CHAPTER III

On Unknown Shores

No sooner was the darkness complete than it seemed to be populated with all manner of weird and terrible things. The disappearance of the light seemed to be the signal for the approach of a host of evil monsters. A chorus of hoarse, unearthly voices, loud as the bellowing of a bull, resounded about us in a deep, continuous bass; and throaty gruntings and savage snorts and howlings echoed and droned as though they issued from ten thousand pairs of giant lungs. Dazed with horror, we stared into the unbroken gloom like doomed men; I had visions of colossal eyes smoldering from the blackness, and jaws that struck and tore, and gnashing teeth that rent and shattered.

But it was not a moment before our dumbfounded inaction was over. Pellmell we flung ourselves toward the submarine, almost failing to find it in the darkness, and tumbling tumultuously over one another in our haste to crowd through the narrow door. Several of the men were shoved accidentally into the water, and Stranahan came in dripping from an unexpected swim; while the Captain walked with a slight limp, newly acquired.

At length, however, we were all safely within the ship, and the doors were barred against the unknown peril. Several of the men, still trembling with terror, were eager to get under way directly; but this idea the Captain emphatically vetoed, declaring that the X-111 was no longer seaworthy. All that we could do now was to try to locate the danger with our searchlights; and accordingly, we wasted no time before switching on our powerful lanterns and revolving them in slow circles that illumined by turns every inch of the boulder-strewn, weedy plain. All in vain. Although the unearthly chorus could be heard even through the closed doors and showed no sign of diminishing, our searchlights revealed nothing that we had not already seen.

For some time we watched and waited--but nothing happened. And at length, turning to us all with a smile, the Captain advised, “Well, boys, we’ve all had a pretty hard time of it. Suppose we just forget about that racket out there and try to take a little rest.”

We were all glad enough to follow the Captain’s suggestion. Several of the men were commissioned to take turns standing watch; and the rest of us were not long in seeking much needed sleep. Within a few minutes, the deep and regular breathing from the nearby bunks informed me that my companions had temporarily forgotten the day’s adventures.

For my own part, exhausted as I was, I could not so readily find relief. The events not only of the past few hours, but of many months, came trooping before my mind in continuous blurred procession; I was obsessed by my own imaginings, and from a dim half-consciousness, I would awaken time after time to a vivid re-experiencing of some almost forgotten episode. And, strangely enough, my reveries were concerned mainly with a single phase of my life--the phase I was now living. My youth and early manhood might almost not have existed, for all that I remembered of them now; but I did sharply recall how, at the outbreak of war more than a year ago, I had decided abruptly upon the action that had plunged me into my present plight. Resigning my position at Northeastern University, where I had been serving as instructor in classic Greek, I had enlisted in the navy, and had promptly been sent to an officers’ training school, from which I had emerged as Ensign. Friends had commended me upon my patriotism, yet it was not patriotism, but rather the greed for adventure, that had motivated my decision; and now, as I looked back, it seemed ironic to me that my previous uneventful days had been so much more pleasant than any of my adventures. There was, however, one factor which had served to make those days enjoyable, a factor without which even the most active life would be barren indeed--and that factor was one which could have no place in wartime. Frequently, as I tossed and struggled fitfully on my narrow bunk, there flashed before me out of the darkness the blue eyes and laughing face of one whom I could scarcely recall without a pang; and I lived again with Alma Huntley those sparkling days among the Vermont hills, when she was to me all that life was, and I won her promise of devotion among the scented pines and to the music of rippling waters ... That day was long past, yet how actually it came back to mind! And how acutely memory brought back a later day, when her cheeks were moist and I held her in a minute-long embrace, and mutual vows and soft murmurings were exchanged, and then there came the sharpness of “Farewell!” and she was gone, lost amid a blur of faces, and I marched sedately on while the world was blotted out in loneliness and grief ... Oh, why had I left her, plunging thus among these unknown horrors?... Fervently, as I lay there listening to the uncanny bellowings from the ghostly world without, I longed to reach out my arms to her, to hold her warmly, to speak to her, and to hear her speak, if only one loved word....

But even the most intense yearning may be blotted out by sleep. And at last, after hours, I lost my memories in unconsciousness--an intermittent unconsciousness, broken by disturbed dreams and vague images of death and disaster....

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I opened my eyes to find a bright, golden light pouring in through the unshuttered windows. Surprised, I leapt to my feet, and discovered that the great mysterious golden orbs were shining as before from far above, the boulder-strewn plain glimmered as clearly as at first, the massive columns were still fairy-like in their tints of pale pink and blue, while the hideous bestial noises had unaccountably ceased.

