Complete Works of F Marion Crawford

by F. Marion Crawford

  “I see,” said Lady Brenda, “of course. Go on.”

  “Now I am going to perform a magic rite. I will put this bit of copper wire into this little cup of mercury. Do you see that needle? If the needle moves I shall be a great man — if it does not — well then we will see.”

  “Put it in. I am sure it won’t move,” said Lady Brenda, confidently.

  “Here goes. One, two, three!”

  Augustus and his mother-in-law fixed their eyes on the little needle. It trembled and moved, very little indeed, but visibly.

  “Hurrah!” cried Chard. “I shall be a great man! I told you so!”

  “How can you be so silly, Augustus!” laughed Lady Brenda. “Of course it moved — you shook it with the wire. Don’t tell me you really put any faith in that nonsense!”

  “I put a good deal of faith in it,” he answered, quietly, still gazing at the needle, which remained deflected until he severed the connection, when it at once returned to its normal position. “Now that it is settled that I am to be a great man, let us go for a walk.”

  “Much nicer than pottering over such rubbish,” said the lady. “I have just had such a delightful letter. Guess from whom it is?”

  Augustus guessed, and so they went down towards the sea. He was not given to talking of his intentions until they were fulfilled, and there was yet much work to be done before the colossal battery could produce the phenomena he expected from it. But he had a large body of workmen in readiness, together with vast quantities of material, which seemed to consist chiefly of great sheets of zinc-coated wire netting, of endless coils of the same wire and of great heaps of cork floats, each as big as a man’s head, like those used for setting tunny-nets in the Mediterranean. In a number of large deal cases which were yet unopened there were apparatus of all kinds for electric lighting, there were electric motors, electric heating stoves and ranges for cooking by electricity; not to mention telegraphic instruments for measuring currents, for varying the tension of the electricity produced and for ascertaining the tension of the charge in long cables.

  The workmen began their labours under Chard’s direction and in a week the sea was covered for a considerable distance with a net-work of cables and floats disposed in the shape of a huge fan, adapted to the shape of the lonely little bay below the Castello del Gaudio. All along the shore and half way up the height every level bit of ground was covered with wire netting, and pieces of the latter were thrust into the deep crevices of the rocks and adapted over the rocks themselves wherever these were smooth enough; and the netting, again, was covered with layers of mud and sand and pebbles to protect it from the action of the sun. All these nettings were carefully joined to a system of thick, insulated copper wires which ultimately converged into one cable and led to a stone hut at some distance from the castle. From the cables floating on the sea, endless spirals of zinc-coated wire hung down to the depths, but did not reach to the bottom. These spirals also were connected and the connections all ended in a second insulated cable which led up by high posts to the little hut. The interior of the latter was now transformed into a rough laboratory and some of the instruments were unpacked from the cases, cleaned from dust and dampness and fixed upon heavy deal tables. Thick glass pillars surmounted by massive brass knobs and binding screws stood upon blocks of wood, for Augustus had taken his precautions, not knowing how far the mysterious element might confine itself to the voltaic form, and fearing some of those startling manifestations of statical electricity which have puzzled and even terrified experimenters ever since Franklin drew sparks from his kite and since Armstrong’s workman was knocked down by an electric shock from his steam-engine.

