CHAPTER XXXIV

Swollen Torrents

It was five days later that I received the summons from the High Chief Adviser ... and made ready for the most extraordinary of all my adventures.

In the interval, all Atlantis was in a state verging upon madness. The commotion created by the original discovery of the crack was insignificant beside the terror that now dominated every inhabitant. To say that the country seemed stricken with paralysis would be to understate the conditions; rather, it was driven to a dumb distraction, like some great beast that feels its foot in a trap. Only one thought was in anyone’s mind, only one topic on anyone’s lips; the people drifted hither and thither like phantoms, rushing back and forth between the cities and the spurting leak in the wall, sometimes engaged furtively in whispered discussions, on other occasions muttering half-audible prayers or withdrawing into themselves like men brought face to face with Fate. Some would hover near the offices of the High Chief Adviser, awaiting hopeful news that did not come; some would haunt the river banks, watching the swelling torrents go murmuring and whirling past; some would huddle together in small family groups, as though mortally afraid to lose sight of their dear ones; some would merely go pacing around like rats in a cage, scarcely heeding where they went, their white faces and harried eyes expressive of a dread they dared not mention.

But none--none who were not driven by the most stringent orders--were heeding their daily duties. For the first time in history, the cities were inadequately supplied with food; the official producers and distributors shared the general inertia, and the people had to clamor at the doors of the great municipal warehouses for their meager rations; and actual starvation seemed certain unless the workers could be urged back to the fields.

But more appalling to my mind--vastly more appalling, since it seemed like the overthrow of the very order of nature--was the laxity with regard to the golden orbs that ruled the Atlantean day. Owing no doubt to the negligence of the official in charge, the clockwork that controlled these artificial suns ran down on what should have been the third night, and the luminaries continued in full blaze after the usual hour of darkness. But few seemed even to notice the change, and most continued frenziedly watching the waters or awaiting encouraging reports; while those that could, snatched a few hours of troubled sleep during the continuous daylight, and many still kept their useless vigils with drawn faces and weary eyes.

Meantime the Salty River continued to rise. Slowly and insidiously, by inches and by half inches, it crept up and up, up and up, until after two days not more than a hand’s breadth separated it from the top of the embankment. And after three days it had not more than a finger’s breadth to go, while on the fourth day we could see thin, sparkling streams flowing down the more low-lying street, not deep enough to make them quite impassable, but lending to the columned thoroughfares the aspect of some pathetic Venice. Simultaneously the Autophone brought news that the small towns of Malgos and Dorion had been inundated and that their inhabitants had fled for higher ground; that the larger cities of Atolis, Lerenon, and Aedla were rearing embankments to keep out the waters, and that the farm lands of eastern Atlantis were flooded as far as the eye could see. But little that was even mildly hopeful was reported. It was stated that the repair ships were still trying to cope with the leak, though without success; that the intra-atomic pumps were disposing of most of the surplus water, but were being taxed to capacity; that in several places huge electric shovels were at work, digging out great hollows into which the floods might be drained; that efforts were being made to freeze huge masses of water, and force the ice against the wall, in the attempt to stem the torrents.... But all the while the river continued to rise, and nothing short of a miracle seemed likely to check disaster.

After five days the water was flowing to a depth of many inches through half the streets of Archeon; and only the rapid erection of earthworks had saved the other half. And it was after five nerve-racking days that--as I have stated--I received the summons from the High Chief Adviser.

The messenger--a wan-faced old man who seemed to be in a breathless hurry--was waiting for me when I returned home with Aelios after strolling aimlessly for hours through the unflooded portions of the town. From the grave attitude with which he greeted me, I knew at once that something was amiss; but he had no explicit information to offer. “The High Chief Adviser wishes to see you without delay,” was all that he would report. And having uttered these words, he began edging away as though he had immediate business elsewhere.

There being nothing else to do, I accompanied this singular messenger after hastily assuring Aelios that I would return as soon as possible.

