CHAPTER XIV

The Upper World Club

During the next few hours, Captain Gavison and the new-found members of his crew were all provided with the native garb and lodged in sumptuous quarters in various parts of the city. They looked peculiar indeed in their new costumes of light blue and green and yellow, and grumbled not a little at the change; but they confessed to their relief at having left the X-111; and not even the prospect of passing their remaining days in Atlantis sufficed to neutralize their joy.

As nearly as I could determine, they had had an altogether wretched time during the past few weeks. A spirit of panic had grown among them, following the failure of Rawson and myself to return from our searching expedition, and neither by bribe nor by threat could any other member of the crew be induced to venture into that wilderness where we had disappeared. And so they had all remained anxiously in the vicinity of the disabled ship, drinking the distilled water of the Salty River and snatching what food they could from the land while exhausting their vessel’s reserve supplies. How long they could have held out it was impossible to say, but certainly they could not have held out long; madness had been overtaking them with the delay and the suspense; and, but for the timely arrival of the natives, bloody disaster might have ensued.

Yet, while they realized that they had been rescued from possible destruction, I must not give the impression that they were altogether contented with their new surroundings, or that their queer native garments constituted their only source of complaint. Being normal human beings, they found abundant cause for dissatisfaction. And, indeed, they were not much to blame, for how could they adapt themselves immediately to an environment so unfamiliar as that of Atlantis? For some time they walked about like men in a daze; or, rather, like men who know they are dreaming and expect shortly to awaken; and they stared with incredulous eyes at the marble columns of the Sunken World, its sculpture-lined thoroughfares and statuesque palaces. And what wonder if they were dazzled and yet a little frightened by this beauty, which seemed to them so cold and alien a thing? What wonder if the more superstitious shuddered a little at times, and muttered to themselves in the presence of what they took to be the supernatural? What wonder if they missed the familiar things of the earth, the scenes and the faces they had left behind them, the habits they had discarded and the remembered life that was dwindling to a shadow?

Fortunately, they were not always free to brood over their misfortunes. Like those of their shipmates who had preceded them to Archeon, they were at once supplied with tutors who sought to teach them the Atlantean tongue. Each of them received at least two hours a day of personal instruction, and each was required to devote several hours to various prescribed written exercises. It need hardly be stated that not all of them took kindly to this enforced application, for most of them were anything but studious by nature; but the tutors persisted even though their task was a hard one, and prevailed by means of that magnetic dominance I had often noted in the Atlanteans; and all of the crew, from the grizzled McCrae to the callow young Barnfield, were soon plodding regularly over their lessons in grammar and spelling.

But among a group of nearly forty men, it was but natural that some should make more willing and able students than others. And so, while the more backward were still struggling with the elements of Atlantean, others were striding toward a speaking knowledge. Among the latter was Captain Gavison, who still had a position to maintain, and could not let himself be outdone by his men. Whether because of a natural aptitude or of diligent application, he speedily outdistanced all his crew, with the exception (I must modestly admit) of one whose pre-war specialty had been Greek. And partly on account of his evident supremacy in Atlantean, but more largely owing to the force of ironclad habit, he was still the acknowledged leader of us all; and his word still was like the word of a king, his approval still a favor to be courted and his anger a thing to make one quail, although his commission from the United States Navy Department, could hardly give him any authority here in Atlantis.

I do not know whether it was at Captain Gavison’s prompting, or whether it was at the suggestion of one of the men, that we took the step which was to band us more closely together. At all events, the step was inevitable; for all of us felt like kinsmen isolated among strangers, and our common experiences and common origin constituted an irresistible bond.

And so it was that we found ourselves convening one afternoon--the whole thirty-nine of us--in a little colonnaded court in one of the city parks. All of us were waiting in vociferous expectancy, for it had been whispered that important events were in store; and so we listened eagerly when Captain Gavison arrived, and took the center of the stage, launching at once into an address.

“The proposal has been made,” he announced, beginning without formality, “that we all join forces by forming a social club. We’re all in the same boat still, you see, even though we’re out of the X-111. Most of us feel rather out of place down here in Atlantis; we find the people strange, the land stranger still, and the customs strangest of all. And so the best way will be to stick together and try to make things agreeable for one another ...” And in this vein he continued for five or ten minutes, pointing out the advantages of union, the increased power as well as the social gain, the possibility of making our will felt in Atlantis if we acted in concert.

* * * * *

When he had finished, he asked for opinions--and received them in abundance....

“If we got together and started a club,” summarized Stangale, whose views coincided with the majority, “things might begin to look a little less dead. Seems to me every day down here is Sunday!”

“Sure, and they’ve got lots of Sunday closing laws, too!” Stranahan contributed, with a wry grimace to ward the massive columns and tinted statuary.

Very tactfully Captain Gavison reminded Stranahan that the question to be decided did not concern the Sunday regulations of the Atlanteans. And without further dalliance he raised his voice and inquired how many were in favor of a social club.

The proposal having been accepted by unanimous acclaim, the next question was one of nomenclature. Various names were suggested: “The Woodrow Wilson Club,” “The Theodore Roosevelt Club,” “The U. S. A. Club,” “The X-111 Club,” “The Underseas Association”--but finally, after much pointless debating, we decided that, since we were the sole representatives of the upper world in Atlantis, the most appropriate title would be “The Upper World Club.”

Having threshed out this important matter, we now felt it necessary to elect the officers of “The Upper World Club.”

