Collected Works of Algernon Blackwood

by Algernon Blackwood

  He gave a howl of delight, for this sight was more than he could manage without some outlet for his pent-up emotion; and at the same moment the trap-door shot open, and the governess came into the room with such a bang and a clatter that Jimbo knew at once her excitement was as great as his own. In her hands she carried the blouse she had taken away the night before. She held it out to him without a word. Her eyes were shining like electric lamps. In less than a second he had slipped his wings through the neatly-made slits, but before he could practise them again, Miss Lake rushed over to him, her face radiant with happiness.

  “Jimbo! My darling Jimbo!” she cried — and then stopped short, apparently unable to express her emotion.

  The next instant he was enveloped, wings and all, in a warm confusion of kisses, congratulations and folds of hood.

  When they became disentangled again the governess went down on her knees and made a careful examination; she pulled the wings out to their full extent and found that they stretched about four feet and a half from tip to tip.

  “They are beauties!” she exclaimed enthusiastically, “and full grown and strong. I’m not surprised they took so long coming.”

  “Long!” he echoed, “I thought they came awfully quickly.”

  “Not half so quickly as they’ll go,” she interrupted; adding, when she saw his expression of dismay, “I mean, you’ll fly like the wind with them.”

  Jimbo was simply breathless with excitement. He wanted to jump out of the window and escape at once. The blue sky and the sunshine and the white flying clouds sent him an irresistible invitation. He could not wait a minute longer.

  “Quick,” he cried, “I can’t wait! They may go again. Show me how to use them. Oh! do show me.”

  “I’ll show you everything in time,” she answered. There was something in her voice that made him pause in his excitement. He looked at her in silence for some minutes.

  “But how are you going to escape?” he asked at length. “You haven’t got” —— he stopped short.

  The governess stepped back a few paces from him. She threw back the hood from her face. Then she lifted the long black cloak that hung like a cassock almost to her ankles and had always enveloped her hitherto.

  Jimbo stared. Falling from her shoulders, and folding over her hips, he saw long red feathers clinging to her; and when he dashed forward to touch them with his hands, he found they were just as sleek and smooth and glossy as his own.

  “And you never told me all this time?” he gasped.

  “It was safer not,” she said. “You’d have been stroking and feeling your shoulders the whole time, and the wings might never have come at all.”

  She spread out her wings as she spoke to their full extent; they were nearly six feet across, and the deep crimson on the under side was so exquisite, gleaming in the sunlight, that Jimbo ran in and nestled beneath the feathers, tickling his cheeks with the fluffy surface and running his fingers with childish delight along the slender red quills.

  “You precious child,” she said, tenderly folding her wings round him and kissing the top of his head. “Always remember that I really love you; no matter what happens, remember that, and I’ll save you.”

  “And we shall escape together?” he asked, submitting for once to the caresses with a good grace.

  “We shall escape from the Empty House together,” she replied evasively. “How far we can go after that depends — on you.”

  “On me?”

  “If you love me enough — as I love you, Jimbo — we can never separate again, because love ties us together for ever. Only,” she added, “it must be mutual.”

  “I love you very much,” he said, puzzled a little. “Of course I do.”

  “If you’ve really forgiven me for being the cause of your coming here,” she said, “we can always be together, but — —”

  “I don’t remember, but I’ve forgiven you — that other you — long ago,” he said simply. “If you hadn’t brought me here, I should never have met you.”

  “That’s not real forgiveness — quite,” she sighed, half to herself.

  But Jimbo could not follow this sort of conversation for long; he was too anxious to try his wings for one thing.

  “Is it very difficult to use them?” he asked.

  “Try,” she said.

  He stood in the centre of the floor and raised them again and again. They swept up easily, meeting over his head, and the air whistled musically through them. Evidently, they had their proper muscles, for it was no great effort, and when he folded them again by his side they fell into natural curves over his arms as if they had been there all his life. The sound of the feathers threshing the air filled him with delight and made him think of the big night-bird that had flown past the window during the night. He told the governess about it, and she burst out laughing.

  “I was that big bird!” she said.

  “You!”

  “I perched on the roof every night to watch over you. I flew down that time because I was afraid you were trying to climb out of the window.”

  This was indeed a proof of devotion, and Jimbo felt that he could never doubt her again; and when she went on to tell him about his wings and how to use them he listened with his very best attention and tried hard to learn and understand.

  “The great difficulty is that you can’t practise properly,” she explained. “There’s no room in here, and yet you can’t get out till you fly out. It’s the first swoop that decides all. You have to drop straight out of this window, and if you use the wings properly they will carry you in a single swoop over the wall and right up into the sky.”

  “But if I miss —— ?”

  “You can’t miss,” she said with decision, “but, if you did, you would be a prisoner here for ever. HE would catch you in the yard and tear your wings off. It is just as well that you should know this at once.”

  Jimbo shuddered as he heard her.

  “When can we try?” he asked anxiously.