As I might have anticipated, our walk turned out to be far from pleasant. The old man had evidently been long trained in diplomacy, for I could not induce him to speak except non-committally and in monosyllables. And all the way to the office of the Adviser I was left to my own conjectures, while we skirted public squares that looked like lakes or waded ankle-deep through the salty water.

* * * * *

Arriving at the many-domed sandstone edifice where the Atlantean government had its headquarters, my companion bade me wait in a book-lined anteroom, and went to notify his chief of my arrival. It was as though my coming had been awaited, for the old man had hardly left me when he reappeared and motioned me to follow him.

I have a vague remembrance of accompanying him through long, arched galleries; but of these my mind retains no definite impression, and the next thing I dearly recall is that I stood in a little blue-walled room before an impressive-looking elderly man whose picture I had often seen. His long, furrowed, sagacious features were manifestly those of a scholar, but there was a squareness about the jaw that marked him also as a man of action; while at the same time there was a patriarchal benignity about the sympathetic lines of the face. But one quality there was which dominated him now, and which none of the pictures had shown: an air of utter fatigue, of melancholy, almost of despair, all too plainly written in the hollows that underlined the weary, gray eyes, in the pale cheeks almost totally drained of blood, and in the haggard expression as of one who has not slept for days.

To the right of the High Chief Adviser was seated a man whom I recognized with surprise. It was Xanocles, also looking pallid and worn--and as he rose to greet me I began to conceive some faint idea why I had been summoned.

The Chief Adviser gravely motioned me to a seat at his left; and as I sank into the cushioned chair he plunged without formality into an explanation.

“I need hardly tell you,” he commenced, speaking rapidly but in dull, sober tones, “how serious is the crisis that confronts Atlantis. But perhaps no one--except those of us who are on the inside of affairs--realizes quite how acute the danger is. Frankly speaking, we are incapable of dealing with the emergency. The intra-atomic pumps have been working to capacity for five days, forcing out fifty per cent more than their usual volume; but, even so, the water is pouring in at the rate of several tons a second faster than we can drive it out. This in itself would indicate a grave enough peril; but this is not the worst. Our engineers tell us that the crack is extending to portions of the wall previously unaffected, and that new sections may give way at any time. When this happens, it will be--the end.”

The High Chief Adviser paused, bleakly frowning; then, with a piercing glance at me, as if to see whether I had anticipated his meaning, he continued, “It is apparent that Atlantis cannot save itself. We are facing a peril unique in history, and have not the weapons with which to combat it. If help comes, it must come from outside. And that is why I have summoned you.”

“But I don’t exactly see--” I began.

“Let me explain,” the official continued, impatiently. “You yourself of course can do nothing. But you come from a people who, to judge from your writings, have developed remarkable engineering and mechanical skill. I am hopeful that their science may be able to devise some means of saving us, and for that reason I am planning to send you above seas for help. What do you think of the idea?”

“Why, I--I think it might be worth trying,” was all I was able to gasp in reply.

“Your friend Xanocles also thinks it worth trying,” proceeded the Adviser suavely. “Now I personally have always been against the policy of Emergence; but it is imperative to try new measures; and at a time like this, fortunately, the law empowers me to take any action on my own initiative. And so I sent for Xanocles today as one of the most prominent local members of the Emergence Party, and when I asked whom he would advise me to appoint as special envoy to the upper world he had no hesitation about mentioning you.”

“But why me?” I demanded, doubtful of my qualifications for so high an office.

“Well, to be sure, you were not the only one,” stated the Adviser. “He also recommended a certain Gavison, but we have decided to hold him in reserve, and if you do not return in a few days we will send him out with a second submarine. Meanwhile, if you would care to accept--”

“Why, of course--of course I’ll accept--if it is for the good of Atlantis,” I declared. “But just what would you expect of me?”

“One of our submersible vessels, with a crew of four men, will be in readiness at the docks early tomorrow morning. You will board it, and it will bear you out through the eastern valve and to any part of the upper world you may direct. But you are to waste no time about informing your fellows of the menace that confronts Atlantis. They too have submersible vessels, as your arrival here proves--let them send some of their ships down here, if they can, with materials to repair the wall. But above all things, you must remember not to delay, not to delay!”