Obviously, there was only one possible nominee for President. It seemed almost a matter of form to propose the name of Gavison; and once this name had been mentioned, the election was settled, for there was no one daring enough to run in opposition or even to think of suggesting another candidate.

After being duly installed in office, the Captain made his inaugural address. It was brief and to the point. He began by thanking us in conventional terms for the honor and by assuring us that he would try to run the club as well as if it were a ship under his command. And he concluded with a declaration of policy: “We’re all of us caught like rats in a trap, you know, so while we’re here there’s nothing to do but to try to make the best of our prison. And I think the Upper World Club should be the means. It should have, I believe, the following objects: first, to bring us together for social purposes. Secondly, it should give us the chance to discuss our problems in this strange world, and should be the means of expressing our combined views to the Atlanteans. Lastly, it should keep us all together, so that we can act in unison if the time ever comes to make a dash for liberty.”

“That time will never come!” I surprised myself by exclaiming, after Gavison had lapsed into silence. And, finding all eyes bent upon me inquiringly, I felt bound to continue.

“Let us not deceive ourselves by the thought of escape,” I proceeded, stepping toward the center of the assemblage. “We are buried beneath thousands of feet of water, and for all practical purposes America is as far from us as the moon. Even if there were a way back, what good would that do us when we cannot even leave this city against the will of the Atlanteans? No, my friends, let us look facts in the face. We shall remain here till we are gray and toothless, and shall never see the United States again. And let us try to reconcile ourselves to that certainty. Let us try to become citizens of Atlantis, and share in the life about us ...”

And in this vein I continued for some minutes, while my hearers followed me with transparent interest, and reluctantly nodded agreement.

In general, my words may have been without effect; but they had at least one result I had not anticipated. For when, a few moments later, Gavison announced that nominations were in order for Vice-President, I was surprised to find that my name was the first put forward, and that no others were put forward at all--so that I was selected without opposition.

After I had duly thanked my fellow club members for this honor, the President turned to me, and said, “Harkness, I appoint you a committee of one to confer with me in drawing up the constitution of the Upper World Club.” And with that the meeting adjourned.

And thus began my intimacy with Captain Gavison. I do not know how seriously he took the Upper World Club and its constitution, for at most times his grim, firm face was inscrutable; but he acted as if he took it seriously indeed, and he and I spent hours together debating and planning for the club, almost as though we had had to draw up a pact not for thirty-nine individuals but for thirty-nine sovereign states.

How much the club profited from our activities shall always be a question in my mind; but I am certain that I personally profited a great deal, and make bold to believe that even Gavison was not without benefit. Although he had a habit of shutting his thin lips stoically and glaring upon the world with stern, impassive air, an occasional look of weariness and even of melancholy in his keen gray eyes told me that he too was suffering from loneliness; and while he would have been the last man in the world to make such an admission openly, he made it tacitly by the amount of time he spent in my company, theoretically drawing up the constitution of the Upper World Club. He was always far from loquacious; frequently he was taciturn indeed, and would simply sit before me with a detached and meditative air, occasionally grunting some comment or question in response to my remarks. Perhaps the consciousness of the former gulf between us would not leave him; but all the while I felt that we were drawing together, were even beginning to look upon one another with a genuine, although undemonstrative regard. Certainly, he was emerging by degrees from the thick shell of his reticence, as I was emerging from mine. We began quite naturally by a discussion of Atlantis and the Atlanteans; and gradually we ventured into more personal subjects. There came a day when I went so far as to tell him of my former life, my training in ancient Greek, my betrothal to Alma Huntley; and, responsive to my confidence, he offered me one or two glimpses into his own past, and made himself appear more human than ever before, by stating that he had a wife and two little daughters in New York, who no doubt were even now mourning him as lost.

“You know, Harkness, that’s the hardest thing of all to bear,” he said, while his thin fingers stroked his bristly chin ruminatingly, and the drawn lines of his gaunt face enhanced his habitual gravity. “If there were only some way of getting word to them, it wouldn’t be so bad. But I might be dead for all they know--and would you believe it, Harkness, sometimes it seems to me as if I’m actually in my tomb.” And the Captain averted his gaze, and after staring into vacancy for an indeterminate period, he continued, speaking more rapidly, and almost with brusqueness, “Now you see why I’m so anxious to get back! For my own part, it wouldn’t matter so much, but I can’t help thinking it must be Hell for those waiting up there!” And he concluded by drawing vivid pictures of blue-eyed Martha, his wife, and of the auburn-haired six-year-old Ellen, who was waiting for the father that would never come back.

To all this I listened earnestly; and when Gavison had finished, I tried to say whatever I could by way of consolation. And in order to make his woes seem less by comparison, I exaggerated my own; I discoursed upon the misfortune of being sundered from my old father and mother (who, as a matter of fact, had previously been sundered from me by death), and dilated upon my grief at losing Alma Huntley--although, to tell the truth, she had been almost driven out of my thoughts by the proximity of one even fairer than she.

It was from the time of our mutual confessions that my real friendship with Gavison dated. Not unnaturally, we now lost sight of our former positions as superior officer and subordinate, and began to act unrestrainedly toward one another as man to man. And while I was on terms of fellowship with all the crew and intimate with several, my attachment to Gavison became the closest of all; and often of an afternoon, when he had completed the day’s studies, or of an evening before the great golden orbs had been extinguished, we might have been seen strolling together along the winding colonnades, or seated on seaweed cushions in a marble hall, discussing the art or the odd ways of Atlantis, practicing the Atlantean speech, exchanging reminiscences of the world we had left, or merely absorbed in one of those long silences that marked our queer acquaintanceship.

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