They Found Atlantis

by Dennis Wheatley

  The Doctor spent the morning with four members of the crew straightening out the fantastic tangle in which the last half mile of communication hose had had to be abandoned on the previous day. Then, when it had been coiled down again, although the bathysphere platform was still awash, he was helped into his ball so that he might test the telephone and lighting wires. To his intense relief their inch thick rubber coating had saved them and, when he came to lunch, he was able to state that they still carried the current to their instruments.

  For want of something better to do, apparently, Count Axel offered to lend his assistance in straightening up the contents of the sphere and getting it all in order so that they could descend again without delay when the sea was calmer. Slinger’s permission was obtained for the Count to go aft and so, when the meal was over, he disappeared for the afternoon with the Doctor.

  Nicky had put in an appearance for lunch and although his bout of sea sickness seemed to have done him little harm he was peevish and irritable. His mind was obsessed once more with the question of whether he would get back to Hollywood ‘this year—next year—now—or never’ and the cherry stones on his plate having declared ‘Never’ he had gone off in a fit of black depression to mope alone in a corner of the lounge. The McKay sought out Camilla’s maid and sent a message by her to the two girls.

  “Captain McKay presents his compliments to the ladies and if they are capable of getting up they will feel far better out in the air on deck.”

  This resulted in both Sally and Camilla staggering up the hatchway about an hour later and, having selected a corner sheltered from the wind, the McKay soon had them tucked up warm and comfortable in a couple of deck chairs.

  Both of them looked pale and shaky. They had not been actually sick since the previous afternoon but their experience had been extremely frightening and the bout had been a bad one while it lasted. They were now more sorry for themselves than really ill and the salt air soon got a little colour back into their cheeks once the McKay’s chatter had taken their thoughts off their condition.

  He did not attempt to reproach them, as he had Count Axel for being fools to go down in the sphere at all, but fussed over them without ostentation, in a nice comforting sort of way which caused Camilla to say that she had never quite appreciated what a frightfully nice person he was until that moment, and made Sally somewhat secretly thrilled to have him like her. She almost regarded him as her personal property now and preened herself that Camilla should see him in such a good light when he laid himself out to entertain them.

  He was recounting an episode of his earlier years when he had tried, and failed miserably, to get off with an extremely good looking young woman in Malta. Then, having the horrifying experience of meeting her at dinner two nights later and learning that she was his Admiral’s wife just out from England.

  “Was she a sport or did she tell?” asked Sally.

  The McKay’s eyes twinkled. “She never told—then, or about the fun we had together later.”

  “You wicked old man!”

  “No, m’dear it was the Admiral who was old—in that case.”

  “Ship!” Camilla exclaimed suddenly.

  The McKay had been sitting on a small stool at their feet with his back to the sea. He jumped up and stared at the long low craft that had just come into view round the comer of the deck house.

  “She’s an oil tanker,” he cried, “driven out of her course by the storm last night I expect. Where the devil are the others.”

  He dived through the door of the lounge and saw Nicky poring gloomily over a scribbled sheet of figures which showed roughly what his broken contracts were going to cost him.

  “Hi!” he called “Ship—only a quarter of a mile away on our port beam. Come on m’lad and keep your eye on the gunmen by the wireless house while I flag her.”

  Nicky needed no second bidding. He rammed his sheet of calculations in his pocket and tumbled out on deck.

  “Let me know the moment you see them coming,” cried the McKay and he produced a couple of large white handkerchiefs that he had kept ready on him for the purpose of signalling.

  Sally and Camilla had already cast aside their rugs and were watching the long, barge-like craft with its single funnel at the stern. Now they glanced anxiously at the bridge fearing that the McKay would be spotted at any moment.

  He had ensconced himself in an angle made by the deck house which was not visible from above however, and was waving the two handkerchiefs at the full extent of his arms in an endeavour to attract the attention of the people on the tanker.

  Nicky had hardly installed himself beside the rope barrier and endeavoured to assume his most innocent expression when Slinger came dashing out of the deck house.

  “In you go,” he shouted. “And the rest—where are they?”

  Slinger, for once, was not accompanied by any of the gunmen so Nicky stood his ground hoping to give the McKay another few moments.

  “Get inside,” cried Slinger. “Get inside d’you hear me.”

  At the sound of raised voices Sally and Camilla appeared and the former stared at Slinger with well assumed surprise.

  “What’s all the excitement about!” she enquired innocently.

  “Get inside,” repeated Slinger savagely. “See that damn ship—think I’m going to give you any chance to signal it—where’s the McKay got to?”

  The McKay was just round the corner waving his arms frantically up and down but Slinger did not wait for an answer. His arm shot out and caught Nicky on the shoulder giving him a violent shove towards the entrance of the lounge.

  Nicky thought again of the total figure on that horrible piece of paper in his pocket and decided to risk it. He lashed out with sudden vicious savagery and caught Slinger full on his beak-like nose.

  “Well done,” cried Camilla. “Oh well done, Nicky darling.”