  Augustus shut himself up in his laboratory and cautiously began his operations. It was first necessary to ascertain whether the current would produce a spark, and if so, whether the spark were of such magnitude as to be dangerous. Carefully he connected the extremities of his cables with a large universal discharger and adjusting the points at a distance of four inches apart, he retired to the corner of the hut when the commutator was placed upon a separate stand. With intense anxiety he turned the lever that was to produce the connection, keeping his eyes fixed upon the universal discharger. Instantly a lambent flame shot across the space between the points and shed a strange blue light upon the objects near it, even in the broad daylight. Augustus breathed hard. He feared that he had produced a current of strong tension and small quantity. He broke the circuit and increased the distance of the points to eight inches. Again the same lambent flame leapt across as he turned the lever of the commutator. The tension must be enormous, equal to that of a Ruhmkorff inductorium of a hundred thousand metres secondary coil, at the very least. Confused by an appearance so familiar to him, Augustus then attempted to charge a Leyden battery by attaching separate wires to the pillars of the discharger and allowing the sparks to pass as before. No result followed, and Augustus laughed at himself as he realised his mistake. But at ten inches and a half the spark ceased to pass between the points: even at that distance the tension in a constant current was almost incredible. Chard wondered whether the galvanometer would indicate any great quantity of the fluid. With such a tension a tangent compass was of little use and he introduced a common galvanometer into the circuit and watched it as he turned the key of the commutator. He expected to see the needle deflected to an angle of forty-five degrees, indicating a comparatively very small quantity of electricity, such as is frequently found in currents of very high tension. To his surprise and delight the needle moved quickly round through an angle of 180 degrees and presently remained stationary with its north pole pointing to the south. The quantity was therefore enormous, far beyond even what Augustus had expected, and the tension was, after all, small in comparison. The real world seemed likely to carry out the promises of the artificial one. The gigantic force developed was docile as a child. There were no stunning and unexpected shocks from the fittings of the apparatus, no sparks flying off with a report like a pistol shot such as Augustus had seen in the handling of large dynamo-electric machines and other imperfectly controllable generators. Half an hour convinced him that the current could be stored in common accumulators without trouble or danger and that the tension could be diminished by diminishing the quantity. These admirable properties Augustus attributed to the perfect balance between internal and external resistance which was maintained in his vast natural battery. The incandescent arc light worked admirably and the accumulators when connected with electromotors left nothing to be desired. A few experiments with the latter and a few rough calculations convinced Augustus that the force of his constant current was sufficient to run a train of two hundred tons at the rate of a hundred miles an hour. The idea was fascinating and he grew pale with excitement. If a few hundred yards of collectors could produce such effects, what might be expected from an apparatus covering a mile of sea-coast? Augustus resolved to illuminate the mountains that very night, in honour of the discovery, and he lost no time in setting his men to work. Lamps were hung upon the jutting rocks, upon the walls and terraces of the castle, upon posts set upright upon the narrow shore below, and high upon the tower a truck bearing half a dozen lamps together was hoisted and connected with the rest.

  CHAPTER III.

  IT WAS A warm evening in the latter part of May. Augustus had said nothing of the result of the experiments he had been making during the past weeks, intending to surprise the three ladies by showing them the astounding results of his work all at once. The party sat at dinner in the vaulted hall and talked upon indifferent subjects.

  “You seem to be revolutionising this part of the world, Augustus,” said Diana. “I was walking on the rocks this afternoon with Gwendoline and it seemed as though you were preparing an immense show of fireworks.”

  “Nothing to speak of,” answered her brother; “I will show you after dinner.”

  “You have not succeeded in getting those people to dinner whom we were talking about the other day, have you?” ask
ed Gwendoline. “I thought the fireworks might be in their honour.”

  “No, I am afraid they won’t come for my asking. Perhaps if they got a word from you, my dear—”

  “What oppressive weather!” remarked Lady Brenda. “I am sure there is going to be a thunderstorm.”

  “I think so too,” said Gwendoline. “I always feel the thunder before it comes. Is not it very warm for May? We might almost go out after dinner.”

  “By all means, let us go out,” assented Augustus. “I have something to show you. It is singularly oppressive, as you say — and yet the weather seems fine enough.”

  “Did it never strike you that your experiments might have an effect on the weather?” asked Diana.

  “If one could find a means to affect the weather,” Augustus replied, “one might produce rain and drought at will. No — I do not believe it has gone as far as that. If the currents I have produced were being discharged through the air their action might make some very slight local change. But they are not. Just now they are running off into accumulators like water into a cistern.”

