The House Under the Sea: A Romance

by Max Pemberton

it. The record lies in the library at Washington;I've read it."

  He said this with a low chuckle, like a man in possession of a secretwhich might be of great value to him. I did not see the point of it atthe time, but I saw it later, as you shall hear.

  "Yes," he rattled on, "Edmond Czerny holds a full hand, but I may yetdraw fours. He's a clever man, too, and a deep one. We'll see who'sthe deeper, and we will begin soon, Captain Begg--very soon. Thesleep-time's through, I guess, and this means waking."

  Now, this was spoken of the storm without, and a heavy clap of thunder,breaking at that moment, pointed his words as nothing else could havedone. I had many questions yet to ask him, such as how it was that hepersuaded Czerny to take him aboard (though a man who knew so muchwould have been a dangerous customer to leave behind), but the rollingsounds awoke the others, and Peter Bligh, jumping up half asleep, askedif any one knocked.

  "I thought it was the devil with the hot water--and bedad it is!" crieshe. "Is the house struck, or am I dreaming it, doctor? It's a fearsomesound, truly."

  Peter meant it as a bit of his humour, I do believe; but little he knewhow near the truth his guess was. The storm, which had threatened ussince dawn, now burst with a splendour I have never seen surpassed. Avery sheet of raging fire opened up the livid sky. The crashing thundershook the timbers of the house until you might have thought that thevery roof was coming in. In the gardens themselves, leaping into yourview and passing out of it again as a picture shuttered by light, greattrees were split and broken, the woods fired, the gravel driven up in ashower of pelting hail. I have seen storms in my life a-many, but neverone so loud and so angry as the storm of that ebbing sleep-time. Therewere moments when a whirlwind of terrible sounds seemed to envelop us,and the very heavens might have been rolling asunder. We said that thebungalow could not stand, and we were right.

  Now, this was a bad prophecy; but the fulfilment came more swiftly andmore surely than any of us had looked for. Indeed, Dolly Venn wasscarce upon his feet, and the sleep hardly out of Seth Barker's eyes,when the room in which we stood was all filled by a scathing flame ofcrimson light, and, a whirlwind of fire sweeping about us, it seemed towither and burn everything in its path and to scorch our very limbs asit passed them by. To this there succeeded an overpowering stench ofsulphur, and ripping sounds as of wood bursting in splinters, and beamsfalling, and the crackling of timber burning. Not a man among us, Imake sure, but knew full well the meaning of those signals or what theycalled him to do. The bungalow was struck; life lay in the fog without,in the death-fog we had twice escaped.

  "She's burning--she's burning, by----!" cried Seth Barker, runningwildly for the door; and to his voice was added that of Duncan Gray,who roared:

  "My lead, my lead--stand back, for your lives!"

  He threw a muffler round his neck and ran out from the strickenbungalow. The whole westward wing of the house was now alight. Greatclouds of crimson flame wrestled with the looming fog above us; theyillumined all the garden about as with the light of ten thousand fierylamps. Suffocating smoke, burning breezes, floating sparks, leapingtongues of flame drove us on. Cries you heard, one naming the heightsfor a haven, another clamouring for the beach, one answering with anoath, another, it may be, with a prayer; but no man keeping his wits orshaping a true course. What would have happened but for the holding fogand the sulphurous air we breathed, I make no pretence to say; butNature stopped us at last, and, panting and exhausted, we came to ahalt in the woods, and asked each other in the name of reason what weshould do next.

  "The sea!" cries Peter Bligh, forgetting his courage (a rare thing forhim to do); "show me the sea or I'm a dead man!"

  To whom Seth Barker answers:

  "If there's breath, it's on the hills; we'll surely die here."

  And little Dolly, he said:

  "I cannot run another step, sir; I'm beat--dead beat!"

  For my part I had no word for them; it remained for Doctor Gray to leadagain.

  "I will show you the road," cried he, "if you will take it."

  "And why not?" I asked him. "Why not, doctor?"

  "Because," he answered, very slowly, "it's the road to Edmond Czerny'shouse."