“I will do my best,” I promised. “But let me not hold out any false hopes--I am not sure that the upper world will be able to assist.”

“At any rate, you can try,” sighed the Head of the Atlantean government. “It is a chance worth taking. We lose nothing by the attempt.”

And then, fixing on me that powerful magnetic glance common to all the Atlanteans, he demanded, “You will spare no effort?”

“I will spare no effort,” I solemnly vowed.

“Then the fates be with you!” And the High Chief Adviser rose and firmly took both my hands; and I thought that just a trace of emotion dimmed his eyes as he fervently continued, “I need say no more. You know as well as I how much depends upon this. Above all things, Harkness, you will make haste, you will make haste, will you not? Good-bye--and good fortune will be yours!”

And the next moment, accompanied by Xanocles, I was passing through the outer galleries. The last glimpse I caught of the High Adviser showed me the great head wearily sagging, the lids drooping over the melancholy gray eyes as if in utmost renunciation or despair.

* * * * *

From the Adviser’s office I hastened straight home, leaving Xanocles, after being assured that he would come to me early in the morning.

I found Aelios impatiently awaiting my return. “You have been long,” she murmured, although it seemed to me that I had come back very quickly. And the big, blue eyes looked up at me inquiringly, and I had to explain at once the meaning of the Adviser’s summons.

She followed my recital without a word; but heavy furrows began to appear upon her brow when I told her how serious was the plight of Atlantis; and a big limpid teardrop flowed unheeded down her cheek.

“You did right to accept the commission,” she said, coming to me when I had finished my story, and resting one hand affectionately upon my shoulder. And a deep melancholy made moist her eyes as she continued, “I am glad that the choice has fallen upon you. When do we start on our voyage?”

“We?” I repeated, staring at her in surprise.

“Yes, we. I intend to go with you, of course.”

“But, Aelios, that’s impossible!” I exclaimed, springing up and drawing her closely to me. “You know how much I’d like to have you with me. But you don’t seem to realize the peril.”

“Peril?” She laughed disdainfully, as she withdrew from me. “Do you think I’d have you submit to a peril I wouldn’t share in? Besides, is it not in the interest of my own country? Should I stay here doing nothing when I might help to save Atlantis?”

“But, even so, would you be permitted--” I started to protest.

“Of course I’d be permitted! The High Chief Adviser would be more than willing--only, of course, he wouldn’t ask me to take the risk.”

“And neither would I ask you--” I objected; but she cut me short by demanding, sharply, “Do you think it’s any greater than the risk of staying here?” And, with the air of one whose mind is made up and is not to be questioned, she reminded me, “We better be getting ready, for I don’t suppose we’ll have any time to waste.”

And thereupon, the question having been settled, we began our meager preparations. But we found that there was not much to prepare, for of course the submarine would be well provisioned; and, except for a few personal trinkets, we could think of little to take away with us. But it occurred to me to bring a copy of Homer’s lost masterpiece, the “Telegonus,” which might convince the upper world of the truth of my reports about Atlantis. And it also occurred to me to pay a pilfering expedition to the museum, which was now untenanted even by the doormen; and, when I returned, my pockets were weighed down with several pieces of gold, and my arms were laden with a large amorphous bundle, whose contents might have been identified as an Ensign’s uniform.

Of the night that followed I have only the most confused and disturbing remembrance. I know that I did not sleep, except to drowse away by brief, nightmare-haunted spells; and I also know that Aelios did not sleep, for her mind like mine was busy contemplating the adventure before us. Yet we were both too weary for connected thought; and jumbled visions were all that greeted us as we lay there speechless in the blackness.

The moment the lights were flashed on again we renounced our futile attempts at slumber. And we had hardly risen and made ourselves presentable when we began to receive visitors. Not only did Xanocles arrive as he had promised, but the entire Upper World Club appeared in a group, for I had notified Gavison of my prospective departure and had expressed my desire to see all the men again before I left.

