Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

  She stated that she was awakened by hearing the children cry, and hastening into their room, was at once seized roughly by two men, who by repeated blows “reduced her to nothing,” bound her wrists and ankles, and gagged her by stuffing a towel into her mouth. The poor woman was still shaking with fright. I bombarded her with questions and eventually succeeded in making out from her confused answers that she thought “ it was two Portuguese policemen.” This was enough for me to realise that the two women were victims of two ficticious policemen, and I inferred that the crime against the children had, at that very moment, been completed by the abduction of their mother. Clean off my balance, I rushed into the street and ran towards the beach in the direction taken by the sledge.

  CHAPTER IV

  THE BLACK FLAG

  FORTUNATELY, WHEN I reached the Cathedral Square, I saw an empty sledge. I jumped into it, and gave the driver an extra tip to goad his oxen to the gallop, and another to the boy running ahead to excite them by his loudest cries. We slipped like a dart over the greasy cobble-stones to the harbour. But I searched the quay in vain for any trace of the culprits or their victims. Every one was keeping Christmas, and the people seated outside the wine-shops did not even trouble to reply to my questions. I ran to the end of the deserted pier. There was not a single person near the stone steps from which the boats ply between the shore and the steamers in the anchorage. I fancied, however, that I could make out some activity on the beach in the distance, and running in that direction I soon reached a spot where a number of barges were arriving from the villages and being towed from the sea to their berths by oxen. The barges were laden with vegetables and fish, and entire cargoes of calves, sheep and pigs for Funchal. The men and the beasts, between them, created an infernal noise, and from each barge the twang of the guitar and the singing of Christmas carols could be heard. These good people were honouring a religious festival without interrupting their ordinary business!

  Looking towards the sea, I observed the dark outline of an English auxiliary cruiser which had arrived that afternoon. My own steamer had left the port two hours before with my luggage! What good was I doing on the beach? I had lost everything — including Amalia. I was in the depths of despair.

  Suddenly I caught sight, among the swinging barges, of a small motor-launch, and I recognised, in the stem, the Man in the cloak.... The launch was bound to double the pier, and I hastened towards the pier-head. I was convinced that the Man in the cloak was at the bottom of this abominable plot, in which I was involved as much as Amalia; and I fancied that the victims might be his prisoners in that very motor-launch. Luckily or unluckily for me, a small motor-boat which plied between the steamers and the pier, came alongside the pier steps at the moment when I reached them.

  I threw myself into the boat and told the two men in charge that they could name their own price if they would overtake the launch which was then about half a cable’s length away. It was a fine chase. We steered north-west, leaving behind us the Christmas rejoicings, the church chimes reverberating from the hills like so many little bells worn by galloping mules. We were obviously gaining on the launch. Where were we going?

  Who could say?

  The Man in the cloak seemed to take as little notice of us as if we and our smoke were quite invisible. But when a glimmer could be discerned on the western headland — it was the lighthouse on Porto Santo, near the Desertas Islands — the Man in the cloak bent down, a light flashed in the darkness nearly level with the waves, there was a loud report followed by a concussion, and our little boat blew up.

  I was flung into the sea, but by a miracle escaped without injury. I swam as long as I could, holding on for hours to a piece of wreckage. My two companions had disappeared. And being exhausted, I was preparing to meet the same fate, when an unexpected eddy carried me, almost in spite of myself, on to the side of what might have been a huge turtle, but which, from the shape of its two conning towers, I recognised as the superstructure of the most gigantic submarine that had ever left the dockyards since man began to make war under the waters. Almost immediately the hood of one of these deck-houses was opened, and though no human being appeared, a flagstaff arose out of the obscurity under the first pale gleams of the sun. And a large black flag with a V in red in the centre was unfurled.

  CHAPTER V

  THE MAN STANDING ON THE DECK

  THEN A MAN appeared. I recognised him at once.

  He was not wearing his cloak and he was bareheaded; but the two deep orifices of his dismal eyes left no doubt as to his identity. He did not see me; he was looking beyond me, towards the high sea.

  Moreover, I had stretched or rather flattened myself on the deck of the submarine, and was concealed behind the iron bridge which was more than three feet above the hull. The Man could have seen me only if he had leaned forward. He was standing by the flagstaff, and it is probable that his peculiar vision enabled him to perceive things which I could not, for he motioned with his hand towards the vessel’s wake which appeared to me to be deserted. It is true that darkness still lingered on the sea, and equally true that I have never had the “sailor’s eye.” What were my thoughts at that moment? Gloomy enough, I promise you. The position, however mysterious it might appear, was clear enough on one point. What had happened when I gave chase to the motor-launch showed me quite plainly, not to say brutally, that my life was of no account in this strange and tragic adventure, and that these people were quite ready to sacrifice me rather than to let me meddle with things that were not my business.

  They believed that they had got rid of my impertinent curiosity. What if they discovered that, even on this monster submarine, I was obstinately trying to penetrate the secret of a man who wanted apparently the great sea as his only accomplice? My time would be up, as the saying goes.

