“Herr Schwartz, Monsieur Rouge.” The Colonel raised his hand in suggestion of a military salute. The German archaeologist clicked his heels and bowed; the Frenchman bent over the white linen covered table, took the reluctantly offered hand of Speranza Verde in his own and brushed his lips over it.
“We have a pleasant chat been enjoying, Monsieur Rouge and I,” Schwartz stated. “We had thought to share a — what I believe you call in your Confederacy a night hat, Colonel White? — before retiring for a few hours’ sleep.”
“A nightcap, Herr Schwartz. Won’t you join us?”
Monsieur Rouge bowed once again. “May I present Captain Alexandre, of the Rosny.”
The third newcomer advanced to the table. She was as tall as a man, like Colonel White she was attired in a uniform, its midnight blue color contrasting with the Colonel’s Confederate gray. Her features were strong but not masculine. Her hair was so dark that it appeared almost to blend with the blue of her jacket, flashes of candlelight seeming to be caught and thrown back from her coiffure. The door through which the trio had entered was closed now, the sole illumination coming from the candle on the table. The Arab musicians had packed their instruments and retired.
Brass buttons on the woman’s tunic gave back the flickering light of the candle. The cuffs of the tunic were wrapped in wreaths of gold braid and on her chest the orders and decorations gave testimony of a distinguished naval career. A dark, pleated skirt fell below her knees.
Herr Schwartz and Monsieur Rouge drew chairs from a nearby, unoccupied table. Rouge held one for Captain Alexandre before seating himself. A waiter brought a bottle of schnapps and placed it before Herr Schwartz and one of cognac which the French explorer and the naval officer would share; glasses were provided for all.
Shortly the quintet were engaged in conversation. Colonel White waited for Speranza Verde to place her portfolio on the table again and share its contents with Schwartz and Rouge, but she gave no indication of doing so. In fact, at one point Jemond Jules Rouge asked if there was something she wished to share, but Speranza Verde brushed aside the obvious suggestion.
“Just a few minor items, Monsieur, nothing of importance.”
“We are all together,” Colonel White said, “except for our English colleague. Does anyone know where Sir Shepley Sidwell-Blue has disappeared to?”
“I am sure he is preparing for our expedition.”
Captain Alexandre drew an ornately engraved watch from a uniform pocket. Holding it close to the candle she announced, “We must be aboard Rosny in two hours, so as to depart in three.”
“So soon?” Speranza Verde exclaimed.
“It is the tides,” Captain Alexandre explained. “The Mareé de Fureur is a tidal body the most unusual. It will offer sufficient draft for the Rosny today, and she can make faster headway using the electro-atomic power of her Curie engines than creeping along on the Wells track drive. Surely, Mademoiselle Verde, you are familiar with the behavior of the marée.”
“Of course, Captain.”
“Have you studied the tide tables for this month, Mademoiselle Docteur?”
“I have. Of course we have only a limited record of tides. The creation of the Sahara sea in 1930 had unexpected results, creating tides in the Mediterranean where none had previously existed, and providing for my profession wondrous new food for thought. The northerly flow will begin at four o’clock in the morning.”
“Indeed.” Captain Alexandre raised her glass, tested the nose of the cognac, sampled its flavor only with the tip of her tongue, then lowered her glass smiling. “Bon.” Her gaze flicked from face to face of her companions. “I trust you have all stowed your scientific equipment and your personal gear — Mademoiselle, Monsieurs?”
Speranza Verde said, “I prefer the title of Dottore alone.”
“Very well. As you wish, Dottore Verde. My point, however, is that we must sail with the tide or we lose the opportunity. The French Republic has a great fleet but no nation’s resources are without limit. We do not wish to waste this time.”
“And Sir Sidwell-Blue?” the German asked.
“He will board Rosny on schedule or he will find only a sealed bulkhead or a vacant quay. We sail with the tide.”
The party dispersed, some to gather such brief moments of slumber as they could, others to remain awake pending the time to board the submersible.