Hastily I dressed and rejoined my companions. I found them gathered about in a little circle, earnestly talking; and they welcomed me gladly into their discussion, the subject of which I at once surmised. For what but our mysterious plight could now occupy our minds and tongues? None of us, as yet, had more than the faintest inkling of where we were or what had befallen us. That we were in some sort of cavern beneath the sea was the belief of the Captain and several of the men, but this region seemed so oddly unlike a cavern that the explanation was not generally accepted; and the more superstitious were inclined to hold that we had been bewitched into some sort of supernatural, goblin realm. For my own part, I could hardly understand how we could be in a submarine cavern without being completely flooded; and much less could I understand how we could be in any known land above seas.

Obviously, the only likely source of information was through exploration. And since it was not possible to conduct any explorations with the aid of the disabled X-111, the Captain took the only other available course--which was to order some of the men to set forth into the Unknown on foot, determine the lay of the land and return as soon as possible with whatever tidings they might gather.

Stangale and Howlett, being the most experienced veterans, were selected to make the initial attempt. In a few minutes, they set off cheerfully together, equipped with firearms and a day’s supply of food and drink, with instructions to return within twenty-four hours at the latest.

Twelve or fifteen hours went by while we waited impatiently; the great golden orbs flashed out as mysteriously as before, and for eight or ten hours we slept; then, upon awakening, we found the lights still shining as brightly as ever, and noted that it was time for the return of our two scouts. We watched in vain for their arrival. Not a moving thing greeted us from the unchanging, bouldery plain; hours went by; excited speculation gave way to more excited speculation, and wild rumor to still wilder rumor; the suspense became tantalizing, and yet there was nothing to do but wait. Had the men lost their way? or had they met with some disastrous adventure? or had the savage inhabitants of these wild realms seized and imprisoned them? To these questions there was no answer, though many were the conjectures. When the darkness had fallen upon us once again, and once again we had slept and awakened to find the golden light restored, we knew that it was time to set out in search of the missing ones.

This time the Captain called for volunteers to invade the Unknown, which, as he warned us, might be dangerous beyond all expectations; and after half the crew had offered themselves for the adventure, his choice fell upon Ripley and Stranahan.

It was with genuine regret that I watched these two gallant seamen set forth amid the reeds by the river’s brink, to disappear at length among the boulders and behind the great stone columns. Somehow, as I lost sight of them, I had a sense that we might not see them again so soon. I was sad as though with a forewarning of disaster; and, as I reflected upon the pitfalls and dangers they might have to face, I experienced more than one twinge of vicarious fear.

Worst of all, my misgivings seemed to be justified by time. Twelve hours passed, and the explorers had not returned; twenty-four hours, and there was still no word from them, though they had been given explicit orders to be back. With grim, set eyes, the Captain stood alone by the river bank, gazing sternly into that wilderness which had already engulfed four of his men; and the rest of the crew stood chattering fearfully among themselves, declaring that this land was “haunted,” “spooky,” and “thick with devils.”

It was curious to note how, in these weird, unknown domains, outworn superstitions were being reborn; how ready the men were to believe in goblins, dragons, sea serpents, werewolves and all manner of fantastic monsters. Even the more enlightened of us seemed about to forget all that civilization had taught us; and, in the failure of all that we had been accustomed to cling to, we were clutching at a savage, terrorizing faith in incredible and ghostly things.

By the time that Stranahan and Ripley had been absent forty-eight hours, the crew was in a state of impatience verging upon madness. The fluttering of a feather would have sent them scampering like frightened horses; the buzzing of a bee might have been the signal for spasms of dread. On one occasion, indeed, the chirping of some cricket-like insect did put half a dozen of the men into a panic; and on another occasion three or four of them turned pale merely upon hearing the swishing and flapping of a small fish in the river.

It was when the excitement was nearing its highest that the Captain called once more for volunteers to search for the missing men. But so deep-rooted and paralyzing was the general alarm that only two of us offered our names--young Phil Rawson and myself. I do not know what strange wave of courage had suddenly emboldened this timorous recruit while less callow men held back. For my own part, I must admit that I volunteered from the mere desire to escape from ennui and the half-frenzied rabble of my comrades. But, whatever our motives, we were promptly to be launched into adventures that were not only to test our hardihood, but to prove interesting beyond anything we could have imagined.

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[Illustration: --and from a narrow focus of flame, two huge burning green eyes would shoot forth, darting cold malice at us through the glass port.... Or else a tiny flattened disk, softly phosphorescent throughout and marked on one surface by two bright beady eyes, would come floating in our direction like a pale apparition....]

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