by Jules Verne
CHAPTER IX.
INSIDE BACK CUP.
The next morning I am able to make a first inspection of the vastcavern of Back Cup. No one seeks to prevent me.
What a night I have passed! What strange visions I have seen! Withwhat impatience I waited for morning!
I was conducted to a grotto about a hundred paces from the edge ofthe lake where the tug stopped. The grotto, twelve feet by ten, waslighted by an incandescent lamp, and fitted with an entrance door thatwas closed upon me.
I am not surprised that electricity is employed in lighting theinterior of the cavern, as it is also used in the submarine boat. Butwhere is it generated? Where does it come from? Is there a manufactoryinstalled somewhere or other in this vast crypt, with machinery,dynamos and accumulators?
My cell is neatly furnished with a table on which provisions arespread, a bunk with bedding, a basket chair, a wash-hand-stand withtoilet set, and a closet containing linen and various suits ofclothes. In a drawer of the table I find paper, ink and pens.
My dinner consists of fresh fish, preserved meat, bread of excellentquality, ale and whisky; but I am so excited that I scarcely touch it.Yet I feel that I ought to fortify myself and recover my calmness ofmind. I must and will solve the mystery surrounding the handful of menwho burrow in the bowels of this island.
So it is under the carapace of Back Cup that Count d'Artigas hasestablished himself! This cavity, the existence of which is not evensuspected, is his home when he is not sailing in the _Ebba_ along thecoasts of the new world or the old. This is the unknown retreat he hasdiscovered, to which access is obtained by a submarine passage twelveor fifteen feet below the surface of the ocean.
Why has he severed himself from the world? What has been his past?If, as I suspect, this name of d'Artigas and this title of Count areassumed, what motive has he for hiding his identity? Has he beenbanished, is he an outcast of society that he should have selectedthis place above all others? Am I not in the power of an evildoeranxious to ensure impunity for his crimes and to defy the law byseeking refuge in this undiscoverable burrow? I have the right ofsupposing anything in the case of this suspicious foreigner, and Iexercise it.
Then the question to which I have never been able to suggest asatisfactory answer once more surges into my mind. Why was Thomas Rochabducted from Healthful House in the manner already fully described?Does the Count d'Artigas hope to force from him the secret of hisfulgurator with a view to utilizing it for the defence of Back Cup incase his retreat should by chance be discovered? Hardly. It would beeasy enough to starve the gang out of Back Cup, by preventing the tugfrom supplying them with provisions. On the other hand, the schoonercould never break through the investing lines, and if she did herdescription would be known in every port. In this event, of whatpossible use would Thomas Roch's invention be to the Count d'ArtigasDecidedly, I cannot understand it!
About seven o'clock in the morning I jump out of bed. If I am aprisoner in the cavern I am at least not imprisoned in my grotto cell.The door yields when I turn the handle and push against it, and I walkout.
Thirty yards in front of me is a rocky plane, forming a sort of quaythat extends to right and left. Several sailors of the _Ebba_ areengaged in landing bales and stores from the interior of the tug,which lays alongside a little stone jetty.
A dim light to which my eyes soon grow accustomed envelops the cavernand comes from a hole in the centre of the roof, through which theblue sky can be seen.
"It is from that hole that the smoke which can be seen for such adistance issues," I say to myself, and this discovery suggests a wholeseries of reflections.
Back Cup, then, is not a volcano, as was supposed--as I supposedmyself. The flames that were seen a few years ago, and the columnsof smoke that still rise were and are produced artificially. Thedetonations and rumblings that so alarmed the Bermudan fishers werenot caused by the internal workings of nature. These various phenomenawere fictitious. They manifested themselves at the mere will of theowner of the island, who wanted to scare away the inhabitants whoresided on the coast. He succeeded, this Count d'Artigas, and remainsthe sole and undisputed monarch of the mountain. By explodinggunpowder, and burning seaweed swept up in inexhaustible quantities bythe ocean, he has been able to simulate a volcano upon the point oferuption and effectually scare would-be settlers away!
