not be.
It is not a wise deduction, as I think Bickley would admit today,
because without doubt many things are which surpass our extremely
limited experience. However, those who draw the veil from the
Unknown and reveal the New, must expect incredulity, and accept
it without grumbling. Was that not the fate, for instance, of
those who in the Middle Ages, a few hundred years ago,
discovered, or rather rediscovered the mighty movements of those
constellations which served Oro for an almanac?

But the point I want to make is that if the sceptic plays a
Bickleyan part as regards what has been written, it seems
probable that his attitude will be accentuated as regards that
which it still remains for me to write. If so, I cannot help it,
and must decline entirely to water down or doctor facts and thus
pander to his prejudice and ignorance. For my part I cannot
attempt to explain these occurrences; I only know that they
happened and that I set down what I saw, heard and felt, neither
more nor less.

Immediately after Oro had triumphantly vindicated his stellar
calculations he turned and departed into the cave, followed by
his daughter, waving to us to remain where we were. As she passed
us, however, the Glittering Lady whispered--this time to Bastin--
that he would see them again in a few hours, adding:

"We have much to learn and I hope that then you who, I
understand, are a priest, will begin to teach us of your religion
and other matters."

Bastin was so astonished that he could make no reply, but when
they had gone he said:

"Which of you told her that I was a priest?"

We shook our heads for neither of us could remember having done
so.

"Well, I did not," continued Bastin, "since at present I have
found no opportunity of saying a word in season. So I suppose she
must have gathered it from my attire, though as a matter of fact
I haven't been wearing a collar, and those men who wanted to cook
me, pulled off my white tie and I didn't think it worth while
dirtying a clean one."

"If," said Bickley, "you imagine that you look like the
minister of any religion ancient or modern in a grubby flannel
shirt, a battered sun-helmet, a torn green and white umbrella and
a pair of ragged duck trousers, you are mistaken, Bastin, that is
all."

"I admit that the costume is not appropriate, Bickley, but how
otherwise could she have learned the truth?"

"These people seem to have ways of learning a good many things.
But in your case, Bastin, the cause is clear enough. You have
been walking about with the head of that idol and always keep it
close to you. No doubt they believe that you are a priest of the
worship of the god of the Grove--Baal, you know, or something of
that sort."

When he heard this Bastin's face became a perfect picture.
Never before did I see it so full of horror struggling with
indignation.

"I must undeceive them without a moment's delay," he said, and
was starting for the cave when we caught his arms and held him.

"Better wait till they come back, old fellow," I said,
laughing. "If you disobey that Lord Oro you may meet with another
experience in the sacrifice line."

"Perhaps you are right, Arbuthnot. I will occupy the interval
in preparing a suitable address."

"Much better occupy it in preparing breakfast," said Bickley.
"I have always noticed that you are at your best extempore."

In the end he did prepare breakfast though in a distrait
fashion; indeed I found him beginning to make tea in the
frying-pan. Bastin felt that his opportunity had arrived, and was
making ready to rise to the occasion.

Also we felt, all three of us, that we were extremely shabby-
looking objects, and though none of us said so, each did his best
to improve his personal appearance. First of all Bickley cut
Bastin's and my hair, after which I did him the same service.
Then Bickley who was normally clean shaven, set to work to remove
a beard of about a week's growth, and I who wore one of the
pointed variety, trimmed up mine as best I could with the help of
a hand-glass. Bastin, too, performed on his which was of the
square and rather ragged type, wisely rejecting Bickley's advice
to shave it off altogether, offered, I felt convinced, because he
felt that the result on Bastin would be too hideous for words.
After this we cut our nails, cleaned our teeth and bathed; I even
caught Bickley applying hair tonic from his dressing case in
secret, behind a projecting rock, and borrowed some myself. He
gave it me on condition that I did not mention its existence to
Bastin who, he remarked, would certainly use the lot and make
himself smell horrible.

Next we found clean ducks among our store of spare clothes, for
the Orofenans had brought these with our other possessions, and
put them on, even adding silk cumberbunds and neckties. My tie I
fastened with a pin that I had obtained in Egypt. It was a tiny
gold statuette of very fine and early workmanship, of the god
Osiris, wearing the crown of the Upper Land with the uraeus
crest, and holding in his hands, which projected from the mummy
wrappings, the emblems of the crook, the scourge and the crux
ansata, or Sign of Life.

Bastin, for his part, arrayed himself in full clerical costume,
black coat and trousers, white tie and stick-up clergyman's
collar which, as he remarked, made him feel extremely hot in that
climate, and were unsuitable to domestic duties, such as
washing-up. I offered to hold his coat while he did this office
and told him he looked very nice indeed.

"Beautiful!" remarked Bickley, "but why don't you put on your
surplice and biretta?" (Being very High-Church Bastin did wear a
biretta on festival Sundays at home.) "There would be no mistake
about you then."

"I do not think it would be suitable," replied Bastin whose
sense of humour was undeveloped. "There is no service to be
performed at present and no church, though perhaps that cave--"
and he stopped.

When we had finished these vain adornments and Bastin had put
away the things and tidied up, we sat down, rather at a loose
end. We should have liked to walk but refrained from doing so for
fear lest we might dirty our clean clothes. So we just sat and
thought. At least Bickley thought, and so did I for a while until
I gave it up. What was the use of thinking, seeing that we were
face to face with circumstances which baffled reason and beggared
all recorded human experience? What Bastin did I am sure I do not
know, but I think from the expression of his countenance that he
was engaged in composing sermons for the benefit of Oro and the
Glittering Lady.