Rosny was an example of the newest and smallest Nautilus IV class of submersibles. Barely sixty meters in length, the submersible carried a small crew. Propelled by her Curie engines, she could outspeed and outmaneuver any other known submersible craft on the planet. She was also capable of crawling over dry or muddy terrain on extended tracks based on the designs of the Englishman Wells.
Her interior fittings, in the tradition of her kind stretching back to the original Nautilus , were of mahogany and polished brass. Her floors were carpeted. Her galley was filled with fresh viands and fine vintages produced by the enological artists of Metropolitan France and her North African provinces.
Only in the department of weaponry might Rosny be deemed deficient. Outfitted as the submersible was for purposes of reconnaissance and exploration, she carried neither cannon nor torpedo nor submarine bomb. Her crew had been trained in riflery and such arms were stowed in the submersible’s armory; her officers, also, were furnished with sidearms.
Colonel Dwight David White of the Army of the Confederate States of America stood at the foot of Rosny’s gangplank. He held a single item of luggage, containing changes of clothing, necessary toiletries, and certain equipment with which he had been furnished by the technicians and planners of his nation’s embassy and military legation in Serkout.
The Colonel was of course thoroughly familiar with the courtesies and ceremonies of both the military and diplomatic communities of the world. When he boarded the submersible he saluted the colors of the French Republic, offered his sidearm, a Harrington and Richardson .32 automatic, to Captain Alexandre and received permission to retain possession of the weapon.
The quay, of course, had been illuminated with spotlights to facilitate boarding Rosny in the hours of the night. A crescent moon had been visible from Colonel White’s hotel room; from the quay its pale radiance was utterly obliterated by the brilliance of artificial illumination.
Once on board, Colonel White declined the assistance of a crew member in carrying his single item of luggage to his tiny but richly furnished cabin. Here he distributed his personal items, retaining only his firearm and technical gear in a smaller case which he removed from his principle luggage and locked to his wrist with a specially designed handcuff.
Thus prepared he brushed his hair, straightened his uniform, and made to join his fellow inquirers.
As had been prearranged, the investigative team assembled in the Captain’s cabin as they arrived and settled into their respective quarters. The cabin was furnished with a polished conference table and plush chairs. An ornate instrument panel comprising a great clock-face, compass, barometer, and navigational tools filled most of one wall. An electrical lighting system furnished illumination and the soft susurrus of fresh air, processed and piped throughout Rosny by the most up-to-date means, gave evidence that the submersible was a self-sufficient and self-contained world of its own.
The cabin was located above the main body of the submersible and was fitted with large glass panels on both starboard and larboard sides. Upon arriving in the cabin, Colonel White observed the activity of sailors and dockmen on the quay. Not a word was spoken before Rosny began to move, so smoothly and gradually as to create the illusion that the submersible remained stationary while the quay with its brilliant lights and scurrying workers was retreating.
But within fleeting moments, to Rosny’s forward motion was added a horizontal movement. The black sky with its crescent moon and glittering Saharan stars appeared overhead only briefly, then Rosny opened her buoyancy tanks to the Saharan brine.
Soon the world outside Rosny
’s heavy glass panels became one of utter blackness. Eventually brightly luminescent denizens of the Saharan deep would reveal themselves, Colonel White and his companions knew, but for the moment they might as well have been in the depths of interplanetary space, for all the commerce they held with the sea that surrounded them.
They sat around the polished wooden table, Jemond Jules Rouge at its head, Colonel Dwight David White, Dottore Speranza Verde, Herr Siegfried Schwartz and Sir Shepley Sidwell-Blue. The submersible’s Captain, Melisande Alexandre, had taken her place inconspicuously away from the table, clearly indicating a desire to observe but not to dominate the proceedings to follow.
Yes, Sir Shepley Sidwell-Blue had arrived at the quay in time, barely in time, to make the sailing of Rosny. He was disheveled, he was followed to the boarding ramp by a driver and footman carrying valises from which loose shirt-ends and stocking garters hung, his shirt was rumpled and his blond hair fell across his forehead, but he did not miss the sailing.
After messmen had served coffee and biscuits, M. Rouge made welcoming remarks to the assembled group. “We are proceeding beneath the surface, my friends. The tide is with us, flowing in a northerly direction. We should reach our destination within a half-day’s cruise. Until then, I hope that we may discuss our plan of investigation.”