The light becomes stronger as the sun rises higher, the daylightstreams through the fictitious crater, and I shall soon be able toestimate the cavern's dimensions. This is how I calculate:
Exteriorly the island of Back Cup, which is as nearly as possiblecircular, measures two hundred and fifty yards in circumference, andpresents an interior superficies of about six acres. The sides of themountain at its base vary in thickness from thirty to a hundred yards.
It therefore follows that this excavation practically occupies thewhole of that part of Back Cup island which appears above water. As tothe length of the submarine tunnel by which communication is obtainedwith the outside, and through which the tug passed, I estimate that itis fifty yards in length.
The size of the cavern can be judged from these approximate figures.But vast as it is, I remember that there are caverns of largerdimensions both in the old and new worlds. For instance in Carniole,Northumberland, Derbyshire, Piedmont, the Balearics, Hungaryand California are larger grottoes than Back Cup, and those atHan-sur-Lesse in Belgium, and the Mammoth Caves in Kentucky, are alsomore extensive. The latter contain no fewer than two hundred andtwenty-six domes, seven rivers, eight cataracts, thirty two wells ofunknown depth, and an immense lake which extends over six or sevenleagues, the limit of which has never been reached by explorers.
I know these Kentucky grottoes, having visited them, as many thousandsof tourists have done. The principal one will serve as a comparisonto Back Cup. The roof of the former, like that of the latter, issupported by pillars of various lengths, which give it the appearanceof a Gothic cathedral, with naves and aisles, though it lacks thearchitectural regularity of a religious edifice. The only differenceis that whereas the roof of the Kentucky grotto is over four hundredfeet high, that of Back Cup is not above two hundred and twenty atthat part of it where the round hole through which issue the smoke andflames is situated.
Another peculiarity, and a very important one, that requires to bepointed out, is that whereas the majority of the grottoes referred toare easily accessible, and were therefore bound to be discovered sometime or other, the same remark does not apply to Back Cup. Although itis marked on the map as an island forming part of the Bermuda group,how could any one imagine that it is hollow, that its rocky sidesare only the walls of an enormous cavern? In order to make such adiscovery it would be necessary to get inside, and to get inside asubmarine apparatus similar to that of the Count d'Artigas would benecessary.
In my opinion this strange yachtsman's discovery of the tunnel bywhich he has been able to found this disquieting colony of Back Cupmust have been due to pure chance.
Now I turn my attention to the lake and observe that it is avery small one, measuring not more than four hundred yards incircumference. It is, properly speaking, a lagoon, the rocky sides ofwhich are perpendicular. It is large enough for the tug to work aboutin it, and holds enough water too, for it must be one hundred andtwenty-five feet deep.
It goes without saying that this crypt, given its position andstructure, belongs to the category of those which are due to theencroachments of the sea. It is at once of Neptunian and Plutonianorigin, like the grottoes of Crozon and Morgate in the bay ofDouarnenez in France, of Bonifacio on the Corsican coast, Thorgattenin Norway, the height of which is estimated at over three hundredfeet, the catavaults of Greece, the grottoes of Gibraltar in Spain,and Tourana in Cochin China, whose carapace indicates that they areall the product of this dual geological labor.
The islet of Back Cup is in great part formed of calcareous rocks,which slope upwards gently from the lagoon towards the sides and areseparated from each other by narrow beaches of fine sa
nd. Thick layersof seaweed that have been swept through the tunnel by the tide andthrown up around the lake have been piled into heaps, some of whichare dry and some still wet, but all of which exhale the strong odor ofthe briny ocean. This, however, is not the only combustible employedby the inhabitants of Back Cup, for I see an enormous store of coalthat must have been brought by the schooner and the tug. But it is theincineration of masses of dried seaweed that causes the smoke vomitedforth by the crater of the mountain.