  On the other hand, my one chance of escaping observation depended on how long the vessel would remain on the surface. Weak and exhausted as I was, I knew that plunged again into the sea I could not last beyond a few minutes. The distant peak of one of the Desertas, luminous in the early eastern sky, seemed to arise from the darkness only to show me how immensely far I was from land.... I had no hope of securing any assistance.... And yet, such is the power of love, I was not thinking at that terrible moment of my own approaching death, but of the fate of the hapless mother whom I had tried to rescue. What was the meaning of this abominable business? Was it the dastardly revenge of a betrayed lover? I knew Amalia too well to think that for a moment. And the children? Why had they been spirited away? Was it not rather a trap to facilitate the abduction of their mother? What had become of the four of them? After being present, so to speak, from the inception of the plot, I did not doubt that they were under the steel deck which was giving me temporary shelter. They must needs be incarcerated in this submarine prison for some terrible purpose.

  And I could do nothing for them.... And the prison with its secret, with Amalia and the three children, and the Man with the lifeless eyes, was about to plunge stealthily into the fathomless depths.

  The Man was still standing by the black flag. He was not tall, but in his tight-fitting blue worsted jersey on which the V in red was conspicuous, he showed the massive physique and powerful shoulders of a giant. Moreover, he had the body and the arms and hands of a baboon. If I had thought of fighting it out with him who, in my view, was the chief gaoler of Frau von Treischke and her children, the sight of so much brute force would have given me pause. But in any case it would be madness, because the merest sign or shout from him would bring to his assistance all the willing and subservient tools with which he must have manned his pirate vessel.

  Yes, pirate was the word. The modern pirate. The submarine pirate.... If it were only a question of a ransom, I should give myself up.... As these thoughts flashed through my mind, the Man moved slightly away from the open hatch, and I was filled with an immense hope. If he walked still further away, with his back turned, I might try to slip into the vessel without being noticed,
and perhaps be able to conceal myself until we were nearer land, and the five of us could escape.... When you are in a position like mine, imagination runs riot and everything seems possible. Five minutes ago we were all doomed. And now that the Man had made five steps we were, in my imagination, all saved!

  But it is often when the body is a wreck that the mind inspires it to do wonders. What a moment that was! I shall always remember that immense green deck, yellow here and there with new rust, round which the waves swished and rippled; near me the steel tube of a torpedo to which the oily strands of some shallow-water seaweed were clinging; above my head the sharp, circular outline of the empty bridge clear cut against the already visible horizon; the black flag flapping so ominously in the cold morning breeze; and that man, alone, standing alone, on that strange pedestal, motionless amidst an active element, that Man with the lifeless eyes, watching the sun rise from the waters.

  Under his shaggy hair was the low, bulging forehead of a wild beast, and yet his look — the look which never left him — was not wild but gloomy. He folded his arms and I heard him moan:

  “O Sun, how can’st thou dare still to give light to this accursed world!”

  CHAPTER VI

  THE DOORS UNDER THE SEA

  THE MAN MOVED away a little further... ever so little.... But his face was still partly turned towards me, and the slightest shifting of the vessel would betray my presence. In the meantime he was engrossed in certain white spray, and certain throbbing sounds, from a propeller which came from the sea, now awake and active in the rosy dawn. And a rose-coloured launch hove in sight, a rose-coloured launch with a little rose-coloured gun in the stern, the pretty little gun which had so neatly disposed of us; for I recognised in the newcomer the motor-launch to which I had so incautiously given chase. She glided to the side, the other side of the submarine. From what new expedition had she come?

  She was manned by two old sailors who, like the Man with the lifeless eyes, struck me by their dejected expression. Behind them stood an ugly grinning Chinaman who was making a strange rattle with a whole armoury of iron implements, contained in a leather bag, which he threw on board with astonishing dexterity.

  The Man with the lifeless eyes stepped forward, to meet them. His back was now entirely turned to me, and he came down from the bridge to the deck itself. The men on the launch scrambled aboard, pulling their craft alongside; and their backs were turned like that of the Man. There was nothing in front of me but the ugly grinning face of the Chinaman.

  No sound could be heard from the interior of the vessel.

  I climbed with infinite caution on to the bridge, and found myself behind the conning tower. I saw the communication ladder. Another surprise was in store for me: I could nowhere discover any of the apparatus for control and observation which usually fills this narrow space. Nor was there any sign of a periscope. It was merely an opening by which one descended into this huge mysterious structure. From her appearance on the surface, I estimated that the submarine was at least six hundred feet in length. And I was soon to learn that her internal economy had nothing in common with that of the ordinary submersible.

  Such was the desperation of my condition that I considered it would be a piece of good luck if I could throw myself into the pit or rather into the belly of this enormous steel whale from which, less fortunate than Jonah, I might never emerge alive.... During these tense moments, the men were stowing away their launch, making her fast in a recess which they had uncovered by throwing back a hatch in the side of the green hull.