One diversion we did have. About eleven o'clock a canoe came
from the main island laden with provisions and paddled by Marama
and two of his people. We seized our weapons, remembering our
experiences of the night, but Marama waved a bough in token of
peace. So, carrying our revolvers, we went to the rock edge to
meet him. He crept ashore and, chief though he was, prostrated
himself upon his face before us, which told me that he had heard
of the fate of the sorcerers. His apologies were abject. He
explained that he had no part in the outrage of the attack, and
besought us to intercede on behalf of him and his people with the
awakened god of the Mountain whom he looked for with a terrified
air.

We consoled him as well as we could, and told him that he had
best be gone before the god of the Mountain appeared, and perhaps
treated him as he had done the sorcerers. In his name, however,
we commanded Marama to bring materials and build us a proper
house upon the rock, also to be sure to keep up a regular and
ample supply of provisions. If he did these things, and anything
else we might from time to time command, we said that perhaps his
life and those of his people would be spared. This, however,
after the evil behaviour of some of them of course we could not
guarantee.

Marama departed so thoroughly frightened that he even forgot to
make any inquiries as to who this god of the Mountain might be,
or where he came from, or whither he was going. Of course, the
place had been sacred among his people from the beginning,
whenever that may have been, but that its sacredness should
materialise into an active god who brought sorcerers of the
highest reputation to a most unpleasant end, just because they
wished to translate their preaching into practice, was another
matter. It was not to be explained even by the fact of which he
himself had informed me, that during the dreadful storm of some
months before, the cave mouth which previously was not visible on
the volcano, had suddenly been lifted up above the level of the
Rock of Offerings, although, of course, all religious and
instructed persons would have expected something peculiar to
happen after this event.

Such I knew were his thoughts, but, as I have said, he was too
frightened and too hurried to express them in questions that I
should have found it extremely difficult to answer. As it was he
departed quite uncertain as to whether one of us was not the real
"god of the Mountain," who had power to bring hideous death upon
his molesters. After all, what had he to go on to the contrary,
except the word of three priests who were so terrified that they
could give no coherent account of what had happened? Of these
events, it was true, there was evidence in the twisted carcass of
their lamented high sorcerer, and, for the matter of that, of
certain corpses which he had seen, that lay in shallow water at
the bottom of the lake. Beyond all was vague, and in his heart I
am sure that Marama believed that Bastin was the real "god of the
Mountain." Naturally, he would desire to work vengeance on those
who tried to sacrifice and eat him. Moreover, had he not
destroyed the image of the god of the Grove and borne away its
head whence he had sucked magic and power?

Thus argued Marama, disbelieving the tale of the frightened
sorcerers, for he admitted as much to me in after days.

Marama departed in a great hurry, fearing lest the "god of the
Mountain," or Bastin, whose new and splendid garb he regarded
with much suspicion, might develop some evil energy against him.
Then we went back to our camp, leaving the industrious Bastin,
animated by a suggestion from Bickley that the fruit and food
might spoil if left in the sun, to carry it into the shade of the
cave. Owing to the terrors of the Orofenans the supply was so
large that to do this he must make no fewer than seven journeys,
which he did with great good will since Bastin loved physical
exercise. The result on his clerical garments, however, was
disastrous. His white tie went awry, squashed fruit and roast pig
gravy ran down his waistcoat and trousers, and his high collar
melted into limp crinkles in the moisture engendered by the
tropical heat. Only his long coat escaped, since that Bickley
kindly carried for him.

It was just as he arrived with the seventh load in this
extremely dishevelled condition that Oro and his daughter emerged
from the cave. Indeed Bastin, who, being shortsighted, always
wore spectacles that, owing to his heated state were covered with
mist, not seeing that dignitary, dumped down the last basket on
to his toes, exclaiming:

"There, you lazy beggar, I told you I would bring it all, and I
have."

In fact he thought he was addressing Bickley and playing off on
him a troglodytic practical joke.

Oro, however, who at his age did not appreciate jokes, resented
it and was about to do something unpleasant when with
extraordinary tact his daughter remarked:

"Bastin the priest makes you offerings. Thank him, O Lord my
father."

So Oro thanked him, not too cordially for evidently he still
had feeling in his toes, and once more Bastin escaped. Becoming
aware of his error, he began to apologise profusely in English,
while the lady Yva studied him carefully.

"Is that the costume of the priests of your religion, O
Bastin?" she asked, surveying his dishevelled form. "If so, you
were better without it."

Then Bastin retired to straighten his tie, and grabbing his
coat from Bickley, who handed it to him with a malicious smile,
forced his perspiring arms into it in a peculiarly awkward and
elephantine fashion.

Meanwhile Bickley and I produced two camp chairs which we had
made ready, and on these the wondrous pair seated themselves side
by side.

"We have come to learn," said Oro. "Teach!"

"Not so, Father," interrupted Yva, who, I noted, was clothed in
yet a third costume, though whence these came I could not
imagine. "First I would ask a question. Whence are you,
Strangers, and how came you here?"

"We are from the country called England and a great storm
shipwrecked us here; that, I think, which raised the mouth of the
cave above the level of this rock," I answered.

"The time appointed having come when it should be raised," said
Oro as though to himself.

"Where is England?" asked Yva.