  “Very soon now. The muscles must harden first, and that takes a little time. You must practise flapping your wings until you can do it easily four hundred times a minute. When you can do that it will be time for the first start. You must keep your head steady and not get giddy; the novelty of the motion — the ground rushing up into your face and the whistling of the wind — are apt to confuse at first, but it soon passes, and you must have confidence. I can only help you up to a certain point; the rest depends on you.”

  “And the first jump?”

  “You’ll have to make that by yourself,” she said; “but you’ll do it all right. You’re very light, and won’t go too near the ground. You see, we’re like bats, and cannot rise from the earth. We can only fly by dropping from a height, and that’s what makes the first plunge rather trying. But you won’t fall,” she added, “and remember, I shall always be within reach.”

  “You’re awfully kind to me,” said Jimbo, feeling his little soul more than ever invaded by the force of her unselfish care. “I promise you I’ll do my best.” He climbed on to her knee and stared into her anxious face.

  “Then you are beginning to love me a little, aren’t you?” she asked softly, putting her arms round him.

  “Yes,” he said decidedly. “I love you very much already.”

  Four hundred times a minute sounded a very great deal of wing-flapping; but Jimbo practised eagerly, and though at first he could only manage about twice a second, or one hundred and twenty times a minute, he found this increased very soon to a great deal more, and before long he was able to do the full four hundred, though only for a few minutes at a time.

  He stuck to it pluckily, getting stronger every day. The governess encouraged him as much as possible, but there was very little room for her while he was at work, and he found the best way to practise was at night when she was out of the way. She told him that a large bird moved its wings about four times a second, two up-strokes and two down-strokes; but a small bird like a partridge
moved its wings so rapidly it was impossible for the eye to distinguish or count the strokes. A middle course of four hundred suited his own case best, and he bent all his energies to acquire it.

  He also learned that the convex outside curve of wings allowed the wind to escape over them, while the under side, being concave, held every breath. Thus the upward stroke did not simply counterbalance the downward and keep him stationary. Moreover, she showed him how the feathers underlapped each other so that the downward stroke pressed them closely together to hold the wind, whereas in the upward stroke they opened and separated, letting the air slip easily through them, thus offering less resistance to the atmosphere.

  By the end of a week Jimbo had practised so hard that he could keep himself off the floor in mid-air for half an hour at a time, and even then without feeling any great fatigue. His excitement became intense; and, meanwhile, in his body on the nursery bed, though he did not know it, the fever was reaching its crisis. He could think of nothing else but the joys of flying, and what the first, awful plunge would be like, and when Miss Lake came up to him one afternoon and whispered something in his ear, he was so wildly happy that he hugged her for several minutes without the slightest coaxing.

  “It’s bright and clear,” she explained, “and Fright will not come after us, for he fears the light, and can only fly on dark and gloomy nights.”

  “So we can start —— ?” he stammered joyfully.

  “To-night,” she answered, “for our first practice-flight.”

  CHAPTER X. THE PLUNGE

  To enter the world of wings is to enter a new state of existence. The apparent loss of weight; the ability to attain full speed in a few seconds, and to stop suddenly in a headlong rush without fear of collapse; the power to steer instantly in any direction by merely changing the angle of the body; the altered and enormous view of the green world below — looking down upon forests, seas and clouds; the easy voluptuous rhythm of rising and falling in long, swinging undulations; and a hundred other things that simply defy description and can be appreciated only by actual experience, these are some of the delights of the new world of wings and flying. And the fearful joy of very high speed, especially when the exhilaration of escape is added to it, means a condition little short of real ecstasy.

  Yet Jimbo’s first flight, the governess had been careful to tell him, could not be the flight of final escape; for, even if the wings proved equal to a prolonged effort, escape was impossible until there was somewhere safe to escape to. So it was understood that the practice flights might be long, or might be short; the important thing, meanwhile, was to learn to fly as well as possible. For skilled flying is very different to mere headlong rushing, and both courage and perseverance are necessary to acquire it.

  With rare common sense Miss Lake had said very little about the possibility of failure. Having warned him about the importance of not falling, she had then stopped, and the power of suggestion had been allowed to work only in the right direction of certain success. While the boy knew that the first plunge from the window would be a moment fraught with the highest danger, his mind only recognised the mere off-chance of falling and being caught. He felt confidence in himself, and by so much, therefore, were the chances of disaster lessened.

  For the rest of the afternoon Jimbo saw nothing of his faithful companion; he spent the time practising and resting, and when weary of everything else, he went to the window and indulged in thrilling calculations about the exact height from the ground. A drop of three storeys into a paved courtyard with a monster waiting to catch him, and a high wall too close to allow a proper swing, was an alarming matter from any point of view. Fortunately, his mind dwelt more on the delight of prospective flight and freedom than on the chances of being caught.

  The yard lay hot and naked in the afternoon glare and the enclosing wall had never looked more formidable; but from his lofty perch Jimbo could see beyond into soft hayfields and smiling meadows, yellow with cowslips and buttercups. Everything that flew he watched with absorbing interest: swift blackbirds, whistling as they went, and crows, their wings purple in the sunshine. The song of the larks, invisible in the sea of blue air sent a thrill of happiness through him — he, too, might soon know something of that glad music — and even the stately flight of the butterflies, which occasionally ventured over into the yard, stirred anticipations in him of joys to come.

