by Jules Verne
CHAPTER XVI.
ONLY A FEW MORE HOURS.
What effect this news has upon me, and what emotion it awakens withinmy soul! The end, I feel, is at hand. May it be such as civilizationand humanity are entitled to.
Up to the present I have indited my notes day by day. Henceforwardit is imperative that I should inscribe them hour by hour, minute byminute. Who knows but what Thomas Roch's last secret may be revealedto me and that I shall have time to commit it to paper! Should I dieduring the attack God grant that the account of the five months I havepassed in Back Cup may be found upon my body!
At first Ker Karraje, Engineer Serko, Captain Spade, and several oftheir companions took up position on the exterior base of the island.What would I not give to be able follow to them, and in the friendlyshelter of a rook watch the on-coming warships!
An hour later they return after having left a score of men to keepwatch. As the days at this season of the year are very short there isnothing to fear before the morrow. It is not likely that the shipswill attempt a night attack and land a storming party, for they mustimagine that the place is in a thorough condition of defence.
All night long the pirates work, installing the trestles at differentpoints of the coast. Six have been taken through the passage to placesselected in advance.
This done, Engineer Serko joins Thomas Roch in his laboratory. Is hegoing to tell him what is passing, that a squadron is in view of BackCup, and that his fulgurator will be employed to defend the island?
What is certain is that half a hundred engines, each charged withseveral pounds of the explosive and of the substance that ensures atrajectory superior to that of any other projectile, are ready fortheir work of destruction.
As to the deflagrator liquid, Thomas Roch has a certain number ofphials of it, and--I know only too well--will not refuse to help KerKarraje's pirates with it.
During these preparations night has come on. Only the lamps of theBeehive are lighted and a semi-obscurity reigns in the cavern.
I return to my cell. It is to my interest to keep out of the way asmuch as possible, for Engineer Serko's suspicions might be revived nowthat the squadron is approaching Back Cup.
But will the vessels sighted continue on their course in thisdirection? May they not be merely passing on their way to Bermuda? Foran instant this doubt enters my mind. No, no, it cannot be! Besides, Ihave just heard Captain Spade declare that they are lying to in viewof the island.
To what nation do they belong? Have the English, desirous of avengingthe destruction of the _Sword_, alone undertaken the expedition? Maynot cruisers of other nations be with them? I know not, and it isimpossible to ascertain. And what does it matter, after all, so longas this haunt is destroyed, even though I should perish in the ruinslike the heroic Lieutenant Davon and his brave crew?
Preparations for defence continue with coolness and method underEngineer Serko's superintendence. These pirates are obviously certainthat they will be able to annihilate their assailants as soon as thelatter enter the dangerous zone. Their confidence in Roch's fulguratoris absolute. Absorbed by the idea that these warship are powerlessagainst them, they think neither of the difficulties nor menaces heldout by the future.
I surmise that the trestles have been set up on the northwest coastwith the grooves turned to send the engines to the north, west, andsouth. On the east, as already stated, the island is defended by thechain of reefs that stretches away to the Bermudas.
About nine o'clock I venture out of my cell. They will pay littleattention to me, and perhaps I may escape notice in the obscurity. Ah!if I could get through that passage and hide behind some rock, so thatI could witness what goes on at daybreak! And why should I not succeednow that Ker Karraje, Engineer Serko, Captain Spade, and the pirateshave taken their posts outside?
The shores of the lake are deserted, but the entrance to the passageis kept by Count d'Artigas' Malay. I saunter, without any fixed idea,towards Thomas Roch's laboratory. This reminds me of my compatriot. Iam, on reflection, disposed to think that he knows nothing about thepresence of a squadron off Back Cup. Probably not until the lastmoment will Engineer Serko apprise him of its proximity, not till hebrusquely points out to him the vengeance he can accomplish.
Then I conceive the idea of enlightening Thomas Roch, myself, of theresponsibility he is incurring and of revealing to him in this supremehour the character of the men who want him to co-operate in theircriminal projects.
Yes, I will, attempt it, and may I succeed in fanning into a flame anyspark of patriotism that may still linger in his rebellious soul!
Roch is shut up in his laboratory. He must be alone, for never does heallow any one to enter while he is preparing his deflagrator.
As I pass the jetty I notice that the tug is moored in its accustomedplace. Here I judge it prudent to walk behind the first row of pillarsand approach the laboratory laterally--which will enable me to seewhether anybody is with him. When I have gone a short distance alongthe sombre avenue I see a bright light on the opposite side of thelagoon. It is the electric light in Roch's laboratory as seen througha narrow window in the front.