Continuing my walk I perceive on the northern side of the lagoon thehabitations of this colony of troglodytes--do they not merit theappellation? This part of the cavern, which is known as the Beehive,fully justifies its name, for it is honeycombed by cells excavatedin the limestone rock and in which these human bees--or perhaps theyshould rather be called wasps--reside.
The lay of the cavern to the east is very different. Here hundreds ofpillars of all shapes rise to the dome, and form a veritable forest ofstone trees through the sinuous avenues of which one can thread one'sway to the extreme limit of the place.
By counting the cells of the Beehive I calculate that Count d'Artigas'companions number from eighty to one hundred.
As my eye wanders over the place I notice that the Count is standingin front of one of the cells, which is isolated from the others, andtalking to Engineer Serko and Captain Spade. After a while they strolldown to the jetty alongside which the tug is lying.
A dozen men have been emptying the merchandise out of the tug andtransporting the goods in boats to the other side, where great cellarshave been excavated in the rocks and form the storehouses of the band.
The orifice of the tunnel is not visible in the waters of the lagoon,and I remember that when I was brought here I felt the tug sinkseveral feet before it entered. In this respect therefore Back Cupdoes not resemble either the grottoes of Staffa or Morgate, entranceto which is always open, even at high tide. There may be anotherpassage communicating with the coast, either natural or artificial,and this I shall have to make my business to find out.
The island well merits its name of Back Cup. It is indeed a giganticcup turned upside down, not only to outward appearance, but inwardly,too, though people are ignorant of the fact.
I have already remarked that the Beehive is situated to the north ofthe lagoon, that is to say to the left on entering by the tunnel. Onthe opposite side are the storerooms filled with provisions of allkinds, bales of merchandise, barrels of wine, beer, and spirits andvarious packets bearing different marks and labels that show that theycame from all parts of the world. One would think that the cargoes ofa score of ships had been landed here.
A little farther on is a large wooden shed the nature of which iseasily distinguishable. From a pole above it a network of thick copperwires extends which conducts the current to the powerful electriclights suspended from the roof or dome, and to the incandescent lampsin each of the cells of the hive. A large number of lamps are alsoinstalled among the stone pillars and light up the avenues to theirextremities.
"Shall I be permitted to roam about wherever I please?" I ask myself.I hope so. I cannot for the life of me see why the Count d'Artigasshould prohibit me from doing so, for I cannot get farther than thesurrounding walls of his mysterious domain. I question whether thereis any other issue than the tunnel, and how on earth could I getthrough that?
Besides, admitting that I am able to get through it, I cannot get offthe island. My disappearance would be soon noticed, and the tug wouldtake out a dozen men who would explore every nook and cranny. I shouldinevitably be recaptured, brought back to the Beehive, and deprived ofmy liberty for good.
I must therefore give up all idea of making my escape, unless I cansee that it has some chance of being successful, and if ever anopportunity does present itself I shall not be slow to take advantageof it.
On strolling round by the rows of cells I am able to observe a few ofthese companions of the Count d'Artigas who are content to pass theirmonotonous existence in the depths of Back Cup. As I said before,calculating from the number of cells in the Beehive, there must bebetween eighty and a hundred of them.
They pay no attention whatever to me as I pass, and on examining themclosely it seems to me that they must have been recruited from everycountry. I do not distinguish any community of origin among them, noteven a similarity by which they might be classed as North Americans,Europeans or Asiatics. The color of their skin shades from white toyellow and black--the black peculiar to Australia rather than toAfrica. To sum up, they appear for the most part to pertain to theMalay races. I may add that the Count d'Artigas certainly belongsto that particular race which peoples the Dutch isles in the WestPacific, while Engineer Serko must be Levantine and Captain Spade ofItalian origin.