  It so happened that the Man called out for the Chinaman to come to him at the moment when the latter was turning towards the conning tower, and I was fearing more than ever to be detected. I took advantage of this supreme opportunity to dive into the monster.

  I descended a few steps of the companion-way and listened. There was not a sound. I slid down the remainder and reached the iron floor of a small, narrow lobby which was quite bare except for some rifles which stood in a row against the walls as in a gunnery school.

  I did not waste time in testing whether these rifles were loaded or not, or whether I could hope to take advantage of them for my personal defence. My safety demanded that I should, above all, seek a way out and a hiding-place. This small lobby was, in shape, a perfect hexagon; so perfect indeed that I could see no door to it. The six panels against which the rifles were standing, formed perhaps the doors for which I was looking, but I knew nothing of the secret of their mechanism, and I should have remained in this dungeon until the Man, the two dejected-looking sailors and the grinning Chinaman inevitably discovered me — and it would not be long — when I was released from a dangerous plight by an unexpected incident.

  One of the panels which, as I had imagined, formed a door was thrown open, and at the same time concealed me. I heard the fresh voice of a young lady ask in Spanish

  “Is it land?”

  And she at once clambered up the ladder which led to the conning tower. As the door remained open, I did not stop to see if this young Spanish lady had a neat limb — as will readily be understood — and I darted into a passage which was entirely white and illuminated so brilliantly with electric light that I was dazzled and more impressed than I can say. I should have much preferred it to be as black as night. Nevertheless, I hurried along on tiptoe; my breath came in gasps; perspiration broke from my forehead! although my limbs were like ice.

  How is it that I did not faint? I was buoyed up by the thought of finding some nice, dark, absolutely quiet place in which I could faint in peace!

  What an extraordinary submarine it was! Her internal construction in no way resembled that of other vessels of this sort. I could imagine myself in the corridor of a “ palace” rather than in the alley-way of a ship. But it was another blind alley. The truth was that I did not know how to open the door which closed it. The method must be simple; perhaps there was an electric switch. But it had to be known... it had to be known. And without doubt the others would be returning that way.

  My hands crept over the bolts of the bulkheads without discovering the secret of the outlet. In spite of the danger of such a return, I went back to the door of the little hexagon lobby, which remained ajar. It might perhaps give me the key to the riddle.

  And, in fact, as I was stretching out my hand towards the door, it shut in my face, before I could touch it, imprisoning me in the white corridor; but I had the consciousness, at that moment, that my foot had struck against a small steel button which must have released a bolt. I was not mistaken. I repeated the pressure and the door softly opened, but I did not trouble to close it. I heard voices in the conning tower.

  The people whom I feared would be on my heels in half a minute. I made off again, soaked in an icy perspiration and hunting with wild eyes along the iron wall, nearly on a level with the iron floor, for a small steel button.

  Heavens, here is one! I press my foot on it and a door opens. It is dark before me; but is this not the place for which I have been searching? I rush in, pulling the door after me, but it is impossible to close it altogether. No doubt it is necessary to press the button outside. But I cannot be outside and inside at the same time!

  The voices draw nearer. Soon they are on a level with me. I recognise the fresh young voice of the Spanish lady asking: “How soon shall we arrive?” And I hear a voice reply in English with a strong Irish accent and a peculiar laugh: “It is noble to suffer without complaining,” and a voice in German with a strong Lemberg accent asks: “How long shall we be on the way?” and the voice with the Irish accent answers in the same bantering and provoking tone: “The weather is favourable and ours is a stout sea-boat and goes like the wind.”

  I could not doubt that the formidable and gloomy Man with the lifeless eyes had the temperament of a comedian and replied scoffingly to the most reasonable questions.

  The worst of it for me was that this polyglot conversation which led to nothing, and taught me nothing about the voyage which we were to ma
ke together, as at first I hoped it might, took place outside a partly open door within a few steps of me. While I was listening to their uninteresting questions I could hear the unmistakable noise of water running into the ballast tanks, thus showing beyond the possibility of doubt that we were to continue our way submerged. What were they doing all this time? Oh, they were engaged in a very paltry affair! They were rolling the big black flag round its staff before placing it in its leather sheath. I peeped at them through the slight aperture between the door and the bulkhead. I was in the blackest darkness while they were in the blazing light of the electric lamps.

  At this moment a man appeared on the scene who spoke French with a Gascon accent, such as may sometimes be heard at Bayonne and in the small ports of the wild Gascony coast. He at once proceeded — and this was in the true French manner — to say sweet nothings to the Gipsy, for such I will call the fresh young Spanish lady until I am better informed, making inquiries after her health, and how she had passed the night!

  I should like to have had a look at the Frenchman and the Gipsy, but before I could seize an opportunity, my door was suddenly flung open, and I barely had time to squeeze myself in the remotest corner of the dark hole. I realised that one of the men was depositing the flag within an inch of me; and that he then left the place, shutting the door entirely this time. At last I should be able to faint in peace!