Now among the books we had with us was a pocket atlas, quite a
good one of its sort. By way of answer I opened it at the map of
the world and showed her England. Also I showed, to within a
thousand miles or so, that spot on the earth's surface where we
spoke together.

The sight of this atlas excited the pair greatly. They had not
the slightest difficulty in understanding everything about it and
the shape of the world with its division into hemispheres seemed
to be quite familiar to them. What appeared chiefly to interest
them, and especially Oro, were the relative areas and positions
of land and sea.

"Of this, Strangers," he said, pointing to the map, "I shall
have much to say to you when I have studied the pictures of your
book and compared them with others of my own."

"So he has got maps," said Bickley in English, "as well as star
charts. I wonder where he keeps them."

"With his clothes, I expect," suggested Bastin.

Meanwhile Oro had hidden the atlas in his ample robe and
motioned to his daughter to proceed.

"Why do you come here from England so far away?" the Lady Yva
asked, a question to which each of us had an answer.

"To see new countries," I said.

"Because the cyclone brought us," said Bickley.

"To convert the heathen to my own Christian religion," said
Bastin, which was not strictly true.

It was on this. last reply that she fixed.

"What does your religion teach?" she asked.

"It teaches that those who accept it and obey its commands will
live again after death for ever in a better world where is
neither sorrow nor sin," he answered.

When he heard this saying I saw Oro start as though struck by a
new thought and look at Bastin with a curious intentness.

"Who are the heathen?" Yva asked again after a pause, for she
also seemed to be impressed.

"All who do not agree with Bastin's spiritual views," answered
Bickley.

"Those who, whether from lack of instruction or from hardness
of heart, do not follow the true faith. For instance, I suppose
that your father and you are heathen," replied Bastin stoutly.

This seemed to astonish them, but presently Yva caught his
meaning and smiled, while Oro said:

"Of this great matter of faith we will talk later. It is an old
question in the world."

"Why," went on Yva, "if you wished to travel so far did you
come in a ship that so easily is wrecked? Why did you not journey
through the air, or better still, pass through space, leaving
your bodies asleep, as, being instructed, doubtless you can do?"

"As regards your first question," I answered, "there are no
aircraft known that can make so long a journey."

"And as regards the second," broke in Bickley, "we did not do
so because it is impossible for men to transfer themselves to
other places through space either with or without their bodies.".

At this information the Glittering Lady lifted her arched
eyebrows and smiled a little, while Oro said:

"I perceive that the new world has advanced but a little way on
the road of knowledge."

Fearing that Bastin was about to commence an argument, I began
to ask questions in my turn.

"Lord Oro and Lady Yva," I said, "we have told you something of
ourselves and will tell you more when you desire it. But pardon
us if first we pray you to tell us what we burn to know. Who are
you? Of what race and country? And how came it that we found you
sleeping yonder?"

"If it be your pleasure, answer, my Father," said Yva.

Oro thought a moment, then replied in a calm voice:

"I am a king who once ruled most of the world as it was in my
day, though it is true that much of it rebelled against me, my
councillors and servants. Therefore I destroyed the world as it
was then, save only certain portions whence life might spread to
the new countries that I raised up. Having done this I put myself
and my daughter to sleep for a space of two hundred and fifty
thousand years, that there might be time for fresh civilisations
to arise. Now I begin to think that I did not allot a sufficiency
of ages, since I perceive from what you tell me, that the
learning of the new races is as yet but small."

Bickley and I looked at each other and were silent. Mentally we
had collapsed. Who could begin to discuss statements built upon
such a foundation of gigantic and paralysing falsehoods?

Well, Bastin could for one. With no more surprise in his voice
than if he were talking about last night's dinner, he said:

"There must be a mistake somewhere, or perhaps I misunderstand
you. It is obvious that you, being a man, could not have
destroyed the world. That could only be done by the Power which
made it and you."

I trembled for the results of Bastin's methods of setting out
the truth. To my astonishment, however, Oro replied:

"You speak wisely, Priest, but the Power you name may use
instruments to accomplish its decrees. I am such an instrument."

"Quite so," said Bastin, "just like anybody else. You have more
knowledge of the truth than I thought. But pray, how did you
destroy the world?"

"Using my wisdom to direct the forces that are at work in the
heart of this great globe, I drowned it with a deluge, causing
one part to sink and another to rise, also changes of climate
which completed the work."

"That's quite right," exclaimed Bastin delightedly. "We know
all about the Deluge, only you are not mentioned in connection
with the matter. A man, Noah, had to do with it when he was six
hundred years old."

"Six hundred?" said Oro. "That is not very old. I myself had
seen more than a thousand years when I lay down to sleep."

"A thousand!" remarked Bastin, mildly interested. "That is
unusual, though some of these mighty men of renown we know lived
over nine hundred."

Here Bickley snorted and exclaimed:

"Nine hundred moons," he means.

"I did not know Noah," went on Oro. "Perhaps he lived after my
time and caused some other local deluge. Is there anything else
you wish to ask me before I leave you that I may study this map
writing?"

"Yes," said Bastin. "Why were you allowed to drown your world?"

"Because it was evil, Priest, and disobeyed me and the Power I
serve."

"Oh! thank you," said Bastin, "that fits in exactly. It was
just the same in Noah's time."

"I pray that it is not just the same now," said Oro, rising.
"To-morrow we will return, or if I do not who have much that I
must do, the lady my daughter will return and speak with you
further."