Except in that particular spot, the southern shore of the lake is indarkness, whereas, in the opposite direction, the Beehive is lit up toits extremity at the northern wall. Through the opening in the dome,over the lake I can see the stars shining. The sky is clear, thetempest has abated, and the squalls no longer penetrate to theinterior of Back Cup.
When near the laboratory, I creep along the wall and peep in at thewindow.
Thomas Roch is there alone. The light shines full on his face. If itis somewhat drawn, and the lines on the forehead are morepronounced, his physiognomy, at least, denotes perfect calmness andself-possession. No, he is no longer the inmate of Pavilion No. 17,the madman of Healthful House, and I ask myself whether he is notradically cured, whether there is no further danger of his reasoncollapsing in a final paroxysm.
He has just laid two glass phials upon the table, and holds a third inhis hand. He holds it up to the light, and observes the limpidity ofthe liquid it contains.
I have half a mind to rush in, seize the tubes and smash them, but Ireflect that he would have time to make some more of the stuff. Betterstick to my first plan.
I push the door open and enter.
"Thomas Roch!" I exclaim.
He has not heard, nor has he seen me.
"Thomas Roch!" I repeat.
He raises his head, turns and gazes at me.
"Ah! it is you, Simon Hart!" he replies calmly, even indifferently.
He knows my name. Engineer Serko must have informed him that itwas Simon Hart, and not Keeper Gaydon who was watching over him atHealthful House.
"You know who I am?" I say.
"Yes, as I know what your object was in undertaking such a position.You lived in hopes of surprising a secret that they would not pay forat its just value!"
Thomas Roch knows everything, and perhaps it is just as well, in viewof what I am going to say.
"Well, you did not succeed, Simon Hart, and as far as this isconcerned," he added, flourishing the phial, "no one else hassucceeded, or ever will succeed."
As I conjectured, he has not, then, made known the composition of hisdeflagrator.
Looking him straight in the face, I reply:
"You know who I am, Thomas Roch, but do you know in whose place youare?"
"In my own place!" he cries.
That is what Ker Karraje has permitted him to believe. The inventorthinks he is at home in Back Cup, that the riches accumulated in thiscavern are his, and that if an attack is made upon the place, it willbe with the object of stealing what belongs to him! And he will defendit under the impression that he has the right to do so!
"Thomas Roch," I continue, "listen to me."
"What do you want to say to me, Simon Hart?"
"This cavern into which we have been dragged, is occupied by a band ofpirates, and--"
Roch does not give me time to
complete the sentence--I doubt evenwhether he has understood me.
"I repeat," he interrupts vehemently, "that the treasures stored hereare the price of my invention. They have paid me what I asked formy fulgurator--what I was everywhere else refused--even in my owncountry--which is also yours--and I will not allow myself to bedespoiled!"
What can I reply to such insensate assertions? I, however, go on:
"Thomas Roch, do you remember Healthful House?"
"Healthful House, where I was sequestrated after Warder Gaydon hadbeen entrusted with the mission of spying upon me in order to rob meof my secret? I do, indeed."
"I never dreamed of depriving you of the benefit of your secret,Thomas Roch. I would never have accepted such a mission. But you wereill, your reason was affected, and your invention was too valuable tobe lost. Yes, had you disclosed the secret during one of your fits youwould have preserved all the benefit and all the honor of it."
"Really, Simon Hart!" Roch replies disdainfully. "Honor and benefit!Your assurances come somewhat late in the day. You forget that onthe pretext of insanity, I was thrown into a dungeon. Yes, it was apretext; for my reason has never left me, even for an hour, as you cansee from what I have accomplished since I am free."
"Free! Do you imagine you are free, Thomas Roch? Are you not moreclosely confined within the walls of this cavern than you ever were atHealthful House?"
"A man who is in his own home," he replies angrily, "goes out as helikes and when he likes. I have only to say the word and all the doorswill open before me. This place is mine. Count d'Artigas gave it to mewith everything it contains. Woe to those who attempt to attack it.I have here the wherewithal to annihilate them, Simon Hart!" Theinventor waves the phial feverishly as he speaks."
"The Count d'Artigas has deceived you," I cry, "as he has deceived somany others. Under this name is dissembled one of the most formidablemonsters who ever scoured the Pacific and Atlantic oceans. He is abandit steeped in crime--he is the odious Ker Karraje!"
