5
As we entered deeper into what had once been the city, the evidences ofman's past occupancy became more frequent. For a mile from the archthere was only a riot of weeds and undergrowth and trees covering smallmounds and little hillocks that, I was sure, were formed of the ruinsof stately buildings of the dead past.
But presently we came upon a district where shattered walls stillraised their crumbling tops in sad silence above the grass-grownsepulchers of their fallen fellows. Softened and mellowed by ancientivy stood these sentinels of sorrow, their scarred faces stillrevealing the rents and gashes of shrapnel and of bomb.
Contrary to our expectations, we found little indication that lions inany great numbers laired in this part of ancient London. Well-wornpathways, molded by padded paws, led through the cavernous windows ordoorways of a few of the ruins we passed, and once we saw the savageface of a great, black-maned lion scowling down upon us from ashattered stone balcony.
We followed down the bank of the Thames after we came upon it. I wasanxious to look with my own eyes upon the famous bridge, and I guessed,too, that the river would lead me into the part of London where stoodWestminster Abbey and the Tower.
Realizing that the section through which we had been passing wasdoubtless outlying, and therefore not so built up with large structuresas the more centrally located part of the old town, I felt sure thatfarther down the river I should find the ruins larger. The bridgewould be there in part, at least, and so would remain the walls of manyof the great edifices of the past. There would be no such completeruin of large structures as I had seen among the smaller buildings.
But when I had come to that part of the city which I judged to havecontained the relics I sought I found havoc that had been wrought thereeven greater than elsewhere.
At one point upon the bosom of the Thames there rises a few feet abovethe water a single, disintegrating mound of masonry. Opposite it, uponeither bank of the river, are tumbled piles of ruins overgrown withvegetation.
These, I am forced to believe, are all that remain of London Bridge,for nowhere else along the river is there any other slightest sign ofpier or abutment.
Rounding the base of a large pile of grass-covered debris, we camesuddenly upon the best preserved ruin we had yet discovered. Theentire lower story and part of the second story of what must once havebeen a splendid public building rose from a great knoll of shrubberyand trees, while ivy, thick and luxuriant, clambered upward to thesummit of the broken walls.
In many places the gray stone was still exposed, its smoothly chiseledface pitted with the scars of battle. The massive portal yawned,somber and sorrowful, before us, giving a glimpse of marble hallswithin.
The temptation to enter was too great. I wished to explore theinterior of this one remaining monument of civilization now dead beyondrecall. Through this same portal, within these very marble halls, hadGray and Chamberlin and Kitchener and Shaw, perhaps, come and gone withthe other great ones of the past.
I took Victory's hand in mine.
"Come!" I said. "I do not know the name by which this great pile wasknown, nor the purposes it fulfilled. It may have been the palace ofyour sires, Victory. From some great throne within, your forebears mayhave directed the destinies of half the world. Come!"
I must confess to a feeling of awe as we entered the rotunda of thegreat building. Pieces of massive furniture of another day still stoodwhere man had placed them centuries ago. They were littered with dustand broken stone and plaster, but, otherwise, so perfect was theirpreservation I could hardly believe that two centuries had rolled bysince human eyes were last set upon them.
Through one great room after another we wandered, hand in hand, whileVictory asked many questions and for the first time I began to realizesomething of the magnificence and power of the race from whose loinsshe had sprung.
Splendid tapestries, now mildewed and rotting, hung upon the walls.There were mural paintings, too, depicting great historic events of thepast. For the first time Victory saw the likeness of a horse, and shewas much affected by a huge oil which depicted some ancient cavalrycharge against a battery of field guns.
In other pictures there were steamships, battleships, submarines, andquaint looking railway trains--all small and antiquated in appearanceto me, but wonderful to Victory. She told me that she would like toremain for the rest of her life where she could look at those picturesdaily.
From room to room we passed until presently we emerged into a mightychamber, dark and gloomy, for its high and narrow windows were chokedand clogged by ivy. Along one paneled wall we groped, our eyes slowlybecoming accustomed to the darkness. A rank and pungent odor pervadedthe atmosphere.
We had made our way about half the distance across one end of the greatapartment when a low growl from the far end brought us to a startledhalt.
Straining my eyes through the gloom, I made out a raised dais at theextreme opposite end of the hall. Upon the dais stood two greatchairs, highbacked and with great arms.
The throne of England! But what were those strange forms about it?