  The day waned slowly. The butterflies vanished; the rooks sailed homewards through the sunset; the wind dropped away, and the shadows of the high elms lengthened gradually and fell across the window.

  The mysterious hour of the dusk, when the standard of reality changes and other worlds come close and listen, began to work its subtle spell upon his soul. Imperceptibly the shadows deepened as the veil of night drew silently across the sky. A gentle breathing filled the air; trees and fields were composing themselves to sleep; stars were peeping; wings were being folded.

  But the boy’s wings, trembling with life to the very tips of their long feathers, these were not being folded. Charged with excitement, like himself, they were gathering all their forces for the supreme effort of their first journey out into the open spaces where they might touch the secret sources of their own magical life.

  For a long, long time he waited; but at last the trap-door lifted and Miss Lake appeared above the floor. The moment she stood in the room he noticed that her wings came through two little slits in her gown and folded down close to the body. They almost touched the ground.

  “Hush!” she whispered, holding up a warning finger.

  She came over on tiptoe and they began to talk in low whispers.

  “He’s on the watch; we must speak very quietly. We couldn’t have a better night for it. The wind’s in the south and the moon won’t be up till we’re well on our way.”

  Now that the actual moment was so near the boy felt something of fear steal over him. The night seemed so vast and terrible all of a sudden — like an immense black ocean with no friendly islands where they could fold their wings and rest.

  “Don’t waste your strength thinking,” whispered the governess. “When the time comes, act quickly, that’s all!”

  She went over to the window and peered out cautiously, after a while beckoning the child to join her.

  “He is there,” she murmured in his ear. Jimbo could only make out an indistinct shadowy object crouching under the wall, and he was not even positive of that.

  “Does he know we’re going?” he asked in an awed whisper.

  “He’s there on the chance,” she muttered, drawing back into the room. “When there’s a possibility of any one getting frightened he’s bound to be lurking about somewhere near. That’s Fright all over. But he can’t hurt you,” she added, “because you’re not going to get frightened. Besides, he can only fly when it’s dark; and to-night we shall have the moon.”

  “I’m not afraid,” declared the boy in spite of a rather fluttering heart.

  “Are you ready?” was all she said.

  At last, then, the moment had come. It was actually beside him, waiting, full of mystery and wonder, with alarm not far behind. The sun was buried below the horizon of the world, and the dusk had deepened into night. Stars were shining overhead; the leaves were motionless; not a breath stirred; the earth was silent and waiting.

  “Yes, I’m ready,” he whispered, almost inaudibly.

  “Then listen,” she said, “and I’ll tell you exactly what to do: Jump upwards from the window ledge as high as you can, and the moment you begin to drop, open your wings and strike with all your might. You’ll rise at once. The thing to remember is to rise as quickly as possible, because the wall prevents a long, easy, sweeping rise; and, whatever happens, you must clear that wall!”

  “I shan’t touch the ground then?” asked a faint little voice.

  “Of course not! You’ll get near it, but the moment you use your wings you’ll stop sinking, and rise up, up, up, ever so quickly.”

  “And w
here to?”

  “To me. You’ll see me waiting for you above the trees. Steering will come naturally; it’s quite easy.”

  Jimbo was already shaking with excitement. He could not help it. And he knew, in spite of all Miss Lake’s care, that Fright was waiting in the yard to catch him if he fell, or sank too near the ground.

  “I’ll go first,” added the governess, “and the moment you see that I’ve cleared the wall you must jump after me. Only do not keep me waiting!”

  The girl stood for a minute in silence, arranging her wings. Her fingers were trembling a little. Suddenly she drew the boy to her and kissed him passionately.

  “Be brave!” she whispered, looking searchingly into his eyes, “and strike hard — you can’t possibly fail.”

  In another minute she was climbing out of the window. For one second he saw her standing on the narrow ledge with black space at her feet; the next, without even a cry, she sprang out into the darkness, and was gone.

  Jimbo caught his breath and ran up to see. She dropped like a stone, turning over sideways in the air, and then at once her wings opened on both sides and she righted. The darkness swallowed her up for a moment so that he could not see clearly, and only heard the threshing of the huge feathers; but it was easy to tell from the sound that she was rising.

  Then suddenly a black form cleared the wall and rose swiftly in a magnificent sweep into the sky, and he saw her outlined darkly against the stars above the high elm tree. She was safe. Now it was his turn.

  “Act quickly! Don’t think!” rang in his ears. If only he could do it all as quickly as she had done it. But insidious fear had been working all the time below the surface, and his refusal to recognise it could not prevent it weakening his muscles and checking his power of decision. Fortunately something of his Older Self came to the rescue. The emotions of fear, excitement, and intense anticipation combined to call up the powers of his deeper being: the boy trembled horribly, but the old, experienced part of him sang with joy.