  Her encouragement was all he needed to get him really going and he began to hit out right and left. For a moment Slinger was blinded by tears and could see nothing, then he too began to drive and hammer, while he bellowed with all his might for assistance.

  Neither of the two were trained boxers or had ever struck a blow in anger since they had left their schools so their scrap was more humorous than dangerous except for the first solid punch that Nicky had landed.

  A moment later two of Slinger’s men came running up with drawn pistols. Nicky now felt that discretion was far the better part of valour and holding his hands above his head backed into the deck house.

  Meanwhile, Captain Ardow and two more men had hurried round from the starboard side and surprised the McKay in his violent endeavours to flag the tanker with his handkerchiefs. He too felt that a day was a day and thrusting one of them into his pocket began to blow his nose violently with the other.

  “Inside please, Captain,” snapped the Russian with a stony glare. “Else you will catch something more dangerous than influenza.”

  “Certainly,” said the McKay laconically, “but so will you, Captain, unless you see reason before you’re much older.”

  “Get in—also stay in until further order,” Captain Ardow waved his gun with a significant gesture and so the McKay joined the others in the lounge.

  “Any luck?” asked Sally.

  “No m’dear,” he shook his head. “The tanker probably only had a cabin boy on the bridge. In any case they never saw me.”

  “You should have seen me hit him,” said Nicky excitedly. “I got him—didn’t I Camilla—right on the nose.”

  “Yes darling,” she cooed. “You were a perfect hero! I shall never forget the way you stood up to him—never.”

  Certainly nobody was allowed to forget Nicky’s bravery in the hours that followed. Much as he disliked Prince Vladimir he could not resist paying the invalid a visit to give him a personal description of how he had hit Slinger—“right on the nose”—and of course Count Axel and the Doctor were treated to every detail of the scrap when they returned from getting t
he bathysphere in order for its next descent.

  After dinner that night this one abortive attempt to secure assistance was the sole topic of conversation and they only came down to earth when Sally said irritably:

  “Oh, Nicky was splendid we all agree but that doesn’t alter the fact that we are in just as hopeless a mess as ever, and—this is our last night here—to-morrow’s Saturday.”

  The McKay glanced at Camilla. “I suppose if we could arrange something you’d be prepared to pay pretty handsomely for it?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Sally suggested that the other day. There’s a quarter of a million dollars for anyone who’ll see us landed safe in a United States port.”

  “All right—I doubt if anything will come of it but I’ll have a talk with Slinger. There’s just a chance that he might be prepared to double cross his boss for a whacking great sum like that.”

  “We’ll leave you to it then.” Sally stood up. “There’s more likelihood of his listening if he finds you on your own and the sight of Nicky is pretty certain to infuriate him.”

  The others followed her example and when Slinger arrived at ten o’clock the McKay was the sole occupant of the lounge.

  A big strip of plaster decorated the lawyer’s beak testifying to Nicky’s prowess, and he displayed none of his usual good humour.

  “Down you go,” he said abruptly.

  The McKay glanced towards the two gunmen who remained standing quietly in the doorway, then at Slinger.

  “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?”

  “No,” said Slinger, “go below.”

  “I’m unarmed as you can see and you can keep me covered if you wish—but I’ve got to talk to you.”

  “Get—below!”

  “All right,” the McKay shrugged, “if you won’t send your friends away I’ll talk to all three of you. This game you’re playing looks pretty profitable I know, but if that faked will fails to be upheld in the courts you won’t get a penny piece and, what’s more, sooner or later the police will run you down and you’ll all get a long stretch in jail for this hold up.”

  “Get below,” Slinger repeated.

  “I’m going—when I’ve said my say,” announced the McKay doggedly. “Now the Duchess knows that her lawyers will contest that will and if you go off to New York to-morrow you’ll find a policeman on the quay to arrest you.”

  Slinger’s eyes narrowed. “How can you possibly know that?”

  “Never you mind. Trying to semaphore with a couple of handkerchiefs isn’t the only way of communicating with passing shipping.”

  “Have you been up to something?”

  The McKay met Slinger’s angry glance with a cold stare. “D’you think I’d tell you if I had—but I wasn’t born yesterday and you can’t keep a man who’s spent his life at sea in a ship indefinitely, against his will.”

  “Well—what have you got to say.”

  “Send your friends away and I’ll tell you.”

  Slinger shook his head.

  “All right then. If the three of you will come in with us and arrange for our party to be landed at any port which possesses a United States or British Consul the Duchess will guarantee you the sum of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars cash, and no questions asked or action to be taken. That’s a hell of a lot of money—what about it?”

  The barest flicker of a smile touched Slinger’s lips. If they were offering a quarter of a million dollars for their freedom they could have very little hope of gaining it by any other means. Obviously this talk of the will being seriously contested and communications with other ships which would assure his arrest on landing was pure bluff.

  He hardly hesitated a second before dismissing the offer from his mind but even before he spoke one of the gunmen tapped him on the arm.

  “Send him below Boss—or Captain Ardow’ll be wantin’ ter know just what’s been keepin’ you all this time.”

