We had left behind the buoy which marked the rocky shallows about a nautical mile from Brasileiro Lighthouse when suddenly we observed certain underwater phenomena which were totally incomprehensible to us.
Up to that moment — the moon was still hidden from sight — the sky and the sea were merged in a darkness that was broken only by the red and green lights of an occasional ship entering or leaving the roadstead a considerable distance away, but here, in the sea, lights were moving. They could not be, nor were they, caused by the phosphorescence of the sea.
These lights were traversing the waters beneath us like shooting stars and yet they were not reflected lights inasmuch as no stars of any sort were visible in the heavens. They were like very faint Roman candles which traced a peculiar curve and then straightway were extinguished. True they were so fugitive that it was possible that we were the victims of an optical illusion; but at any rate the illusion was a double one, for Potage and I both saw the same thing, and both of us leant over to watch the same swift, incredible sight. So that when this incomprehensible submarine phantasmagoria died away, for we were sailing over it rather quickly, the same question rose simultaneously to our lips: “What was that?” And instinctively we sought to discover on the sea, or on the land in the distance, or in the sky above, something tangible which might explain it, for we could not believe that it was merely a reflection. But what was it? We saw nothing, and we concluded that both of us had seen double! Further away a different kind of surprise awaited us.
We were steering north-west, guided by the lighthouse on Mont Faro, and we were nearly in the centre of the vast bay, at a part which was not a sailing track, and which was seldom visited by the great liners that touched at the port to be coaled, when, suddenly, in those lone waters we heard wails... There were deep wails... deep gasps coming from the sea.
Potage and I were beginning to be seriously perplexed by the nocturnal mystery of the Bay of Vigo. With a catch in our breath we leant over to listen to those sounds.... And the better to hear them, and so as not to be heard ourselves, I switched off the current and we sailed... or rather we continued our course trusting to our jib.
We were tossed about on the waves... and the wails drew nearer in the wind.... Suddenly Potage turned to me and murmured: “Look out!” And he pointed to a black mass, a kind of barge about fifty fathoms away, which every now and again was lit up underneath. Yes, every now and again this black mass seemed to float on a sheet of light; but it was a very pale light, a light that was kindled and died away below the barge... The upper part was totally black; it was blacker than the surrounding darkness, and it was only because of this greater density that we were able to perceive its black mass... but below every now and again there was that sheet of light.... It was the phosphorescence of the sea... the phosphorescence of the sea I said to myself.... But I did not believe it.... And then there were those wails and lamentations....
Suddenly a silence fell and the light vanished; and it seemed to us that the black mass was moving, was bearing down upon us, was gliding towards us to overwhelm us.
And we fled... we hastened away in the dusk with the full power of our engine... for I had switched on the current.
Potage was no braver than I. He confessed that he had never felt such fear, and he could not account for it; and yet he loved it! The thing that pleased him most in the adventure was this feeling of fear. “This is queer. This sea beats everything,” he said. “What’s going to happen to us next?” He was soon to know.
We were nearing the Cies Islands, and I thought it wise to hoist my three yellow lights. We could not mistake our course. The lighthouse on Mont Faro still served to guide us wonderfully well. I should soon land at the point which was known to me; where the Barcilleur’s hut was situated, and like the boat itself was called Spuma.... Once I was on land, I thought, I should know how to make myself understood and be taken to the person whom I wanted to see. The great thing was to enter into conversation with him. Now, unfortunately, in spite of our three yellow lights the conversation was undertaken before I set foot on land. Doubtless I made a few false moves. In any case I must have given some warning to the look-out, for suddenly a launch surged abreast of us out of the night and hailed us in Spanish.
“Hallo, boat, who are you?”
“I’m the Barcilleur and I’ve come back,” I replied in Spanish, or nearly so.
“The password.”
I did not know the password and I was struck dumb..... Then I stammered:
“I’ve not had time to get the password.”
I heard a laugh in front of me in the darkness.