Since all our visitors insisted on seeing us off, it was a good-sized company that attended us as we bade farewell to the butterfly-shaped building that had housed us so long, and set off through the streets of the stricken city toward the river. Yet our escort, while large, was far from merry, for the strain of the past few days was written upon us all, and the pale cheeks and weary looks of my companions matched their listless manner and their silence. One or two--and among them the unquenchable Stranahan--did indeed attempt to be jocular; but their efforts were half-hearted and flat, and their laughter rang thin and hollow like mockery; and as we drew nearer our goal and saw the flood rippling through the streets ahead, we heard no more of their jests, but all of us plunged onward speechlessly and with stern, set faces, oppressed as though by the shadow of some solemn and awful presence.

* * * * *

When we reached the inundated districts, I of course urged my companions to turn back. But they paid no heed, and pressed gravely on their way, first wading ankle-deep, then halfway to their knees, while strung out in a long line among scattered houses that looked like lake dwellings. Here a marble edifice, there a colonnade, yonder a cluster of statues, projected above the deluge, whose green-gray current went swishing past as though from an inexhaustible source. Amid those fluid wastes, which had obliterated all familiar landmarks and gave to well known things a new and terrible majesty, it was impossible to be sure of our way; and once one of the men slipped into a depression so deep that he had to swim to save himself; and more than once some one tripped over some buried obstacle, and went floundering at full length into the water, thereby provoking a short-lived outburst of mirth. So great were the dangers that we had to move very slowly; but we also moved with grim regularity, and our progress was without sound other than the monotonous splash, splash of our advancing feet.

Yet it was not only our own plight that made us moody and sad. As we plodded through the flooded districts, we had continual glimpses of the inhabitants--and in their aspect and manner there was nothing to reassure us. Here, through an open window, we would catch sight of several agile figures straining to bind some huge collection into a bundle; there we would observe a man descending from his doorstep into the enveloping waters, his back bent down with a great pile of household articles, a wan-faced woman clinging nervously to him or turning back with moist eyes to the home they were leaving. And we passed not one or two such refugees but scores, literally scores. One would have a three-year-old perched securely on his shoulder, another would be trying to soothe a crying babe or leading by the hand a frightened lad of five; some would be bearing off great heaps of clothing or huge cans and boxes that looked like food containers, and a few were puffing and panting to save their books, rugs and paintings.

Meanwhile the eyes of all the people were baleful with a wild, unnatural light; their features were assuming a furtive, hunted expression; their voices had lost their music, and had grown nervous and shrill. And all were looking bloodless and bedraggled; ominous hollows were forming in their cheeks and beneath their eyes; their clothes were soiled and untended, their beards scraggly and untrimmed; and many had lost their normal restraint, so that we passed a woman who sobbed and sobbed quite regardless of our approach, an old man who growled and gibbered insanely to himself, and more than one that did not even seem to see us, but stared upward intently with imploring face, while mumbling incoherent melancholy phrases.

When finally we drew near our destination, the water reached to the knees of the tallest of us, and our progress was more laborious and slower than ever. I now began to fear that we would not be able to locate the river bank, for how tell where the shallow water ended and the deep began? At length, however, I was relieved to observe a wide, unbroken flowing expanse several hundred yards ahead, and to note that a long rope, stretched in the water between improvised wooden supports, marked the river’s theoretical edge.

It was just when we came in sight of our goal that the supreme horror befell. Even to this day I can recapture the amazement and alarm of that dread moment; and the abruptness of it all and the terror overwhelm me anew. Had the waters swelled and swept over us in a tidal wave, I would have been panic-stricken and yet halfway prepared--but I could not have anticipated that the blow was to strike from above rather than from beneath.

* * * * *

Suddenly--although this was only the beginning of the Atlantean day--the golden lights of the glass dome began to waver and flicker, then paled to a twilight glow, then (in less time than it takes to state) snapped into blackness.

So startled were we that we stood there transfixed; scarcely an oath issued from our petrified lips. The darkness was absolute; we could not see our nearest neighbors; we seemed walled in by oblivion. For a moment there was silence; then came a light splashing to my left, and simultaneously dozens of voices burst forth bewilderingly in terror and dismay.

