In Search of the Unknown

by Robert W. Chambers

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  +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | Transcriber's Note: | | | | Inconsistent hyphenation matches the original document. | | | | A number of obvious typographical errors have been corrected | | in this text. For a complete list, please see the bottom of | | this document. | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+

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  SHE STARTED TOWARD THE DOOR]

  IN SEARCH OF THEUNKNOWN

  BYROBERT W. CHAMBERS

  AUTHOR OF "THE MAIDS OF PARADISE" "THE MAID-AT-ARMS""CARDIGAN" "THE CONSPIRATORS" ETC.

  NEW YORK AND LONDONHARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS1904

  Copyright, 1904, by ROBERT W. CHAMBERS.

  _All rights reserved._Published June, 1904.

  TO MY FRIEND E. LE GRAND BEERS

  MY DEAR LE GRAND,--You and I were early drawn together by a common love of nature. Your researches into the natural history of the tree-toad, your observations upon the mud-turtles of Providence Township, your experiments with the fresh-water lobster, all stimulated my enthusiasm in a scientific direction, which has crystallized in this helpful little book, dedicated to you.

  Pray accept it as an insignificant payment on account for all I owe to you.

  THE AUTHOR.

  PREFACE

  It appears to the writer that there is urgent need of more "naturebooks"--books that are scraped clear of fiction and which display onlythe carefully articulated skeleton of fact. Hence this little volume,presented with some hesitation and more modesty. Various chaptershave, at intervals, appeared in the pages of various publications. Thecontinued narrative is now published for the first time; and thewriter trusts that it may inspire enthusiasm for natural andscientific research, and inculcate a passion for accurate observationamong the young.

  THE AUTHOR.

  _April 1, 1904._

  Where the slanting forest eaves, Shingled tight with greenest leaves, Sweep the scented meadow-sedge, Let us snoop along the edge; Let us pry in hidden nooks, Laden with our nature books, Scaring birds with happy cries, Chloroforming butterflies, Rooting up each woodland plant, Pinning beetle, fly, and ant, So we may identify What we've ruined, by-and-by.

  IN SEARCH OF THE UNKNOWN

  I

  Because it all seems so improbable--so horribly impossible to me now,sitting here safe and sane in my own library--I hesitate to record anepisode which already appears to me less horrible than grotesque. Yet,unless this story is written now, I know I shall never have thecourage to tell the truth about the matter--not from fear of ridicule,but because I myself shall soon cease to credit what I now know to betrue. Yet scarcely a month has elapsed since I heard the stealthypurring of what I believed to be the shoaling undertow--scarcely amonth ago, with my own eyes, I saw that which, even now, I ambeginning to believe never existed. As for the harbor-master--and theblow I am now striking at the old order of things--But of that I shallnot speak now, or later; I shall try to tell the story simply andtruthfully, and let my friends testify as to my probity and thepublishers of this book corroborate them.

  On the 29th of February I resigned my position under the governmentand left Washington to accept an offer from Professor Farrago--whosename he kindly permits me to use--and on the first day of April Ientered upon my new and congenial duties as general superintendent ofthe water-fowl department connected with the Zoological Gardens thenin course of erection at Bronx Park, New York.

  For a week I followed the routine, examining the new foundations,studying the architect's plans, following the surveyors through theBronx thickets, suggesting arrangements for water-courses and poolsdestined to be included in the enclosures for swans, geese, pelicans,herons, and such of the waders and swimmers as we might expect toacclimate in Bronx Park.

  It was at that time the policy of the trustees and officers of theZoological Gardens neither to employ collectors nor to send outexpeditions in search of specimens. The society decided to depend uponvoluntary contributions, and I was always busy, part of the day, indictating answers to correspondents who wrote offering their servicesas hunters of big game, collectors of all sorts of fauna, trappers,snarers, and also to those who offered specimens for sale, usually atexorbitant rates.

  To the proprietors of five-legged kittens, mangy lynxes, moth-eatencoyotes, and dancing bears I returned courteous but uncompromisingrefusals--of course, first submitting all such letters, together withmy replies, to Professor Farrago.

  One day towards the end of May, however, just as I was leaving BronxPark to return to town, Professor Lesard, of the reptilian department,called out to me that Professor Farrago wanted to see me a moment; soI put my pipe into my pocket again and retraced my steps to thetemporary, wooden building occupied by Professor Farrago, generalsuperintendent of the Zoological Gardens. The professor, who wassitting at his desk before a pile of letters and replies submitted forapproval by me, pushed his glasses down and looked over them at mewith a whimsical smile that suggested amusement, impatience,annoyance, and perhaps a faint trace of apology.

  "Now, here's a letter," he said, with a deliberate gesture towards asheet of paper impaled on a file--"a letter that I suppose youremember." He disengaged the sheet of paper and handed it to me.

  "Oh yes," I replied, with a shrug; "of course the man ismistaken--or--"

  "Or what?" demanded Professor Farrago, tranquilly, wiping his glasses.

  "--Or a liar," I replied.

  After a silence he leaned back in his chair and bade me read theletter to him again, and I did so with a contemptuous tolerance forthe writer, who must have been either a very innocent victim or a verystupid swindler. I said as much to Professor Farrago, but, to mysurprise, he appeared to waver.