“Sheer off,” a voice cried, “if you’re not asking for trouble.... Haul down your yellow lights and don’t come that joke again if you don’t want to be reported to the Admiralty.”
I was seized with a sort of fury and throwing prudence to the winds I shouted:
“It’s a question of life or death. Whoever you are I order you to take me to Captain Hyx.”
“Your grandmother!” replied the voice. “Man the gun! Hang it all, the bay is big enough for anyone to sail about in without touching prohibited waters.”
We had already turned our backs on them. The mocking voice advised us to make for Redondela, near the western entrance to the roadstead, if we were not anxious to prolong the adventure; and, indeed, our reception in the southern part of the bay had not been sufficiently propitious for us to persist any longer. We, therefore, took our homeward route, heading due north. I certainly had had enough of it. I considered that I had attempted the impossible. And I intended at the earliest moment to acquaint Fritz with my failure and the dangers which I had incurred. His people could not desire my death. Since they employed my services they had need of me. My duty was to preserve my life so as to continue to be useful to them — as far as possible! Together we would endeavour to approach Captain Hyx by some other means.
I had reached this point in my reflections, as we proceeded along the northern coast, and I was about to steer for Molino Point, when just as we were abreast of Limens Bay, another strange incident occurred.... A number of short sharp cracks rang our like the lashes of a whip, but they were not the lashes of a whip. We recognised now quite clearly the sound that is made by modern powder when little conical balls are despatched on their way whistling and singing. They were firing on us... firing on us in Limens Bay!
Did they imagine that we were going to land in Limens Bay? I remembered Gabriel’s story of Limens Bay and Bara Bay, close at hand, and it was the work of a moment to alter our course south-east.
Our engine seemed to make a great deal of noise in these now silent waters... too silent... waters that seemed occasionally to be lit up below in so singular a fashion.
Right ahead for Molino! Now it is Brasileiro lighthouse which guides us.... But here in the middle of the dark roadstead, exactly abreast of Molino Point, another black hulk looms up... a black hulk from which comes the sound of weeping...
Let us fly...fly from this blade hulk and its lamentations.... We switch off the current, and take to the oars, and pull over the inky waves in silence.... Still another effort, Potage! Potage handles the oar like a champion. No one would suspect the strength that lies hidden in the arms of this cripple. Now we draw near Goya Bay once more. We look out for the Castle whose front juts into the sea. And look out, too, for Ardan Crag.... Ardan Crag lies before us; and we skilfully slip in between the two monsters. Here we see the two towers and between the towers is the barred window. And the moon which has emerged from behind the clouds reveals a veiled figure at the window. It is the veiled lady... the veiled lady.
I ought to have expected it; and since Fritz and Von Treischke too, doubtless, are here, they were bound to bring the veiled lady with them.
She is a prisoner this time, a prisoner in Spain. And it is certainly in her honour, entirely in her honour, that iron bars have been placed at the window of the room from which Dolores was thrown into the sea.
CHAPTER XVII
THE BARRED WINDOW
“HAUL DOWN THE lights..., Ease her.... Ship your oars.... Let me manage it.... We’ll slip in under the shadow of Ardan Crag.”
And now that the boat is moored to the rock we look up to the veiled lady at the window fronting us. It seems as if she has seen us. She is leaning towards the grille. She is looking down. She is certainly watching us or trying to see us. And suddenly I give a start, I feel a thrill from head to foot. I hear her sobs and my name...
Can it be true?... Can it be true?... The veiled lady is weeping and calling me.
My companion, too, hears her. He signals to me that he hears her, and we listen again. Again we hear those sighs; again we hear my name: Herbert. There is no room for doubt. It is indeed I who am being called, and it is she who calls me....