  CHAPTER XIV

  A WHITE POOL--AND AFTERWARDS

  We must have been a third of a mile from the shore when the doctorspoke, and three hundred yards, perhaps, from the pool in the glens. Itis true that the storm seemed to clear the air; but not as we hadexpected, nor as fair argument led us to hope. Wind there was, hot andburning on the face; but it brought no cool breath in its path, and didbut roll up the fog in banks of grey and dirty cloud. While at oneminute you would see the wood, green and grassy, as in the eveninglight, at another you could scarce distinguish your neighbour or markhis steps. To me, it appeared that the island dealt out life and deathon either hand; first making a man leap with joy because he couldbreathe again; then sending him gasping to the earth with all hissenses reeling and his brain on fire. Any shelter, I said, would beparadise to men in the bond of that death-grip. Sleep itself, theisland's sleep, could have been no worse than the agony we suffered.

  "Doctor," I cried, as I ran panting up to him, "Edmond Czerny's houseor another--show us the way, here and now! We cannot fare worse; youknow that. Lead on and we follow, wherever it is."

  The others said, "Aye, aye, lead on and we follow." Desperation wastheir lot now; the madman's haste, the driven man's hope. There, inthat fearful hollow, lives were ebbing away like the sea on a shallowbeach. They fought for air, for breath, for light, for life. I can seePeter Bligh to this day as he staggers to his feet and cries, wildly:

  "The mouth of blazes would be a Sunday parlour to this! Lead on,doctor, I am dying here!"

  So he spoke; and, the others lurching up again, we began to racethrough the wood to a place where the fog lay lighter and the mists hadleft. Wonderful sights met our eyes--aye, more wonderful than any wordsof mine could picture for you. In the air above flocks of birds wheeleddizzily as though the very sky was on fire. Round and round, round andround, they darkened the heaven like some great wheel revolving; while,ever and anon, a beautiful creature would close its wings and swoop todeath upon the dewy grass. Other animals, terrified cattle, wild dogs,creatures from the heights and creatures from the valleys, all huddledtogether in their fear, raised doleful cries which no ear could shutout. The trees themselves were burnt and blackened by the storm, theglens as dark as night, the heaven above one canopy of fiery cloud andstagnant vapour.

  Now, I knew no more than the dead what Duncan Gray meant when he saidthat he would lead us to Czerny's house. A boat I felt sure he did notpossess, or he would have spoken of it; nor did he mean that we shouldswim, for no man could have lived in the surf about the reefs. Hissteps, moreover, were not carrying him towards the beach, but to thatvile pool in the ravine wherein a man had died on the night we came toKen's Island. This pool I saw again as we ran on towards the headland;and so still and quiet it seemed, such a pretty lake among the hills,that no man would have guessed the terror below its waters or named thesecret of it. Nevertheless, it recalled to me our first night's work,and how little we could hope from any man in Czerny's house; and this Ihad in my mind when the doctor halted at last before the mouth of anopen pit at the very foot of the giant headland. He was blown withrunning, and the sweat dropped from his forehead like water. The placeitself was the most awesome I have ever entered. On either hand, soclose to us that the arms outstretched could have touched them, weretwo mighty walls, which towered up as though to the very sky beyond thevapour. A black pit lay before us; the fog and the burning wind in thewoods we had left. Silence was here--the awful silence of night andsolitude. No eye could fathom the depths or search the heights. Whatlay beyond, I might not say. The doctor had led us to this wilderness,and he must speak.

  "See here," he cried, mopping the sweat from his face and rolling uphis shirt-sleeves, like a man who has good work to do, "the road's downyonder, and we need a light to strike it. Give me your
hand, one ofyou, while I fetch up the lantern. A Dutchman didn't write of Ken'sIsland for nothing. I guess he knew we were coming his way."

  He stretched out a hand to me with the words, and I held it surelywhile he bent over the pit and groped for the lantern he spoke of.

  "Three days ago," said he, "I ran a picnic here all to myself. It is aswell to find new lodgings if the old don't suit. I left my lanternbehind me, and this it is, I reckon."

  He pulled up from the depths a gauze lantern such as miners use, and,lighting it, he showed us the heart of the pit. It was a deep hole, 30feet down, perhaps, and strewn with rubbish and fragments of the ironrocks. But what was worth more to us, aye, than a barrel of gold, wasthe sweet,