  "I suppose," he said, with his near-sighted, embarrassed smile, "thatnine hundred and ninety-nine men in a thousand would throw that letteraside and condemn the writer as a liar or a fool?"

  "In my opinion," said I, "he's one or the other."

  "He isn't--in mine," said the professor, placidly.

  "What!" I exclaimed. "Here is a man living all alone on a strip ofrock and sand between the wilderness and the sea, who wants you tosend somebody to take charge of a bird that doesn't exist!"

  "How do you know," asked Professor Farrago, "that the bird in questiondoes not exist?"

  "It is generally accepted," I replied, sarcastically, "that the greatauk has been extinct for years. Therefore I may be pardoned fordoubting that our correspondent possesses a pair of them alive."

  "Oh, you young fellows," said the professor, smiling wearily, "youembark on a theory for destinations that don't exist."

  He leaned back in his chair, his amused eyes searching space for theimagery that made him smile.

  "Like swimming squirrels, you navigate with the help of Heaven and astiff breeze, but you never land where you hope to--do you?"

  Rather red in the face, I said: "Don't you believe the great auk to beextinct?"

  "Audubon saw the great auk."

  "Who has seen a single specimen since?"

  "Nobody--except our correspondent here," he replied, laughing.

  I laughed, too, considering the interview at an end, but
the professorwent on, coolly:

  "Whatever it is that our correspondent has--and I am daring to believethat it _is_ the great auk itself--I want you to secure it for thesociety."

  When my astonishment subsided my first conscious sentiment was one ofpity. Clearly, Professor Farrago was on the verge of dotage--ah, whata loss to the world!

  I believe now that Professor Farrago perfectly interpreted mythoughts, but he betrayed neither resentment nor impatience. I drew achair up beside his desk--there was nothing to do but to obey, andthis fool's errand was none of my conceiving.

  Together we made out a list of articles necessary for me and itemizedthe expenses I might incur, and I set a date for my return, allowingno margin for a successful termination to the expedition.

  "Never mind that," said the professor. "What I want you to do is toget those birds here safely. Now, how many men will you take?"

  "None," I replied, bluntly; "it's a useless expense, unless there issomething to bring back. If there is I'll wire you, you may be sure."

  "Very well," said Professor Farrago, good-humoredly, "you shall haveall the assistance you may require. Can you leave to-night?"

  The old gentleman was certainly prompt. I nodded, half-sulkily, awareof his amusement.

  "So," I said, picking up my hat, "I am to start north to find a placecalled Black Harbor, where there is a man named Halyard who possesses,among other household utensils, two extinct great auks--"

  We were both laughing by this time. I asked him why on earth hecredited the assertion of a man he had never before heard of.

  "I suppose," he replied, with the same half-apologetic, half-humoroussmile, "it is instinct. I feel, somehow, that this man Halyard _has_got an auk--perhaps two. I can't get away from the idea that we are onthe eve of acquiring the rarest of living creatures. It's odd for ascientist to talk as I do; doubtless you're shocked--admit it, now!"

  But I was not shocked; on the contrary, I was conscious that the samestrange hope that Professor Farrago cherished was beginning, in spiteof me, to stir my pulses, too.

  "If he has--" I began, then stopped.

  The professor and I looked hard at each other in silence.

  "Go on," he said, encouragingly.

  But I had nothing more to say, for the prospect of beholding with myown eyes a living specimen of the great auk produced a series ofconflicting emotions within me which rendered speech profanelysuperfluous.

  As I took my leave Professor Farrago came to the door of thetemporary, wooden office and handed me the letter written by the manHalyard. I folded it and put it into my pocket, as Halyard mightrequire it for my own identification.

  "How much does he want for the pair?" I asked.

  "Ten thousand dollars. Don't demur--if the birds are really--"

  "I know," I said, hastily, not daring to hope too much.

  "One thing more," said Professor Farrago, gravely; "you know, in thatlast paragraph of his letter, Halyard speaks of something else in theway of specimens--an undiscovered species of amphibious biped--justread that paragraph again, will you?"

  I drew the letter from my pocket and read as he directed:

  "When you have seen the two living specimens of the great auk, and have satisfied yourself that I tell the truth, you may be wise enough to listen without prejudice to a statement I shall make concerning the existence of the strangest creature ever fashioned. I will merely say, at this time, that the creature referred to is an amphibious biped and inhabits the ocean near this coast. More I cannot say, for I personally have not seen the animal, but I have a witness who has, and there are many who affirm that they have seen the creature. You will naturally say that my statement amounts to nothing; but when your representative arrives, if he be free from prejudice, I expect his reports to you concerning this sea-biped will confirm the solemn statements of a witness I _know_ to be unimpeachable.

  "Yours truly, BURTON HALYARD.

  "BLACK HARBOR."

  "Well," I said, after a moment's thought, "here goes for thewild-goose chase."

  "Wild auk, you mean," said Professor Farrago, shaking hands with me."You will start to-night, won't you?"

  "Yes, but Heaven knows how I'm ever going to land in this manHalyard's door-yard. Good-bye!"

  "About that sea-biped--" began Professor Farrago, shyly.

  "Oh, don't!" I said; "I can swallow the auks, feathers and claws, butif this fellow Halyard is hinting he's seen an amphibious creatureresembling a man--"

  "--Or a woman," said the professor, cautiously.

  I retired, disgusted, my faith shaken in the mental vigor of ProfessorFarrago.