Gazing around the table, he continued. “Each of you has been selected as the outstanding representative of your chosen profession. Dottore Verde was of course our first chosen expert. Her study of the tidal flow through the Marée de Fureur has been vital, for the hydrological patterns and alterations of the sea bed encountered in this new body of water is a challenge unique.”
He bowed to Speranza Verde.
“Herr Schwartz and Sir Shepley are representatives of converging disciplines. Our preliminary findings indicate that the relics we are about to examine are of an Egyptian or pre-Egyptian origin. Their significance and value to the modern world, beyond that of the purely scholarly, are, one surmises, incalculable.”
The German nodded acknowledgement of Rouge’s words. Schwartz had lit a black cigar and gestured with it. The Englishman, clad in soft tweeds that complimented his light hair and moustache, fumbled in his pockets for a pipe and tobacco. Finding them, he packed the pipe and held a match to its bowl. The smoke that rose was drawn away by the submersible’s ventilation system. Sidwell-Blue muttered his acknowledgement.
“And Colonel White,” the Frenchman concluded, “is our military man. A grand concession by France to nominate a representative of the Confederacy to this position, but of course the friendship of our two great Republics is of historic nature, known to all around the world.”
Before David White could reply, the room was startled by the clatter of Sir Shepley Sidwell-Blue’s pipe on the polished mahogany table. “I say,” the Englishman exclaimed, “I fear we’re under attack. Just look at that!”
He pointed to the oblong window on the starboard side of the cabin.
A vast creature was charging at Rosny. Its eyes were huge, its open mouth contained rows of gigantic, murderous teeth. Its fins were clawed like those of certain tropical frogs the David White had encountered in his service in the jungles of Belize, and it used them in a manner suggestive of an amphibian crawling toward its hopeless prey.
Strangest of all, the creature appeared to be carrying a lighted lantern in its single hand. Upon more considered observation the seeming lantern proved to be a naturally luminescent organ mounted on a flexible stalk that rose from the creature’s forehead.
David White’s hand moved instinctively to his sidearm. But he realized almost at once that the Harrington and Richardson would do little to help the voyagers if their aquatic attacker succeeded in bursting through Rosny’s glass plate. To his astonishment, the creature swam to within seeming inches of the glass, then hovered, its clawlike fins moving slowly to and fro. At the submersible’s rate of speed the creature was obviously a mighty swimmer to maintain pace at all, no less with such seeming ease.
Even as the voyagers, recovering from their initial startlement, left their seats to cluster at the glass, the creature held pace, returning their curious stares with an expression of its own that seemed to duplicate their surprise.
The laughter of Monsieur Rouge drew their attention back from the sea. “A common sight nowadays, my friends. Since the creation of the Sahara Sea, creatures have invaded this new body of water, making their way from the Mediterranean and even in some cases from the cold waters of the Atlantic. The Sahara Sea offers the appeal of a warm and mostly gentle body, and in less than a century that the Sahara Sea has existed, numerous species have come to visit and stayed to raise their progeny.”
“By Jove,” the Englishman inquired, “are there no native species in this lovely little pond?”
At this moment the ferocious-appearing lantern bearer, its curiosity as to Rosny and her occupants satisfied, flashed away from the submersible and disappeared into the darkness.
“Perhaps, if you will return to your places, Mademoiselle et Messieurs, Dottore Verde will enlighten us as to the plan of action once we reach our destination.
Speranza Verde rose to her feet.
“With permission of Captain Alexandre, I have plotted our course to bring us to our destination as the tidal flow ceases. Of course it will in due time reverse its direction and flow back from the Bay of Sidra toward the City of Sercout from which we departed. Such tidal reversals are of course entirely normal.”
She paused in her presentation to draw from a cylindrical case which had previously been placed in the cabin a nautical chart of the Sahara Sea, centering up the Iles de Crainte and Doute. This she spread on the table so that all the travelers might see it.
“The lunar and solar attractions that control earthly tides are at this time in unique conjunction. The result will be a period of several hours during which the channel between the two isole becomes a dry bed. This phenomenon is not unknown, of course.”