Victory gave my hand a quick, excited little squeeze.
"The lions!" she whispered.
Yes, lions indeed! Sprawled about the dais were a dozen huge forms,while upon the seat of one of the thrones a small cub lay curled inslumber.
As we stood there for a moment, spellbound by the sight of thosefearsome creatures occupying the very thrones of the sovereigns ofEngland, the low growl was repeated, and a great male rose slowly tohis feet.
His devilish eyes bored straight through the semi-darkness toward us.He had discovered the interloper. What right had man within thispalace of the beasts? Again he opened his giant jaws, and this timethere rumbled forth a warning roar.
Instantly eight or ten of the other beasts leaped to their feet.Already the great fellow who had spied us was advancing slowly in ourdirection. I held my rifle ready, but how futile it appeared in theface of this savage horde.
The foremost beast broke into a slow trot, and at his heels came theothers. All were roaring now, and the din of their great voicesreverberating through the halls and corridors of the palace formed themost frightful chorus of thunderous savagery imaginable to the mind ofman.
And then the leader charged, and upon the hideous pandemonium broke thesharp crack of my rifle, once, twice, thrice. Three lions rolled,struggling and biting, to the floor. Victory seized my arm, with aquick, "This way! Here is a door," and a moment later we were in atiny antechamber at the foot of a narrow stone staircase.
Up this we backed, Victory just behind me, as the first of theremaining lions leaped from the throne room and sprang for the stairs.Again I fired, but others of the ferocious beasts leaped over theirfallen fellows and pursued us.
The stairs were very narrow--that was all that saved us--for as Ibacked slowly upward, but a single lion could attack me at a time, andthe carcasses of those I slew impeded the rushes of the others.
At last we reached the top. There was a long corridor from whichopened many doorways. One, directly behind us, was tight closed. Ifwe could open it and pass into the chamber behind we might find arespite from attack.
The remaining lions were roaring horribly. I saw one sneaking veryslowly up the stairs toward us.
"Try that door," I called to Victory. "See if it will open."
She ran up to it and pushed.
"Turn the knob!" I cried, seeing that she did not know how to open adoor, but neither did she know what I meant by knob.
I put a bullet in the spine of the approaching lion and leaped toVictory's side. The door resisted my first efforts to swing it inward.Rusted hinges and swollen wood held it tightly closed. But at last itgave, and just as another lion mounted to the top of the stairway itswung in, and I pushed Victory across the threshold.
Then I turned to meet the renewed attack of the savage foe. One lionfell in his tracks, another stumbled to my very feet, and then I leapedwithin and s
lammed the portal to.
A quick glance showed me that this was the only door to the smallapartment in which we had found sanctuary, and, with a sigh of relief,I leaned for a moment against the panels of the stout barrier thatseparated us from the ramping demons without.
Across the room, between two windows, stood a flat-topped desk. Alittle pile of white and brown lay upon it close to the opposite edge.After a moment of rest I crossed the room to investigate. The whitewas the bleached human bones--the skull, collar bones, arms, and a fewof the upper ribs of a man. The brown was the dust of a decayedmilitary cap and blouse. In a chair before the desk were other bones,while more still strewed the floor beneath the desk and about thechair. A man had died sitting there with his face buried in hisarms--two hundred years ago.
Beneath the desk were a pair of spurred military boots, green androtten with decay. In them were the leg bones of a man. Among thetiny bones of the hands was an ancient fountain pen, as good,apparently, as the day it was made, and a metal covered memoranda book,closed over the bones of an index finger.
It was a gruesome sight--a pitiful sight--this lone inhabitant ofmighty London.
I picked up the metal covered memoranda book. Its pages were rottenand stuck together. Only here and there was a sentence or a part of asentence legible. The first that I could read was near the middle ofthe little volume:
"His majesty left for Tunbridge Wells today, he ... jesty wasstricken ... terday. God give she does not die ... am militarygovernor of Lon ..."
And farther on:
"It is awful ... hundred deaths today ... worse than the bombardm ..."
Nearer the end I picked out the following:
"I promised his maj ... e will find me here when he ret ... alone."
The most legible passage was on the next page:
"Thank God we drove them out. There is not a single ... man onBritish soil today; but at what awful cost. I tried to persuade SirPhillip to urge the people to remain. But they are mad with fear ofthe Death, and rage at our enemies. He tells me that the coast citiesare packed ... waiting to be taken across. What will become ofEngland, with none left to rebuild her shattered cities!"