Potage without saying a word has sent the boat gliding along, very gently from Ardan Crag to the nearest rock and from point to point until we come to the large western tower. A few feet above us is a spacious ledge on which in days of old a wooden palisade was built to enable the defenders to batter the foot of the wall; or else it was a crenellated wall whose parapets and loopholes had crumbled away with time, but whose lower part supported by corbels was still solid. This species of outer fortification which as I have said was reduced almost entirely to a ledge or cornice, formed a complete belt from the west which was continued along the set-back wall by a wooden flight of steps — such as formerly served to connect the ramparts — as far as the very broad balcony of the famous window, which it had been considered wise to line with iron bars.
Before I could realise his intention Potage held on to the aforesaid ledge with a harpoon that was in the boat. In the ordinary way it was used to steer the boat in the shallows, or to hang on to some object so as to get nearer it, or else to push off, according to the necessities of getting under way or making fast. After asking me to hold this sort of boat-hook in place as firmly as I possibly could he climbed up by the strength of his wrists, with surprising agility for half a man. He reached the ledge almost at once, went forward like a cat, mounted the broken steps, and crawled along until he came to the balcony.
“Wait,” he had said, “I’m going to see what she wants from us.”
And as a matter of fact two minutes later he returned and from the ledge whispered:
“The Señora wishes to speak to you. Throw me a rope.”
I did as Potage told me and threw him a rope which he tied with the greatest care to one of the remaining stones of the parapet. Then when the boat was made fast to an iron ring in the wall, I manfully joined Potage who murmured:
“Go ahead. There’s no danger. She’s weeping like a Magdalen. Only I couldn’t see her face. All the same I bet there’s a mirror of virtue behind her veil. I’ve had a look at the bars of the window. Tell her I can get her out of them if it’ll be doing you both a turn. I swear I’ll save her. And remember I’m your willing slave, Señorita.” Potage greatly distressed me whenever he called me Señorita, especially as he did not fail to clasp my feet, since he found my hands somewhat too far away. —
In the circumstances I was greatly heartened, and following his directions went down on all fours and climbed the path as he had done. To tell the truth, I should have been ashamed if I had not shown myself at least as nimble as a cripple, and I soon slipped inside the balcony. Here there was no further danger. I was safe from observation, and nothing but the grating separated me from the veiled lady... She stood before me once more, with her finger on her lips enjoining me to take care. Her thick veil was slightly raised, which was an obvious proof of her confidence in me, and I could see clearly that she was a prey to despair. I thought that she would give me her hand to kiss, but she moved away from me, walked round the room, and came gliding back like a shadow, as silently as a ghost.
“Herbert,” she said, in a broken voice, “Herbert, my friend, I shall never forget what you are doing for me. I expected you. I knew to-night that you were working for me. My heart was with you in the bay... my eyes were searching for you.... Have you seen Captain Hyx?”
“No, Madame, I have not seen Captain Hyx. And I may tell you that I fear it is impossible to reach him in the Cies Islands. If you have any influence with your strange gaoler, you should induce Von Treischke to find some other means...”
“Don’t mention that name here.”
“Of course, I know that it’s not the name which he bears when he comes to Vigo to carry out his little schemes. Let us assume that I spoke of Von Kessel, for that is his name here. And don’t let us speak of the wretch any more but solely of you.”
“Thank you, Herbert. But I very much fear that your good intentions will not be more fortunate in my case than they were in Captain Hyx’s. My position is such that I hardly see any solution which is not hopeless.”
“Madame,” I returned, “you are no longer in a country where your enemies are all-powerful, and without again begging you to disclose the secret which keeps you in such incredible subjection, I imagine that we have more resources at our disposal here than we had at Renich or in their pirate vessel. The proof of that is that here they may appear to keep you a prisoner while at Renich you were free. Tell me, were these window bars placed here on your account?”
“For whom do you think they were placed, alas!”
“Are you not allowed to go out of the room?”
“Not a step outside... Not a single step. And I have sworn not to come to the window unveiled.”
“Therefore you are still Von Treischke’s most valuable hostage,” I said, “until the exchange is made.”