  “I hope it is not you,” said Gwendoline, “but there is certainly a very strange feeling in the air — very strange indeed. I never felt anything like it before.”

  Bimbam just then entered the room and whispered something to Mrs. Chard, bending low with the respectful air of a trained elephant.

  “It is very odd,” said Gwendoline. “Tell him to send something else. Just fancy,” she continued, turning to the others, “Celestin has sent word that the ice-cream won’t freeze — he says ‘he is at the despair but that congeals not.’ It is very provoking — the first time I have ordered it.”

  “Don’t look at me like that,” said Augustus, laughing, “it is not my fault.”

  “I believe it is,” said Gwendoline, making a little face and then laughing too.

  “Do you seriously suspect me of having put Nature’s nose out of joint?” asked her husband.

  “Never mind, dear! It is not the least matter,” said Lady Brenda to her daughter. “Those things will happen sometimes, you know. Célestin will. turn the ice-cream into something else, of course. Dear me! I feel as though the room were full of people — it is very warm.”

  “Open that window,” said Augustus to Bimbam, the butler. The servant obeyed and a gust of hot air blew in, almost stifling in its oppressiveness, but the stars shone brightly in the dark and there seemed to be no clouds in the sky. The party sat in silence for some time, going through the form of eating, but the sultry weight in the atmosphere increased with every minute until it seemed as though the simoon of the desert had broken into the dining-room.

  “I cannot stand this a moment longer,” said Gwendoline, rising to her feet. “I cannot breathe.”

  “Let us go out,” said Augustus. “I will amuse you with my new fireworks. It must be cooler outside.”

  The three ladies left the table, and Augustus sent for a lantern. He meant the surprise to be complete, produced by a turn of his fingers, in the twinkling of an eye. Bearing the lantern in his hand he left the house with his three companions and began to ascend a short steep path which led to the stone hut where he had centralised his apparatus.

  “It is weird — almost ghastly,” said Diana in a low voice.

  “One feels afraid to speak,” answered Gwendoline.

  “Does not it sometimes feel like this when there is to be an earthquake?” asked Lady Brenda.

  “Exactly like this,” said Augustus, reassuringly.

  “Good gracious! You don’t think there is going to be one?”

  “No, I never heard of an earthquake on this peninsula. There will very probably be one in Naples to-night. Take care — the stones are loose. Here we are. Now take a good look. I want you to stand here — so — facing the sea and turning a little towards the castle. Don’t move or turn your eyes away — it will be very curious. You are not afraid? I must go inside the hut to do it.”

  Augustus entered the low door, carrying his lantern with him, and leaving the three ladies outside in the dark. He went straight to the commutator and having assured himself that the connections were properly made he laid his hand on the switch.

  “Ready,” he called aloud. “Look where I told you — now!”

  The key turned under his fingers and almost at the same instant a cry of surprise and delight broke from the little party outside. Augustus went out and joined them, and gazed on the wonderful effects of his discovery.

  The rocks and the shore were as bright as day. High on the castle burned a beacon which must have been visible thirty miles away at sea; from every point of rock a little sun shed a broad circle of daylight, and from deep fissures and crevices straight, broad shafts of light beamed upwards to the dark sky like radiant ladders to heaven. The frightened quail, at that season just settling on the southern shore after their flight from Africa, flew whirring up towards the lights, uttering their peculiar short cry. White gulls shot from the rocks and sped in huge circles like gigantic flakes of snow whirling down to the dark, placid water. The rocks threw weird and unimagined shadows under the light which had never shone on them before. The four spectators of the wonderful scene looked out, and held their breath, and then looked at each other.

  “How did you do it, Augustus?” asked Gwendoline.

  “I suppose they are electric lights,” said Diana, “but the effect is like magic.”

  “Perfectly wonderful!” exclaimed Lady Brenda. “I never saw anything like it. There is some real practical use in this sort of thing.”