He departed into the cave, Yva following at a little distance.

I accompanied her as far as the mouth of the cave, as did
Tommy, who all this time had been sitting contentedly upon the
hem of her gorgeous robe, quite careless of its immemorial age,
if it was immemorial and not woven yesterday, a point on which I
had no information.

"Lady Yva," I said, "did I rightly understand the Lord Oro to
say that he was a thousand years old?"

"Yes, O Humphrey, and really he is more, or so I think."

"Then are you a thousand years old also?" I asked, aghast.

"No, no," she replied, shaking her head, "I am young, quite
young, for I do not count my time of sleep."

"Certainly you look it," I said. "But what, Lady Yva, do you
mean by young?"

She answered my question by another.

"What age are your women when they are as I am?"

"None of our women were ever quite like you, Lady Yva. Yet, say
from twenty-five to thirty years of age."

"Ah! I have been counting and now I remember. When my father
sent me to sleep I was twenty-seven years old. No, I will not
deceive you, I was twenty-seven years and three moons." Then,
saying something to the effect that she would return, she
departed, laughing a little in a mischievous way, and, although I
did not observe this till afterwards, Tommy departed with her.

When I repeated what she had said to Bastin and Bickley, who
were standing at a distance straining their ears and somewhat
aggrieved, the former remarked:

"If she is twenty-seven her father must have married late in
life, though of course it may have been a long while before he
had children."

Then Bickley, who had been suppressing himself all this while,
went off like a bomb.

"Do you tell us, Bastin," he asked, "that you believe one word
of all this ghastly rubbish? I mean as to that antique charlatan
being a thousand years old and having caused the Flood and the
rest?"

"If you ask me, Bickley, I see no particular reason to doubt it
at present. A person who can go to sleep in a glass coffin kept
warm by a pocketful of radium together with very accurate maps of
the constellations at the time he wakes up, can, I imagine, do
most things."

"Even cause the Deluge," jeered Bickley.

"I don't know about the Deluge, but perhaps he may have been
permitted to cause a deluge. Why not? You can't look at things
from far enough off, Bickley. And if something seems big to you,
you conclude that therefore it is impossible. The same Power
which gives you skill to succeed in an operation, that hitherto
was held impracticable, as I know you have done once or twice,
may have given that old fellow power to cause a deluge. You
should measure the universe and its possibilities by worlds and
not by acres, Bickley."

"And believe, I suppose, that a man can live a thousand years,
whereas we know well that he cannot live more than about a
hundred."

"You don't know anything of the sort, Bickley. All you know is
that over the brief period of history with which we are
acquainted, say ten thousand years at most, men have only lived
to about a hundred. But the very rocks which you are so fond of
talking about, tell us that even this planet is millions upon
millions of years of age. Who knows then but that at some time in
its history, men did not live for a thousand years, and that lost
civilisations did not exist of which this Oro and his daughter
may be two survivors?"

"There is no proof of anything of the sort," said Bickley.

"I don't know about proof, as you understand it, though I have
read in Plato of a continent called Atlantis that was submerged,
according to the story of old Egyptian priests. But personally I
have every proof, for it is all written down in the Bible at
which you turn tip your nose, and I am very glad that I have been
lucky enough to come across this unexpected confirmation of the
story. Not that it matters much, since I should have learned all
about it when it pleases Providence to remove me to a better
world, which in our circumstances may happen any day. Now I must
change my clothes before I see to the cooking and other things."

"I am bound to admit," said Bickley, looking after him, "that
old Bastin is not so stupid as he seems. From his point of view
the arguments he advances are quite logical. Moreover I think he
is right when he says that we look at things through the wrong
end of the telescope. After all the universe is very big and who
knows what may happen there? Who knows even what may have
happened on this little earth during the aeons of its existence,
whenever its balance chanced to shift, as the Ice Ages show us it
has often done? Still I believe that old Oro to be a Prince of
Liars."

"That remains to be proved," I answered cautiously. "All I know
is that he is a wonderfully learned person of most remarkable
appearance, and that his daughter is the loveliest creature I
ever saw."

"There I agree," said Bickley decidedly, "and as brilliant as
she is lovely. If she belongs to a past civilisation, it is a
pity that it ever became extinct. Now let's go and have a nap.
Bastin will call us when supper is ready."

Chapter XIV

The Under-world

That night we slept well and without fear, being quite certain
that after their previous experience the Orofenans would make no
further attempts upon us. Indeed our only anxiety was for Tommy,
whom we could not find when the time came to give him his supper.
Bastin, however, seemed to remember having seen him following the
Glittering Lady into the cave. This, of course, was possible, as
certainly he had taken an enormous fancy to her and sat himself
down as close to her as he could on every occasion. He even
seemed to like the ancient Oro, and was not afraid to jump up and
plant his dirty paws upon that terrific person's gorgeous robe.
Moreover Oro liked him, for several times I observed him pat the
dog upon the head; as I think I have said, the only human touch
that I had perceived about him. So we gave up searching and
calling in the hope that he was safe with our supernatural
friends.

The next morning quite early the Lady Yva appeared alone; no,
not alone, for with her came our lost Tommy looking extremely
spry and well at ease. The faithless little wretch just greeted
us in a casual fashion and then went and sat by Yva. In fact when
the awkward Bastin managed to stumble over the end of her dress
Tommy growled at him and showed his teeth. Moreover the do was
changed. He was blessed with a shiny black coat, but now this
coat sparkled in the sunlight, like the Lady Yva's hair.

