Land Under England

by Joseph O'Neill

  Whoever had hewn the path out of the cliff had done so by cutting a descent from the top on to a broad ledge, and widening this so that it was about four feet in breadth.

  The light held good, and, as I went down, the landscape below got gradually clearer. I was descending into a great valley that lay between lofty mountain barriers. Where the river flowed to, or the valley ended, I could not see, but both obviously descended into lower lands, and I felt certain that it was in these I should be likely to find men, if there were men in this world. They certainly were not dwelling near me in the valley—or, if they were, they were invisible—for there was not the slightest sign of human life or human activity anywhere in view in the plain below me—nothing but the great river bordered by flat dim lands, and near me the other river that ran from the bottom of the waterfall to join the other.

  At length I came out on a platform that overlooked the ground from a height of little over a hundred feet.

  Below me, the boiling cauldron of water produced by the waterfall sent up clouds of spray. From the great pool into which it fell a long narrow lake ran along the foot of the cliff beneath me, and seemed to be full of floating trees that eddied back and forward and were now and again sucked back into the whirlpool. The banks of the lake were rocky and clear of animals, as far as I could see, but, lower down, the ground was a swamp, brilliant with phosphorescent gleamings in which I thought I could see large bodies moving, as if it were full of serpents or great lizards. There was no sign of man anywhere—no road or beaten path or track.

  The river that ran from the waterfall had cut its way through the rocky ground, and seemed to rush at a great pace through the swampy lands, which I suppose it had produced by the overflow of its waters on each side.

  I looked on all sides, but could see no path through the swamp, except the river waterway.

  Near me, the water had eaten a curve into the ground, and made a sort of natural rectangular harbour in which all the flotsam that had escaped from the whirlpool and had not gone down the river was floating in a thick jam between the sides of my end of the rectangle. The stuff was chiefly trees, not all of the underworld type, for there was one, just under the bank on which I was standing, that looked like a sycamore.

  I was particularly interested in the tops of mushroom trees that had been snapped off their trunks. There were four or five of these great mushroom cups mixed up with the wreckage, two floating on their mouths—the others riding on the water like boats. One of these latter attracted my attention particularly. It was on the outer edge of the pack, floating like a great bowl.

  Its long, slender trunk had been snapped off about eight feet from the top, and appeared just over the rim of the floating bowl like a funnel. I decided to try to get to it across the jam of trees that floated between it and the bank.

  I looked round me once again, then ran down the bank, sat on the brink of it, and tested the strength of the jam with my foot.

  In a few minutes I reached the bowl. The rim of it was about three feet over the water, and I looked into it easily from a trunk that was lying alongside it.

  I clambered up the side, which consisted of a tough rubbery stuff like cork, but not so dry and crisp. It rocked like a canoe, but the pack held it firm enough, and I managed to get over the side. This was nearly a foot thick. I made two deep notches in it, near each other, and hung my kit on the peg that I had left between the notches, then I slipped down into the bowl.

  By dint of much bailing I managed to empty the great bowl completely. It was about six feet in diameter, and with a rubbery surface that was thick enough and tough enough to make it quite safe, unless I got rammed very badly by some tree. It was not a boat, for it could not be directed, but it was safer than a raft, and, if I could get it into the river, I was willing to accept whatever risk came my way, as being less than any I was likely to meet on land, and compensated for by the speed and ease of travelling.

  The difficulty now was to get my scow into the river. I climbed out, selected suitable boughs, from among the wreckage, for poles, trimmed them, climbed back into the vessel, and put my kit into the bottom. I then got out again, and began to clear a passage.

  After a long time and tremendous effort, I got my vessel at last to the outside of the jam.

  I was afraid, once I got the vessel loose, to part from the bank, lest I should be sucked down into the whirlpool at the foot of the falls, so when I reached the bank I got out and began to tow the bowl towards the mouth of the river with some trailers made of long sea-weedy growths.

  I was so engaged in this task that I forgot that there was any danger, until a slight rustle behind caused me to turn. A brute like a huge lizard was coming at me along the bank. I sprang into the vessel. The impetus of my spring sent the bowl spinning into the middle of the lake.

  For a moment, in my pre-occupation with the reptile, I didn’t realise the new danger. Then I saw to my horror that the spinning action of the vessel was bringing it towards the part of the water that was affected by the whirlpool.

  The spinning was making my head reel. I caught the stump of the trunk, and tried to think. I was spinning nearer and nearer to the outer vortex, and it seemed only a matter of minutes until I should be sucked into it and drawn under the falls. Already I was drenched with their spray. If I jumped into the water, I might have some chance of escape by swimming strongly. In the bowl I should have none.

  I climbed up the side of the bowl, and tried to balance myself on it, as it spun round and round, with the intention of springing into the water away from the falls before it was too late, when suddenly the dipping of the boat under my weight on one side swung her round in another direction. I thought she was going to heel over on top of me, and sprang back into her. The next moment she righted herself, caught the current of the river, and was dashing away from the falls towards the river mouth.