  “You did not seem to think there was much use in my glass bowl oracle the other day,” remarked Augustus.

  “No — that was ridiculous,” answered his mother-in-law.

  “It was the same thing on a smaller scale. I was only teasing you — it was an experiment with electricity; it was not an oracle at all.”

  “How could you make fun of me in that way?” asked Lady Brenda, half hurt, half laughing.

  “Only to see what you would say,” replied Augustus. “Come, let us take a walk among the lights and see the effect from different places.”

  “It is hotter out of doors than it was at dinner,” said Lady Brenda. “It is like a sirocco in August — it burns one’s skin.”

  It was quite true; as they moved along the narrow paths, puffs of burning air blew from the rocks on all sides, unexpectedly, and so violently that it seemed as though the party were struck by clouds of hot whirling feathers. The wind seemed palpable and thick. One would almost have said that the gusts cast shadows in the brilliant light of the countless lamps. At the same time, in the dark distance above the illumination, the stars were dimmed and went out one by one. Then as the four persons emerged upon a little platform of rock from which they could view the wild scene, the blasts of scorching wind suddenly ceased and the air settled down upon them like a thick warm blanket. They panted for breath, and by a common impulse they all sat down upon the blocks of stone to rest.

  An indescribable awe seized upon them all, like the creeping shadow of an event to come. Gwendoline sat by her husband’s side and laid her hand upon his clasped fingers. Lady Brenda chose the place where the light was brightest, while Diana, sitting a little apart, leaned her cheek upon her hand and stared out into the strange mixture of daylight and darkness, half startled by a feeling of weird horror, half delighted by the delicious sense of confused reality and dreamy illusion which her brother had conjured up.

  The four sat there for nearly a quarter of an hour without exchanging a word. There are times when the most loquacious being alive must be silent; moments when the unwonted consciousness of the limitless unknown lies heavily upon the little body of our poor knowledge, as the weight of some huge beast that stretches its vast bulk across a tiny trail of toiling ants. The ants are too small to be all crushed by anything so big and rough, but they lie paralysed and helpless till it pleases the giant to relieve them of his burden and let them move again. The mind sticks
like a fly in a pot of honey when transported to an atmosphere not its own, and seems to struggle with an element in which its consciousness is redoubled while its activity is destroyed. No one of the four could have given a reason for the silence, nor can any one find explanations for such things without assuming a theory which one half of the world considers absurd and the other half believes to be dangerous. The fact that for thousands of years man has been trying experiments with a view to finding out something about himself, and that his efforts have uniformly resulted in failure, has not made him more lenient to beliefs which he dislikes, nor more willing to admit his own well-demonstrated ignorance. He still explains as accident that which he knows not how to explain by law, and rocks himself to sleep in the security of self-deceived vanity, until he is roused from his slumber to tremble at those terrors which his fatuous self-satisfaction has so deservedly incurred. Science, what follies are committed in thy name! What blind faith is placed in thy feeble utterances, which might more worthily be fixed on higher and truer things!

  Silently the four sat together and looked down upon the scene, breathing with difficulty in the hot thick air. The wind had entirely ceased and the silence was so profound as to be almost terrifying. Then, suddenly and without the smallest warning, a fearful crash of thunder burst above their heads and struck the rocks, and echoed back in horrible reverberation, peal upon peal, rolling to the distance, as though the great earth had struck upon a mountain in the smooth grooves that guide her course, and, jolting heavily, were grinding the mass to pieces beneath her resistless weight. Then all was silent again.

  Even Augustus started slightly from his reverie, and the ladies sprang to their feet. There was something in the suddenness of the explosion that struck them all as unnatural and horrible.

  “Let us go home — I am sure it is going to rain,” said Lady Brenda, but her voice sounded hollow and weird.

  “Look at the lights!” exclaimed Gwendoline. “What is that moving round them?”