"The Glittering Lady is all very well, but I'm not sure that I
care for a glittering dog. It doesn't look quite natural," said
Bastin, contemplating him.

"Why does Tommy shine, Lady?" I asked.

"Because I washed him in certain waters that we have, so that
now he looks beautiful and smells sweet," she answered, laughing.

It was true, the dog did smell sweet, which I may add had not
always been the case with him, especially when there were dead
fish about. Also he appeared to have been fed, for he turned up
his nose at the bits we had saved for his breakfast.

"He has drunk of the Life-water," explained Yva, "and will want
no food for two days."

Bickley pricked up his ears at this statement and looked
incredulous.

"You do not believe, O Bickley," she said, studying him
gravely. "Indeed, you believe nothing. You think my father and I
tell you many lies. Bastin there, he believes all. Humphrey? He
is not sure; he thinks to himself, I will wait and find out
whether or ho these funny people cheat me."

Bickley coloured and made some remark about things which were
contrary to experience, also that Tommy in a general way was
rather a greedy little dog.

"You, too, like to eat, Bickley" (this was true, he had an
excellent appetite), "but when you have drunk the Life-water you
will care much less."

"I am glad to hear it," interrupted Bastin, "for Bickley wants
a lot of cooking done, and I find it tedious."

"You eat also, Lady," said Bickley.

"Yes, I eat sometimes because I like it, but I can go weeks and
not eat, when I have the Life-water. Just now, after so long a
sleep, I am hungry. Please give me some of that fruit. No, not
the flesh, flesh I hate."

We handed it to her. She took two plantains, peeled and ate
them with extraordinary grace. Indeed she reminded me, I do not
know why, of some lovely butterfly drawing its food from a
flower.

While she ate she observed us closely; nothing seemed to escape
the quick glances of those beautiful eyes. Presently she said:

"What, O Humphrey, is that with which you fasten your
neckdress?" and she pointed to the little gold statue of Osiris
that I used as a pin.

I told her that it was a statuette of a god named Osiris and
very, very ancient, probably quite five thousand years old, a
statement at which she smiled a little; also that it came from
Egypt.

"Ah!" she answered, "is it so? I asked because we have figures
that are very like to that one, and they also hold in their hands
a staff surmounted by a loop. They are figures of Sleep's
brother--Death."

"So is this," I said. "Among the Egyptians Osiris was the god
of Death."

She nodded and replied that doubtless the symbol had come down
to them.

"One day you shall take me to see this land which you call so
very old. Or I will take you, which would be quicker," she added.

We all bowed and said we should be delighted. Even Bastin
appeared anxious to revisit Egypt in such company, though when he
was there it seemed to bore him. But what she meant about taking
us I could not guess. Nor had we time to ask her, for she went
on, watching our faces as she spoke.

"The Lord Oro sends you a message, Strangers. He asks whether
it is your wish to see where we dwell. He adds that you are not
to come if you do not desire, or if you fear danger."

We all answered that there was nothing we should like better,
but Bastin added that he had already seen the tomb.

"Do you think, Bastin, that we live in a tomb because we slept
there for a while, awaiting the advent of you wanderers at the
appointed hour?"

"I don't see where else it could be, unless it is further down
that cave," said Bastin. "The top of the mountain would not be
convenient as a residence."

"It has not been convenient for many an age, for reasons that I
will show you. Think now, before you come. You have naught to
fear from us, and I believe that no harm will happen to you. But
you will see many strange things that will anger Bickley because
he cannot understand them, and perhaps will weary Bastin because
his heart turns from what is wondrous and ancient. Only Humphrey
will rejoice in them because the doors of his soul are open and
he longs--what do you long for, Humphrey?"

"That which I have lost and fear I shall never find again," I
answered boldly.

"I know that you have lost many things--last night, for
instance, you lost Tommy, and when he slept with me he told me
much about you and--others."

"This is ridiculous," broke in Bastin. "Can a dog talk?"

"Everything can talk, if you understand its language, Bastin.
But keep a good heart, Humphrey, for the bold seeker finds in the
end. Oh! foolish man, do you not understand that all is yours if
you have but the soul to conceive and the will to grasp? All,
all, below, between, above! Even I know that, I who have so much
to learn."

So she spoke and became suddenly magnificent. Her face which
had been but that of a super-lovely woman, took on grandeur. Her
bosom swelled; her presence radiated some subtle power, much as
her hair radiated light.

In a moment it was gone and she was smiling and jesting.

"Will you come, Strangers, where Tommy was not afraid to go,
down to the Under-world? Or will you stay here in the sun?
Perhaps you will do better to stay here in the sun, for the
Under-world has terrors for weak hearts that were born but
yesterday, and feeble feet may stumble in the dark."

"I shall take my electric torch," said Bastin with decision,
"and I advise you fellows to do the same. I always hated cellars,
and the catacombs at Rome are worse, though full of sacred
interest."

Then we started, Tommy frisking on ahead in a most provoking
way as though he were bored by a visit to a strange house and
going home, and Yva gliding forward with a smile upon her face
that was half mystic and half mischievous. We passed the remains
of the machines, and Bickley asked her what they were.

"Carriages in which once we travelled through the skies, until
we found a better way, and that the uninstructed used till the
end," she answered carelessly, leaving me wondering what on earth
she meant.