And the last entry:
"... alone. Only the wild beasts ... A lion is roaring nowbeneath the palace windows. I think the people feared the beasts evenmore than they did the Death. But they are gone, all gone, and towhat? How much better conditions will they find on the continent? Allgone--only I remain. I promised his majesty, and when he returns hewill find that I was true to my trust, for I shall be awaiting him.God save the King!"
That was all. This brave and forever nameless officer died nobly athis post--true to his country and his king. It was the Death, nodoubt, that took him.
Some of the entries had been dated. From the few legible letters andfigures which remained I judge the end came some time in August, 1937,but of that I am not at all certain.
The diary has cleared up at least one mystery that had puzzled me not alittle, and now I am surprised that I had not guessed its solutionmyself--the presence of African and Asiatic beasts in England.
Acclimated by years of confinement in the zoological gardens, they werefitted to resume in England the wild existence for which nature hadintended them, and once free, had evidently bred prolifically, inmarked contrast to the captive exotics of twentieth centuryPan-America, which had gradually become fewer until extinction occurredsome time during the twenty-first century.
The palace, if such it was, lay not far from the banks of the Thames.The room in which we were imprisoned overlooked the river, and Idetermined to attempt to escape in this direction.
To descend through the palace was out of the question, but outside wecould discover no lions. The stems of the ivy which clambered upwardpast the window of the room were as large around as my arm. I knewthat they would support our weight, and as we could gain nothing byremaining longer in the palace, I decided to descend by way of the ivyand follow along down the river in the direction of the launch.
Naturally I was much handicapped by the presence of the girl. But Icould not abandon her, though I had no idea what I should do with herafter rejoining my companions. That she would prove a burden and anembarrassment I was certain, but she had made it equally plain to methat she would never return to her people to mate with Buckingham.
I owed my life to her, and, all other considerations aside, that wassufficient demand upon my gratitude and my honor to necessitate mysuffering every inconvenience in her service. Too, she was queen ofEngland. But, by far the most potent argument in her favor, she was awoman in distress--and a young and very beautiful one.
And so, though I wished a thousand times that she was back in her camp,I never let her guess it, but did all that lay within my power to serveand protect her. I thank God now that I did so.
With the lions still padding back and forth beyond the closed door,Victory and I crossed the room to one of the windows. I had outlinedmy plan to her, and she had assured me that she could descend the ivywithout assistance. In fact, she smiled a trifle at my question.
Swinging myself outward, I began the descent, and had come to within afew feet of the ground, being just opposite a narrow window, when I wasstartled by a savage growl almost in my ear, and then a great talonedpaw darted from the aperture to seize me, and I saw the snarling faceof a lion within the embrasure.
Releasing my hold upon the ivy, I dropped the remaining distance to theground, saved from laceration only because the lion's paw struck thethick stem of ivy.
The creature was making a frightful racket now, leaping back and forthfrom the floor at the broad window ledge, tearing at the masonry withhis claws in vain attempts to reach me. But the opening was toonarrow, and the masonry too solid.
Victory had commenced the descent, but I called to her to stop justabove the window, and, as the lion reappeared, growling and snarling, Iput a .33 bullet in his face, and at the same moment Victory slippedquickly past him, dropping into my upraised arms that were awaiting her.
The roaring of the beasts that had discovered us, together with thereport of my rifle, had set the balance of the fierce inmates of thepalace into the most frightful uproar I have ever heard.
I feared that it would not be long before intelligence or instinctwould draw them from the interiors and set them upon our trail, theriver. Nor had we much more than reached it when a lion bounded aroundthe corner of the edifice we had just quitted and stood looking aboutas though in search of us.
Following, came others, while Victory and I crouched in hiding behind aclump of bushes close to the bank of the river. The beasts sniffedabout the ground for a while, but they did not chance to go near thespot where we had stood beneath the window that had given us escape.
Presently a black-maned male raised his head, and, with cocked ears andglaring eyes, gazed straight at the bush behind which we lay. I couldhave sworn that he had discovered us, and when he took a few short andstately steps in our direction I raised my rifle and covered him. But,after a long, tense moment he looked away, and turned to glare inanother direction.
I breathed a sigh of relief, and so did Victory. I could feel her bodyquiver as she lay pressed close to me, our cheeks almost touching as weboth peered through the same small opening in the foliage.