"Ker Karraje!" echoes Thomas Roch.
And I wonder if this name has not impressed him, if he rememberswho the man is who bears it. If it did impress him, it was onlymomentarily.
"I do not know this Ker Karraje," he says, pointing towards the doorto order me out. "I only know the Count d'Artigas."
"Thomas Roch," I persist, in a final effort, "the Count d'Artigas andKer Karraje are one and the same person. If this man has purchasedyour secret, it is with the intention of ensuring impunity for hiscrimes and facilities for committing fresh ones. He is the chief ofthese pirates."
"Pirates!" cries Roch, whose irritation increases the more I presshim. "The real pirates are those who dare to menace me even in thisretreat, who tried it on with the _Sword_--for Serko has told meeverything--who sought to steal in my own home what belongs to me,what is but the just price of my discovery."
"No, Thomas Roch, the pirates are those who have imprisoned you inthis cavern of Back Cup, who will utilize your genius to defend it,and who will get rid of you when they are in entire possession of yoursecrets!"
Thomas Roch here interrupts me. He does not appear to listen to what Isay. He has a fixed idea, that of vengeance, which has been skilfullyworked upon by Engineer Serko, and in which his hatred is concentratedto the exclusion of everything else.
"The bandits," he hisses, "are those who spurned me without a hearing,who heaped injustice and ignominy upon me, who drove me from countryto country, whereas I offered them superiority, invincibleness,omnipotence!"
It is the eternal story of the unappreciated inventor, to whom theindifferent or envious refuse the means of testing his inventions, topay him the value he sets upon them. I know it well--and also know allthe exaggeration that has been written upon this subject.
It is clearly no time for reasoning with Thomas Roch. My argumentsare entirely lost upon the hapless dupe of Ker Karraje and hisaccomplices. In revealing to him the real name of the Count d'Artigas,and denouncing to him this band and their chief I had hoped to weanhim from their influence and make him realize the criminal end theyhave in view. My hope was vain. He does not believe me. And then whatdoes he care whether the brigand's name is Count 'd'Artigas or KerKarraje? Is not he, Thomas Roch, master of Back Cup? Is he not theowner of these riches accumulated by twenty years of murder andrapine?
Disarmed before such moral degeneracy, knowing not how I can touchhis ulcerated, irresponsible heart, I turn towards the door. It onlyremains for me to withdraw. What is to be, will be, since it is out ofmy power to prevent the frightful _denouement_ that will occur in afew hours.
Thomas Roch takes no more notice of me. He seems to have forgottenthat I am here. He has resumed his manipulations without realizingthat he is not alone.
There is only one means of preventing the imminent catastrophe. Throwmyself upon Roch, place him beyond the power of doing harm--strikehim--kill him--yes, kill him! It is my right--it is my duty!
I have no arms, but on a near-by shelf I see some tools--a chisel anda hammer. What is to prevent me from knocking his brains out? Once heis dead I have but to smash the phials and his invention dies withhim. The warships can approach, land their men upon the island,demolish Back Cup with their shells. Ker Karraje and his band will bekilled to a man. Can I hesitate at a murder that will bring about thechastisement of so many crimes?
I advance to the shelf and stretch forth my hand to seize the chisel.
As I do so, Thomas Roch turns round.
It is too late to strike. A struggle would ensue. The noise and hiscries would be heard, for there are still some pirates not far off, Ican even now hear some one approaching, and have only just time to flyif I would not be seen.
Nevertheless, I make one last attempt to awaken the sentiment ofpatriotism within him.
"Thomas Roch," I say, "warships are in sight. They have come todestroy this lair. Maybe one of them flies the French flag!"
He gazes at me. He was not aware that Back Cup is going to beattacked, and I have just apprised him of the fact. His brow darkensand his eyes flash.
"Thomas Roch, would you dare to fire upon your country's flag--thetricolor flag?"
He raises his head, shakes it nervously, and with a disdainfulgesture:
"What do you mean by 'your country?' I no longer have any country,Simon Hart. The inventor spurned no longer has a country. Where hefinds an asylum, there is his fatherland! They seek to take what ismine. I will defend it, and woe, woe to those who dare to attack me!"
Then rushing to the door of the laboratory and throwing it violentlyopen he shouts so loudly that he must be heard at the Beehive:
"Go! Get you gone!"
I have not a second to lose, and I dash out.