We came to the statue and the sepulchre beneath without
trouble, for the glint of her hair, and I may add of Tommy's
back, were quite sufficient to guide us through the gloom. The
crystal coffins were still there, for Bastin flashed his torch
and we saw them, but the boxes of radium had gone.

"Let that light die," she said to Bastin. "Humphrey, give me
your right hand and give your left to Bickley. Let Bastin cling
to him and fear nothing."

We passed to the end of the tomb and stood against what
appeared to be a rock wall, all close together, as she directed.

"Fear nothing," she said again, but next second I was never
more full of fear in my life, for we were whirling downwards at a
speed that would have made an American elevator attendant turn
pale.

"Don't choke me," I heard Bickley say to Bastin, and the
latter's murmured reply of:

"I never could bear these moving staircases and tubelifts. They
always make me feel sick."

I admit that for my part I also felt rather sick and clung
tightly to the hand of the Glittering Lady. She, however, placed
her other hand upon my shoulder, saying in a low voice:

"Did I not tell you to have no fear?"

Then I felt comforted, for somehow I knew that it was not her
desire to harm and much less to destroy me. Also Tommy was seated
quite at his ease with his head resting against my leg, and his
absence of alarm was reassuring. The only stoic of the party was
Bickley. I have no doubt that he was quite as frightened as we
were, but rather than show it he would have died.

"I presume this machinery is pneumatic," he began when suddenly
and without shock, we arrived at the end of our journey. How far
we had fallen I am sure I do not know, but I should judge from
the awful speed at which we travelled, that it must have been
several thousand feet, probably four or five.

"Everything seems steady now," remarked Bastin, "so I suppose
this luggage lift has stopped. The odd thing is that I can't see
anything of it. There ought to be a shaft, but we seem to be
standing on a level floor."

"The odd thing is," said Bickley, "that we can see at all.
Where the devil does the light come from thousands of feet
underground?"

"I don't know," answered Bastin, "unless there is natural gas
here, as I am told there is at a town called Medicine Hat in
Canada."

"Natural gas be blowed," said Bickley. "It is more like
moonlight magnified ten times."

So it was. The whole place was filled with a soft radiance,
equal to that of the sun at noon, but gentler and without heat.

"Where does it come from?" I whispered to Yva.

"Oh!" she replied, as I thought evasively. "It is the light of
the Under-world which we know how to use. The earth is full of
light, which is not wonderful, is it, seeing that its heart is
fire? Now look about you."

I looked and leant on her harder than ever, since amazement
made me weak. We were in some vast place whereof the roof seemed
almost as far off as the sky at night. At least all that I could
make out was a dim and distant arch which might have been one of
cloud. For the rest, in every direction stretched vastness,
illuminated far as the eye could reach by the soft light of which
I have spoken, that is, probably for several miles. But this
vastness was not empty. On the contrary it was occupied by a
great city. There were streets much wider than Piccadilly, all
bordered by houses, though these, I observed, were roofless, very
fine houses, some of them, built of white stone or marble. There
were roadways and pavements worn by the passage of feet. There,
farther on, were market-places or public squares, and there,
lastly, was a huge central enclosure one or two hundred acres in
extent, which was filled with majestic buildings that looked like
palaces, or town-halls; and, in the midst of them all, a vast
temple with courts and a central dome. For here, notwithstanding
the lack of necessity, its builders seemed to have adhered to the
Over-world tradition, and had roofed their fane.

And now came the terror. All of this enormous city was dead.
Had it stood upon the moon it could not have been more dead. None
paced its streets; none looked from its window-places. None
trafficked in its markets, none worshipped in its temple. Swept,
garnished, lighted, practically untouched by the hand of Time,
here where no rains fell and no winds blew, it was yet a howling
wilderness. For what wilderness is there to equal that which once
has been the busy haunt of men? Let those who have stood among
the buried cities of Central Asia, or of Anarajapura in Ceylon,
or even amid the ruins of Salamis on the coast of Cyprus, answer
the question. But here was something infinitely more awful. A
huge human haunt in the bowels of the earth utterly devoid of
human beings, and yet as perfect as on the day when these ceased
to be.

"I do not care for underground localities," remarked Bastin,
his gruff voice echoing strangely in that terrible silence, "but
it does seem a pity that all these fine buildings should be
wasted. I suppose their inhabitants left them in search of fresh
air."

"Why did they leave them?" I asked of Yva.

"Because death took them," she answered solemnly. "Even those
who live a thousand years die at last, and if they have no
children, with them dies the race."

"Then were you the last of your people?" I asked.

"Inquire of my father," she replied, and led the way through
the massive arch of a great building.

It led into a walled courtyard in the centre of which was a
plain cupola of marble with a gate of some pale metal that
looked like platinum mixed with gold. This gate stood open.
Within it was the statue of a woman beautifully executed in white
marble and set in a niche of some black stone. The figure was
draped as though to conceal the shape, and the face was stern and
majestic rather than beautiful. The eyes of the statue were
cunningly made of some enamel which gave them a strange and
lifelike appearance. They stared upwards as though looking away
from the earth and its concerns. The arms were outstretched. In
the right hand was a cup of black marble, in the left a similar
cup of white marble. From each of these cups trickled a thin
stream of sparkling water, which two streams met and mingled at a
distance of about three feet beneath the cups. Then they fell
into a metal basin which, although it must have been quite a foot
thick, was cut right through by their constant impact, and
apparently vanished down some pipe beneath. Out of this metal
basin Tommy, who gambolled into the place ahead of us, began to
drink in a greedy and demonstrative fashion.