“Yes,” she acquiesced, bowing her head sadly, “until the exchange is made.”
“And I presume that I have been appointed to negotiate the conditions of exchange. I have them in the letter which they’ve entrusted me with. Then why all this mystery? Why not speak frankly to me? Why not act openly with me? I say to you as I should say to Von Treischke: What result were you expecting from my visit to Captain Hyx?”
“Nothing, nothing,” she sobbed. “I was expecting nothing and I was thinking of you only to pity you.”
“Do you think if I brought Amalia here that Kessel would let you go?”
“Never! I tell you that as a secret — to you alone.
Never! True, he promises to let me go, but he doesn’t mean to keep his promise. To you, to you alone, I say that he will never let me go.”
“Then you must be surrendered to Captain Hyx first.”
“You will understand that if Kessel will not let me go — after, he will not let me go before. No, no, you see my friend, our only hope, if I have a hope, and it was because of this hope that my heart was with you to-night in the bay...”
“Speak... speak.... I am listening.... I am listening.”
“Our only hope is for you to deceive my husband, and persuade him that if he will release your Amalia my gaoler will then consent to give me my liberty. That is what you will have to make him believe. Thus you will save Amalia, whom you love. It’s the only way. Don’t hesitate to pledge your word if necessary. Do you understand me?”
“I understand, Madam, that you are asking me to play a dangerous game, for if Captain Hyx released Amalia as a result of my promises, supported by my word of honour, and I did not take you back to him, I fear that nothing would be left for me but to recommend my soul to Providence.”
“No; you would have to help me to escape. And this time I would go with you.... That is our only hope.”
“There’s a much simpler way,” I replied, somewhat frigidly, for the veiled lady’s idea struck a chill into me, “and that is for you to make your escape now before I attempt the impossible task of enticing poor Amalia from the ‘Vengeance’ without obtaining any safeguard for Captain Hyx. Would you come with me if I arranged for your immediate escape?”
She gave a start, clasped her hands as if in prayer, and ended by saying in a whisper:
“Yes, I would come
with you. I would go with you anywhere so long as you did not take me to Captain Hyx.”
I could not refrain from making a somewhat abrupt gesture, for, in truth, the enigma instead of being deciphered was becoming more and more baffling; and I was no further advanced after our conversation on the balcony than I was after our conversation on the submarine.
“Don’t try to understand,” she begged, between her sobs, “don’t try to understand.... It’s too terrible.”
And gradually her strength seemed to give way, and she collapsed before me. I still heard her half-stifled sobs.
And then, yielding to her entreaty, I no longer tried to understand, and the sight of this wild dejection so changed my feelings that I determined to rescue her without understanding.... Afterwards, well, we should see! And with such a hostage at my disposal it seemed to me that I could speak out to both sides, with no uncertain voice, and be master of the situation. But let me make myself clear. My nature is not sufficiently calculating — let me say not sufficiently egotistical — for the idea of rescuing the veiled lady to have sprung from a purely personal motive. No! It was the hope of saving everyone, and of enabling us all to be rid of this atrocious adventure that impelled me immediately to carry out my intention. And then it must not be forgotten that a woman was before me weeping, and I have never been able to see beauty in distress without feeling myself uplifted and ready to do the most heroic deeds.
“Madam,” I said, “I will try to release you from your gaolers. Pray that our attempt may be successful.” I was holding on to the bars of the window when I felt a soft kiss of gratitude on my hand.
I at once hastened to return to Potage, to whom I imparted my resolution. He manifested a great feeling of elation, and bitterly regretted that he did not have on him the necessary tools for his little task.
“To-morrow evening I will set to work,” he said. “Meanwhile you can pass her this rope, which may be useful to us when she escapes. We must take no risks with the ledge, for it is not over solid and might give way under our feet. A moment ago a stone loosened and fell with more clatter than I cared to hear. We must take no risks. Una disgracia no viene nunca sola. Misfortunes never come singly.”
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 370