But if the inhabitants of Back Cup are not bound to each other byties of race, they certainly are by instinct and inclination. Whatforbidding, savage-looking faces they have, to be sure! They are menof violent character who have probably never placed any restraint upontheir passions, nor hesitated at anything, and it occurs to me thatin all likelihood they have sought refuge in this cavern, where theyfancy they can continue to defy the law with impunity, after along series of crimes--robbery, murder, arson, and excesses of alldescriptions committed together. In this case Back Cup is nothing buta lair of pirates, the Count d'Artigas is the leader of the band andSerko and Spade are his lieutenants.
I cannot get this idea out of my head, and the more I consider themore convinced I am that I am right, especially as everything I seeduring my stroll about the cavern seems to confirm my opinion.
However this may be, and whatever may be the circumstances that havebrought them together in this place, Count d'Artigas' companionsappear to accept his all-powerful domination without question. On theother hand, if he keeps them under his iron heel by enforcing theseverest discipline, certain advantages, some compensation,must accrue from the servitude to which they bow. What can thiscompensation be?
Having turned that part of the bank under which the tunnel passes, Ifind myself on the opposite side of the lagoon, where are situated thestorerooms containing the merchandise brought by the _Ebba_ on eachtrip, and which contain a great quantity of bales.
Beyond is the manufactory of electric energy. I gaze in at the windowsas I pass and notice that it contains machines of the latest inventionand highest attained perfection, which take up little space. Not onesteam engine, with its more or less complicated mechanism and needof fuel, is to be seen in the place. As I had surmised, piles ofextraordinary power supply the current to the lamps in the cavern,as well as to the dynamos of the tug. No doubt the current is alsoutilized for domestic purposes, such as warming the Beehive andcooking food, I can see that in a neighboring cavity it is applied tothe alembics used to produce fresh water. At any rate the colonistsof Back Cup are not reduced to catching the rain water that falls soabundantly upon the exterior of the mountain.
A few paces from the electric power house is a large cistern that,save in the matter of proportions, is the counterpart of those Ivisited in Bermuda. In the latter place the cisterns have to supplythe needs of over ten thousand people, this one of a hundred--what?
I am not sure yet what to call them. That their chief had seriousreasons for choosing the bowels of this island for his abiding placeis obvious. But what were those reasons? I can understand monksshutting themselves behind their monastery walls with the intention ofseparating themselves from the world, but these subjects of the Countd'Artigas have nothing of the monk about them, and would not bemistaken for such by the most simple-minded of mortals.
I continue my way through the pillars to the extremity of the cavern.No one has sought to stop me, no one has spoken to me, not a soulapparently has taken the very slightest notice of me. This portion ofBack Cup is extremely curious, and comparable to the most marvellousof the grottoes of Kentucky or the Balearics. I need hardly say thatnowhere is the labor of man apparent. All this is the handiwork ofnature, and it is not without wonder, min
gled with awe, that I reflectupon the telluric forces capable of engendering such prodigioussubstructions. The daylight from the crater in the centre only strikesthis part of the cavern obliquely, so that it is very imperfectlylighted, but at night, when illuminated by the electric lamps, itsaspect must be positively fantastic.
I have examined the walls everywhere with minute attention, but havebeen unable to discover any means of communicating with the outside.
Quite a colony of birds--gulls, sea-swallows and other featherydenizens of the Bermudan beaches have made their home in the cavern.They have apparently never been hunted, for they are in no waydisturbed by the presence of man.
But besides sea-birds, which are free to come and go as they pleaseby the orifice in the dome, there is a whole farmyard of domesticpoultry, and cows and pigs. The food supply is therefore no lessassured than it is varied, when the fish of all kinds that abound inthe lagoon and around the island are taken into consideration.
Moreover, a mere glance at the colonists of Back Cup amply sufficesto show that they are not accustomed to fare scantily. They are allvigorous, robust seafaring men, weatherbeaten and seasoned in theburning beat of tropical latitudes, whose rich blood is surchargedwith oxygen by the breezes of the ocean. There is not a youth nor anold man among them. They are all in their prime, their ages rangingfrom thirty to fifty.
But why do they submit to such an existence? Do they never leave theirrocky retreat?
Perhaps I shall find out ere I am much older.