"The Life-water?" I said, looking at our guide.

She nodded and asked in her turn:

"What is the statue and what does it signify, Humphrey?"

I hesitated, but Bastin answered:

"Just a rather ugly woman who hid up her figure because it was
bad. Probably she was a relation of the artist who wished to have
her likeness done and sat for nothing."

"The goddess of Health," suggested Bickley. "Her proportions
are perfect; a robust, a thoroughly normal woman."

"Now, Humphrey," said Yva.

I stared at the work and had not an idea. Then it flashed on me
with such suddenness and certainity that I am convinced the
answer to the riddle was passed to me from her and did not
originate in my own mind.

"It seems quite easy," I said in a superior tone. "The figure
symbolises Life and is draped because we only see the face of
Life, the rest is hidden. The arms are bare because Life is real
and active. One cup is black and one is white because Life brings
both good and evil gifts; that is why the streams mingle, to be
lost beneath in the darkness of death. The features are stern and
even terrifying rather than lovely, because such is the aspect of
Life. The eyes look upward and far away from present things,
because the real life is not here."

"Of course one may say anything," said Bastin, "but I don't
understand all that."

"Imagination goes a long way," broke in Bickley, who was vexed
that he had not thought of this interpretation himself. But Yva
said:

"I begin to think that you are quite clever, Humphrey. I wonder
whence the truth came to you, for such is the meaning of the
figure and the cups. Had I told it to you myself, it could not
have been better said," and she glanced at me out of the corners
of her eyes. "Now, Strangers, will you drink? Once that gate was
guarded, and only at a great price or as a great reward were
certain of the Highest Blood given the freedom of this fountain
which might touch no common lips. Indeed it was one of the causes
of our last war, for all the world which was, desired this water
which now is lapped by a stranger's hound."

"I suppose there is nothing medicinal in it?" said Bastin.
"Once when I was very thirsty, I made a mistake and drank three
tumblers of something of the sort in the dark, thinking that it
was Apollinaris, and I don't want to do it again."

"Just the sort of thing you would do," said Bickley. "But, Lady
Yva, what are the properties of this water?"

"It is very health-giving," she answered, "and if drunk
continually, not less than once each thirty days, it wards off
sickness, lessens hunger and postpones death for many, many
years. That is why those of the High Blood endured so long and
became the rulers of the world, and that, as I have said, is the
greatest of the reasons why the peoples who dwelt in the ancient
outer countries and never wished to die, made war upon them, to
win this secret fountain. Have no fear, O Bastin, for see, I will
pledge you in this water."

Then she lifted a strange-looking, shallow, metal cup whereof
the handles were formed of twisted serpents, that lay in the
basin, filled it from the trickling stream, bowed to us and
drank. But as she drank I noted with a thrill of joy that her
eyes were fixed on mine as though it were me she pledged and me
alone. Again she filled the cup with the sparkling water, for it
did sparkle, like that French liqueur in which are mingled little
flakes of gold, and handed it to me.

I bowed to her and drank. I suppose the fluid was water, but to
me it tasted more like strong champagne, dashed with Chateau
Yquem. It was delicious. More, its effects were distinctly
peculiar. Something quick and subtle ran through my veins;
something that for a few moments seemed to burn away the
obscureness which blurs our thought. I began to understand
several problems that had puzzled me, and then lost their
explanations in the midst of light, inner light, I mean.
Moreover, of a sudden it seemed to me as though a window had been
opened in the heart of that Glittering Lady who stood beside me.
At least I knew that it was full of wonderful knowledge,
wonderful memories and wonderful hopes, and that in the latter
two of these I had some part; what part I could not tell. Also I
knew that my heart was open to her and that she saw in it
something which caused her to marvel and to sigh.

In a few seconds, thirty perhaps, all this was gone. Nothing
remained except that I felt extremely strong and well, happier,
too, than I had been for years. Mutely I asked her for more of
the water, but she shook her head and, taking the cup from me,
filled it again and gave it to Bickley, who drank. He flushed,
seemed to lose the self-control which was his very strong
characteristic, and said in a rather thick voice:

"Curious! but I do not think at this moment there is any
operation that has ever been attempted which I could not tackle
single-handed and with success."

Then he was silent, and Bastin's turn came. He drank rather
noisily, after his fashion, and began:

"My dear young lady, I think the time has come when I should
expound to you--" Here he broke off and commenced singing very
badly, for his voice was somewhat raucous:

From Greenland's icy mountains,

  From India's coral strand,

Where Afric's sunny fountains

  Roll down their golden sand.

Ceasing from melody, he added:

"I determined that I would drink nothing intoxicating while I
was on this island that I might be a shining light in a dark
place, and now I fear that quite unwittingly I have broken what I
look upon as a promise."

Then he, too, grew silent.

"Come," said Yva, "my father, the Lord Oro, awaits you."

We crossed the court of the Water of Life and mounted steps
that led to a wide and impressive portico, Tommy frisking ahead
of us in a most excited way for a dog of his experience.
Evidently the water had produced its effect upon him as well as
upon his masters. This portico was in a solemn style of
architecture which I cannot describe, because it differed from
any other that I know. It was not Egyptian and not Greek,
although its solidity reminded me of the former, and the beauty
and grace of some of the columns, of the latter. The profuseness
and rather grotesque character of the carvings suggested the
ruins of Mexico and Yucatan, and the enormous size of the blocks
of stone, those of Peru and Baalbec. In short, all the known
forms of ancient architecture might have found their inspiration
here, and the general effect was tremendous.