I turned to give her a reassuring smile as the lion indicated that hehad not seen us, and as I did so she, too, turned her face toward mine,for the same purpose, doubtless. Anyway, as our heads turnedsimultaneously, our lips brushed together. A startled expression cameinto Victory's eyes as she drew back in evident confusion.
As for me, the strangest sensation that I have ever experienced claimedme for an instant. A peculiar, tingling thrill ran through my veins,and my head swam. I could not account for it.
Naturally, being a naval officer and consequently in the best societyof the federation, I have seen much of women. With others, I havelaughed at the assertions of the savants that mode
rn man is a cold andpassionless creation in comparison with the males of former ages--in aword, that love, as the one grand passion, had ceased to exist.
I do not know, now, but that they were more nearly right than we haveguessed, at least in so far as modern civilized woman is concerned. Ihave kissed many women--young and beautiful and middle aged and old,and many that I had no business kissing--but never before had Iexperienced that remarkable and altogether delightful thrill thatfollowed the accidental brushing of my lips against the lips of Victory.
The occurrence interested me, and I was tempted to experiment further.But when I would have essayed it another new and entirely unaccountableforce restrained me. For the first time in my life I feltembarrassment in the presence of a woman.
What further might have developed I cannot say, for at that moment aperfect she-devil of a lioness, with keener eyes than her lord andmaster, discovered us. She came trotting toward our place ofconcealment, growling and baring her yellow fangs.
I waited for an instant, hoping that I might be mistaken, and that shewould turn off in some other direction. But no--she increased her trotto a gallop, and then I fired at her, but the bullet, though it struckher full in the breast, didn't stop her.
Screaming with pain and rage, the creature fairly flew toward us.Behind her came other lions. Our case looked hopeless. We were uponthe brink of the river. There seemed no avenue of escape, and I knewthat even my modern automatic rifle was inadequate in the face of somany of these fierce beasts.
To remain where we were would have been suicidal. We were bothstanding now, Victory keeping her place bravely at my side, when Ireached the only decision open to me.
Seizing the girl's hand, I turned, just as the lioness crashed into theopposite side of the bushes, and, dragging Victory after me, leapedover the edge of the bank into the river.
I did not know that lions are not fond of water, nor did I know ifVictory could swim, but death, immediate and terrible, stared us in theface if we remained, and so I took the chance.
At this point the current ran close to the shore, so that we wereimmediately in deep water, and, to my intense satisfaction, Victorystruck out with a strong, overhand stroke and set all my fears on heraccount at rest.
But my relief was short-lived. That lioness, as I have said before,was a veritable devil. She stood for a moment glaring at us, then likea shot she sprang into the river and swam swiftly after us.
Victory was a length ahead of me.
"Swim for the other shore!" I called to her.
I was much impeded by my rifle, having to swim with one hand while Iclung to my precious weapon with the other. The girl had seen thelioness take to the water, and she had also seen that I was swimmingmuch more slowly than she, and what did she do? She started to dropback to my side.
"Go on!" I cried. "Make for the other shore, and then follow downuntil you find my friends. Tell them that I sent you, and with ordersthat they are to protect you. Go on! Go on!"
But she only waited until we were again swimming side by side, and Isaw that she had drawn her long knife, and was holding it between herteeth.
"Do as I tell you!" I said to her sharply, but she shook her head.
The lioness was overhauling us rapidly. She was swimming silently, herchin just touching the water, but blood was streaming from between herlips. It was evident that her lungs were pierced.
She was almost upon me. I saw that in a moment she would take me underher forepaws, or seize me in those great jaws. I felt that my time hadcome, but I meant to die fighting. And so I turned, and, treadingwater, raised my rifle above my head and awaited her.
Victory, animated by a bravery no less ferocious than that of the dumbbeast assailing us, swam straight for me. It all happened so swiftlythat I cannot recall the details of the kaleidoscopic action whichensued. I knew that I rose high out of the water, and, with clubbedrifle, dealt the animal a terrific blow upon the skull, that I sawVictory, her long blade flashing in her hand, close, striking, upon thebeast, that a great paw fell upon her shoulder, and that I was sweptbeneath the surface of the water like a straw before the prow of afreighter.
Still clinging to my rifle, I rose again, to see the lioness strugglingin her death throes but an arm's length from me. Scarcely had I risenthan the beast turned upon her side, struggled frantically for aninstant, and then sank.
The Lost Continent Page 5