  The landscape was whirling round me. I clung to the stump of the trunk, and tried to make out things. For a moment I could see nothing but a landscape that spun round and round with the whirling of the vessel, then I saw that I was through the outlet and rushing between the banks of the river at a great pace.

  The bowl was spinning still, but more slowly. I looked over the side of the vessel, and saw marshes with serpents and big lizards; then I was past them, and running between wooded rocky banks.

  On the left bank I saw two of the double-bodied animals staring, then, in front, the view cleared, and I saw the great river. At the same time I heard the noise of a waterfall. The big river was at a lower level, and the river I was on fell into it over a cataract! It would have been useless for me to try to swim for the bank, as the current was much too strong, and, even if I got to the bank, I should be completely stranded. I had little choice but to face the cataract.

  I clasped my arms tightly round the “mast” and waited. My nerves had got to such a state of tension that I don’t think I felt any fear. I merely waited.

  The roar of the waterfall came up to me. I was rushing at it. Then, instead of falling, I was flying through the air. My light craft had been shot off the edge of the waterfall by its own speed. It fell on the water, bounced up again, fell again, and skidded along, shaking every bone in my body like a heap of dry bones in a sack. Then the rush of the greater river caught it and sent it spinning down mid-river.

  My body had been rattled like a bag of dice and seemed to be falling asunder; my head was giddy with the spinning and bouncing of the boat, but I had managed to cling on to the “mast” through the whole of the skidding, though I had swung and bumped against it horribly. Then I slumped to the bottom of the boat and was violently sick.

  Gradually the spinning of the bowl began to lessen, got slower and slower, and almost stopped. My giddiness was beginning to pass away. My body felt as if it had been brutally beaten.

  I felt bruised on the right shoulder and the left hip. There didn’t seem to be any bones broken, however.

  I stood up beside “the mast,”
and looked round me. I was in the middle of the great river about a mile from either bank. On each side the shores went past at such a pace that I judged that the river must be going at the rate of twelve or fifteen miles an hour. There was no sign of any human dwelling on the shores that I could see. On both sides they stretched away mile after mile towards the mountain barriers that I had seen from the cliff and the downward path. In front the river stretched into the dimness, and through the dimness I saw, a great distance away, a series of lofty mountains revealed under the gleams of the streamers of light.

  The mountains in front ran away to right and left on both sides, to meet the great chains that ran parallel with the rushing river. Between them they seemed to form a complete barrier to the further passage of the river, unless it had carved an outlet somewhere between them. Probably it had made a way between the distant mountains that rose up in front. I stared at them, fascinated.

  I felt that beyond these mountains I should discover the world of men, if I could only get through or over them. Would the river bring me there? What should I find beyond? Men and towns, or a barren desert? Perhaps darkness.

  Although I was becoming more and more drowsy, I wanted to see where the river led before I slept. Judging by the pace of the current, I calculated that another half-hour would bring me to the foot of the mountains. The river stretched almost straight in front of me for a long distance, and, unless there were very considerable windings farther on, it would soon be approaching the foothills.

  I heard a noise and listened intently. It was certainly a cataract. Then I was round a bend of the river and rushing straight at the sound. Not two miles ahead the river met the mountain and disappeared with the noise of a cataclysm.

  I stood staring ahead in dismay. What was in front? Perhaps a fall that plunged into some bottomless gulf! What was I to do? I thought of springing out and endeavouring to swim to the shore, but a moment’s thought showed me that I shouldn’t have the slightest chance of reaching it. Whatever hope of safety I had lay in sticking to my vessel. Then suddenly the bowl rounded a corner and dashed through a great arch under the mountain. As it spun round into the arch, I saw a waterfall that came down from the mountain on my left and that had been hidden from me by a mass of cliff—then I was in semi-darkness, rushing through a long cavern or tunnel lit into a dim confusion by phosphorescence from the sides and the roof. The latter was at least twenty feet over my head. The tunnel was not as wide as the river had been, but it was at least a hundred yards in width. I could see nothing living in it, and, when I listened, there was nothing to be heard but the soft swish of the rushing water. It came into my mind that the water might fall into so great an abyss that no sound could return—perhaps an abyss of fire—but I was at once too excited and too tired to be much troubled even by this thought. I had done all I could. If I were hurrying towards the mouth of a pit of fire or water, then I should soon be dead and at rest.

  I think I must have fallen into a sort of doze, for I didn’t see the exit from the tunnel. When I became conscious, the bowl was already rushing over a broad sheet of water. There was little light except the gleaming of the water, which seemed to be a mass of phosphorus. There was no sign of the streamer lights from above. But for the phosphorescence I should have been in complete darkness.

  I looked round me. Everywhere was phosphorescent water. I looked behind me, but could see nothing, although I knew that the mountain that I had come through must be there. I turned again, and scanned the water for any trace of land. There was none that I could see. Nothing but a coruscating sea, under a dark canopy.

  I was still rushing through the water at a great pace, carried along by the current of the river that had swept me into it, or by some powerful current that was in the sea itself. I was glad of this, for, if there were no current, I might remain floating on the dark water till I died of starvation. But although I searched the water on all sides for some glimpse of sails, there was none.