  Slinger jerked his head in the direction of the companion-way. “Forget it,” he said, “and no more attempts to signal ships. I shan’t be so lenient next time. Down to your cabin now.”

  The McKay saw the futility of endeavouring to prolong the discussion. Slinger had been set to watch them but Captain Ardow had been set to watch Slinger and probably one or more of the gunmen were completely loyal to Kate and watching both Slinger and the Captain in his interest, on top of which the whole lot of them were keeping the wireless men, officers and crew under their observation. Mentally, the McKay was compelled to salute that some-time scholar at one of England’s leading public schools who had organised the whole business, and physically, he took himself off to bed.

  In the morning a long rolling swell, aftermath of the storm, still made bathysphere diving impossible, but the sky had lightened and the weather was warmer. The McKay and Sally bathed in the pool. Vladimir was on deck again, handsome and romantic looking with a white bandage round his dark curly head. For Nicky the night’s sleep had only served to reinforce his opinion that he was in truth a hero and Camilla’s chosen champion. He had no doubt whatsoever that if only they could get out of the clutches of this gang she would marry him to-morrow. He was the only person who had actually struck a blow for her and the episode grew in his mind to gigantic proportions. “Well, I hit him anyhow—right on the nose,” was the remark which he made to various members of the party at least a dozen times during the morning.

  The sea had eased at least sufficiently for them to steam out into the open and by the employment of the electric sounding machine locate the site of the lost city by mid-day. The sun came out and there seemed no reason now why it should not stay out for several consecutive days. By half past two the swell was no more than an undulation of the glassy surface and the Doctor announced his intention of going down. He was however in some difficulty because Oscar, his telephonist, had gone on strike. That seedy youth had not yet recovered from his experience of two days before and had definitely stated that nothing would ever induce him to go down in the bathysphere again.

  Doctor Tisch called for a volunteer among the passengers to take Oscar’s place and looked confidently towards Count Axel, but the Count said that willingly as he would have done so, he was the victim of a wicked migraine and, to his great disappointment, was not well enough to go down at all that day. Upon which Nicky, who was suffering from a bravery complex at the moment, promptly said that he would take Oscar’s place.

  Vladimir, not to be outdone, declared his intention of accompanying them but the two girls said that although they might go down again later, their last experience was too recent for them to care about another trip at the moment. The McKay refrained from reminding them that since it was Saturday this was probably their last chance of ever going on another dive and settled himself to entertain them. Count Axel, holding his forehead with his hand, went down to his cabin just as the bathysphere party departed aft.

  It was sunset before the sphere was hauled in again and even so it had been less than an hour at the bottom. Nicky and Vladimir hurried forward to report the Doctor’s operations. They had landed in the outer fringe of the great stones again, some of which they judged to be eighty feet in height, bored three holes at the base of one, inserted charges, been drawn up 400 feet, and then exploded them. After which they had descended again for the sphere’s undercarriage to collect as much of the débris as it could carry and the Doctor was sorting the contents of the dredge at the moment.

  “Well, it’s some comfort to think none of you will have any further opportunity of risking your necks in that darned thing,” the McKay remarked, “we’ll be sailing for Horta I expect this evening.”

  “Oh, this is hellish!” exclaimed Sally hitting the arm of her chair with a small clenched fist. “The whole week’s gone and we’ve done nothing. Isn’t there any way we can save ourselves from that devil Kate?”

  The McKay shrugged. “M’dear I told you what happened when I tried to scare Slinger and then bribe him last night. Even if he were willing he co
uldn’t help us. The whole crowd are watching each other like cats and they’ve got us cold at the moment. Try and be patient. I think our chance may come before we reach the Falklands.”

  “We’ll never reach the Falklands,” said Sally with conviction. “When Kate learns—”

  She never completed her sentence for, at that moment, Doctor Tisch came bursting into the lounge.

  “Look,” he cried and the pudgy hand he held out was quivering with excitement. It held a triangular piece of stone, one side of which showed a smooth dull cloudy reddish surface. “Look please,” he repeated. “I haf polished a little—soon I will polish again and it will become clear and bright. This stone is faced with pure red copper—orichalcum. Atlantis is found again—found I tell you. To-morrow—next week I will bring up silver and gold.”

  They stared at this first certain symbol which honestly justified the Doctor’s theories. Copper facings did not grow on rocks at the sea bottom, no one could contest that. Some long dead human must have worked this metal found 5,000 feet under the sea. It was an incontestable proof that the great stones beneath them were truly the remains of a mighty building erected by an ancient race. Further dives might bring the most staggering discoveries; not only gold and gems but perhaps the data of arts and sciences unknown to even the modern world as yet.

  Slinger, accompanied by his gunmen, had stepped through the doorway unobserved by the little group gathered round the excited Doctor. Suddenly he spoke:

  “I’m sorry. It’s real hard lines now the Doctor’s proved his fairy story to be true after all, but this time to-morrow you’ll all be the best part of two hundred miles from here.”

  They swung round on him and the Doctor stuttered: “You cannot—you cannot. Think please what this discovery means for science—and for the whole world. There is gold also—much gold. Take that if you like—but my exploration must go on.