And when that first horrified outburst was dying down, there crept over us from a distance other cries--confused cries as of many voices sighing and wailing in chorus. And all those voices seemed to form into one, and to grieve and drone in a single long-drawn sob, with echoes reminding me uncannily of lost souls mourning in the dark.

But soon that melancholy tumult passed away; and we were aware only that we stood there knee-deep in the flood, in a silence unbroken except by the gurgling waters.

Then it was that the most quick-witted of us all came to his senses. Suddenly a vivid light stabbed the gloom just to my left; and by its glaring yellow illumination I could make out the tall form of Xanocles.

In his hands was a good-sized pocket flashlight. “I was a little afraid this might happen,” he declared, trying to be matter-of-fact, and speaking loudly enough for us all to hear. “Lucky I had these lanterns with me.” And, to our surprise, he calmly drew several more flashlights from the folds of his garments, and passed them to his nearest neighbors.

“The High Chief Adviser warned me yesterday that this was possible,” he explained. “And so I thought it best to be prepared.”

And then, while we all stood gaping at him like men with paralyzed minds, he continued, soothingly, “There is really nothing to be alarmed about. The water must have gotten into the electric power generators--that is all. In a few hours the lights will no doubt be shining again.”

But his words did not carry conviction. In his voice was a note of concern that he could not wholly exclude; and as we glanced nervously into the gloom--a gloom that was all-enveloping except for our flashlights and an occasional firefly flicker in the far distance--we could not believe that the golden luminaries would soon beam upon us again.

It was a solemn procession that started splashing once more toward the river bank. Guided by the sallow illumination of the flashlights, we could barely find our course; and step by step, with laborious slowness, we plodded through the unrelenting flood. None of us could find the heart to utter a word; and from time to time, among my shadowy attendants, I caught glimpses of lips rigidly compressed and faces firmly set, as among men who go forth to meet the Ultimate. All the while Aelios was at my side, hovering close as if for shelter; and when I could I helped her over the more difficult places, though she too was speechless, like one whose thoughts are too appalling for expression.

Then, for an instant, hope came flashing back. A sudden radiance burst upon us from above; the great luminaries were once more touched with light, which fitfully expanded from a pale red glow almost to the normal golden--and then fitfully died out into utter gloom.

And our cries of rejoicing were frozen on our lips, and the darkness that ensued seemed more intense than ever. And once more there was only the silence, the wavering flashlights and the whirling floods.

Groping and floundering and sometimes sinking almost up to the hips in water, we at last found ourselves near the rope that marked the river’s verge. And by turning upstream toward a dim but steady yellow light, we managed to locate the docks and the submarine, which we recognized by the radiance filtering through the portholes.

Then, almost before I realized that the ultimate moment had come, I found myself assisting Aelios up the half-submerged gangplank and on to the deck of the grim, low-lying, shadowy ship. The next that I remember is that I was back again in two feet of water, and that a multitude of hands clasped mine, a multitude of voices were lifted simultaneously, first the voices of a mob attempting a cheer that died prematurely, then the voices of individuals, shouting out advice and farewells, wishing me a safe voyage, entreating me to make haste for the good of Atlantis. I have a recollection of seeing the earnest, grave face of Gavison by the uncertain, shifting illumination of the flashlights; the elongated, intellectual face of Xanocles; the youthful but sad-eyed and frightened face of Rawson, and Stranahan’s droll countenance now furrowed almost into a tragic severity.

But in an instant all these faces--so familiar to me, and so well liked--had drifted out of view. I too stood upon the gangplank, lightly waving although my heart seemed dull and dead within me. Then I mounted to the deck, cast a last glance at the darkness that hid the marble temples of Atlantis, and waved for the last time to the dim watching figures. And as the flashlights began slowly to retreat, I descended a narrow stairway, heard an iron door clatter to a close above me, felt a jolt and a shudder that were followed by a regular, incessant quivering--and knew that I was on my way back to the earth.

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