  I could see a slight distance along the water, and I thought I saw, here and there, round bodies lifting themselves up from it, as if big water-beasts were swimming near the surface. I didn’t want to attract their attention, as they might attack the boat. I had therefore to make my observation very carefully, without putting my head much over the rim of the boat.

  After a while I sat down in the boat, leaning against the side. Thought was no use to me, only a trouble, since it suggested difficulties and disasters that it could not help to avoid.

  I put my thoughts away, drew a piece of cooked meat out of my bag, and began to eat. When I was cooking the flesh on the cliff, I had stowed away six grilled steaks in my wallet.

  As I ate, the phosphorescence seemed to be fading, and by the time I had finished I had reached a region of almost complete darkness.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Men

  I WAS in the worst plight in which I had found myself since my entrance into this world, rushing along blindly on a dim sea, of whose limits or bounds I could see nothing, under a lightless gloom, along a shore whose darkness might cover anything. I was rushing past a land that revealed nothing. From time to time, hoarse barkings and bellowings came to me from the shores flying past me on my left hand. Lights glimmered and flickered over them—spectral, blue lights. Now and again I imagined I could see tall moving figures.

  My mind was so filled by fantastic things that I couldn’t be sure that it hadn’t deceived me—the shapes were probably only serpents coiling upwards.

  I began to wonder what sort of creatures could inhabit such a place, and what other shores the sea might have. If I could only get back to the country of the streamer lights, I could start my search afresh. There, at least, there was some light and warmth, while here there was nothing but darkness and rotting phosphorescence. However, for the moment I could do nothing.

  For a while I stood by the “mast,” staring into the darkness. Feeling hungry, I took out a piece of my cooked meat and made a cheerless breakfast.

  Then I sat down and waited.

  Was it an illusion, or was it getting brighter? I stared upward. There were no gleams in the darkness above me. Yet, undoubtedly, it was getting brighter.

  I peered cautiously over the side. In front there was a gleam of light, as if there were an opening of some sort through which moonlight was coming. To my joy the stream was sweeping me towards it. The light was growing larger. Already I could see the water dimly in front.

  The river was getting more visible between shores of rock and slimy ground. Overhead a cavernous vault of rock was dimly visible, high up. In front it opened up into a wide gateway through which light was coming.

  I stared at the opening with intense excitement. I was rushing at it—then through it, between rocky walls into the brightness.

  I stared round me. I was on a great stretch of water, over which, high up, streaming Aurora lights were darting backward and forward. I could have shouted with joy. After the darkness of the great cavern or tunnel from which I had escaped, the sight of the Aurora was almost as great a joy as the sunlight would have been.

  I looked round me with delight. In front, some distance away, I could see three islands. Beyond these, on all sides, the sea seemed to stretch to the horizon. I scanned it eagerly for the sight of a vessel.

  There was nothing, neither ship nor mainland, only the islands and the expanse of empty water.

  Behind me a vast cliff stretched from sea to sky on each side. I turned back and looked at the islands. Already they were much nearer. The current of the stream had been slowed down somewhat by its entrance into the sea, but it was still strong, and was flowing rapidly towards the islands. As they came nearer, I saw that they had tall growths, like trees, and that all three were larger than I had thought. The largest couldn’t be less than three miles in length.

  Now that I had seen no sign of a ship, I began to think that it might be wise to try to land on the islands. As we came near them, I examined the largest island as carefully as the l
ight permitted. If it were merely a swamp of reptiles, I should be much safer floating on the great water. It seemed to be wooded and hilly, for there were dark, uneven masses like clumps of trees on uneven land.

  The vessel was not moving directly towards it now, but towards a sea-channel, about a mile broad, that lay between one end of the island and the nearer of the other islands.

  It looked as if I should be carried past into the sea beyond.

  As the bowl rushed on, I was in exceeding perplexity. If I decided to land, I might have to jump out and swim before the current carried me past the western end, but that would mean abandoning the vessel.

  I stared at the island, but, in the dim light, I could distinguish little.

  Suddenly I grew rigid. A sound was coming from over the water—a sound like distant music!

  I listened, tense.

  There could hardly be any doubt that it was music—a soft strain of music, very low, through distance, but quite clear. And it was coming from behind the island!

  I had been so often deceived, by my hopes, into believing that men were near, that now I could hardly trust my ears. The music ceased. I could hear nothing but the loud thumping of my own heart.

  The music had come from behind the biggest of the three islands. I stared at it. Were there people living on it—houses, dwellings of men? Surely that music was made by man. There was no light visible—nothing, except the masses of wood that stood up dark under the streamers of light, but—that music! It could hardly be credible that I had reached men at last—but what else could have played that music?

  All my doubts as to the wisdom of landing had ceased. I knew now that I must get to the island.

  I had fixed my kit firmly, and got ready to swim ashore when I noticed that I was moving towards the island, as if the current had deflected. It looked as if I might reach it without having to swim.