"The palace of the King," said Yva, "whereof we approach the
great hall."

We entered through mighty metal doors, one of which stood ajar,
into a vestibule which from certain indications I gathered had
once been a guard, or perhaps an assembly-room. It was about
forty feet deep by a hundred wide. Thence she led us through a
smaller door into the hall itself. It was a vast place without
columns, for there was no roof to support. The walls of marble or
limestone were sculptured like those of Egyptian temples,
apparently with battle scenes, though of this I am not sure for I
did not go near to them. Except for a broad avenue along the
middle, up which we walked, the area was filled with marble
benches that would, I presume, have accommodated several thousand
people. But they were empty--empty, and oh! the loneliness of it
all.

Far away at the head of the hall was a dais enclosed, and, as
it were, roofed in by a towering structure that mingled grace and
majesty to a wonderful degree. It was modelled on the pattern of
a huge shell. The base of the shell was the platform; behind were
the ribs, and above, the overhanging lip of the shell. On this
platform was a throne of silvery metal. It was supported on the
arched coils of snakes, whereof the tails formed the back and the
heads the arms of the throne.

On this throne, arrayed in gorgeous robes, sat the Lord Oro,
his white beard flowing over them, and a jewelled cap upon his
head. In front of him was a low table on which lay graven sheets
of metal, and among them a large ball of crystal.

There he sat, solemn and silent in the midst of this awful
solitude, looking in very truth like a god, as we conceive such a
being to appear. Small as he was in that huge expanse of
buildings, he seemed yet to dominate it, in a sense to fill the
emptiness which was accentuated by his presence. I know that the
sight of him filled me with true fear which it had never done in
the light of day, not even when he arose from his crystal coffin.
Now for the first time I felt as though I were really in the
presence of a Being Supernatural. Doubtless the surroundings
heightened this impression. What were these mighty edifices in
the bowels of the world? When came this wondrous, all-pervading
and translucent light, whereof we could see no origin? Whither
had vanished those who had reared and inhabited them? How did it
happen that of them all, this man, if he were a man; and this
lovely woman at my side, who, if I might trust my senses and
instincts, was certainly a woman, alone survived of their
departed multitudes?

The thing was crushing. I looked at Bickley for encouragement,
but got none, for he only shook his head. Even Bastin, now that
the first effects of the Life-water had departed, seemed
overwhelmed, and muttered something about the halls of Hades.

Only the little dog Tommy remained quite cheerful. He trotted
down the hall, jumped on to the dais and sat himself comfortably
at the feet of its occupant.

"I greet you," Oro said in his slow, resonant voice. "Daughter,
lead these strangers to me; I would speak with them."

Chapter XV

Oro in His House

We climbed on to the dais by some marble steps, and sat
ourselves down in four curious chairs of metal that were more or
less copied from that which served Oro as a throne; at least the
arms ended in graven heads of snakes. These chairs were so
comfortable that I concluded the seats were fixed on springs,
also we noticed that they were beautifully polished.

"I wonder how they keep everything so clean," said Bastin as we
mounted the dais. "In this big place it must take a lot of
housemaids, though I don't see any. But perhaps there is no dust
here."

I shrugged my shoulders while we seated ourselves, the Lady Yva
and I on Oro's right, Bickley and Bastin on his left, as he
indicated by pointing with his finger.

"What say you of this city?" Oro asked after a while of me.

"We do not know what to say," I replied. "It amazes us. In our
world there is nothing like to it."

"Perchance there will be in the future when the nations grow
more skilled in the arts of war," said Oro darkly.

"Be pleased, Lord Oro," I went on, "if it is your will, to tell
us why the people who built this place chose to live in the
bowels of the earth instead of upon its surface."

"They did not choose; it was forced upon them," was the answer.
"This is a city of refuge that they occupied in time of war, not
because they hated the sun. In time of peace and before the
Barbarians dared to attack them, they dwelt in the city Pani
which signifies Above. You may have noted some of its remaining
ruins on the mount and throughout the island. The rest of them
are now beneath the sea. But when trouble came and the foe rained
fire on them from the air, they retreated to this town, Nyo,
which signifies Beneath."

"And then?"

"And then they died. The Water of Life may prolong life, but it
cannot make women bear children. That they will only do beneath
the blue of heaven, not deep in the belly of the world where
Nature never designed that they should dwell. How would the
voices of children sound in such halls as these? Tell me, you,
Bickley, who are a physician."

"I cannot. I cannot imagine children in such a place, and if
born here they would die," said Bickley.

Oro nodded.

"They did die, and if they went above to Pani they were
murdered. So soon the habit of birth was lost and the Sons of
Wisdom perished one by one. Yes, they who ruled the world and by
tens of thousands of years of toil had gathered into their bosoms
all the secrets of the world, perished, till only a few, and
among them I and this daughter of mine, were left."

"And then?"

"Then, Humphrey, having power so to do, I did what long I had
threatened, and unchained the forces that work at the world's
heart, and destroyed them who were my enemies and evil, so that
they perished by millions, and with them all their works.
Afterwards we slept, leaving the others, our subjects who had not
the secret of this Sleep, to die, as doubtless they did in the
course of Nature or by the hand of the foe. The rest you know."