She paused to smile, and David White was struck by the brightness and gentleness of her expression.
“Students of the Bible,” Speranza Verde went on, “will recall the parting of the Red Sea upon the command of Moses. It is my belief that this event was in fact a tidal anomaly similar to that which is about to occur. When we reach our destination, Captain Alexandre informs me, Rosny will rest upon her Wells tracks and use them for any needed short-distance travel. You may rest assured that we will be safe from the waters during this period, but we must all complete out work before the Marée rushes back upon us, however. Our period of safety, according to my calculations, will be approximately four hours, thirty-two minutes, and sixteen seconds.”
“I say,” Sidwell-Blue put in. He had long since recovered his pipe and was puffing furiously away at it, challenging the ability of the air-circulator to keep up with his production of bluish smoke. “I say, are you sure this won’t be dangerous? Perhaps we should try this another time?”
From her position in a corner of the cabin, Captain Alexandre put in, “Quite sure, Sir Shepley. There is nothing to fear.”
“And as for another time,” Speranza Verde put in, “do you know how long it is since Moses parted the Red Sea? That is how often this peculiar phenomenon occurs. If we do not take advantage of our opportunity, we will all be several thousand years old before another such presents itself.”
“Well,” Sidwell-Blue said, “well, if you’re really certain, Captain. And, ah, Doctor. But, it strikes me that this is a damned dangerous undertaking. You know, I’ve always worked in the museum. This is all quite new to me, this racing about like a pack of Alan Quatermains and Captain Nemos.”
Out of the corner of his eye Colonel White saw what appeared to be a gray-cloaked and death-white-masked figure streak across the room and launch itself through the air. It bounced off the paunch of the unsuspecting Herr Schwartz, eliciting a startled grunt and a violent exclamation, then landed with a skid in the center of the nautical chart that had been s
pread on the conference table.
“The apologies of Rosny, Mein Herr,” Captain Alexandre laughed. “Madame et messieurs, may I present My Lady Bast, our ship’s mascot and mouser par excellence.”
The large cat studied each of the conferees in turn, directing a piercing glance from golden eyes that punctuated a snowy white face while she twitched her powder-gray tail thoughtfully. She made her opinion obvious, redirecting her attention from the conferees to the task of washing her paws.
“You should not barnyard animals on a ship carry,” Herr Schwartz growled, “unless they are cargo to market being transported.”
Captain Alexandre ignored the German’s complaint. She stroked the luxurious fur; My Lady Bast twitched her ears in response. Captain Alexandre compared the time according to her watch, with that indicated by the ship’s clock. She nodded to the hydrologist, Speranza Verde, then to the others. “I think it is time to begin your explorations. I will remain aboard Rosny. You understand the constraints of time under which you operate.”
At Captain Alexandre’s command the submersible rose to the surface of the Fleuve Triste. Colonel White found himself standing between Dottore Verde and Monsieur Rouge. A polished metal railing surrounded Rosny’s deck. Sea water dripped from it and ran from the submersible’s deck into the fleuve.
The sky above was still black. The tropic stars blazed like the flames that astronomers stated that they were.
Each of the explorers carried an electro-atomic powered portable lantern. Further, Colonel White noted to his amusement that the costume of each showed a mysterious bulge which he took to reveal the presence of a clandestinely carried firearm. Even Dottore Verde was so armed. Her weapon, he inferred, was most likely a small but efficient Gilsenti automatic pistol.
Now the sun’s first rays illumined the western sky, and within moments the edge of the solar disk appeared over the waters of the Sahara Sea. Bright points of light danced across the brine.
At this moment a buzzing sound was heard, and Colonel White along with his companions turned his eyes skyward. The daily flight from Rome to Serkut appeared, the sun’s early rays reflecting off its polished metal exterior. The Bleriot trimotor’s propellers were powered by Curie electro-atomic engines similar to those that furnished Rosny’s propulsion. The aeroplane’s passengers, business travelers, tourists, diplomats, might well be gazing downward at Rosny even as Rosny’s explorers were gazing upward at the Bleriot.
The Doom That Came to Dunwich Page 5
